Pre-loved book haul.

I’m currently postponing a considerable amount of Uni work to write this blog post, which is far more interesting! Anyway, a few weeks back, I adopted some unwanted, lovely new books from my relatives. Here, I shall be going through some of my fiction and non-fiction choices…

My first adoption is ‘Walking Dickensian London’ by Richard Jones.

walking dickesn london

If you enjoy classic literature and like London, then you’ll enjoy this. This is a delightful 200-page commissioned guide, covering twenty-five walks through the Victorian quarters of London, all associated with the life of Charles Dickens. The book opens with a modest biography of Dickens, revealing that it was a broken heart, poverty and a stifled intellectual desire that finally plunged him into writing in 1833. I’ve also learnt from this section that Dickens directed and acted in Willkie Collins’s 1857 play, ‘The Frozen Deep’.

Collins was another nineteenth-century writer who is perhaps best known for his psychological thriller novel, ‘The Woman in White’ (1859).

The Woman in White
BBC One’s 2018 adaptation of the “Woman in White”

At the bottom of page nine, you will find a short key which helps identify local churches, train stations – if you’re commuting to London beforehand, the walking route – highlighted blue, as well as city parks and gardens. Directions are generally broken down by short paragraphs, focussing on historic points of interest. My favourite walk is “Tower Hill to Barbican”, not least because Barbican is home to the Museum of London and the Barbican Centre – where I’ll be graduating (fingers crossed), but because the whole route is described as going straight through the “very heart” of the City of London and has a “warren” of very ‘Dickensian’ back alleys. I would say that since this guide is relatively old (published, 2004) and it feels slightly dated in terms of its layout and aesthetics. Nevertheless, a very interesting book. It’s relatively lightweight and a perfect companion to slip into your backpack. I feel inspired to embark on some walks!

My second adoption is
‘Walking Shakespeare’s London’ by Nicholas Robins.

As you may have noticed, this is related to the last book as a ‘Walking Guides’ series. This guide contains twenty walks and compared with Dickens, the introduction on Shakespeare is, perhaps unsurprisingly, quite short as very little was known about the bard himself. The introduction states that one of the most evocative Shakespearean buildings you’ll find in London, Shakespeare’s Globe, is incidentally one of the most modern additions, reconstructed from the original Globe Theatre in 1997 and 200 metres from the old site. This guide is similarly scattered with photographs, route maps, information on local buildings like Temple Church (p.112) as well as lots of context on historical society, Shakespeare’s contemporaries, political figures and literature in time gone by. This guide’s wide-ranging presentation of information offers an immersive insight into the past and is, therefore my preferred addition of the two.

My third adoption is ‘Nathaniel’s Nutmeg’ by Giles Milton.


I took ownership of this book from my Dad who has had nothing but very high praise for it. In 1616, an English adventurer, Nathaniel Courthope, stepped ashore on the remote island of Run, six-hundred miles from the coast of Australia, to persuade the native islanders to grant a monopoly to England over their nutmeg. You may forgive the book for having such a seemingly mundane title, but if you’re interested in British naval history and the Age of Discovery, I have seen this book being frequently described as a “truly fascinating” read. The book is based on a little-known but very true story and from what I’ve read so far, Milton has interwoven imaginary writing in his own re-telling of the story of the spice trade; so we may call this a factual book with a little creative licence. Naturally, with any book covering our historic imperial past, there is the issue of a racist ideology which crops up as early as page two: “(the islanders of Run) are peevish, perverse, diffident, perfidious people…” Nevertheless, it serves the correct purpose of acknowledging ignorance of society of the time. I am yet to read this novel as it’s on my summer reading list, but I have high hopes for its depth of information.

How I discovered the Open University.

I dropped out of University after one week.

