JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

The Satsuma Complex by Bob Mortimer

Gary Thorn goes for a pint with a work acquaintance called Brendan. When Brendan leaves early, Gary meets a girl in the pub. He doesn’t catch her name, but falls for her anyway. When she suddenly disappears without saying goodbye, all Gary has to remember her by is the book she was reading: The Satsuma Complex. But when Brendan goes missing, Gary needs to track down the girl he now calls Satsuma to get some answers.

And so begins Gary’s quest, through the estates and pie shops of South London, to finally bring some love and excitement into his unremarkable life…

Comedian Bob Mortimer’s debut novel The Satsuma Complex is a madcap comedic crime story, a rather bizarre and fast-paced tale.

Centred around thirty-year-old legal assistant Gary Thorn, who is a rather timid, shy loner, we meet a rather quirky cast of characters when Gary’s colleague is murdered not long after a trip to the pub. What ensues is a rather chaotic, nonsensical journey to find out the killer, as well as uncovering the identity of a mysterious woman that Gary met at the pub.

“My name is Gary. I’m a thirty-year-old legal assistant with a firm of solicitors in London. To describe me as anonymous would be unfair but to notice me other than in passing would be a rarity. I did make a good connection with a girl, but that blew up in my face and smacked my arse with a fish slice.”

Written in first-person, the narrative style feels very stream-of-consciousness. Unrestrained and travelling down tangents. I found there was very little introspection, so whilst the characters actions did suggest he was growing as a person – befriending and caring for his neighbour, chasing after a woman he believes could be a match – there is little internal dialogue to really help solidify the character’s progression in the story.

Additionally, the humour tries very hard in the story but ultimately falls flat. The dialogue, in particular, was unnatural and forced. Overly ridiculous at times and a bit cringey. I appreciate that fans of Bob’s humour might love his type of storytelling, but if you’re not familiar with his work and you go into the story blind, I dare say this isn’t going to be a story you’ll fall in love with.

“I was slightly perturbed by what Grace had to say, so I took a little stroll to calm me down. It’s something I often do when I feel ill at ease. This is how I use a walk to my advantage: I imagine, for example, that it’s a beautiful sunny day and I’m wearing a pair of baggy red corduroy shorts and a magnificent pair of tan yellow clogs.”

I appreciate that the story is a fast-paced, compact one, meaning you don’t have to sit with it too long. The story doesn’t drag, nor loiter. It is, after all, a crime novel and so the reader is engaged each chapter because we want to find out the killer’s identity.

My favourite character is Gary’s neighbour Grace – quick-witted, dry, and genuinely funny. She acts as a vessel for Gary to grow, especially as he learns to lean on another person and trust them enough to let them help him in his journey.

“Girlfriends are a topic I am never that comfortable talking about. I know I’m not good-looking but I’m not a full-on spud. I would describe my face as forgettable (certainly many people seem to forget it), and I’m five foot seven and a half inches, which is just one and a half inches below the national average (I’ve looked this up on many occasions).”

A rather absurd, oddball and accelerated tale suited for occasional readers, The Satsuma Complex skews male, 25+

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Satsuma Complex
Bob Mortimer
January 2023
Simon & Schuster Book Publishers

The Circus Train by Amita Parikh

Two lives collide in a world of secrets.
But one secret greater than them all.
Is about to tear them apart . . .

At the World of Wonders, Europe’s most magnificent travelling circus, every moment is full of magic, and nothing is as it seems-especially for the people who put on the show.

Lena Papadopoulos has never quite found her place within the circus, even as the daughter of the extraordinary headlining illusionist, Theo. Brilliant and curious, Lena yearns for the real-world magic of science and medicine, despite her father’s overprotection and the limitations of her wheelchair. Her unconventional life takes an exciting turn when she rescues Alexandre, an orphan with his own secrets and a mysterious past.

Over several years, as their friendship flourishes and Alexandre trains as the illusionist’s apprentice, World War II escalates around them. When Theo and Alexandre are contracted to work and perform in a model town for Jews set up by the Nazis, Lena becomes separated from everything she knows. Forced to make her own way, Lena must confront her doubts and dare to believe in the impossible-herself.

Amita Parikh’s The Night Circus is a grand tale of a family separated across Europe by war.

