If you are anything like me, you’ll hear a book mentioned, make a mental note to read it sometime, and then completely forget about it.

I’m especially bad at doing this whilst listening to books discussed on The High Low podcast.

As such, when my ‘To Be Read’ pile started dwindling during the lockdown, I  Googled books that had been featured on the podcast and ordered a few that seemed good at first glance.

And that is how I found Where’d You Go, Bernadette? by Maria Semple. I really enjoyed The Lost Sister so I thought this story, which followers Bee’s search for her missing mother sounded like a good fit.

The premise is simple: Outside of her husband and child, Bernadette doesn’t have many close contacts within her local community. This is because she has dedicated the last decade and more to raising her daughter Bee, who had health problems as a child.

When Bernadette goes missing Bee is the only one who can really help. Or rather is the only person who seemingly wants to help.

Only I didn’t realise before starting the book that Bee is a teenager.

The book is mainly made up of Bee’s diary entries, along with emails between Bernadette and her assistant and messages sent between other parents at Bee’s school. The mixture of perspectives certainly works well and helps to giver Bernadette’s character more depth. Despite the fact, Bernadette never speaks directly to the reader, the multiple perspectives us a greater insight into her thought process as well as the consequences she doesn’t register.

However, the mixture also means that many of the other characters do not get to develop the same level of depth as Bernadette. As a teenager who has lost her mother, you would expect Bee to have a whole host of intense emotions… yet she seems almost detached. The feelings she expresses in her diary come across somehow flat – if not verging on whiney – given the circumstances.

Though perhaps I am being unfair.

I expected this book to be intense, full of mystery and dark humour. I wanted it to explore mother-daughter relationships and I guess I just wanted this book to be more than what it is.

I don’t want this to come across as negative, because it was an enjoyable read regardless. Just be warned Where’d You Go, Bernadette? Is the type of book best suited to being read around a pool somewhere sunny, rather than a book that will draw you in on a cold, dark evening.

Which is not to say it is boring -the plot is certainly full of unexpected twists. It’s an easy read that will keep you entertained, though it is unlikely to be one that you cannot put down.

If you are looking for a book that will offer a bit of light escapism without consuming you, it will be a perfect read.

It may be a blogger/millennial faux pass to admit, but I didn’t know much about Emma Gannon until recently.

Sure I’d seem people talking about her first book, Ctrl, Alt, Delete: Growing Up Online  but it had never really piqued my interest.  Then I discovered her podcast, and whilst I’m not a dedicated fan I do enjoy dipping in and out of her episodes… cherry picking the ones that sound interesting or feature women I find admiring.

And it was through her podcast I learnt about this book: The Multi-Hyphen Method: Work Less

Create More and Design A Career That Works For You.  Now that my Master’s degree is well and

truly behind me, I’ve been toying with the idea of a side hustle and this book seemed like a great

place to start.

But… this book was neither an introduction to the topic, or even the warm up act. Normally I don’t

like to post negative reviews when it comes to books because even if you don’t like the content you

can appreciate the work that went into creating it. However, this book is disappointing all round.

In Emma’s defence, she has always said The Multi-Hyphen Method is not guide, or a tool kit. Even if the sub-title hints

at it ever so slightly. Instead it can be best described as a brief history of work and thin tales of

Emma’s previous roles, job perks and the odd ‘terrible’ boss.

Giving a brief history of work, work places and possibly some predictions for the future could

have been fine. And there are some places where it is fine. Emma raises some interesting points

and insights into the different industries she’s worked in. It’s interesting to hear about how she

handles her career when most of her family don’t have the experience or knowledge to offer

guidance.

That said… Maybe it’s just a hangover from all of my academic reading, but this book just seems

lacking somehow. Most of Emma’s references come from online magazines such as Refinery29 or

interviews with friends. And whilst love reading Refinery29, I just wished she would have included

some actual studies or research… or anything really.

I really wanted to love this book, to feel motivated by it and inspired. But instead I just felt tricked…

rather than a book, it would best be described as a printed blog, by a blogger that was only

publishing new posts for the sake of publishing new posts.

