sharkybookshelf's reviews
511 reviews

Five Little Pigs by Agatha Christie

4.0

Caroline Crale was convicted of killing her husband - sixteen years later and armed with a letter stating Caroline’s innocence, their daughter asks Poirot to revisit the case…

I was delighted that this, the halfway point of my SharkyReadsChritie project, happened to be a Poirot. Whilst it might not be his most spectacular case, the format is so very Poirot - since the murder took place many years prior, there’s no possibility of unearthing new physical evidence. It’s a thought puzzle entirely based on the five other suspects’ own accounts of what they remember - it’s about using those Little Grey Cells.

It’s cleverly written, since it’s all in the details of who said (and didn’t say) what in their account. I did deduce whodunnit, but not really how, and I very much enjoyed the thought puzzle format of it.

A clever, closed circle murder mystery that’s all about sifting through witness accounts rather than hard evidence.

A Simple Intervention by Yael Inokai

4.0

A new surgical intervention promises to free patients from psychological disorders…

This was good, with a deceptively simple premise. Inokai explores the idea of society trying to “fix” any psychological issues simply by removing them completely, raising interesting questions around what makes us who we are, the good and the “bad” and how we relate to ourselves. Can we excise a particular aspect of ourselves without a cost to our overall identity? Is any such cost worth it? Who decides?

It stumbled towards the end - granted, I’m not a fan of leaving things open-ended, but I’d have liked the final scenario to be a little more fleshed-out and evenly paced.

An interesting exploration of society’s attitude to psychological differences and how our psychological make-up and identity are intertwined.

What I Know about You by Éric Chacour

4.0

1980s Cairo, a doctor like his father, Tarek’s life is laid out in front of him, until he opens a clinic in a disadvantaged area of the city and meets Ali…

To be honest, the first half of the story was fairly predictable, but the glimpses of Egyptian life and politics of the time in the background kept me interested enough to keep reading. My perseverance was rewarded - the second half turned into a rollercoaster that I did not foresee, and although it veered close to the melodramatic, ultimately I enjoyed it.

The rather relentless pace of the second half meant that I didn’t have time to get annoyed at the switch to second person narration (which I usually hate) and it took me a few days after finishing to actually digest it all. From societal expectations, shame, love, longing, grief, family relationships and the social dynamics of Cairo in the 70s and 80s, there’s actually quite a lot packed into the story, and it all deftly twines together into a story that lingered.

An immersive, raw and (eventually) unexpected story of love, grief, family and social expectations set against a backdrop of societal changes in Cairo.

Gliff by Ali Smith

4.0

Two young siblings arrive home to find their house encircled by a line of wet red paint - what does it mean?

I loved Gliff. It was everything I’d expect from Ali Smith doing dystopian political critique - her signature playful mastery of language is there, of course, and she really dials up sticking it to the Man. It’s dystopian, but feels like a potential future that’s increasingly within reach (even more so in the last couple of months, which is horrifying in itself).

I went in pretty blind, and as with any Ali Smith novel, I think that’s the best approach - buckle up and surrender yourself to the zingy flow of her ideas. In this case we’re treated to a combined commentary on identity and (not) fitting into boxes, gender politics, belonging, government overreach, authoritarianism, privacy, the climate and the environment. It might sound like a lot but it all fits together.

Smith rewards her readers with plenty to think about, and I always enjoy seeing the clever and unexpected links she draws between ideas and cultural references. This book is no exception and I’m very much looking forward to the second part releasing in late 2025!

A near-future dystopian political critique of identity, belonging and the environment told with Smith’s signature playful mastery of language.

On the Calculation of Volume I by Solvej Balle

4.0

Tara Selter finds herself stuck in a time glitch, repeating the 18th of November whilst everyone around her is completely unaware of her situation…

I took a bit of a gamble on this one - I was intrigued the premise, but also not entirely convinced that it would hold my interest. Well, I’m delighted to say I loved it! So much so that on finishing, I immediately ordered the next book in the series.

The writing has that Scandinavian straightforward feel to it and I found myself pulled along - who knew that reading about somebody repeating the same day could be so gripping? (Not me!)

The unusual premise is really what makes the story, throwing up interesting questions around relationships and drifting apart, tiny incremental changes over time. It also creates a fascinating way to explore memory - with each repetition of the 18th of November, the 17th becomes further away in time and Tara’s fresh memories of “yesterday” become old memories - and the details of everyday life, what we notice and what we don’t. So, even if it sounds a bit weird, don’t be put off by the time glitch premise.

An intriguing, unexpectedly gripping exploration of the passage of time, relationships and memory.

