Wednesday, 15 February 2023

Invisible Women: Exposing Data Bias in a World Designed for Men, Caroline Criado Perez

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Criado Perez’s now infamous book on the gender data gap gives us a far-reaching examination of the ways in which women have been excluded from data which would allow changes to make tangible improvements to their lives. In the preface she explains the idea of the default male, that when people say human, they really mean man. Visualising the default human as a white man has very real impacts on those who don’t meet this ‘norm’ (a bizarre mindset when half the population do not fit into this standard on gender lines alone). Tests are so often only carried out on men, meaning that women are seen as outliers, that their bodies are niche or unusual, rather than considering that using men as the basis for design might result in products that are unsuitable for women. She writes about the ways in which we are taught gender expectations and the impact this has on girls’ beliefs in their own possibilities. A solution to this, of course, is to get more women represented in different professions and positions of power, normalising their presence, and bringing in these different perspectives which can lead to less bias.


The book is split into six sections, covering all aspects of life - daily life, the workplace, design, going to the doctor, public life, and when it goes wrong. These cover a broad scope, including scenarios such as snow clearance, female safety in public places, toilets, medicine, and gender bias being built into algorithms that could decide whether or not you are considered for a job. As a woman it can feel disheartening to learn quite how far-reaching inequalities stretch, but perhaps none more so than the fact that health outcomes are so often worse for women because the men in their lives are so indoctrinated with the thought that the role of carer is not for them that they don’t look after those recuperating. These ingrained gender roles are at the core of a lot of the topics discussed in the book. It’s why childcare provision has the biggest impact on women, why the way child benefits are paid can impact how they’re spent, and how transport infrastructure is often not designed for women, who are more likely to be making lots of shorter journeys in the carrying out of caring responsibilities.


The other main issue that comes up time and again is the lack of sex-disaggregated data in research, so even when women are included in studies there’s no way of knowing how their results differ from those of male participants. Most alarmingly, this can mean that drugs are not being developed that would be beneficial to women just because they weren’t effective for men.


Criado Perez uses examples of research and case studies from around the world, and acknowledges that there are other factors that impact inequality. Overall, the picture is of a world that does not value the contributions of women, and doesn’t do the work needed to find out how policy decisions and product designs impact the lives of 50% of the population. Each chapter ends with a call to action, something which is clearly much needed.


I had put off reading this book because it seemed like a topic that would be enraging, and although of course it is not a neutral read and it did variously make me sad, despairing, or angry, it was also just a solid read. She backs up her claims with carefully carried out research, and the extensive end notes point you to the many studies she refers to. There are a lot of facts and figures but she constructs a narrative around them which is interesting to read. At times it can feel slightly repetitive, but that is a problem with the world’s attitude to women, not the book highlighting it. A slow read, but an important one.


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Wednesday, 25 January 2023

The Toymakers, Robert Dinsdale

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The Toymakers opens with a young Cathy Wray pregnant and on the cusp of being forced to give up her baby when it arrives. Instead, she runs away to London and Papa Jack’s Emporium where she will find a job and a home. The Emporium is a magical place full of toys beyond the imagination. It opens with the first frost of the winter and closes with the appearance of snowdrops. What Cathy will do when it closes at the end of the season she doesn’t quite know, but something tells her she’ll be taken care of.

Papa Jack's sons, Emil and Kaspar, are both following in their father’s footsteps and spend their time creating new wonders for customers to enjoy. Emil’s toy soldiers are reliable sellers but he is unsatisfied, struggling to fashion the magic that Kaspar and Papa Jack are able to conjure. Despite Cathy being the constant throughout, it is really the relationship between Emil and Kaspar which is the main focus of the novel. They both fall for Cathy and predictably it is Kaspar she chooses, condemning Emil to a lifetime of watching his brother live the life he wants. The sibling rivalry never ceases, even when, or perhaps especially when, Kaspar leaves to fight in the First World War.

