Blog Tour: The Quality of Love, Ariane Bankes

This post is part of a blog tour. Thank you to Random Things Tours and Duckworth for providing me with a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

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When Ariane's mother Celia dies she inherits a trunk full of letters, diaries, and photographs. These document the life of Celia and her twin sister Mamaine and the remarkable loves and friendships they had. Their life started modestly, their mother died a week after their birth and they spent a quiet childhood in the Suffolk countryside with their father and nanny. Sadly, at the age of eleven, they lost their father too and were sent to live with their uncle near Richmond. They struggled to settle into their new life, the shock of their grief feeling at times insurmountable. When they began the debutante ball circles they were incredibly bored and had no interest in any of the men they were there to impress. Before long they were forging their own path, travelling Europe and making friends with some of the leading intellectuals of the day.

The book focuses largely on the men in their lives, who frequently fell in love with them, and with whom they had the knack of remaining friends with despite rejections or break ups. Mamaine spent several years with Arthur Koestler, a fairly erratic relationship with high tempers and depressions. They lived for some time in a remote home in Wales where the weather was miserable, they were without water when it got too cold, and whose damp atmosphere did nothing to help Mamaine’s recurring asthma. She also had a whirlwind romance with Albert Camus during her relationship with Koestler. They were besotted with each other, their shared weeks being held on to as some of the best of either of their lives. They remained in each other’s circles but tried to remain a healthy distance for a time while their hearts settled down. She was not with either of them at the time of her death but both felt the loss heavily, and anxiously awaited news during her illness.

Celia was no less popular, having been proposed to by George Orwell. Again, they remained close despite the proposal having been rejected. He enjoyed her genuine interest in his son and it is clear that both twins were able to hold their own intellectually in the most formidable company. Celia eventually found a stable relationship with Bankes’ eventual father, who came to the relationship with existing children. It must be a slightly odd experience writing about the love life of your mother but Bankes handles it without apparent discomfort.

The twins come across as kind and intelligent. Mamaine helps edit Koestler’s work and Celia works on History Today. Despite their busy, international lives, they always prioritise each other. Letters go back and forth and it is a great pain to them when logistics keep them without news of the other. At one point delays in the post prove almost fatal when news of a shared medical allergy can’t be communicated efficiently. The book is rooted in the letters they wrote and received, not only between each other but with their friends and lovers. At times Bankes admits to only having one half of the correspondence, but much can be gleaned from the responses. 

An incredibly easy read covering a tumultuous period in European history. The narrative moves at a pace, with brief introductions to the various characters before we move on to the next acquaintance. At times we jump forward in time and are told how a relationship resolves which can be a little confusing, but it is rare. Overall an evocative look at remarkable lives which offers a more personal side of some of the biggest names of the age.

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The Salt Path, Raynor Winn

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Edit: In July 2025 The Observer published an investigation into the claims made in this book regarding how the couple lost their home.The text of the below review remains in its original form, as published in 2023, before these allegations came to light.

Raynor Winn and her husband Moth’s lives fall apart when they lose a legal battle due to a technicality in submitting evidence, losing them their home. They receive another huge blow when Moth is diagnosed with an incurable degenerative disease, all within a matter of days. When the bailiffs come to their home a walking book provides the inspiration they need to keep moving forward. They soon find themselves on the South West Coast Path, walking from Minehead to Land’s End, and after that who knows? It’s a dramatic, emotional start to a book that will shine a light on people’s misconceptions of those who become homeless.

Ray naturally struggles to accept the imminent loss of her life partner, and it takes most of the 630 mile walk for them to be able to openly speak the words. Their two children, young adults living their lives in shared houses, seem to have made their peace with it, but we see events through Ray’s eyes and so this doesn’t become clear until she’s able to face it. The weight of their loss haunts them, but she acknowledges how it impacts their children, the loss of security of having a home to go back to if they need it. Unable to offer their parents somewhere to stay, they look on from afar, occasional calls keeping them in touch. They might struggle to understand what their parents are embarking upon, but they support them.

It might seem like a strange idea, to be advised by a doctor not to over-exert yourself, to take it carefully on stairs, to decide to walk a punishing route, wild camping and barely eating on their £30 a week. And yet, Moth becomes healthier than he has been in a long time, the pain in his shoulder ever present but not stopping him. He loses weight and becomes more muscular as they carry heavy packs over steep cliffs and through dense woodland. Ray doesn’t shy away from the fact it is difficult. Paddy Dillon’s book, their guide, underplays the intensity of the path, he races ahead of them as they slowly wend their way along the coast. They live mostly off noodles, rice, and tuna, learning to take pleasure in watching others eat food that is far out of their reach. 