If you’re interested in work places practise and the history of work, I’d recommend the Eat, Sleep,

Work, Repeat podcast by Twitter’s Bruce Daisley any day.

Maybe I’m just not the target audience. If you’re fresh from school or have yet to enter the world of work then maybe this book could be a starting point. If you’ve started work, or like me been working for a while, I’d suggest giving this book a miss.

If you’re in the market for a new self-help book, this one may be of interest.

I’m going to be honest, I should have written this post a long time ago. I should have read Seas of Snow a lot quicker. I wanted to read it quicker – in one long uninterrupted sitting. Probably with a quiet hour or two after to sit and reflect.  However that is not always how the world works, with some books that’s not a problem. You can dip in and out, like a piece of fruit on the go, they nourish you quickly – normally leaving a sweet taste.

This is not a book that you can pick up when you have a spare ten minutes to kill. Kerensa  Jennings carefully weaves a narrative that demands attention, whilst the subject itself demands respect. Seas of Snow appealed to me instantly with its distinctive northern voice. As much as I love Coronation Street, as a northern lass sometimes I want another northern, working class voice. Kerensa uses phrases that transport you directly into the working class world of Newcastle in the 50’s – without the need to google half the words, wondering what on earth they mean. You feel as if you too, could be leaning on kitchen counter in one of the houses, gossiping about the couple at number 6.

I don’t want to give too much of the plot away, but let’s say this: it follows Gracie, whose normal life is violently interrupted through the arrival of her uncle, and his sudden inclusion in the household.

A lot of the time abuse, especially of women can seem fetishized at worse, or used as a lazy plot device at best. The descriptions are graphic and meant to shock then are conveniently swept away after the victim has been stripped bare. Seas of Snow takes a different track – and in a way makes it more effective. Gracie is young, very young and the writing reflects this. Again, I don’t want to let slip any spoilers – however the events in the book are made even more chilling by the innocence – and confusion – with which Gracie comprehends them.  As you progress through Seas of Snow, you know what is happening, and what is to come. Your heart aches as you see Gracie, a young girl with wide eyes – who doesn’t know what is happening, but knows that it is not right.

The book is undeniably dark, yet offers light in the most some of the smallest, everyday places. The characters find solace in friendships, sometimes current and full of laughter. Other times the friendships are past their prime, yet highlight how ties to the past can be a source of comfort even when nowadays the catchups feel more like a duty than a pleasure. Memories of everyday events and passages of poetry offer peace to the characters. The novel teaches that in even the hardest of times it is possible to find small spaces to escape.

Kerensa is not only a talented writer, she is a creative poet too. The novel is punctuated with passages of poetry that the characters read and reminisce about. As the subject is quite dark, the poetry could be seen as light relief, but it is in no way ‘fluff’ that only serves as a distraction. The verses could easily stand alone in their own right.

In a way, this book is as much about learning to find peace where you can. The world, as we’ve seen recently, can be harsh. It can be hard, hurtful and illogical but by looking at the smaller details it is possible to still find hope.

To misquote Dumbledore, this book reminds us – in the hardest hitting way – that it is possible to find peace even in the darkest of times, if only we remember to turn on the light.

First of all, let me admit, I feel deeply under-qualified to write this review… but something in me says I should try. There is a set structure to ghost stories: normally someone dies; they are either an awful person, or die in awful circumstances. Unable to rest in peace, they come back and wreak havoc. We feel sorry for the family they haunt (usually good looking, rich and with an adorable child.) Eventually the ghost gets beaten away or triumphs, leaving us waiting for the moment it gets bored and moves in to our own house.

That is how I imagined Beloved to be. I started this book in Uni, all those years ago, and only finished it on the third attempt when I revisited it this month. That is not to say it isn’t a good book, or a hard read… I just think you’ve got to be in the right mind set.

The book focuses on Sethe, an African American woman in the years after the Civil War. Although the novel does not give a specific date, it flashes back less than 20 years when Sethe escaped from the slavery at a plantation known as Sweet Home. The horror in this book does not come from the ghost of the dead child known only as Beloved. It comes from the past. Do not get me wrong, Beloved (known by the only word carved on the pink gravestone – paid for in sexual services) does cause harm and upset in the conventional ghostly ways. But that pales almost into insignificance compared to the driving motives of the characters.

