This lovely poetry collection by A. A. Milne contains the very first appearance of the iconic character Winnie-the-Pooh – although here he’s called Edward Bear. The poem in which he appears “Teddy Bear” is actually a very sweet little piece about him feeling self-conscious about his round belly, but ultimately learning to feel confident about it. For the kindness and warmth that Winnie-the-Pooh is known to embody, this is a very fitting debut for the character.

Having said that, don’t start this poetry collection thinking that it is a collection of Winnie-the-Pooh poems, as it certainly isn’t. Christopher Robin is featured in the collection, but he’s not a character at all, rather A. A. Milne’s real life son who he ended up using as a character in the Winnie-the-Pooh stories. Indeed, one of the earliest poems in the collection is called “Buckingham Palace” and it seems like a heartfelt poetic write up of a trip taken to the titular location by A. A. Milne and Christopher Robin (who seems to have been a very young child at the time).

The whole collection seems, pretty much, to have been written from the perspective of early childhood. No doubt, you’ll have been read many of these poems when you were a child, either by parents or at school. That was definitely the case with me, with “The King’s Breakfast” definitely standing out as a poem that I had heard before. Plus, there’s “Halfway Down” which was famously performed on The Muppet Show years later.

Honestly, I don’t have much else to say about this collection. It was something I enjoyed reading and the author seems to be working hard to preserve the precious memories of his son’s childhood. For that reason, it’s something I’m sure a lot of readers will enjoy reading with their kids, but even if you don’t have kids (like me) there’s a lot to appreciate and admire about these poems.

Rating: 7/10

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This was my third Jane Austen book – I thought the first one I read was pretty great, and I thought the second one I read was really boring, so I went into this book feeling like it could go either way. Fortunately, I really enjoyed this one, and perhaps it comes down to the fact that it was written towards the end of Austen’s life (by which point, she’d have had plenty of time to refine her skills).

Persuasion is a novel about a woman named Anne Elliot who has to move (along with her family) into a smaller home in Bath after facing some financial hardship. This, however, brings up tensions from her past, as the new home is owned by someone who’s wife is related to somebody that she was once going to be married to. Of course, the marriage never happened originally and now, at age 27, she doubts that she will ever marry and feels awkward about running into her former fiancé (Captain Wentworth), so she postpones going to Bath by having a prolonged visit with her sister at the nearby Kellynch Hall.

This isn’t a novel with huge amounts of drama or action, but it’s a novel about interesting people who I felt invested in. The social dynamics and the encounters the various characters have with one another were always fun to read. This being Jane Austen, there are often comically biting remarks made between the characters and other humorous interactions.

What I liked about this one in particular (more than the other Austen novels I’ve read) is the greater emphasis on feminism. One scene in particular has a man trying to tell a female character how women behave at large, which she refutes, and he tells her that he has read many books which back up his point of view on the matter, only for her to rightly point out that most of those books will have been written by men. Meanwhile, there’s a character named Mrs. Smith who gives an insight into a poorer person’s life, which is refreshing since Austen novels are usually pretty focused on relatively affluent people.

As someone who lives in Bath, I also appreciated the fact that much of the storyline takes place in my hometown, with descriptions of streets and locations that I know. Around Bath, you’ll find countless references to Jane Austen and the fact that she once lived here, and this novel in particular is one to read for Bath residents who want to find out more about her work.

Overall, this was quite a cosy read. From walks with friends in the countryside, through to long discussions in drawing rooms, there are plenty of conversations between great characters in this book and it’s easy to lose yourself in them. The romance in this novel was one I actually felt invested in (which is rare for something of this era) and it feels relatively short too (which is also refreshing for its period). If you’ve never read a Jane Austen novel before, I recommend this as a good place to start.

Rating: 8.3/10

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The twelfth volume of the Assassination Classroom is mostly all about the mysterious assassin known as The Grim Reaper. Of all the foes that Koro-sensei has faced thus far, this is the one that seems to be the most capable. Of course, he ended up in quite a tight spot during the tropical island storyline, but that was more the result of an opportunistic foe, rather than a capable one.

In this story, The Grim Reaper targets the students of Class-E in order to lure Koro-Sensei into a trap. In my opinion, this storyline is the most tense the story has been since the incident on the island and it makes for fantastic reading. It becomes hard to see exactly how Koro-sensei could save the kids without making himself vulnerable to his foe. Of course, his determination to do this in spite of that risk, highlights how much of a caring person he is.

