It would appear that my depression is making a comeback. I’ve been doing really well for the last few weeks, but everything feels like it’s sliding backward.

This was a book it took me a little while to get into. Clearly emulating the dense, gothic style of the period it is set in, it starts off rather impenetrable. But once I pushed myself through, I found the characters and story emerged, making Affinity an incredible pleasure to read.

I was excited for this book. I absolutely loved Red Sister and had been wanting to get my hand on the second book in the series. However, as much as I still enjoyed it, it couldn’t shake the feel of being Part Two of a trilogy. 

I find it hard to imagine anyone caring about my ideas of what’s going on in my life, and I need to move past that.

I like stories that are told in interesting ways, and this promised something like that. I didn’t quite know what to expect and having finished it, I’m left with the weird feeling I shouldn’t have liked it, but I really did.

I don’t like my smile, and I haven’t done for a long time. But in recent times, I’ve found myself being pushed to acknowledge these feelings, recognise they are unnecessary, and put them behind me.

I enjoyed The Evening and the Morning, but it’s not Follett’s best work. And unfortunately, comparisons with the previous books in the series only serve to highlight its flaws.

t would seem like it’s a simple answer here. My marriage has ended. I’m going through a separation. The end of a long-term relationship is a traumatic experience.

But, as always in life, there’s more to my decision than that.

When you go into a Susan Hill ghost story, you know what you’re expecting. She has shown over and over that she is a master of the gothic horror story. And with The Man In The Portrait, you get exactly what you expect. 

Since the end of last year, I’ve been on anti-depressants. To be honest, this is what I wanted when I started therapy back in the summer. But a few years ago my attitude would have been very different.

With Sword of Fire, Kerr manages to hit all the same notes I loved about the Deverry books, but it’s missing that uniqueness of the original series.

Well, 2020 can fuck off. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. Okay, if I have to be honest, my 2020 could have been a lot worse. A lot worse. In some very big ways, I am incredible lucky.

I didn’t watch a lot of new films this year. For various reasons, my TV and film consumption has been mostly restricted to nostalgia and comfort viewing. However, back at the start of this whole mess, I stumbled upon "The Platform".

I don’t do one of these every year. I’m not a big gamer. I enjoy games, and usually have at least one game on the go. But I don’t play enough to get through that many each year, and I don’t like to force a “Game of the Year” if nothing really jumped out at me. Some years, however, I discover games like Thunder Lotus Games’ Spiritfarer.

Sometimes my favourite book of the year is one that had the best story. Or maybe its one that displayed the most engaging writing. Or perhaps it will have introduced me to a new writer I know I’m going to love.In 2020, it’s a book that was exactly what I needed at exactly the time I read it: Hazel Hayes’ "Out of Love"

Christmas is coming, and we all know what that means, don't we? Getting those Reading Piles topped up!But where are you planning to buy those wonderful books for your friends and loved ones?

I am a sucker for stories told out of chronological order, so Out of Love caught my eye a while ago. I don’t know why the concept appeals to me so much. I think it’s something about examining cause and affect, playing around with what the reader knows and when, that somehow suits my sensibilities.

Do I need structure, or do I need freedom? Am I using structure as a cage to hide myself from new possibilities that might be scary or hard? Am I using it to give myself a sense of utility, and therefore meaning to other people? Or is this how I get things done?