There’s plenty of humour to be found too. Their long-running saga of people mistaking Moth for Simon Armitage, a name they’re not familiar with, leads them into some strange scenarios, including Moth receiving a massage from a local business owner’s assistant. They come to assign categories to other walkers they encounter, many of whom are so focussed on racing across as many miles as possible that they miss out on so much of the value of doing it. They meet a range of characters along the way, from those who are friendly until they mention their situation to familiar faces they see again and again, and an unfortunate amount of early dog walkers who always seem to appear at the worst possible moment. They are repeatedly told how old they are, and how lucky to have the luxury of time, the freedom to keep walking until they choose to stop rather than having to rush back to jobs. The reality is that the end point is scary because after it they don’t know what happens.

As time passes they notice that they are far more comfortable in the more remote areas of the path, being around a lot of people puts them on edge. A mix-up with a ferry means they have to sleep in a town one night and it leaves them shaken and wondering how people do it night after night. Despite having next to nothing themselves, whenever they can help others they do, sharing their meagre rations of food. They’re also met with much kindness, from others living without homes and also those living in more comfort. Many make a quick exit when they realise they’re not walking for fun with a home waiting for them at the end, but others are interested in their story, want to help. Ray is very conscious of the fact their lack of access to washing facilities means they smell, her hair becomes knotted, and they are both extremely sunburnt. Some judge them and try to keep them away but their experience is a reminder to us all not to judge those less fortunate than ourselves, to offer kindness rather than hate. This is ultimately a hopeful book, you go in expecting it as the very existence of the book suggests a turn in fortune at some point, but there are many more stories that we will never hear, of people who are never given a chance.

Throughout it all is Ray and Moth, having shared three decades of life they are a solid pair, and seem to get on remarkably well for people spending all day every day together for months on end in such difficult circumstances. Their love is strong, and although there is no miracle cure for Moth, they make the most of the time they have together, making memories and basking in each other’s company. It reminds us of what is really important in life, to never take time with our loved ones for granted. At times a deeply moving book, it definitely had me tearing up, but it is interesting and humorous, and full of love, for this land, and for each other.

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Non-Fiction November Week Two - Book Pairings

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I’m late to the Non-Fiction November party this year, but when I saw the week two theme (provided by Katie of Doing Dewey) I couldn’t help but join in. 

The King Over the Water by Desmond Seward and Outlander by Diana Gabaldon

The first two books of Gabaldon’s best selling series centre around the time leading up to the infamous Battle of Culloden. For a look at the expansive history of the Jacobites which includes, but is no means limited to, the activity around Bonnie Prince Charlie, Seward’s book offers an overview of almost 120 years of the Jacobite movement.

Dark Emu by Bruce Pascoe, Growing Up Aboriginal in Australia edited by Anita Heiss and The Secret River by Kate Grenville

Grenville’s novel explores the relationship and violence between colonists in Australia and the Aboriginal people who have looked after and lived in the land for thousands of years. Dark Emu challenges the impression of Aboriginal people as hunter gatherers and shows how white history has retold their history to suit their own prejudices. Growing Up Aboriginal in Australia gives us a glimpse of life in modern Australia that reveals the ongoing impact of colonialism.

Black Tudors: The Untold Story by Miranda Kaufman and A Book of Secrets by Kate Morrison

Morrison’s book centres on a strong, intelligent, black woman in Tudor England. Enslaved, but later saved from slavery, she overcomes a number of challenges to succeed in a time where the colour of her skin and her gender would have led many to underestimate her. Kaufman’s book seeks to raise the voices of those who are often erased from the history of the Tudors, and reassesses the view that slavery was almost inevitable, urging us to think again about what caused a radical shift in perspective in the seventeenth century.

The Shadowy Third by Julia Parry and The House in Paris by Elizabeth Bowen

Parry’s enthralling book traces her grandfather’s affair with the writer Elizabeth Bowen through their correspondence, bringing her grandmother to the fore, who had destroyed her own letters from the time. This is a fascinating book that makes you think about how history is constructed. Reading it will definitely make you want to explore some of Bowen’s writing and The House in Paris is the novel cited as being central to the family’s myth around Bowen, so makes a good place to start.