One thing that I also appreciated about this volume was its use of Ms. Jelavich. She was never one of my favourite characters in Assassination Classroom, in part, because it felt kind of like she was just there for some silly sex appeal, but this volume uses her in a way that I thought was both unexpected, and really interesting.

This is a particularly difficult volume to review without spoiling anything too much, but I will say that the reveals about The Grim Reaper’s identity are really cool, and Jelavich’s actions are quite shocking.

Rating: 8.9/10

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Following on from the end of The Great Hunt, the third book in The Wheel of Time series starts with Rand now knowing that he is indeed the Dragon Reborn. Consequently, he leaves the other characters to do what he thinks he has to do. This makes the book quite different from the first two, because you don’t actually see that much of Rand, with more of the story being about the rest of the cast following after him and having their own adventures.

One of the storylines I enjoyed reading about was Mat being taken to The White Tower in order to be healed of his corruption. As always, I enjoy anything about the Aes Sedai, and it’s good to see Min, Egwene, and Nynaeve making their way as novices. Meanwhile, Mat starts to get back to his old self a little (which was good to see, because I never liked his evil/weakened selff) and he even gets to reunite with Thom Merrilin, with whom he has a good dynamic.

Moiraine, my favourite character in the series, gets to play a larger role in this one than she did in The Great Hunt (which was a welcome development), and Verin becomes a much more important character too. The more Aes Sedai the better, as far as I’m concerned and these two both enhance the novel.

The book also introduced a new character called Faile, a hunter of the horn who joins Perrin and the gang in pursuing Rand. Though there’s nothing too bad with this character overall, she mainly seems to have been introduced in order to be a love interest for Perrin, and, gosh, is it an obnoxious romance. They’re both endlessly bickering and disrespectful towards one another, and yet for some reason we’re supposed to accept that they love one another. Why? They’re both so awful to each other that there’d be no time for a romance to grow.

The Perrin/Faile romance is probably the most annoying part of the book, but it really embodies the slight issues that start to rear their head in this one. While the first two books have men and women thinking to themselves “gosh, the opposite sex is impossible to understand” which is kind of silly, but perfectly harmless, this one seems to make a point of showing all romantic relationships as being based on endless arguments. It also starts to seem like every woman who meets Rand falls in love with him, which feels too silly to me.

Overall, this was a good book. I’m invested in the characters and world, so seeing what happened next to them all was great. Meanwhile, there are little things like a further exploration of the parallel worlds that I found absolutely fascinating, and which make the setting even more interesting. Rand goes off the rails a little as well, and questioning whether or not he has maintained his sanity adds some good tension. It all comes together in a satisfying climax as well, it’s just a shame that there’s a fair share of rubbish annoying bits sprinkled in, which was never really a problem in the first two books.

Rating: 8/10

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The third and final novel in the Howl series feels much closer in tone to the first book, rather than the second, and for that reason, I think it was probably my second favourite of the three. There’s a whimsical charm to it, but its story definitely feels slightly more focused than the first one (even though I prefer the first).

In this book, a girl named Charmain is sent to house sit for her uncle, a wizard, who has had to visit elves in order to recover from an illness. This house is bigger on the inside, and doesn’t have a consistent layout – there are ‘many ways’ and it’s difficult for her to figure out which halls lead to which parts of the house. Meanwhile, most of the stuff in there is enchanted with some kind of magic, so she keeps inadvertently causing all kinds of bizarre things to happen which she doesn’t understand.

One of the book’s biggest strengths is its great sense of setting. You get a real feel for this mysterious old cottage with its seemingly endless corridors. Though it is very, very different to the classic gothic novels, in this regard, it does remind me of them, with the beautifully described house, out in the middle of nowhere, that the protagonist is trying to adjust to.

Charmain herself is a great character too, who gets paired up with a boy named Peter for most of the book after he arrives to come and work with her uncle as an apprentice (not knowing he isn’t there). Peter is pretty arrogant, and Charmain’s endless frustrations with him are really funny sometimes.

Characters from the first book do also return, but in a similar way to Castle in the Air. I won’t spoil anything, but I laughed out loud when I found out how a certain character factored into what was happening in this one. I definitely didn’t see it coming either – a wonderful twist.

However, as much as this novel can be really funny at times, it is also a lot darker than the other two. We’re introduced to a creature called a Lubbock, which is a humanoid insect that lays eggs in people’s stomachs. When the eggs hatch, they burst out and kill the host – or if the host is female, they are born like a regular human, then sneakily live out their life looking like a normal human, but secretly trying to create more Lubbocks. They’re so sinister, I genuinely think they could have been the villains in a straight horror novel, rather than a whimsical fantasy book.

