Lee

Short, simple, and essential for those who manage (and those who are being managed)

A concise but useful book that helped me to conceptualise the struggles I was experiencing with my boss at work. I liked the simple structure, and the author's gift for condensing what must have been a lot of research into simple suggestions. There's nothing revolutionary here, but it's sensible and easy to follow.

The definitive treatise on modern misogyny in all its loathsome incarnations. This is the book I wanted Not All Dead White Men by Donna Zuckerberg to be, and it's a wake-up call for parents, policy-makers, and all the men who don't hate women.

When you're writing a vampire tale it can be difficult to sustain a reader's interest in the human characters - after all, absent fathers and ageing alcoholics don't sound quite as exciting as a blood-sucking undead creature of the night with superhuman strength. But the thing is, John Ajvide Lindqvist has populated his contemporary vampire tale Let the Right One In with several ordinary people struggling with ordinary problems, and it succeeds because of these people and not in spite of them.Of course that's partly true of another famous contemporary adult vampire tale, [b:'Salem's Lot 11590 ‘Salem's Lot Stephen King https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327891565l/11590.SY75.jpg 3048937], but what makes Let the Right One In superior to Stephen King's sophomore novel is that the vampire in Lindqvist's book is both more unsettling and far more interesting than the more traditional vampire menacing ‘Salem's Lot.Like in [b:'Salem's Lot 11590 ‘Salem's Lot Stephen King https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327891565l/11590.SY75.jpg 3048937], the location of Let the Right One In is as important as the characters who inhabit it. In fact, the preface is titled “The Location: Blackberg”, and proceeds to describe a place without a past. Lindqvist writes: “You were beyond the grasp of the mysteries of the past; there wasn't even a church. Nine thousand inhabitants and no church.”Although the book is set in Norway in the early 1980s, its somewhat soulless suburban environment is one to which many readers can relate, and it's into this hollowed-out estate that Eli and Håkan move their few belongings and carry out what is at first an anonymous existence. Eli looks about the same age as 12 year-old neighbour, Oskar, and the two form a friendship of sorts as they get to know each other in the desolate spaces around their apartment block. Oskar is being bullied at school but finds an inner strength through Eli, and moves from play-acting violent revenge scenarios to fighting back for real.Eli, like Oskar, is different. Eli uses idiosyncratic phrases, seems unaffected by the freezing conditions outside, and moves with an impossible agility. Oskar's realisation that his new friend is a vampire comes gradually, and this isn't the only hidden identity Eli reveals which challenges Oskar. This is one of the strengths of the book, because as Oskar struggles to accept Eli in light of new revelations he's also questioning his own identity in relation to his parents and his oppressors at school.Beyond these two central protagonists, Lindqvist has established a constellation of supporting characters. Håkan is arguably the closest thing the book has to an antagonist, first as Eli's ineffective provider in the earlier parts of the book whose lustful thoughts about boys paint him as equal parts pathetic and predatory, and later as something much more grotesque in form. The way that Eli is humanised means that the true horror of the book is to be found in Håkan, particularly in a sequence towards the end that takes place in the confines of a dark cellar that was unsurprisingly not used in the 2008 film adaptation - in fact, the film chooses to excise Håkan entirely before he degenerates into what the book has in store for him.And then there are the neighbourhood drunks, although to call them that is to do a disservice to a group of individuals Lindqvist neither dismisses nor glorifies. Lacke, Virginia, and their social circle represent a group of characters I rarely read about in works of popular fiction: older, limited financially, ostracised from mainstream society, and whose loyalties to each other are questionable at times. They're not strictly sympathetic because they're not entirely likeable, but we spend a lot of time with them in this book and we come to understand them via the shame and anger that paradoxically binds this group and alienates them from one another.This is a slight spoiler, but for those of you familiar with Bram Stoker's [b:Dracula 17245 Dracula Bram Stoker https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1387151694l/17245.SY75.jpg 3165724], Virginia plays the role of Lucy Westerna here. Like Lucy, Virginia is forced to come to terms with an ailment that affects her body and her mind, and also like Lucy she's cared for by those who mean well but can do little to treat her condition, including her off-and-on lover. The comparisons end there: unlike Lucy, Virginia is an older, working-class woman and instead of enduring her new existence she reclaims a sense of agency.The story of Lacke, Virginia, and the others at first seems like a subplot which helps to contextualise the central narrative without meaningfully intersecting it, but Lindqvist cleverly pulls all the narrative threads together as the book climaxes and the true horror is unleashed. By that point we're fully immersed in the reasons why a penniless drunk feels compelled to murder a child, and that immersion in the complex psychology of these characters leaves us conflicted about who we're rooting for in the end - with the exception of Håkan, of course. Nobody's rooting for Håkan.Let the Right One In is a dark and dense work that is far more than your typical vampire novel. I'm quoting from its Wikipedia page here, but it usefully lists many of themes explored in this book: “existential anxiety, social isolation, fatherlessness, divorce, alcoholism, school bullying, pedophilia, genital mutilation, self-mutilation, and murder.” To that list I would add gender identity, trauma, and obsession, but there's so much going on beneath the surface that it's hard to list all of the themes.The danger in describing it that way is that the book sounds less of a page-turner than it actually is, but let me assure you that you can enjoy Let the Right One In purely as a Scandanavian horror with fleshed-out characters and gross-out moments. If you want something a bit more though then it has that too, and I wouldn't hesitate to describe it as the best vampire novel I've read and even the best horror novel I've read to date.If you've seen the film then don't think there's no value in reading the book because there is - the horror is darker, the characters are richer, and the experience is unforgettable. And if you haven't seen the film then go check it out too, but just don't pass on the opportunity to read the source material - trust me, you won't regret it.