Inconvenient People: Lunacy, Liberty and the Mad-Doctors in Victorian England by

Sarah Wise and Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

Brontë’s ‘madwoman in the attic’ speaks powerfully to us through the years, inspiring creative responses and intriguing the casual reader. Wise’s book gives a startling insight into the way those considered mad were treated in Victorian England, as well as those who weren’t but were conveniently diagnosed as such to keep them out the way.

Scott-Land: The Man Who Invented A Nation, Stuart Kelly

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This interesting book looks at the life of Walter Scott, his impact on the prevailing image of Scotland, and Kelly’s own relationship with ‘the Great Unknown’. This is not straightforward literary biography, but instead something more difficult to define. He guides us through the rise of Scott’s popularity and descent into derision and obscurity. His legacy naturally gets a lot of attention, and readers, whether familiar with Scott’s novels or not, will leave with a greater understanding and fascination with this eccentric author whose work provides us with so many of our ideas of Scottish tradition and whose influence should not be forgotten.

Scott not only created a version of Scotland and Scottish history that did not exist, but also attempted to create some mystique around himself as author. ‘It is as if, in the process of converting Scotland into an imaginary place, Scott had to make himself into an imaginary author.’ For many years he continued with the ruse that he wasn’t the author of the Waverley novels, going as far as to review one of his own books negatively, and determinedly persisting with the delusion despite his identity being an open secret. Indeed, he seemed to imagine himself a different reality at several points throughout his life. When he was met with financial ruin it made no practical sense to declare bankruptcy, yet he framed this as an act of heroism. It is perhaps not surprising then that Abbotsford, the home he created, is formed of clashing and contrasting styles that somehow held together while he was living but lost its soul with his parting, leaving modern visitors with a feeling of disconnect and unease.

It is perhaps ironic that the man who did so much to build the mythos of Scotland has had such a troubled legacy himself. A bestselling author during his lifetime, hailed by the Victorians as rivalling Shakespeare (or at least their idea of him) in significance, he is now largely neglected except for the most devoted of fans. Even his memorial in Edinburgh, the largest to an author in the world, was plagued with problems from the start, with the untimely death of the architect years before its completion, and an unfortunate material choice that meant it looked time worn when new.

His impact on Scottish tradition was helped along in no small part by royalty. His co-ordination of George IV’s visit to Edinburgh popularised a new, false sense of tradition that was derided at the time yet remains firmly in place today. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert also enthusiastically adopted his vision of Scotland in their time at Balmoral, from the design of the building to their patronage of the highland games and penchant for tartan.

Scott’s name will live on in street names, railway stations, and schools, and in this entertaining book Kelly takes us on a journey with one who went in search of the man behind the name. The character that emerges is one of contradiction, a nationalist unionist, a great yet shallow writer, forgotten yet commemorated across Scotland. Kelly does not shy away from Scott’s failings yet offers a compelling case for getting to know ‘the Great Unknown’.

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The Shadowy Third: Love, Letters, and Elizabeth Bowen, Julia Parry

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This post is part of the blog tour for the book. Thanks to Random Things Tours and Duckworth Books for providing me with a free copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

A death in the family results in Parry becoming custodian of a box of letters between her grandfather, Humphry House, who she never met, and celebrated novelist Elizabeth Bowen. The details of their affair had been passed down through family lore but the presence of these tangible remnants of their relationship compel her to go in search of them. Her grandmother, Madeline, is largely silent because she destroyed many of her own letters from the period, and yet her personality and intelligence is clear throughout. Often dismissed as dull and unintelligent by both Elizabeth and Humphry, Parry brings her to life in the pages of this fascinating memoir.

Unlike many biographers Parry places herself firmly in the book, discussing her physical journey to the places of importance to the trio, as well as the emotional journey her research takes her on. Coming to the book with no prior knowledge of Bowen I was able to enjoy the intimate family history, the discussion of how stories are passed down and pieced together, and the way voices are silenced or raised in the choices made by those who care for the archives. Parry makes history feel a very personal pursuit and the result is a book that will interest not just fans of Bowen but those interested in social and gender history.

Humphry’s affair with Elizabeth began after his initial engagement to Madeline was broken, but when their marriage became a certainty there was no question that the affair would end. He was painfully open about his dual romantic life, seemingly giving no thought to how either woman would feel being reminded of the other’s presence. He even went as far as orchestrating meetings between them, which naturally were uncomfortable events for both parties. Elizabeth was not impressed by his choice of wife and desired their affair to proceed entirely separate from either of their marriages. She was completely committed to making her success of her own but found sexual and intellectual stimulation outside of it, having many more lovers after Humphry.