Overall, the only real criticism I can aim at this book is that it doesn’t really feel like a conclusion to the Howl novels – just another story. This isn’t really a problem, but as I enjoyed all three books, it would have been nice to have some kind of closure. Maybe we would have had some too, if Diana Wynne Jones hadn’t died just a few years after this was published. I think it’s best to view them all as novels that share a world, rather than a trilogy, because there’s not much of an over-reaching storyline that ties them together (though you definitely benefit from reading them in order). If you’ve read the first two, I strongly recommend you round it off with this one.

Rating: 9/10

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Thomas Hardy is a writer that has already won me over. The first two of his books were amain and I went into this with high expectations. While I didn’t enjoy it as much as Jude the Obscure or Tess of the d’Urbervilles, it was still a fantastic book that captured that same charm.

The storyline follows a character called Gabriel Oak. Oak is a farmer who ends up working for a woman named Bathsheba Everdene, who had previously declined his hand in marriage. We then get to see a rough love triangle form between Bathsheba and a toxic and creepy guy named Sergeant Troy, and a man named William Boldwood, who becomes kind of obsessed with her – both are attracted to Bathsheba, but her feelings towards them are complicated. Meanwhile, Oak stands on the sidelines and watches it unfold as she confides it all in him.

One of the best things about this novel is its setting. Aside from a brief bit that’s kind of about Bath (and as a resident of Bath, this delights me), it’s almost entirely set in a very isolated rural community. The introduction even makes reference to it being so cut off that going there was almost like going back in time. The feel of the countryside runs through the entire thing, and the author does a fantastic job of making it feel like a beautiful, if unforgiving, location. If you love novels to have a strong sense of place, this is something that you’re sure to really appreciate.

Of course, this being Thomas Hardy, he also does a brilliant job of highlighting the plight of women in his time. Stuck between Oak, Boldwood, and Troy, Bathsheba essentially has the option of choosing the lesser of three evils. There’s the attractive, but manipulative scumbag, the pathetic guy who is endlessly loyal, but can’t get over her rejection and feels entitled to her love, then there’s the “nice guy” who’s actually quite an unsympathetic jerk to her too.

The characters are all well fleshed out and it’s a drama I enjoyed seeing play out. It isn’t shy about showing the very severe consequences of women being used by men, and things come to a really shocking head towards the end. Because everyone was so well written, I even cared about the characters I actively disliked.

While the very final end wasn’t quite as good as it could have been, ultimately, this was an amazing piece of human drama against a beautiful countryside backdrop. If you’re a lover of classics, this is one to try.

Rating: 8/10

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This is the third full-length Sherlock Holmes novel, and the fifth book in the series when you count the short story collections. I’d argue that this is probably the most iconic one, and certainly the one that has had the biggest impact on popular culture. For me, as a big Holmes fan, it’s an absolute joy to read.

For those unfamiliar with the premise, it has Holmes and Watson called in to investigate a murder that was seemingly caused by a spectral hound, said to haunt a certain family. Set out in the cold dark moors, everything seems to indicate that this was a genuine supernatural encounter – though, of course, Holmes remains sceptical.

The idea of the rationally-minded person coming against things that seem to be beyond this world is one that so many stories have revisited in the many years since this novel’s original publication. I’m pretty sure that this was the first time that this trope was used, and if not, it was certainly the instance which propelled it forward in the general consciousness. Those who love literary history are sure to get a lot out of this.

I think one of the book’s biggest strengths is its atmosphere and tone. The barren feeling out in the moors is described perfectly, capturing that beautiful classic gothic novel vibe. It’s one of those books that’s perfect to curl up with late at night – partially because it’s genuinely quite creepy. Horror isn’t generally an aspect of the Sherlock Holmes stories, but when they try and be eerie, they do a fantastic job and this is a perfect example of that.

While Watson’s role in Sherlock Holmes stories can sometimes feel a little insignificant (with him mostly just relaying what Holmes does), this is one of the stories that uses him really well. Holmes is actually absent for quite a long time, leaving Watson to investigate on his own for a bit, and this is pretty great. I love Holmes, but I appreciate Watson getting the chance to play centre stage, and the aspect of Holmes being absent is actually a really interesting and important part of the plot.