Here, I talk about my story of how I came to study with the Open University. This article has been written for anyone who might be in a similar position as I once was, along with my experience, so far, with the Open University. It is also aimed at parents of high school students, mature students, and just about anyone who’s interested in the Open University. *Disclaimer: Though I have included some potentially recognisable photographs in this article, I have omitted from explicitly naming either of my previous institutions. My opinions by no means intend to encourage or deter anyone from applying there and should be taken as my own very personal experiences. If you want to make a reliable decision on a potential University option, the best way to go about it is to attend an Open Day in person. Finally, photo credits go to each of the individual sources, which I won’t disclose. Deep breath, here we go…

It began about two years ago, not long after I’d completed a foundation certificate in English Literature at a small college campus in London, that I suddenly fell very ill. Having made it out the other end of a turbulent year, which included losing my old friends and making new ones, commuting a long journey into London on the dreaded Underground, locating my timetabled rooms on a maze-like campus – and being late for a number of them, as well as memorising the contents of some very dense novels, I was relieved to have passed the year. Initially, I was unsure about my college, since was a last-minute decision but by the end of the year, I had come to love the leafy-green campus, with its charmingly old, yet arty hallways, the smell of coffee from the cosy café and small student population. Although I was now allowed entry onto the main course, the only problem was that I couldn’t stay on. Stepping up to the first year of full-time study whilst juggling caring responsibilities at home and commuting across the city would be simply impossible. Something had to give way and so I had successfully applied for another course at a college more close to home, the following autumn.

Image result for goldsmiths campus

This one had a much grander reputation and everything was much bigger. The subject blocks, especially the science area, had been heavily invested in. The student population was four times the size of my old place and for the first time, I became acutely aware of existing as a number in an automated money-making system, along with others who were taking out a £9,000/year loan. The corridors in the English department were spacious but dull. The seemingly endless stretch of grey floor tiles, complemented the low ceilings and white-washed, windowless walls, resulting in the appearance of an underground hospital. My first experience of the lecture hall was one that dwarfed me, as dozens of rows of tightly packed seats were designed to accommodate for two-hundred or more students at a time. The long, wooden tables were uncomfortably narrow and because so many of us were crammed in on a row, there was very little elbow room, especially for a leftie like me who failed to get an end seat. I became preoccupied with avoiding barging in on my neighbour’s personal space and resorted to scrawling ugly notes in my lap instead. It all felt incredibly impersonal. Whilst a sense of utter loss and overwhelming depression likely exacerbated my negative perception of the place, there is no doubt that these symptoms certainly fed off the helpless scenario. I started to wish I was back on my previous course. I had failed to fit in with the excessively confident females that dominated my tutor group and after a few days, hadn’t made a single friend. I didn’t belong here. The place seemed cold, highly competitive and unfriendly. Nor could I handle the excessive social interaction and shakey nerves, especially because I had (and still have) crippling social anxiety; a very personal and heavily disguised issue I’m bound by.

Image result for qmul campus

I decided that I had to leave, no matter what. At the start of my first tutorial, when the class and tutor was busy re-arranging the tables, I carefully picked up my bag and coat and snuck out into the main corridor. I doubted anyone would notice, at least not immediately, as not only had the administrative chaos invalidated the register, but I was a minute statistic and hadn’t properly spoken to anyone here, save one member of the English department on a campus tour. So long as I pretended to be going somewhere, it was relatively unlikely I’d be stopped. Weaving in and out of postgrads and department staff, I strolled down the flights of stairs, to the ground floor as nonchalantly as I could, and out into the open air. Within a few minutes, I had crossed the concrete campus and made it outside the main entrance gates, never to return again. The following weeks were awful as I spent them breaking the news to my family, who were horrified, upset and disappointed, as well as informing the department of my intention and making financial arrangements for future enrolment on a different course. I also binned my hideously-photographed student ID, as I wouldn’t be needing that again. I was suddenly adrift and for the first time, actually outside the education system. It was entirely down to me, to regain a sense of stability in whatever way possible.  

The truth is, right from the moment of walking out of the English department, I knew in my head that my only feasible option would be to study on a distance-learning course, but I knew my family wouldn’t like the idea; you either commit to something properly or don’t bother doing it at all – was their logic. Nevertheless, I spent weeks searching the internet for online courses from bricks-and-mortar institutions, hoping that I could (somehow) pass the idea. Unfortunately, there are not many distance courses for an English student, nor are there many undergraduate options available, as most online courses only accommodate for postgrads. I finally came across the Open University, which is a well-known distance-learning, higher education provider in the United Kingdom. I was delighted to find out they did indeed run an English Literature course and in fact, there were numerous options like combining it with other subjects such as History, Philosophy or Music if I wanted to. I spent a while drawing up tables and making online enquiries (save social phone calls) over different options, before finally deciding on the one course that was best for me. The next problem was trying to convince my parents to support a student finance application for an OU course..! Rather than telling anyone immediately, I held off for months, letting any tensions die down before even suggesting the idea. After about six months, I anxiously took the opportunity to tell my mother when she was in one of her rare happy moods. I was surprised to find out that although she had studied at a London college, she had also completed a short training course with the OU twenty-odd years ago. She quite casually, though not enthusiastically, accepted the idea much to my disbelief and as a result, so did my dad. I wasted no more time, filling in the forms.


