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From the blog
Patrick Tooban has achieved something rare: a historical novel that feels at once grand in scope and intimate in detail, scholarly in grounding yet poetic in telling. The Oak and the Eagles is not just a story about a forgotten figure of Celtic history — it is an invitation to step into a world where oak and eagle, prophecy and memory, flesh and spirit, are woven into the fabric of life. Readers who accept that invitation may well find themselves lingering by the fire, listening for the echoes of Calgach’s tale long after the book is closed.
To Keep Us All Safe is much more than a dystopian narrative. It is a mirror held up to our fears, our sneakily extorted compromises, and our resilience. It asks us to look closely at the language of safety, to question who benefits from it, and to remember what is lost when freedoms are bartered away. It is a novel that lingers, whispering questions long after the final letter has been read.
No Free Speech for Hate is a work of conviction, scholarship, and humanity. It is bold without being strident, rigorous without being dry, and urgent without being alarmist. In the current climate—where words have never carried more weight, and where democracies everywhere are being tested—it feels like essential reading.
Jack Landon, a thirteen-year-old Goth with a knack for getting into trouble, is sarcastic, stubborn, vulnerable, and instantly sympathetic – the kind of protagonist you root for even when he makes questionable decisions. His life is turned upside down when he finds himself pursued by a mysterious man, stunned by a robot, and whisked into a completely unfamiliar reality. Here he meets Dorothy, a so-called Guardian Angel who is equal parts wise, chaotic, and hilarious. She offers Jack biscuits, sweets, and tambourines as if these are the essentials for surviving both adolescence and interdimensional crises.
At first glance, Aftermath might appear to be a straightforward war story — paratroopers dropping into enemy fire, crackling radios, the weight of a revolver in a soldier’s hand. But Patrick Smart isn’t writing a soldier’s adventure yarn. He is writing about what happens after. The title itself is the clue. This is less about glory on the battlefield and more about the scar tissue left behind: the fractured psyches, the attempts to find routine after chaos, the sense that violence has bled into everyday life in ways that no discharge papers can erase.
Nicholson has a gift for taking meticulously researched history and turning it into something vivid, immediate, and unexpectedly moving. This isn’t a dry recitation of dates and facts — it’s an immersive journey, in every sense of the word. Our guide is Caroline Morton, a young widow living in Halifax, Nova Scotia, who sets out to write a novel about her family history. One year later, she hasn’t managed the first chapter. Then, in a wonderfully mischievous twist, her ancestors decide to intervene.
Some book titles whisper; others announce themselves with a kind of eerie authority. The Ghost Writer sits somewhere in between: quiet, unsettling, and suggestive of hidden hands shaping both the page and the lives upon it. From the outset, I knew this was not going to be an ordinary read.
Having already devoured The Three Wives of Charlie Mellon, this is the second novel I’ve read from Ian Siragher, and I was curious to see where his imagination would lead this time. This novel is sharper, more enigmatic, and comparatively a deeper shade of grey — a story that lingers like a shadow you can’t quite shake.
Carolyn J. Nicholson’s The Last Witch on Skye is a radiant tribute to oral tradition, Celtic folklore, and the quiet resilience of those who live between worlds—be they witches, fairies, or misunderstood humans. With her debut into middle-grade fantasy, Nicholson gifts readers a story rich with mischief, wit, cultural texture, and emotional depth, all wrapped in a narrative voice that is both timeless and tender.
In the sphere of historical inquiry, few works dare to intertwine documented fact with speculative reasoning as boldly, and with such baroque elegance, as The Story of Queen Mary II and the Mysterious Jean Tijou. Malcolm Adrian Fay does not merely present a book; he offers what he terms a “historical case file” - a genre-defying composition in which archival records, circumstantial evidence, artistic symbolism, and logical conjecture combine to illuminate one of the most tantalising enigmas of 17th-century Britain: the concealed life and alleged royal affiliation of the elusive artist-blacksmith Jean Tijou.
Few books manage to provoke such a blend of fascination, discomfort, and reflection as Geoff Tyler’s White Pigeon: A Man Who Stayed, with a Wife Who Strayed. What begins as a seemingly straightforward memoir about a late-life romance between an English scientist and a beautiful Rwandan woman unfolds into something much more confronting, tangled, and compulsively readable.
From the moment I opened "Dying to Stay Young," I knew I was in for something special. Glynis Drew's latest offering doesn't just tell a story—it grabs you by the throat and refuses to let go. This isn't your typical crime thriller—Drew has crafted something that transcends genre boundaries to become something far more profound.
Dystopian fiction has long fascinated readers with its ability to reflect the cracks in our own societies through exaggerated, often terrifying, futures. In Utopia?, R.A. Rowlingson takes up this challenge with remarkable assurance, offering not merely another bleak vision of tomorrow but a layered narrative that combines political intrigue, social critique, and deeply human storytelling.