The novel is led by the wonderous and intelligent Lena, disabled from birth by polio and underestimated by just about everyone around her. She and her father, an illusionist, are travelling with their circus in Amsterdam when a young Jewish boy, Alexandre, seeks refuge in their train. Soon, Lena and Alexandre form a strong friendship and then, eventually, a romance. But in the background, war is building, and Alexandre is not the only character that finds themselves in danger.

“The war, Theo told them, was a grave one, but it hadn’t yet spread south. Greece declared neutrality and Thessaloniki, at least to Lena, still felt like the home she always returned to each year.”

Amita should be commended for her remarkable research and attention to detail. The story spans decades, during such a pivotal moment in history, and the author has done a great job capturing the atmosphere of Europe during WWII, but also capturing Lena’s disability and the life of circus performers during this era.

The atmosphere is another one of the major strengths in the novel. The reader is immersed in a world of magic and intrigue, a mesmerising circus of wonder, where all are welcome – all shapes, sizes, heights, bodies, orientations. There is an impending doom looming under the surface, but until that threat hits, the reader feels comfortable in the story with these characters. Lena’s father Theo is a particular favourite of mine – headstrong and determined, but also incredibly caring.

“By the spring of 1940, Alexandre could do the cup-and-balls trick, the dove-pan illusion, the disappearing-penny act, and the French drop. At Horace’s request, he appeared before each performance in the lobby, along with four other cast members.”

Whilst the romantic element of the story feels a bit undeveloped and then subsequently wraps up far too quickly at the end to be believable, The Circus Train is a fantastic historical novel. The characters are all three-dimensional and well-crafted, and even the secondary characters shine through the pages.

As the story progresses and Lena finds herself separated from Alexandre and also her father, it allows her to pursue dreams she’d been putting on hold. She dreams of walking unassisted and attending medical school – both of these seem next to impossible, especially given Lena’s disability. Her father, in particular, was hesitant about Lena attending medical school but accepting their fates means Lena must re-focus her energy on her career and her health.

“Lena nodded. She still didn’t understand why Horace didn’t like Jewish people, but she wanted Alexandre to stay on board as long as he could. There was no chance of her saying anything to jeopardise that.”

A sweeping and charming tale of magic and hope amidst the backdrop of WWII, The Circus Train is for readers of historical fiction and war sagas. The carnivalesque setting will attract many readers. Readership skews 20+

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Circus Train
Amita Parikh
December 2022
Hachette Book Publishers

We All Want Impossible Things by Catherine Newman

Who knows you better than your best friend? Who knows your secrets, your fears, your desires, your strange imperfect self? Edi and Ash have been best friends for over forty years. Since childhood they have seen each other through life’s milestones: stealing vodka from their parents, the Madonna phase, REM concerts, unexpected wakes, marriages, infertility, children. As Ash notes, ‘Edi’s memory is like the back-up hard drive for mine.’

So when Edi is diagnosed with terminal cancer, Ash’s world reshapes around the rhythms of Edi’s care, from chipped ice and watermelon cubes to music therapy; from snack smuggling to impromptu excursions into the frozen winter night. Because life is about squeezing the joy out of every moment, about building a powerhouse of memories, about learning when to hold on, and when to let go.

Catherine Newman’s We All Want Impossible Things is a poignant tale of friendship and family, and following two women as one nears the end of her life from terminal cancer. Feeling more like a novella than a novel, the story wraps in just over 200 pages.

Admittedly, I DNFed this book the first time I started it but then forced myself to give it a second chance. I can see just how many readers love this one, and whilst there were definitely some positives, there were also a lot of elements to the story that I really struggled to enjoy. And so I feel like this book is a bit middle-of-the-road for me.

“Sicilian lemon polenta pound cake is Edi’s holy grail. She bought a piece at Dean & DeLuca in the mid-1990s, claimed it was the best cake she’d ever eaten, and then could nevr find it again. Even the very next week, when she returned to the store, they didn’t know what she was talking about and had no record of such a cake in their inventory.”

I like that Edi’s terminal cancer forms a framework for the novel – we know how their story will end, and so we are anchored by the rather rapid decline in her health. It helps to maintain the pacing of the story and keeps the story on track.

However, I felt like the structure of the book wasn’t quite what I was expecting from the blurb. We were thrown into this rather chaotic story with more chapters dedicated to Ash and her family than her friendship with Edi. I thought there’d be more to establish Ash and Edi’s lives and history together but there wasn’t. As a result, I didn’t really care too much for either character. I felt like Edi seemed very small in the story and didn’t hold much presence because Ash was such a dominant – perhaps too dominant – character. Ash was also such a grating character who made rather implausible decisions that I found her rather unlikeable.