Around early September, I received a large package, weighing about five kilograms, with the “Open University” printed on the top. And when I opened it to reveal the contents, I was quite genuinely blown away. Inside, were four thick textbooks, each in a different colour. These were accompanied by four corresponding DVD cases with multiple DVD-ROMs, DVDs and CDs inside. There were two quite heavy illustration books, filled with picture sources to refer to throughout the year, an assignment booklet with a list of essays to complete and finally, a student handbook to help me make sense of the seemingly impossible task which lay ahead. This was my first welcome to my first compulsory module, The Arts Past and Present. A wave of despair washed over me; I didn’t think I could possibly get through this alone and in the space of nine months, on a supposedly part-time basis too! After a sleepless night, I decided against wallowing in self-doubt. The next morning, I flicked through the advice given in the student handbook and added up the total number of pages across the four main textbooks, to work out how much I’d need to complete each day. I was soon on my way, and by the time the course kicked off, I was weeks in advance – very helpful! In week one, I was finally introduced, by email, to my tutor, who would be responsible for marking all my work. And by week nine, I entered my first ninety-minute online tutorial with one other student (the number improved the second time around), for which I was relieved didn’t require a webcam – just a set of headphones, a microphone and good internet access. The monthly essays start off quite short and gradually build up to higher word counts with more challenging questions. These are still entirely manageable though, as on an introductory module it’s assumed you’ve had little to no experience of higher-level education. The content of the textbooks has been consistently interesting and broad. You’re not expected to complete an essay on every chapter of the textbook, which is usually made up of around six separate sections and some essay tasks offer multiple options. I’ve also found that each textbook usually takes around two months study to complete and since starting, I’m now currently working through textbook three of four. Though you are not entirely alone, you are expected to keep on track and maintain your own study schedule (there is also an online weekly planner to help with this) and meet all assignment deadlines. Even this is quite flexible and for most essays, you can ask your tutor for an extension.

I’m pleased to have found the OU and it’s an entirely viable option for anyone struggles with the physical environment and psychological pressures of actually attending a University. If reputation is a concern, you can later apply to an RG institution for a postgrad course; some OU graduates have been gone on to study at Oxbridge. I thoroughly recommend it to any other school leavers, as it’s a well-respected institution with professionally-planned, high-quality materials. I only wish I hadn’t wasted two years after finishing school, yet to discover it in the first place!

I’ll be doing a follow-up post on some key facts and details on studying with Open University, so please do send or email me any questions you have.

‘The Essex Serpent’ by Sarah Perry.

I truly felt lost within the mists of time.

Last month, I wrote a less than positive book review on Sarah’s Perry debut novel ‘After Me Comes The Flood’. Though, it was the upcoming author’s second novel ‘The Essex Serpent’, which I was actually introduced to first. Based on some stellar reviews, being shortlisted for the Costa Novel Award and winning the Waterstones Book of the Year 2016, I was very much looking forward to getting stuck into the 417-page novel. Besides all that, Essex is where I’m from!

Inside the front cover, with a William Morris design.

Tell Me About It ———–‘The Essex Serpent’ is set against the backdrop of 1890s Britain during a time of technical development and scientific endeavour. Cora Seaborne, recently widowed, has been liberated from an unhappy marriage to an unpleasant civil servant. Relieved of her duties and “stripped of code and convention” she seeks refuge in her late childhood memories and escapes the rigidity of the claustrophobic city for the wild and open landscape of the Essex county, in the Spring. In traditional feminist style, Cora doesn’t identify with the conventional expectations of a Victorian lady. Instead, the young ‘Mary Anning’ dresses for practicality and enjoys getting close to the mud and the raw beauty of the natural landscape. When Cora hears the folktale of the Essex Serpent which has apparently come to life and is abducting the locals of the Blackwater Estuary, she cannot resist investigating.