The war is described from a distance, through Kaspar’s letters which hide the reality of what he is experiencing. When he returns however, he is broken. It feels sensitively done, both the impact on those who went to fight, and those who stayed behind. The difficulty for Cathy and her daughter Martha, waiting for word from him, and the sense of betrayal when she realises he’s kept so much from her. The way their relationship is changed is thoughtfully written - their reunion does not heal the horrors of war but Cathy is loyal and patient as the years pass and her once animated husband remains a cold shell of his former self.

Papa Jack has also experienced unimaginable suffering, but through it learnt the power of toys to transport people of any age back to the innocence of childhood. The emporium he creates is a wonderland that visitors hold in their heart well into adulthood. It is richly imagined and all too easy to believe in the patchwork animals with more than a little life in them, the paper forest, and the cloud castle. Reading it allows a slice of magic out into the world. It is not all wonder and delight however, the realities of the outside world seep in, the conflicting brothers strain an already difficult financial time, and the walls of the Emporium are not immune to the bombs of the Blitz.

This is a fantastical book with a heavy dose of reality. Jealousy, discrimination, and financial ruin are all present. There is deep familial love running through but it is up against a barrage of difficulty. A fun read that can at times feel a little aimless, but at others will have you frantically turning the pages to find out what happens next.

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Saturday, 14 January 2023

The Panic Years, Nell Frizzell

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The Panic Years - often the period covering their 20s and 30s for many women where every decision made feels dominated by the question hanging over them - do you want to become a mother? Navigating this question is difficult in and of itself but has wider implications on a woman’s life. Often, they will get stuck in a job, not wanting to move to a new role where they’ll lose their accumulated maternity rights, put off retraining with the knowledge they might not be able to complete, or worry about spending too long building a career that it’s too late to get pregnant, yet needing to progress enough to make childcare affordable (why this pressure often falls solely on the mother is infuriating and baffling. Frizzell unpacks many of the social and political reasons why the burden of making decisions about parenthood so often falls on women).

Frizzell’s own panic years were exacerbated by becoming unexpectedly single in her late twenties. She knew she wanted a baby and that her mother had experienced a fairly early menopause. This inspires a flurry of activity both professionally and sexually. She writes with honesty about the complex feelings she experiences when close friends announce pregnancies and engagements, the feeling of it being a race, as though other people reaching these milestones somehow made it less likely that she would.

She explores the unhealthy obsession people have with others’ lives, the jealousy of seeing happy family photos online yet acknowledging that the reverse is also often true with young parents scrolling enviously through child-free holiday pictures. This culture of comparison and the curated, filtered life that we expose to the world serves no-one. In reaction to a lack of commitments tying them to one place, Frizzell and her partner Nick move to Berlin for a summer with another couple. She admits to posting online about the experience with some desire to cause jealousy in those that she is jealous of.

Her fear of exposing her desire for commitment and a child finally breaks and she begins to pressure an uncertain Nick about trying to get pregnant. It makes for uncomfortable reading at times but she makes the valid counterpoint that somebody else’s indecision should not force her to use contraceptive methods that are ultimately detrimental to her wellbeing. They do eventually decide to try to become pregnant and succeed quickly, but she admits that trying to bend Nick to her desires gave her time to test out her reasoning, to really be ready herself.

The visceral description of her multi-day labour does not shy away from the difficulty of it yet manages to be beautiful and empowering, When her baby finally arrives she is honest about the struggles of being a new mum, the exhaustion, isolation, and worry. This is the key to this book, Frizzell never hides the less than flattering sides of her experience, admitting to jealousies and spite. She tackles difficult topics such as how long it takes to like, let alone love, your offspring, how in the endless sleepless nights you wonder if you made the right decision. This honesty is useful not just for those who are considering embarking on the journey of parenthood, but also for those who have had these same feelings and felt ashamed. She validates the turmoil of emotions that so many struggle with daily.

In the book’s conclusion she examines the positives to come out of the panic years, the focus and drive it instills, yet admits to not being out the other side of it just yet. An interesting, emotional read that can be a comfort in acknowledging you’re not alone in the flux, or an enlightening revelation for those close to people going through it.