“You know when you put on a sweater in the car, and then when you get to where you’re going you can’t figure out how to get out of your seat belt? That’s what it felt like trying to peel Edi out of her clothes.”

The chaotic nature in the book was rather noticeable in the dialogue – over-the-top, somewhat contrived writing that perhaps would work on screen but not on the page (for me). I didn’t warm to Ash in the book and so her endeavours with her family and her partners fell flat for me. Whilst I can appreciate what the writer is working to establish with the trajectory of Ash and her husband’s marriage, a lot of the scenes and conversations just seemed to be there for the sake of it – lots of rambled dialogue that didn’t seem to really say anything at all.

I don’t feel there was any growth for Ash, she only cared for herself, made everything about her, and I couldn’t understand why her estranged husband would want to get back together with her at the end of the book. And her relationship with her teenage daughter felt caricature and not at all realistic.

“I’ve been friends with Jonah as long as I’ve been friends with Edi, since Edi and I were assigned, in nursery school, to take care of Vinnie, the classroom Venus flytrap. We fed Vinnie bites of bologna from our sandwiches and sang him the Jewish folk song ‘Dona, Dona’ with so much tremulous vibrato that we actually made ourselves cry.”

Whilst this book didn’t sit well with me, I am conscious how popular it is with readers and so there is definitely an established audience. Readership skewing 30+

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

We All Want Impossible Things
Catherine Newman
November 2022
Penguin Random House Publishers

The Witches of Vardo by Anya Bergman

Norway, 1662. A dangerous time to be a woman, when even dancing can lead to accusations of witchcraft. When Zigri, desperate and grieving after the loss of her husband and son, embarks on an affair with the local merchant, it’s not long before she is sent to the fortress at Vardo, to be tried and condemned as a witch.

Zigri’s daughter Ingeborg sets off into the wilderness to try to bring her mother back home. Accompanying her on this quest is Maren – herself the daughter of a witch ¬- whose wild nature and unconquerable spirit gives Ingeborg the courage to venture into the unknown, and to risk all she has to save her family.

Also captive in the fortress is Anna Rhodius, once the King of Denmark’s mistress, who has been sent to Vardo in disgrace. What will she do – and who will she betray – to return to her privileged life at court?

These Witches of Vardo are stronger than even the King of Denmark. In an age weighted against them they refuse to be victims. They will have their justice. All they need do is show their power.

Anya Bergman’s debut novel The Witches of Vardo is a retelling of the seventeenth century Norwegian witch trials, an evocative story of women rendered voiceless and powerless amidst a time of great suspicion and accusation.

In one narrative we meet Ingeborg, daughter of an accused witch who teams up with another young woman – Maren – to save her mother from imminent death. Interspersed throughout the book is a third perspective. Anna, disgraced and now living in Vardo. Eventually, her path crosses with Ingeborg and Maren. These three women refuse to succumb to the expectations placed upon them, and work to rebel against the witch-hunting, religious fanatics that surround them.

“This was the change in Ingeborg’s mother. She no longer cared what any soul thought of her. What did it matter now her boy was gone and her husband lost? But this change was more dangerous than her mother could ever imagine, more than Ingeborg had an inkling of.”

The Witches of Vardo is a feisty female narrative, reclaiming and retelling true events in our history. A blend of fact, fiction and magical realism, the books hits its stride about halfway through when Ingeborg arrives at Vardo. The first half of the book is admittedly a little slow and directionless, but the second half – when Ingeborg and Anna’s storylines finally intersect – draws readers in and will maintain engagement until the final page.

There is no doubt that the author has researched the subject matter meticulously, and so credit must be given for capturing the era and the setting – for bringing the locations and the atmosphere to life. The suspicion, the inaccuracies, the fear. It’s an interesting era to look back on, and so it formed a very intriguing backdrop for the tale.

“Ingeborg knew she should break up the dance. She knew it was wrong. But her body wouldn’t let her. The rhyme was one she had never heard before, and yet it felt as if she knew the words before Maren uttered them.”

This is definitely more of a plot-driven story than a character driven one. In fact, many of the characters started to blur together throughout the story, and I’m not convinced that the author’s structure and storytelling was enough to hook me in.