“There is strange news out of Essex…”

Writing Style———–I feel that there is a high level of intelligence to Sarah Perry’s writing as she has a wonderful gift for composing poetic and flowing descriptive passages of the Essex of her childhood (Sarah Perry did study Creative Writing at Royal Holloway); such as those of the marshes across the Essex coast and the sensoria of the wet woodlands. I truly felt lost within the mists of time and winds off the coast. There is also the beautiful prologue that explores the way in which time manifests itself in different ideas and abstract forms. It’s the kind of writing I aspire to achieve, though regrettably with only moderate success!

An original woodcut of the Essex Serpent. Credit: The Guardian.

Themes & Characters —————There are various themes which ‘snake’ their way throughout the narrative of the story. The most prominent character, the local parish priest, who is a person of faith but reluctant to surrender to superstition. Whereas Cora, a woman of science, is irresistibly drawn to folklore and fear-inducing rumour. Their burgeoning friendship as well as juxtaposing characteristics make for a delicate and intriguing relationship. The nature of faith and faith in nature intertwine throughout Perry’s novel, which has a strong respect for friendship and a humanity. I also appreciated Perry’s contemporary approach to a traditional social setting with her recognition of Cora’s son, Francis’s Autism, which would have undoubtedly gone undiagnosed in Victorian times

Thoughts?————– The Essex Serpent is compelling, though equally complex and again I felt the plot began to lose its way, which is a great shame. The story repeatedly jumped between characters and philosophical concepts, as opposed to focusing on the narrative and the mystery itself. About halfway through, long and winding passages filled with red herrings and abstract ideas overwhelmed the story, and I just couldn’t finish it! And so to me, the Essex Serpent remains a mystery. You could argue that this only fulfils the wistful beauty of the parish myth. However, ‘The Essex Serpent’ is an initially promising book with simply lost potential. Perhaps I’ll come back to ‘The Essex Serpent’ one day and even write a revised review!

Despite my personal difficulties with getting through the novel, I would still very much recommend it for its beautiful passages alone, with a 3.5-star rating. This paperback publication also includes a selection of thought-provoking questions for budding reading groups to prompt discussion, and there’s an interesting interview with Sarah Perry in the back. Have you read ‘The Essex Serpent’? Tell me your thoughts!

First published in 2017 by Serpent’s Tail.

Written by Sarah Perry, front cover design by Crow Books.

ISBN: 978-1781255452



‘Down the Rabbit Hole’ by Peter Abrahams.

 A cosy Young Adult novel.

Dear followers, I hope you enjoy this cosy book review. Snuggle down with a hot choccy!

On what was a suitably wet and windy afternoon in 2012, I gave up the ongoing struggle to make friends and sought refuge in a quiet corner of the school library, which was always warm and inviting in September. After a couple of minutes scanning through the limited selection of ‘New Releases’, wrapped and sealed in their protective jackets, I came across a distinct purple paperback – it seemed better quality than most YA fiction.

It had a cover illustration (now out of print) of a towering solitary house secluded by a pair of tall, crooked trees, and the title itself – ‘DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE’. I couldn’t resist a novel that honoured the classic children’s story. And at the time, I was stuck in a deep pit of confusion and rejection, longing for a sense of connection and familiarity – when this empathetic little gem fell into my hands. No one had read it yet, it’s pages smelt new, undiscovered! I borrowed it there and then.

Front Cover of the newest edition.

‘Down The Rabbit Hole’ is a 352-page Young Adult crime/ mystery novel written by Peter Abrahams. Whilst this may not be the newest book to write a review on (it was first published in 2006!) I still think that it’s an enthralling, lesser-known fiction which all inquisitive, cosy book lovers should have the opportunity to discover!