On the Calculation of Volume II by Solvej Balle

4.0

Books in a series can be a little tricky to review because I don’t want to give away spoilers of the previous books, so I’ll keep this fairly vague. I enjoyed this one even more than the first - it’s more dynamic and broadens the exploration of the passage of time and human connection.

Balle also highlights our need for a sense of purpose. Tara’s search for meaning in her life and falling down rabbit holes are perfectly written - her feelings of hopelessness and lack of direction really come through at the start of the book. That might sound thoroughly depressing, but the unembellished writing is gripping, and I found myself swept along once again.

I did not see the ending coming and am extremely impatient to see how the story will unfold! So much so that I wonder if I could learn Danish sooner than the next instalment’s publication date in English (which hasn’t been announced yet, but I suspect November?). I’m joking…mostly.

A gripping, dynamic sequel, exploring the passage of time, circles of connection and the human need for purpose.

The Golden Mole by Katherine Rundell

4.0

This wasn’t quite what I expected, but I still very much enjoyed it! I thought it would be species-specific and thus more detailed, but it’s actually short snapshots of (mostly) genera or families of animals which are all a bit unusual or frankly weird. The Greenland shark is included, so extra points from me, obviously 😉

Rundell writes with humour and wonder, keeping each entry accessible but full of fascinating facts. It is a lovely compilation of remarkable but often overlooked animals and, even though they are all threatened, the book manages to remain hopeful. The format makes it easy to dip in and out of as you find yourself with a few minutes to spare - a chapter goes nicely with a cup of coffee/tea.

An accessible, humorous overview of several wondrous but endangered families of animals.

Season of the Swamp by Yuri Herrera

4.0

1853, Benito Juárez, a young Mexican exile, disembarks in New Orleans and immerses himself in the city whilst plotting a return to Mexico with fellow exiles…

This was a riot of a book - fun writing, lively and quick to read. It’s an ode to the chaos of New Orleans, which is (and I say this with love) a bit of a bonkers city, though Herrera doesn’t shy away from the city’s darker aspects. It’s also an exploration of immersing oneself in a place and how experiences could shape us.

It’s a book of layers - my ignorance of Mexican history kept me largely on the surface, but I strongly suspect that there are deeper layers to reward those with more knowledge. Whilst I undoubtedly missed plenty of references to Juárez and his companions’ future trajectories (which is a reflection of me, NOT a criticism of the book), that didn’t stop me from having a thoroughly good time with it. (And if, like me, your Mexican history is lacking, I suggest reading Benito Juárez’s Wikipedia page before starting.)

A vivid and layered riot of a story.

The Book of Disappearance by Ibtisam Azem

5.0

Israelis wake up one day to discover that all Palestinians have disappeared without a trace…

Originally published a decade ago, this excellent book is still painfully relevant. Depressingly, I’d say even more so, given that the past year has effectively resembled an attempt to make the premise of this book (the Palestinians’ disappearance) come true - it makes for an eerie read actually.

The book is two-pronged. Unsurprisingly, it is a cutting critique and laying-bare of Israeli attitudes towards Palestinians, especially ostensible liberals - Ariel is such a deftly-written character in this respect. The various reactions, assumptions and suggestions of how to proceed were all too believable.

But it’s also a story of memory - both personal and collective. There’s a strong sense of place, both of the city as it was pre-Nakba and as it is now - it’s cleverly done and the overlapping of the two allows for an exploration of who “owns” memory and the (forced) loss of collective memory.

The writing is poetic at times and kept me on tenterhooks throughout - it was hard to put down. My only quibble is that the ending is just so open - I have too many questions! - though ultimately it didn’t actually bug me as much as such endings usually do. (That and a thorough proofread wouldn’t have gone amiss…)

A gripping, clever exploration of life for Palestinians living in Israel in terms of collective memory, trauma and loss.

Parade by Rachel Cusk

3.0

A painter starts producing upside down paintings; another painter assesses her body of work; a woman is attacked in the street; a mother dies and her children consider her legacy.

This was my first Cusk - I was so sure I’d love it that I was absolutely not prepared for the cold and clinical read it turned out to be. So I definitely did not love it, but I also didn’t hate it, because the thing is, Parade deals with fascinating topics - the concept of genius, the creation and consumption of art, motherhood - and Cusk’s observations are remarkably pointed and astute.

But they also lack emotion, such that I never quite managed to connect with the writing. With nothing to tether the stories, the whole book feels nebulous and slippery. There’s also a whiff of the pretentious about it at times.

An astute yet nebulous exploration of genius, art and motherhood.