Slavery is taught in schools, it is the focus of documentaries and books. We know of the methods, and could probably describe some version of a plantation. However in this book we are made to feel, not the horrors of torture, or forced enslavement but the horror of not being able to own and belong. The driving motive behind the narrative is that of the mother-daughter relationship.

In a society where slaves would often see their children die whilst nursing their owner’s child, and see them sold off like cattle; ‘normal’ relationships were often suspended. The omnipresent character of Baby Suggs, had eight children and didn’t allow herself to care for any of them but the last; the only one she was allowed to keep.

In the present moment of the book, a former slave from the same plantation as Sethe notes “Risky, thought Paul D, very risky. For a used-to-be-slave woman to love anything that much was dangerous, especially if it was her children she had settled on to love. The best thing, he knew, was to love just a little bit, so when they broke its back, or shoved it in a croaker sack, well, maybe you’d have a little love left over for the next one.”

By running Sethe had the chance to keep her children, including her ‘crawling already? Girl’ and she unashamedly settled her love on them. So what’s new about that? Don’t all parents settle on loving their child? They do. However Sethe’s love is a “thick love” (spoiler alert) when white men come to return her and the children to her owner –  under the fugitive slave act, she makes a choice. And so she acts, there and then, to kill her children.

Is there an act that could make you feel the horrors of slavery more than this?

Sethe abandoned her husband, risked her life, the life of her unborn child (she is heavily pregnant whilst fleeing the plantation) to get to the place her children were hiding and give her daughter breast milk. Breast milk, and the ability of a women to feed her child is a key theme for Sethe. Often left hungry by ‘nan’ whilst her biological mother – the ‘woman in the hat’ was forced to work in the fields – Sethe is determined to feed her child. She is determined they will know she loved them, cared for them… that they will know her, rather than just known the mark of slavery branded onto her – which was the only way she knew her mother, a tattoo under the breast. Sethe loved them as fiercely as she could. Yet she would rather kill her children than have them return to slavery.

The idea that you would rather have your child dead than alive, coming from a place of love rather than malice is tragic enough. It is more tragic when you consider that Toni Morrison’s interpretation is based on a true case.

Sethe has risked life for children, been to jail, been shunned and is willing to give it all up time and time again if only she can please her daughter Beloved – the only child she successfully killed. Yet the passed down memory of slavery haunts her children too. Denver (Beloved’s younger, surviving sister) is afraid of the world, and afraid that her mother may kill again. And Beloved herself sways between two opposing motives. With her murder tearing her away from her mother at such a young age, she craves love, attention, sweet treats from childhood. Yet she is also angry; angry at the memory of her mother leaving her in a field to nurse a white women, angry at her for killing her.

The memory of slavery affects all of the characters, not just the children, with none of them daring to form close relationships. Paul D is ashamed of his past treatment, questioning whether he is a man because of his acts… or because a white man once said so. His shame, and years of locking down emotions means he scared of becoming close to others. Can they accept him as both a man and a slave? And can he allow himself to get close, only for a white man to rip them apart? Even though all of the characters are now ‘free’ mentally they aren’t. One passage in the book sums it up perfectly “freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.”

Toni Morrison apparently wanted to make the slave experience ‘intimate’ and show how things in everyday life can be at once under control and out of control, when someone else has had power over your life in such a way. At this she is hugely successful.

This is not a book about families, love or communities in a traditional sense. This is a book that lays bare the emotional and psychological consequences of slavery. Consequences that affect families, and in turn communities for generations to come.

It is a book that breathes life into the sketches of figures in text books. The book is equally graphic and moving in parts, and makes you appreciate the little things. Knowing your family and friends won’t be removed from your life on a whim. Living a life in which you can love, because the object of your affection is ‘yours’… ‘your partner’ ‘your child’ ‘your parent’

It is a book that gives a more personal take on the traditional fact-rich texts about slavery. It is a book that should be essential reading.