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Friday, 6 January 2023

Dragonfly in Amber, Diana Gabaldon

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Please note, this review contains some spoilers. The book is the second in a series so will also contain some spoilers for the first book.

Outlander ended with Jamie and Claire about to embark on a new life in Paris. It is a surprise, therefore, to find Claire at the beginning of the following book in Inverness in 1968. She is there with her grown-up daughter Brianna, Frank is dead, and she is struggling with the emotions of being back in a land that holds so many memories for her. We are not told what has happened in the intervening years, just that Claire believes Jamie to have died at Culloden and that Brianna knows nothing of him. When Brianna and Roger take Claire to the grave of Jack Randall, thinking it will be a nice surprise to see the final resting place of one of Frank’s more famous ancestors, her control unravels and the truth comes out.

We then jump back to 1744 and Claire and Jamie’s attempts to stop the uprising and save so many lives. Jamie becomes a trusted confidante of Charles Stuart and he struggles with the deception required, going against a cause he himself believes in and betraying those who trust him. Their cause may be noble but it is dangerous. Their guilt is not helped by the fact they don’t know if it’s even possible for them to change the course of events, and there are times when their actions seem as though they might make defeat more likely.

The other aspect of the future they’re concerned with is Frank’s existence. Claire still feels desperately that they can’t do anything that will risk his line of descent. Jamie struggles with her obvious care for another man, especially as it means denying himself revenge on his torturer. There are questions over what responsibility there is to protect an innocent man at the cost of allowing a villain to go unpunished. Later in the book Jamie admits that it wasn’t a sense of obligation which encouraged him to follow Claire’s request, but a desire for her to have someone who loves her to return to should the need arise. This offers a sense of their relationship and the deep love they have which surpasses their own individual needs.

Their relationship isn’t perfect however. There are moments of jealousy - they both receive unwanted attention at the Palace which makes the other uncomfortable, and have both been forced into sexual relations with others for different ends. They fight and they make up, both headstrong and fiery. The different times they were born in naturally throws up some differences in outlook but perhaps not as much as you might expect.

The toughest challenge, however, comes with the loss of their baby. Claire miscarries while Jamie is engaged in a dual with Jack Randall, causing a double blow to their relationship. She blames him for the loss, but she also blames herself. They have a period of separation during the aftermath but when they finally find themselves face to face Claire realises that part of the reason she doesn’t want to be near him is because it will force her to feel all the difficult emotions she has tried to hide from. Their shared grief is realistically written and painful to read. We know from the opening chapters that there is another child but that they won’t raise it together, making this loss all the more painful. 

The breadth of this book is quite remarkable. The structure, although disorienting to begin with, leaves you with many questions you’re eager for answers to. The final revelation will leave you desperate for more, even as someone who has watched the TV series and knows what’s coming next. Brianna naturally struggles to believe Claire’s story and there is much about their life with Frank which is left unsaid. New characters have been introduced, old ones reappear, while others bow out permanently. Gabaldon writes interesting characters designed to tug at your heartstrings. There are clear lines between the heroes and the villains with only the occasional concession to a softer side to otherwise despicable characters. I look forward to getting to know many of them better over the series. There is so much to get stuck into in this novel that it’s difficult to write a concise review, but needless to say it is an emotional read, and one which provides much anticipation for the next book.

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Saturday, 31 December 2022

Farewell 2022

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There’s just a few hours left of 2022, and whether you’re full of optimism for the new year or full of dread at the twelve months stretching out ahead of you, know that you’ll get through whatever the new year throws at you, and that you are enough, just as you are right now, in this moment.

When I think back to this time last year, months of ill health had somewhat broken my spirit, and I admit that I wasn’t full of the joys of the season. Instead, I was worried about going back to work, and desperate to get my health under control. This year has been kinder to me and I’ve been able to take part in a number of activities that meant a lot to me. Perhaps most importantly, I got to see my brother get married to a lovely human being I’m very glad to include in my family. 