Whilst there were some fantastic elements to the story – ancient folklore tales and a suite of badass female characters – some of the dialogue felt forced and unnatural, the pacing was inconsistent throughout the story, the villains weren’t nuanced and had very little depth to them, and decisions made in the book didn’t make a huge amount of success. Relations between characters felt a bit unbelievable, and moments of realisation skimmed over in favour of plot. The ending, too, felt unsatisfying.

It felt like the setup of the story took so long that I wonder if it started in the right spot. Should the story have started with Ingeborg’s mother already imprisoned? To kickstart the journey to Vardo a little sooner?

“Maren was a poor fisher girl like the rest of them, and yet when she narrated her story Ingeborg could see the old Norse Goddess Freya within her – in the dewy dark softness of her eyes, and the bite of her over lip. Love and War.”

A promising retelling of Norwegian history, Anya Bergman’s The Witches of Vardo will appeal to female readers, and fans of historical fiction and mythical or factual tales. Readership skews 25+

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Witches of Vardo
Anya Bergman
February 2023
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

The Other Half by Charlotte Vassell

The night before
Rupert’s 30th is a black tie dinner at the Kentish Town McDonald’s – catered with cocaine and Veuve Clicquot.

The morning after
His girlfriend Clemmie is found murdered on Hampstead Heath. All the party-goers have alibis. Naturally.

This investigation is going to be about Classics degrees and aristocrats, Instagram influencers and who knows who. Or is it whom? Detective Caius Beauchamp isn’t sure. He’s sharply dressed, smart, and as into self-improvement as Clemmie – but as he searches for the dark truth beneath the luxury, a wall of staggering wealth threatens to shut down his investigation before it’s begun.

Can he see through the tangled set of relationships in which the other half live, and die, before the case is taken out of his hands?

Okay. Ooft. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve reviewed on the blog. At the end of last year, I realised I needed a break from the book reviews, just to give myself time to read some books on my shelf that I’ve been wanting to read for years. Books I’d been putting off so that I could get through all the books sent to me from publishers. For the first time in a long time, I was choosing what to read based purely on interest rather than need, and it felt damn good.

But all holidays must come to an end, and I’m back! Back requesting review copies from publishers and back reviewing some of the fantastic reads I received over the last few months. Starting with Charlotte Vassell’s debut novel The Other Half.

A suspenseful police procedural that centres around the murder of a well-known socialite and influencer, Charlotte paints a rather accurate portrait of society’s elite, crafting a large suite of absurd and wildly unlikeable characters all connected to a murder.

The most notable character, narcissist Rupert Beauchamp, organises a black-tie dinner to celebrate his 30th birthday party (upstairs at a McDonalds, hilariously). When his girlfriend Clemency is found dead not long after the drug-fuelled event, investigators must navigate their way through this incredibly elite, self-centred world to find out which member of Clemmie’s circle might’ve committed the crime.

“Nell had walked from Islington to the V&A. No better way to kill a couple of hours waiting to go on a date with your long-standing friend who you angry-shagged last night than with a brisk panic-stroll through Central London.”

The entertaining elements in this book are two-fold. On the one hand, the characters provide hilarity and laughs – they’re utterly ridiculous in what they wear, how they act and speak about others, what they do (or don’t) care about. Charlotte provides a masterclass in how to paint characters vividly in few words, and it’s remarkable that this is her debut.

And on the other hand, at its core this is a crime novel with a team of police leading an investigation to find the perpetrator. So it feels like both a character-driven and a plot-driven story, which will appeal to many readers.

“Caius was back at his desk in the incident room and had finally finished reading the full autopsy report. Clemmie’s poor mother had called, or rather sobbed down the phone to him. She didn’t appear to know her daughter at all. Nothing useful came from that interaction.”

Vassell explores elitism and London’s class system. We meet characters whose entitlement has them believing they can do whatever their want – they almost seem to be void of real emotional or realistic maturity, and it makes for an entertaining read.

I rather like Charlotte’s writing style – succinct, direct, no unnecessary description. She doesn’t bog down the story with excessive setting or character reflection. She lets dialogue carry the story, and so much of the characterisation comes through in her zippy dialogue and cunning observations.

“Caius hung up as a grey-haired man in a loose-fitting Nehro collar shirt, faded pink shorts and brown leather boating shoes unlocked the gallery door. It was reassuring to know that fifty-somethings with little pot bellies could still pull.”

The Other Half is recommended for readers of thriller, crime and mystery. Readership skews 21+

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Other Half
Charlotte Vassell
February 2023
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers