novel_feelings's reviews
11 reviews

The End and Everything Before It by Finegan Kruckemeyer

3.5

Finegan Kruckemeyer’s debut novel resists easy classification. The back of the book presents minimal description: Emma, a woman convinced she brings death to those around her, chooses a life of solitude at sea. Yet, Emma is only one character amongst multiple generations—Isaac and Betty; Nella and Alistair; and eventually, Emma’s story interweaves with Conor, Liz, and their daughter, Anja.

The novel reads like a series of fables, layering the lives of its characters in mysterious ways. At first, the narrative’s nonlinear timeline and lack of specific location can be disorienting. I found myself confused in the book’s early chapters— for example, I pictured one story in some sort of ancient European setting, only to have a character casually reference wearing a hoodie. Yet, once I was able to orient myself, I could reflect on its deeper themes.

Kruckemeyer’s writing is poetic, filled with lines that shimmer with wit and wry observation. He explores the quiet strength of human connections, the complicated nature of grief, the legacies we leave behind, and the power of community to shape us across generations. Characters choose quiet contentment over material gain, and plant seeds—sometimes literally—for future generations: 

 Great wealth lies here if you want it. Great wealth is not great wealth if you don’t want it. 

However, the book’s format, favoring breadth over depth, may not be to everyone’s taste. Initially, I found myself struggling with the episodic nature of the narrative, which shifts between different characters and generations. I prefer books that allow more time to sit with fewer characters; as a result, I read this slowly until the final few chapters. Yet, if you enjoy a short story format, this book offers a rewarding reading experience.

In a world dominated by capitalism and individualistic priorities, The End and Everything Before It feels like a gentle reminder of what truly matters: our connections, our communities, and the legacies we create—not just for ourselves, but for those who come after us. This is a book that left me feeling unexpectedly hopeful about the world we live in. 

 

Thank you to Text Publishing for the review copy.

Review by Elise from novelfeelings.com - where two psychologists take a deep dive into your favourite books

Return to Sender by Lauren Draper

4.0

Return to Sender feels quintessentially YA, which is a silly thing to say because YA is a very broad marketing term that encompasses a multitude of genres. It does though. Maybe it’s the quips and banter the characters engaged in; the particular feelings of teenage romance and found families; or the overall sense of being a teenager – that you’re grown up enough to make decisions and have your own opinions, but young enough that you still need the adults in your life to step up and make changes.

One of the things I enjoyed the most about the book is the characters and how they interact with each other. Even the side characters are fun, such as the turtle-loving customer of the post office. The dynamics among Brodie, Elliot, and Levi are fun and tender, and highlights how you can really be yourself when you find your people. I also love the letters and how the writers’ personalities and relationships shine through despite us never quite meeting them.

Grief is one of the major themes in the book. Brodie’s grief over the death of her mother rises up in small reminders, and other characters grapple with different types of loss throughout the story. I appreciated how the book explores the various ways grief impacts each of the characters. I also liked the balance of light and dark in this book: there’s plenty of quips and banters, but there are gentle moments and sad ones.

I also felt that “Return to Sender” effectively illustrated the experience of being trapped in the cycle of domestic violence for the woman and the child in that household. It also touches on the community’s responses (or lack thereof) at times, which becomes particularly compelling as certain relationships are revealed later in the book.

There is also, of course, the plot. The mystery of the dead letters was fun to follow, and while I could not have guessed the answers, I was pleased with myself for recognising a particular literary reference! (I’m being deliberately vague to avoid spoilers.)

Overall, Return to Sender is an enjoyable read with loveable characters and compassionate depictions of grief, loss, and found family. 

Thank you to Pan Macmillan Australia for the review copy.

Review by Priscilla from novelfeelings.com - where two psychologists take a deep dive into your favourite books

The Desert Knows Her Name by Lia Hills

3.5

The central mystery of The Desert Knows Her Name is the identity of the girl who walks out of the desert and into a small town. However, to me, the most fascinating part about The Desert Knows Her Name is not necessarily the ‘desert girl’ herself, but rather the way those who encounter her impose their own meanings and stories upon her. Curiosity and rumours become myths to some; to others, she’s a ghost from the past. The town of Gatyekarr is fictional, but the dark parts of its history reflect Australia’s often violent history when it comes to the treatment of Indigenous people by colonisers. (It is clarified in the story that the girl is not Indigenous, but her appearance triggers memories of a particular event in the town’s history to do with Indigenious people.) The book is respectful in its reflection of the past, and Lia Hills’ acknowledgments at the end of the book indicate how much research and thought had gone into the writing.