I haven’t done a very good job of keeping track of everything I’ve experienced this year, nor in
producing as many blog posts and pieces of art and craft. That’s OK though, other things have filled my days and I do not regret them. A lot of my possessions have also been shut away in boxes for large chunks of the year which impacts what you can do and when. My theatre highlight of the year has to be Moulin Rouge the musical, a remarkable spectacle that’s worth seeing even if you’re not that interested in the story. Carrying on our tradition of giving experience gifts, I’m lucky enough to have tickets to see Hamilton in a few weeks, as well as the Bake-Off musical in March. I have no idea what to expect from it but I think it’ll be good fun. 2022 saw some breathtaking live music. I saw my wedding song played live by the composer, and had the great good fortune to see my favourite artist live after twenty years of loyal fandom. I’m not ashamed to say I cried when I got the tickets, and it was the best gig I’ve ever been to. It’s been a great reminder of the power of music, the way it wraps itself around your life in the good times and bad. How hollow our lives would feel without it.



I’ve read less books this year than I have since starting to keep a log back in 2018. Aside from the inclusion of a few chunky books I’m not entirely sure why but I don’t obsess about numbers, more important to have found books to treasure. Some highlights include The Versions of Us, a spontaneous selection that had me completely hooked. I’ve never been one to read the most popular, current reads, but this year I did dive in to The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo and wasn’t disappointed. An incredibly absorbing book with a protagonist that feels so real you have to remind yourself she’s fictional. I only read one classic this year, Madame Bovary, but it was a good one, hopefully 2023 will include more. I’ve been craving a bit of Dickens recently, what would you recommend? A lot of my reading this year has been on a deadline and this has meant putting books down partway through to read the most pressing deadline, and I’m sorry to say, sometimes slightly rushed reviews. I regret that Little Dancer didn’t get a more thorough post as I did enjoy it. This coming year I’m not doing any blog tours and have only signed up to one reading challenge. The 12 books my friends chose for me look set to provide a brilliant year of reading. Unfortunately, I didn’t do very well with last year’s selections, but many of them are on my TBR as they sound like excellent reads which I don’t want to let pass me by.


I have no travel plans for 2023, and it’s likely none will materialise, but armed with my National Trust membership I’m sure to explore some fascinating and beautiful places closer to home. One thing I have managed to work on this year is my novel, and I’m hoping that my first draft will be completed in 2023.


Wishing you all a wonderful year full of the things that bring you joy.




Wednesday, 7 December 2022

Barcelona, Robert Hughes

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Written on the cusp of Barcelona’s transformation for the 1992 Olympic Games, Robert Hughes takes us on a journey through the city’s tumultuous past and incredible creative output. We go back to the early days of the city and learn about how the Catalan language developed independently of Spanish and the reasons behind this. Hughes explains the poor way many in Catalunya were treated over the centuries, but does not shy away from pointing to the times when they also had the opportunity to be the oppressors and took it. This is a fascinating look at a city that continues to capture the imagination.

There’s a large focus on the architectural development of the city. Walking around it today, it feels like a city made for people, with children’s play areas dotted around the place, cycle lanes, and pedestrian crossings that prioritise those on foot over those in cars. Even at the time the book was written, it seems to have been a very different story, with overly congested roads and building regulations which allowed once well-thought out developments to become overcrowded, with outdoor space being sacrificed. Hughes walks us through the different ages of the city, each one wrapping around the previous. It was fascinating to learn about the political motivations for long straight roads as opposed to the maze of streets in the Gothic Quarter, and to learn about thoughtful city planning that makes a positive impact to this day, in ways that couldn’t have been imagined at the time of conception. 

Gaudí has an entire section dedicated to him, but Hughes is also set on making other great Catalan architects known, most notably Lluís Domènech i Montaner, architect of the beautiful Palace of Catalan Music, and Josep Puig i Cadafalch. Hughes is opinionated throughout and offers interpretation of many of Barcelona’s most famous buildings, closing with some scathing remarks on the continued work on the Sagrada Familia. His section on Gaudí reveals an eccentric genius who left an indelible mark on the fabric of Barcelona. 

He writes about the landscape surrounding the city and the ways in which this has had an impact over the years, including making the sewerage system a challenge, something the casual visitor will realise after a short while. He speaks also of the pride that its residents take in Catalan culture and language, and the barriers that those who do not understand the language have in accessing its remarkable history and cultural output. Hughes does us a great service in having written such a fascinating history of the city, a rarity in the English language. 

This is a brilliant book to read if you’re planning a visit to Barcelona, or indeed to read after returning home as it will add much depth to your understanding of the buildings and structure of the city, as well as understanding the tensions that bubble just under the surface. Reading this at a remove of several decades from when it was written is deeply interesting, as Hughes discusses the potential for change that many planned works promise for the city. At times he is unconvinced by some of the proposals and so it is interesting to consider how the experience of the city has changed, where the plans were well executed, and where things maybe didn’t achieve what they hoped. At over six-hundred pages this isn’t a quick read, but the writing is absorbing, the tales interesting, and the city complex and at times contradictory, so it doesn’t feel like a slog.  

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Wednesday, 16 November 2022

A Dream of Sadler’s Wells, Lorna Hill

We meet Veronica on a train taking her away from her beloved London to live with relatives she barely knows in Northumberland. Her mood is dark and she compares the north of England unfavourably to her home city. When she meets a curious boy while escaping an increasingly smoke filled carriage she reveals that her father has recently died, as well as her secret dream of becoming a ballerina. The boy shares his own secret aspirations with her and they pass the rest of the journey in relative peace. On arriving with her family it soon becomes clear that they don’t have much in common - Veronica rushes to help the chauffeur and can’t understand why this is forbidden. Her cousin Caroline is friendly but Fiona is unpleasant throughout, jealous of Veronica’s toned body and talent. Veronica is dedicated to her art and practices diligently in secret until she is given a glimmer of opportunity, her aunt agreeing to her training as a dance teacher. Will she be able to persuade her society family that dancing is not to be looked down upon and achieve her dream of joining the Sadler’s Wells School of Ballet?

This is a cosy, innocent read with many a picnic and pony ride and the only peril being Fiona’s sharp tongue and the possibility of a missed train. They live a privileged life, and although this can be constraining, ultimately their voices are listened to far more than many would have been. Veronica’s ‘sort-of a cousin’ Sebastian is kind and understanding of her dreams. He is also the only person that can put Fiona in her place. Reading this felt very reminiscent of books like The Railway Children or The Famous Five where many a simple adventure is had, idyllic days are spent exploring, and small battles are fought with adults. 


As Veronica is not yet a student at Sadler’s Wells the focus is less on ballet than I imagine the rest of the series might be, but there is still plenty to keep fans interested. Hill shows both the glamorous, elegant side of performance with the beautiful costumes and union with music, but also the daily grind of attaining the skill to create such moving displays. Veronica has a deep appreciation for the art and finds herself lost in the music and surrounds, performing above and beyond anything she has attained previously. She is also lucky to have supportive adults around her. Her beloved Madame back in London and her new teacher Miss Martin go out of their way to support her in achieving her dreams, an indication of the talent they see in her.


Despite Veronica’s reservations when first arriving in her new home, she comes to appreciate the landscape and enjoys summer days spent with her cousins and Sebastian. Nonetheless, she offers us plenty of glimpses of her life in London and we get a good sense of the characters she knew there. Mrs Crapper, her landlady, and the artist Jonathan who lived above them and encouraged her creativity to flourish. She reflects on the shift from leaving London and feeling as though she were losing her home and returning and feeling still that she is leaving home. Her feelings are conflicted and realistic as she grows into her new life.


This is a delightful read with amusing misunderstandings and all the joy of the freedom of youth. Veronica is an amusing narrator, brutally honest in some of her opinions, but ultimately kind and hardworking. The writing is richly descriptive and absorbing. The perfect cosy read for the colder months.