The inner life of a primate with crippling social anxiety is at turns comical and mortifying. Meeting people is easy, except for those for whom it's the worst thing imaginable.

Rufus endures the everyday horrors of work life by avoiding all but the most essential social encounters, and self-medicates on alcohol when at home. Even attempting to take his own life is fraught with anxiety as he faces the judgemental glare of a seagull. It's ultimately through self-expression, and the external validation that comes through sharing his experiences, that gives some meaning to Rufus's existence.

For social anxiety sufferers, myself included, this is a rare example of a work that honestly conveys what it's like to live in fear of what should be one of life's great pleasures - getting to know other human beings. It was, in any case, a pleasure to get to know Rufus.

I was kindly sent a copy of this book by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.

J. Victoria Michael's debut novel is a light fantasy tale with a light romance and a lightly-developed magic system. It's light in many ways, right down to the limited displays of violence despite its pseudo-medieval setting, and sex scenes that don't linger too much on the fleshy details.

The story is about a young mother, Irenya, who lives in Melbourne Australia and suffers from panic attacks. She suddenly finds herself transported to another realm, one that was recently ravaged by war. She's an unwelcome visitor at first and treated with suspicion, but over time she earns the trust of the nobility among who she lives.

Despite the miracle of the magical world around her, Irenya's overriding desire is to return home to her husband and infant son, but it's a desire that remains unfulfilled as she struggles to find a way back. I found Irenya's persistent need to leave the realm of Dar Orien pretty distracting in the early parts of the book, especially given that we barely meet her family so it's hard to feel too concerned about her separation from them. As the story progressed I looked forward to learning more about the world outside the Imperial estate, but I never get a clear picture of it - partly, I think, because nearly everything is narrated from Irenya's viewpoint and she shows limited curiosity about things other than her own concerns and desires, especially in the early parts of the book.

Ultimately this is probably not the sort of thing that sustains my interest enough to persevere with the subsequent books in the series, but at the same time it's hard to dislike because it doesn't overreach. It doesn't do anything new, but for fans of light fantasy romance keen to support new voices in the genre, I suggest you give it a go.