Elizabeth is shown to be cutting in her assessment of other women and desires control in her affairs. She lays clear boundaries for Humphry but quickly breaks them herself. Through their letters we see high emotion and occasional jealousy, especially on the news of Madeline’s first pregnancy. The two gradually grow apart, and although their romantic attachment fades their friendship remains. Elizabeth seems to have gained a confidence from Humphry’s affections that propels her into a busy social life in London.

We see Humphry through Elizabeth’s eyes in her letters, supposedly worn down and depressed by marital and parental responsibility, yet coming alive when with her in Ireland. Despite this assessment of their marriage we see on several occasions that when Humphry and Madeline have time alone, especially when working on projects together, their relationship thrives.

Humphry does not come across as entirely likeable, frequently leaving his heavily pregnant wife to spend time with Elizabeth. Similarly, he leaves her to look after their young daughters alone, meeting their second for the first time when she was already walking and talking. We do not have written evidence of Madeline’s feelings during this time but it is not hard to feel sympathy for her, having given up her job and left her friends to move to Exeter with Humphry, she is frequently abandoned in a lonely, dank cottage.

Humphry underestimates his wife’s talents frequently. Indeed, he seems to struggle to take female intellectual pursuit seriously, being dismissive of his female University students. He does Madeline a great injustice in not appreciating her strength and active mind. She went to University at a time where it was not common, carried out meaningful work in the slums of London, and spent a month alone in Germany before their wedding, just after the Nazis had come to power. Her knowledge of German was essential to his work as he relied on her for translation. She later worked tirelessly on editions of Dickens letters, a project initiated by Humphry but which became her crowning glory. Throughout she shows determination and flare and refuses to be dismissed as a simpering housewife.

It is at times hard to believe the way Humphry conducted himself, but Parry resists judgment. She offers a fair and considered view of a history so close to her heart. This is a fascinating book made possible by the strong epistolary tradition of the participants. The letters are not presented in full, and Parry admits to editing to weave her own story, an acknowledgment that the telling of history is never without its biases. A brilliant tale of a complex marriage, and a chance to read previously unpublished letters, shining a light on a relationship that has otherwise been publicly obscured.

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A Bit of a Stretch: The Diaries of a Prisoner, Chris Atkins

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In July 2016, film-maker Chris Atkins was sentenced to five years in prison for his role in a tax fraud scheme used to finance some of his films. He was sent to one of Britain’s most notorious prisons, Wandsworth, where he kept a diary to help stay sane. What follows is a horrifying account that leaves you in no doubt about the sorry state of our prisons. Britain has the highest prison population in the EU and a reoffending rate of 48%. Chris Grayling cut staffing by a third during his tenure as Justice Secretary, resulting in prisoners being locked up in their cells for twenty-three hours a day, only being able to shower infrequently, and no training or education provision. 

The outdated, overly complex bureaucracy of the prison system is endlessly frustrating as well as failing in severe ways, resulting in the early release of dangerous inmates, and protracted sentences for minor offences. Atkins does his best to wade through a system that doesn’t seem to make sense even to those enforcing it, but finds that the many forms he fills in generally remain ignored.

He is desperate to gain Enhanced status which allows slightly more freedom, and ultimately aims to be made category D, which would mean being transferred to an open prison. He picks up as many jobs as he can to aid in this but admits that he benefits from his race, affluence, and education. It is disappointing to see that social inequalities in society are mirrored in prisons and, although he acknowledges the unfairness of the system, Atkins happily takes advantage of the opportunities available to make prison life more bearable.

As part of his campaign to be moved into more comfortable accommodation he trains to become a Listener, a scheme organised by the Samaritans for peer support. His Listener status allows him a more spacious cell, but the burden of caring for others in a system that makes it virtually impossible for him to help them in any practical way takes its toll. He regularly sees people self-harming and rarely has the opportunity to find out whether they made it through. He talks about the fact that the complete lack of control and uncertainty experienced by inmates has a damaging effect on mental health, not to mention the isolation. Mental illness is punished as bad behaviour, meaning that those who are suffering are likely to have their sentences extended. There is an isolation cell for those at highest risk but the small, bloodstained cell that offers not a shred of privacy or comfort only serves to humiliate and exacerbate problems. The prison experience is hugely damaging to both prisoners and officers and Atkins talks openly about his own struggles to adjust to new environments.

An interesting read that mixes personal experience with facts and figures, and manages to be funny despite its dark subject. Atkins’ descriptions of the endless noise, lack of personal space, and loss of agency gives a shocking glimpse into prison life. He discusses the huge difference made by various cellmates, some endlessly cheerful, others absolutely terrifying. Whatever preconceptions you go in with, you’re bound to discover something new and reassess your views on the role and efficacy of prisons. A manifesto for urgent reform.

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The Life of Charlotte Brontë, Elizabeth Gaskell

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Gaskell’s infamous biography of Charlotte Brontë may contain some glaring omissions, but can tell us much about the time in which she was writing. Jane Eyre, although popular, had led to attacks on Charlotte’s morality. Gaskell’s moralistic portrait shows Brontë to be a devoted daughter, sister, and, briefly, wife, who put duty above her own desires. A female writer herself, Gaskell was all too aware of the unique criticisms levelled against women writers and attempted to portray her subject in an acceptable light to allow her work to be appreciated on its own merit. 

In Winifred Gérin’s introduction to the Folio edition we are given an insight into the practical difficulties that impacted on the final book. The biography was required with haste, meaning Gaskell was at times sloppy in dealing with the wealth of letters provided for inclusion. Brontë’s friend Ellen Nussey was the main contributor and carefully curated her contribution, keen also to have her friend remembered as pious and demure. Mary Taylor, a friend who Charlotte spent much time debating politics, philosophy, and religion, had moved to New Zealand, meaning her recollections did not arrive in time for inclusion in the first edition. She also, regrettably, destroyed many of her letters.

One of the most notable absences for the modern reader is Charlotte’s unrequited love for M. Heger, her tutor in Brussels. His wife refused to speak to Gaskell, and although Heger himself did share some of their correspondence, all references to her passion for him are excluded. This made things difficult as Charlotte expressed her misery in letters to friends. Gaskell brought forward tales of Branwell’s demise to this time in order to justify her distress. Both brother and father receive some harsh treatment throughout which coloured popular opinion of them for many years. In attempting to sanitise Charlotte’s life, Gaskell condemned others. The book was popular and quickly ran to a second edition but it wasn’t long before libel cases and requests for revisions began pouring in, resulting in the much amended third edition. My copy included both the sections omitted in the third edition, and the additions, providing a sense of what a different book it became. 

Armed with this knowledge I embarked on the biography with some sympathy for Gaskell and a better understanding of where its biases came from. It opens with a short history of Haworth and the family that she was born into. Haworth is described as isolated and wild, the family reserved but willing to help those in need. Charlotte is often portrayed as unhappy, anxious, and full of self-doubt bordering on hatred. We see her repeatedly disappointed when plans to see friends fall through and are reminded that beyond the legend she was just a normal young adult who needed companionship and dreamt of seeing new places, London holding a particular fascination.

Her special connection with her sisters is, naturally, examined, as well as her need to express herself creatively, her compulsion to write, and the upbringing that allowed room for nurturing imagination. A heartbreakingly detailed account of her final journey with Anne, to Scarborough, is provided by the friend who accompanied them. Gaskell does not shy away from the depression that overtook Charlotte on the loss of her sisters, the sad life she lived once those who truly understood her were gone. In her retelling of these tragic events she perhaps began the public fascination with their lives. 

Gaskell states that when Charlotte can tell her own story through her letters and writings, that no other should take her place. The result is a book overflowing with extracts that sometimes reveal a side of her that doesn’t get much airtime today. This style allows us an opportunity to see the life she lived beyond the public persona she was so anxious of, albeit one strictly edited to convey the desired effect by her biographer. The letters are sometimes mislabelled however, multiple letters run into each other, and it’s not always clear who the recipient was.

I read this out of curiosity for this much maligned book more than to discover the facts of Charlotte’s life which are readily available, but was pleasantly surprised by the ease of writing and material I’d either not come across before, or that had slipped my mind. This saccharine portrait may be at odds with the passionate, radical life we accept today, but it may have helped save her from Victorian censorship, allowing us to continue to enjoy Charlotte’s work today.

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Van Gogh: The Life, Steven Naifeh and Gregory White Smith

Vincent van Gogh is today one of the world’s most beloved artists. His distinctive style is instantly recognizable and the legend that has built up around his life and death promote the idea of him as a tortured genius. This epic biography paints a more balanced picture, focusing not just on the final few dramatic years of his life in which he painted many of his most iconic pictures. Instead, the reader is taken through a detailed account of his whole life – his struggles and failures, obsessions and hopes. At times it is difficult to read the harsh realities of a troubled life.