Altogether, it’s one of my favourite Sherlock Holmes stories, and as the novels go, it’s certainly aged better than The Sign of Four. Even if you’ve never read another Sherlock Holmes story, you’d be able to enjoy this one, so I recommend it to all fans of Sherlock Holmes and classic novels.

Rating: 9.2/10

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Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is probably one of the most influential British children’s novels ever written. It’s a story that has had homage after homage in popular culture, and pretty much everybody has heard of the character, Willy Wonka. Though I never read the book as a child, I do enjoy Roald Dahl’s work, and it was one of those books that I felt I should try.

At the start, I loved it. Chocolate is delicious, and so much of the first half of the book is dedicated to how great chocolate is, and it talks about all kinds of delicious Willy Wonka inventions. Reading it, it’s easy to see that Roald Dahl must have loved chocolate himself. There’s a description of simply eating a chocolate bar at one point, and gosh, it makes me want to eat a chocolate bar. There’s also a chocolate river.

The second half, I enjoyed less so. It’s darkly funny throughout, but it has a preaching moralising aspect to it. The book’s protagonist, Charlie, goes on a tour of the chocolate factory along with a bunch of other kids. These other kids, while perhaps a little rude, all meet with a horrible fate as seemingly some kind of karmic retribution for their flaws… except their flaws are things like, they enjoy watching TV, or, they like to chew gum. Fortunately, none of them die, but gosh, it sure does feel a lot like Roald Dahl is just up on his soap box moaning about certain behaviours that frustrate him. It hasn’t really aged well at all and I just felt sad for the kids a lot of the time – even anxious for them.

The most uncomfortable thing is the Oompa Loompas. They survive in our popular culture and are thought of as these whimsical fantasy creatures… Unfortunately, their portrayal in the novel reads very much like colonialist exploitation, or even slavery. Indeed, I understand that Roald Dahl made changes to the book, because the first edition was even more problematic (even for it’s time), but even in this version, it’s hard for a progressive-minded adult not to feel weird about this.

There is a lot that I admire about Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – the descriptions of food are great, and the factory itself is a wonderful and enchanting setting that really captures that childhood feeling of the world potentially containing endless possibilities. Plus it’s genuinely funny, even for adults and literary fans will enjoy seeing the origins of things like the golden ticket. The problem is that Roald Dahl pushes his belief too much, and those beliefs are pretty dodgy, so it does spoil the book quite a bit.

Rating: 6/10

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The premise of this book is a bizarre, metatextual one: what if Star Trek: The Next Generation had had an eighth season, and that eighth season had been so incredibly bad that it had never been aired, and then someone had had the chance to watch these unreleased episodes and write an episode guide about them? It’s not your standard sci-fi franchise spin-off book, but it’s a lot of fun.

Originally the author, Mike McMahan, had a Twitter account which he dedicated to writing really silly Star Trek TNG story synopsise. Due to its popularity, he was able to publish an official book filled with these storylines, which he said was inspired by his love of the silly B storylines that real episodes of TNG have. It’s a nice, loving way of sending the series up, and it’s sure to appeal to fans.

So what kind of things do the characters get up to in this season? Well, Q sets up a timeloop where Barclay relives the same day over and over, to see if it’s possible for him to survive without the help of others, but he ends up comically dying every single time, sometimes in the most mundane ways (e.g. an ear infection spreads to his heart). In another, there’s a planet that ends up being entirely populated with Riker clones. In another, Q asks for Picard’s help in breaking up with Cleopatra, but then accidentally changes all of history, so then needs to mess the timeline up so badly that it all snaps back to normal.

Some of them, in particular the one about Q messing up the timeline, are things I’d have loved to have seen as actual light-hearted episodes of the show. Other times though, it goes too far down the path of being silly. Most notably, Data and Geordi are both always written as socially awkward losers who are extremely childlike – they’re complete parodies, and I know that’s a weird criticism since the whole thing is a general parody of TNG, but I think it’s funnier when the characters are close enough to their legitimate portrayal, but still in the absolute silliest storylines.

Still, as a fan of TNG and Star Trek in general, overall I found this book hilarious. There are so many laugh out loud moments that fans are going to love. It’s a weird combination of storylines that are so silly, they’d obviously never have existed, and those that could be just about plausible. Still, to its credit, even though I didn’t love all the episode ideas equally, not one of them failed to make me laugh. Also, one of the stories introduces a member of the Q continuum who goes by the name California Steve. I want that to be canon.

Rating: 8/10