Lia Hills’ poetic writing evokes the very specific environment of an Australian desert and rural town. I know nothing about the animals or plants mentioned in the book, but I can almost feel the atmosphere and hear the people. The writing style also lends itself well to reflective moments for the main characters, Beth and Nate, and we get a good sense of their inner selves throughout the story.

On the other hand, sometimes I felt that this style of writing means the plot became a little lost. It is a personal preference, but I found myself skipping over sentences to scan for information that advances the plot. I don’t know if I’ve missed essential information or if we were never meant to get the full answers, but I got to the end still not knowing the answer to the questions about the girl’s identity.

All in all, The Desert Knows Her Name tells a story of Australia’s past that should be told more often. Readers who love evocative writing and stories grounded in a strong sense of place will enjoy this book. 
 

Thank you to Affirm Press for providing a copy in exchange for a review.

Review by Priscilla from novelfeelings.com - where two psychologists take a deep dive into your favourite books

Red River Road by Anna Downes

4.0

I’m not exactly a true crime connoisseur, but like many, I’ve been fascinated and horrified by real-life tales of #vanlifers gone missing. So it’s no surprise that Red River Road hooked me from the start, right from Phoebe’s joyful first Instagram post introducing her Big Lap around Australia, starting in WA. Of course, things are not so sunny: as soon as we meet her sister, Katy, followed by a chance encounter with the desperate swindler Beth, the tension is palpable. As I followed their journey to uncover what actually happened to Phoebe, I found myself second-guessing nearly every character they encountered, both in the present narrative and through revealing flashbacks.

Katy is an unreliable narrator whose perspective and actions are clouded by complicated grief. Much like Beth, an armchair psychologist type, I picked up on clues and inconsistencies, in an attempt to uncover the true nature of events. Why is Katy not pursuing methods of investigation that Beth thinks are obvious? Where do the gaps in Katy’s memory come from? Meanwhile, can Beth herself be trusted, considering her criminal past and her present-day lies? And then there are chapters from teenager Wyatt’s point of view – how is he connected to the story?

One of the book’s strengths lies in its handling of multiple, serious topics. It raises important questions about the actual risks of ‘stranger danger’ and the realities of gendered violence. Plus, the book carefully plays with readers’ preconceptions about the relationships between trauma, mental illness and antisocial behaviour. If this were a spoiler review, I could easily write an essay about how this book represents characters experiencing mental ill-health (which, in my opinion, is generally well done and shies away from stereotypes that are all too common in psychological thrillers). Readers be warned: there are plenty of red herrings to throw you off course.

The conclusion of Red River Road is both intriguing and satisfying, though I did find some elements a touch confusing. Regardless, most answers answers are crammed into the final 50 or so pages. Be sure to read the author’s note at the end; it provides fascinating insights into the themes underpinning the story. Overall, this is a must-read for anyone who loves a good mystery with substance. 

Thank you to Affirm press for providing us a copy of the book in exchange for a review.

Review by Elise from novelfeelings.com - where two psychologists take a deep dive into your favourite books

Ravenous Girls by Rebecca Burton

4.0

Ravenous Girls is a poignant story about mental illness, family dynamics, and the complex interplay of personal desires and needs. At the heart of Ravenous Girls is a window in time in teenager Justine’s life, where she first enters hospital due to her extreme dietary restriction and subsequent weight loss. Her mother and her sister, Frankie, are highly confused and anxious.

In many ways, Justine fits into the stereotype of a person struggling with anorexia nervosa – young, female, high-achieving and perfectionistic, affected by grief, whose health consciousness tips into something unhealthy. Yet, the story is certainly not clichéd. Burton portrays the raw and often uncomfortable realities of living with an eating disorder and accessing inpatient treatment, including bed rest and refeeding.

Equally compelling is the protagonist, Frankie. Her attempts to understand and cope with Justine’s illness are both relatable and heart-wrenching. Frankie inhales recovery memoirs and attends a support group, but struggles to find Justine and her struggles within the prominent narratives. Her struggles extend beyond coping with her sister’s mental health, and typical teenage trials of shifting friendships and emerging sexuality; there is also something darker at play. Her emotional sensitivity is both a strength and a burden, while her negative core beliefs—feelings of being inherently flawed, unlovable, and unattractive—will resonate deeply with many readers. Reading this as a psychologist, I suspected that Frankie would have struggled with her mental health even if it wasn’t for Justine’s ongoing struggles. But, as the novella points out, sometimes ‘there’s room for only one person in [a] family to not be okay.’

Unlike some recovery stories, Ravenous Girls presents a non-linear recovery journey, marked by the highs and lows of treatment (mostly the lows). We see the profound impact of an eating disorder on Justine’s physical health, but also her personality and relationships with family, friends, and intimate partners. Unfortunately, I felt that the final chapters were somewhat rushed, with time jumps and more telling than showing. I honestly could have read a full novel-length version of the story, filling in the gaps of Frankie and Justine’s early adulthood.

Ravenous Girls asks profound questions about our desires and needs: Why do we hunger for certain things? What happens when we either give in to our wants, or deny ourselves what we need? This is a short but thought-providing read, and well worth your time. 
 

Thank you to Finlay Lloyd for providing us a copy of the book in exchange for a review.

Review by Elise from novelfeelings.com - where two psychologists take a deep dive into your favourite books

The Glass House by Anne Buist, Graeme Simsion

4.5

The Glass House delves into the intricate world of acute psychiatry through the eyes of Hannah, her fellow registrars, and the wider team at Menzies. With humour and heart, we see the very real difference that timely psychiatric support can make in patients’ lives. Their work is life-saving, literally.

Throughout the novel, we meet many patients and families in crisis. Topics such as suicide, risk of violence to others, and mental illnesses that may be ‘terminal’, are handled sensitively. The curtain is drawn back regarding the tricky (and imperfect) decisions mental health professionals must make around boundary-setting, confrontation, family involvement, and clinical risk management. We also see the resulting anxiety experienced by clinicians around such choices.

Like many episodic hospital dramas, the story has elements of mystery-solving. Readers are likely to play armchair mental health professionals in the fast-paced, complex, and sadly under-resourced setting. As a psychologist, albeit one who has not worked in an acute role, I was immediately drawn to the patient stories, trying to figure out how I would approach treatment and support if I were in Hannah’s shoes.

Yet, the novel also candidly explores cultural issues within psychiatry, including power trips, bullying, and often narrow focus on the medical model – resulting in some characters’ dismissiveness towards the consumer movement and allied health. As the book highlights both the strengths and shortfalls of psychiatry, I was almost painfully aware that many of the characters would dismiss my professional opinions (I did not always agree with the characters’ formulations and treatment plans). Despite one particular character’s misgivings, I want to make it abundantly clear to any readers that psychotherapy is backed by evidence – in many cases, meta-analyses of randomised controlled trials – though, of course, it relies on the skill of the therapist and does not work for everyone. We see the lack of exposure that psychiatrists get to training in psychotherapy, and the novel underscores the importance of holistic approaches to mental health care that are not always feasible in an acute setting.

Like the mental health system itself – there is a lot going on. The episodic nature is engaging, though it can be difficult to track of, or connect with, the multitude of patients and hospital staff. I didn’t find the romance subplot all that satisfying, mainly because we didn’t get enough time with the main love interest, Alex, to get a good sense of his personality outside of work. Perhaps this was intentional – work is their lives. To contrast, Carey was a personal favourite character; as a nonbinary autistic character working in a somewhat conservative setting, they offered a unique perspective on patient experiences and the strength of neurodiversity.

In the acknowledgments, the authors pays tribute to the courage of patients and the dedication of mental health workers, acknowledging the complexity and challenges inherent to their roles. It’s this dedication to authenticity that make it The Glass House a must-read for anyone interested in the human stories behind clinical care.

Thank you to Hachette Australia for providing us a copy of the book in exchange for a review.