From his early years he longed for close familial relations, something that remained largely absent throughout his life. His strained relationship with his parents and the circumstances around his father’s death meant an icy reception for their wayward son. His brother Theo often took the role of peacemaker. His relationship with Theo was arguably the most significant of his life but was also fraught with difficulty. Theo financially supported his brother for most of his adult life and suffered social exclusion when he came to live with him in Paris. Vincent seems to have swung between a sense of entitlement and deep feelings of guilt for the burden he knew he was to his brother. The passages describing some of their interactions show behaviour that is nothing short of abusive and is incredibly hard to read. Despite their difficulties, Theo continued to champion Vincent and hope for success in his endeavours.

Vincent emerges as unlikable at times but often as childishly innocent, longing for acceptance and a family home. He travelled around a fair amount and would dream of Theo joining him. His preparations of the Yellow House for Gauguin’s arrival are endearing but the reader is left with a sense of dread knowing his hopes will once more be dashed with disappointment.

He was an outcast wherever he went, people finding his intense painting style alarming and his disheveled appearance a point of mockery. It is this rejection by society that defined his life. He enrolled in art school on a number of occasions but inevitably dropped out due to his unwillingness or inability to follow instruction. His first taste of potential success appeared mere months before his death thanks to the championing of Albert Aurier, a young art critic, but he was sadly not well enough to enjoy it.

Naifeh and Smith rarely speculate throughout, relying on documentary evidence to trace the tumultuous life of Van Gogh. They do not attempt to diagnosis his ailments but merely report on his medical record, explaining the context and medical developments that were happening at the time of his treatment. One point on which they do object however, is the myth of his untimely death. In an appendix that details the evidence that led to their conclusion and the flaws in sources for the alternative, they offer a reasoned debate. This part of the book did not go down well with many in the art world however, and they were accused of having included it purely for the publicity it inevitably created around publication.

A comprehensive, well researched biography that is easy to read thanks to its lively and smooth prose. The wider artistic and cultural conditions of the day are brought to life, situating Van Gogh very much in his time. If you want to know more about the man behind the legend then this is a great place to start.

Further resources can be found at http://vangoghbiography.com/ and scans and transcripts of Van Gogh’s letters can be viewed on http://vangoghletters.org/vg/

Non-Fiction November – Favourites

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This week’s non-fiction November theme, picked by Katie at Doing Dewey, is favourites. I’ve been reading more non-fiction this year and it’s been a great addition to my reading life. Currently working my way through Gomorrah by Roberto Saviano, my first ever ‘true crime’ book and it’s fascinating and horrifying. Here are some other brilliant non-fiction reads from over the years. I’d love to hear what you’d recommend.

Reason to Stay Alive by Matt Haig:

This is a book that doesn’t really need any more publicity but it’s popular for a reason. It details Haig’s battle with depression and offers insights into what has helped him, without ever claiming to have universal solutions to the illness. Whether you’re looking to find out more about mental health issues or just want to know you’re not alone, this is a great place to start.

Pick up a copy here.

Down Under: Travels in a Sunburned Country by Bill Bryson

Bryson brings his characteristic wit to his exploration of Australia, with funny anecdotes and informative snippets, it will leave you feeling like you’ve learned a lot as well as possibly more than you’d like to about all the potentially dangerous wildlife you might encounter out there. I’ve never read a Bill Bryson book that I haven’t enjoyed and he writes on such a broad range of topics that there’s bound to be one you can get stuck in to.

Pick up a copy here.

The Greatest Traitor: The Life of Sir Roger Mortimer by Ian Mortimer

This book had me hooked from the start. Medieval history doesn’t get all that much attention in general but I was shocked I’d never heard of a man that deposed the king and ruled England, albeit fairly briefly. This is history at its most dramatic – escape from the Tower of London, affairs that have extreme consequences, and a murder mystery that historians are still debating to this day.

Pick up a copy here.

Charlotte Brontë: A Life by Claire Harman

The Brontës seem to be the object of insatiable public interest and although you may think we don’t need another biography, this is a brilliant addition. Well researched and thoughtfully portrayed, it is an enlightening read and one that makes you feel the heartache and difficulties that the family and specifically Charlotte faced.

Pick up a copy here.

Hired: Undercover in Low-Wage Britain by James Bloodworth

This book should be required reading for all those politicians who tell us how wonderful employment rates are at the moment. Eye-opening and horrifying, this book gives you an insight into what it’s like to be stuck in the gig economy, working for companies that pretend to give you flexibility and freedom while trapping you in an endless cycle of being overworked and underpaid.

Pick up a copy here.