Review by Elise from novelfeelings.com - where two psychologists take a deep dive into your favourite books

Penny Draws a Secret Adventure by Sara Shepard

4.0

 We first met the loveable Penny in the first two books, Penny Draws a Best Friend and Penny Draws a School Play. By book 3, Penny has a lot more people in her life: a quirky group of friends, and an expanded family. And there’s no shortage of life events, school projects, and social situations to worry about.

Penny’s anxiety felt like a main character in the first two books, and a catalyst of much of the story. But in book 3, it feels more like a side character – albeit an important one. Throughout book 3’s adventure, Penny struggles with feeling like a burden to her friends, managing her feelings of envy towards others, and separating her anxiety from herself. In one memorable illustration, Mrs Hines (the school’s ‘feelings teacher’) informs Penny, “You shouldn’t be ashamed about worrying.” Penny replies, “I know, but do you ever get TIRED of yourself?”

Throughout this series, I appreciate that the message isn’t simply ‘get help for your anxiety and it will go away’. We see such messaging all too often in both children’s and adult stories. Anyone who’s struggled with anxiety (myself included) will know that it’s not that straightforward. Instead, Penny Draws teaches readers that you can live with anxiety, that it will wax and wane, but there people in your life and strategies that can help. Even though anxiety may feel overwhelming, you are still a worthwhile person, and true friends will love you as you are. To quote one of my favourite clichés – which makes an appearance in this book – sometimes the real treasure is the friends we made (or the friendships we strengthen) along the way.

Overall, Penny Draws a Secret Adventure continues the legacy of the Penny Draws series, with all of its heart and humour.

Thank you to Text Publishing for providing us a copy of the book in exchange for a review.
Review by Elise  from novelfeelings.com - where two psychologists take a deep dive into your favourite books 

Birdy by Sharon Kernot

4.0

The story of Birdy unfolds through Maddy’s poetry. The prose results in the novel being highly introspective, giving us an intimate window into Maddy’s thoughts and emotions as she adjusts to life with her family in a new town. However, as a result, Birdy is also minimalistic in many ways. It is a quick read, though at the expense of secondary character growth or B-plot. (Note: the prose is very accessibly written, so if you’re not a poetry fan you may still enjoy this read).

The novel centres around Maddy’s anxiety, rumination, and subsequent challenges with speaking to those outside of her family. This is one of the very few novels I’ve read which has touched on selective mutism (or, as it is increasingly referred to: situational mutism). Overall, I felt that this was handled accurately and empathetically. It was also nice to see Maddy’s rather positive relationship with her therapist, and their telehealth sessions woven into the prose.

Over time, the reader learns more about the catalysing incident which led Maddy to retreat into herself, and her strong, subsequent feelings of shame. This reminded me of a conversation I had with another psychologist a few years prior, where we discussed how unlike most emotions, shame is not particularly useful; it bogs us down rather than propelling us to make positive changes. I enjoyed seeing Maddy’s growth as she began to address the negative interpretations of the incident which were driving her shame.

We also see Maddy’s life intertwine with the mystery of teenager Birdy’s disappearance nearly fifty years prior. Due to the minimalistic writing style, readers don’t get a huge amount of detail of past events, though there is enough information to result in some degree of closure for both characters and readers. Despite the novel’s name, the story is much more about Maddy’s inner turmoil than it is about Birdy’s disappearance.

Overall, Birdy is a compelling novel about how we cope with the past versus how we move forward. I recommend this novel for readers who are looking for an introspective novel that is a little different. 

Thank you to Text Publishing for providing us a copy of the book in exchange for a review.

Review by Elise  from novelfeelings.com - where two psychologists take a deep dive into your favourite books

Beatrix & Fred by Emily Spurr

3.5

Weird premise, touching execution

Beatrix is a loner with a genuine attachment to a stuffed canary (Horatio) and one friend at work (Ray). Her mental health is fraying, and at the start of the book, the character she speaks to the most is bot, an AI designed to offer support to her mental health. Then, Fred – a smart, funny, elderly lady – enters the picture. Only, she’s not really an elderly lady.

I’m going to try my best here to not spoil too much of the details, because I think half of the fun of reading this book is going for the ride. I will say that it made me think of Animorphs, but without the ‘aliens are taking over the world’ side of things. Anyway, there are parts of the book that worked better than others for me. I felt really confused about what was going on for a good eighty pages, and it was hard to find a groove when I wasn’t sure I understood what was happening. However, when Fred’s true identity is revealed and her request of Beatrix is made, things fall into place; I found myself immersed in the story and feeling strongly for the characters. Then the pace slowed for a bit and there was a bit of science happening, and my interest waned. Then, the emotions and themes of loneliness and belonging stood out again towards the end, and I was all in again.

In the end, Beatrix & Fred‘s unusual premise allowed for a lovely exploration of what it means to connect and belong and even what it means to be human. Expect weirdness though and stick with it, as the emotions and humanity of the plot are beautifully written.

How are you feeling, Beatrix?

One of my favourite parts of Beatrix & Fred is the mental health themes. One of the side characters is bot, Beatrix’s mental health support app/AI who checks in with her and offers encouragement and ideas about what she can do to improve her wellbeing. Given Beatrix’s isolation and personality (I couldn’t see her engaging in therapy willingly), bot was a great alternative for Beatrix to talk (in brief spurts) about her thoughts and feelings. The information bot provided was well-considered and accurate too.

Another highlight in this area was the conversations between Fred and Beatrix about how perimenopause can affect a woman’s physical and mental health. I know very little about perimenopause, and I imagine there will be other readers who benefit from reading the information shared in the book. I also really enjoyed Fred’s advocacy in this matter for Beatrix!

Final Thoughts

The strangeness of the premise will either be compelling for some people and confusing for others. It was both for me, but, in the end, I am glad I persevered. At the heart of it, Beatrix & Fred is about the weight of loneliness and how lovely it is to have a meaningful connection with someone else. My attention wandered whenever it went into the more science-fiction-y parts, and I’m not sure I fully understood that side of the plot. For me, the book is at its best when it is focused on those moments of connection, both when the connection works and when it is a painful struggle. I also really liked the discussions around mental health and perimenopause! Overall, if you’re looking for something rather unexpected, you should give this one a go.

Thank you to Text Publishing for providing us with a copy of the book in exchange for a review!

Review by Priscilla from novelfeelings.com - where two psychologists take a deep dive into your favourite books

Resistance by Jacinta Halloran

2.0

On the surface, this seems like the perfect book for me: it centres on a therapist; it’s set in my city; it explores the human condition, in all its shades of grey. But unfortunately, I really struggled to get through this book, and may not have finished it if it weren’t for the fact I wished to review it.

The novel’s synopsis highlights the central mystery of the Agostino story and their mandated therapy. This is the closest the novel comes to having a plot, and yet, there were surprisingly few pages dedicated to unravelling this mystery. Its conclusion is ultimately unsatisfying.

My main criticism of this book relates to its overreliance on vignettes. Everyone Nina meets, from her colleagues to random people in a doctor’s waiting room, seems intent to tell her a long-winded anecdote about themselves or, more tangentially, someone else. The vignettes interweave topics such as parenting, the minutiae of long-term relationships, and intergenerational trauma. Though these vignettes are supposed to entrance the reader and encourage them to reflect on various aspects of humanity, I struggled to suspend disbelief. The anecdotes, as a plot device, felt so unnatural; dialogue is minimal, and the writing relies on summarising the interaction with a few interjections from Nina or the storyteller. So, on average, I did not find them compelling, which is a problem when they comprise the majority of the novel.

As a result, I felt incredibly disconnected from the characters. Though I know a little about her family, her past traumas and her work, I cannot tell you much about Nina’s personality – aside from her seriousness. Her supervisor, Erin, is somewhat more fleshed out (her anecdotes reveal some interesting tidbits about her home life) but the lack of boundaries in their supervisory relationship left me concerned – is this supervision or therapy? And who is providing therapy to whom?

Perhaps Resistance would have worked better as a series of short-stories, with time and space to dive into the characters within the vignettes, rather than trying to weave them together through Nina’s therapeutic lens. Alas, this format is just not for me. 

Thank you to Text Publishing for providing us a copy of the book in exchange for a review.

Review by Elise  from novelfeelings.com - where two psychologists take a deep dive into your favourite books