Thirteen-year-old Ingrid Levin-Hill lives at 99 Marple Lane in Echo Falls, with her mum and dad, her brother Ty and the family dog, Nigel. Ingrid plays football, has landed the lead role of Alice ‘in Wonderland’ in the school play, gets decent grades at school, and idolises Arthur Conan Doyle’s fictional hero, Sherlock Holmes. One day, when Ingrid gets lost between her orthodontist appointment and football practice, she crosses paths with Katherine Kovac, or “Crazy Katie”. A retired actress turned social misfit, she lives alone in the poorer part of town and invites Ingrid into her home to call for a cab.

Harking back to childhood, I could remember the shameful experience of getting lost in town and the feeling of panicked disorientation and desperation to get back home again. And so, I could strongly connect with Ingrid’s sense of unease in these early scenes.

Ingrid meets “Crazy Katie”.

The next morning, however, Ingrid reads that Katie has been found dead in her home, and Ingrid is a key witness in the moments before her death. Perhaps more disturbingly, Ingrid has left her football boots behind – at the scene of the crime! In a mission to retrieve her Pumas and a compelling desire to solve the mystery, Ingrid slips into a dark subculture of murder and mystery and metaphorically falls ‘Down The Rabbit Hole’.

What I truly loved about this novel, was it’s rich sense of atmosphere. Echo Falls is a gentrified suburban town, with discreetly obscured secrets. Abrahams goes a long way to emphasise this through the use of light imagery contrasted with shadows and a detailed history of a family known as the Prescotts. As a child, Ingrid finds herself caught up in this dangerous adult world and despite coming off as a bit ‘Famous Five-ish’, it does give leeway for some gripping, scenes towards the main chunk of the novel.

The beautiful Back Cover.

However, there were some topical issues in this novel which I didn’t agree with, simply for the way they were handled by the author. The apparent normalisation of younger brother Ty’s use of steroids in his physical training regime and then, we have a casually brushed off incident where Ty flies into a fit of rage and gives Ingrid a black eye. Another was with Ingrid’s continuous dishonesty towards those around her – particularly her relationship with Detective Inspector Strade. My final issue was that this was written by an America author; I couldn’t understand the American sporting aspect of the novel which featured quite heavily, and a lot of the regional social characteristics went straight over my head. There was also the use of cell phones and MSN-style chatrooms which seemed slightly dated, haha! Nevertheless, I enjoyed ‘Down the Rabbit Hole’ and I would describe it as an atmospheric, gripping, rainy day, good quality sort of book.

Though the novel seems to be aimed at teenagers, I would recommend it to pretty much anyone.

Published in Great Britain in 2006 by Walker Books Ltd, Reprinted in 2012

Written by Peter Abrahams, front cover design by Richard Merritt

ISBN: 978-1-4063-3070-0

Wishing you all a lovely bank holiday weekend!

‘After Me Comes the Flood’ by Sarah Perry.


{Saturday 21st April}: If like me you live in Britain, you’ll be well aware of the recent heatwave we’re experiencing, with temperatures as high as 29.C degrees – the highest in April for 70 years! I woke up this afternoon (cheers, insomnia) from the depths of an amazingly vivid patchwork dream, which I’m still experiencing the hangover from. And in my state of confusion and distant consciousness, I remembered reading the equally evocative and heady writing in Sarah Perry’s debut novel ‘After Me Comes the Flood’. First of all, I didn’t like it much. Here’s why…

March Winds and April Summers.

Since I’m sitting here in an empty house with a mug of hot tea, (we Brits drink tea in all weathers) I think, to establish the opening scenes of the novel is the perfect way to begin.

This 230-page debut by Sarah Perry centres itself around the mundane life of a solitary man, John Cole, who owns a bookshop in London. When the perpetual silence of his shop and the feverishly hot weather become too much, John decides close early and leave for Norfolk where his brother lives by the coast. On his way, John’s car breaks down and when he ventures off in search of help, he comes across an unusual house in a clearing in the countryside. The mood from this point on takes a colder turn and starts to decline.


A gorgeous cover, but looks can be deceptive!

John is welcomed by a scruffy and slightly childlike family who know his name and claim to have been waiting for him for some time. There is a broken sundial on the lawn and John later finds mysterious, cryptic graffiti in his laid out room. The house emanates stagnation from its unsightly descriptions and sensory imagery to its inhabitants who seem to have become part of the woodwork, not attaching themselves to a particular time or place. Not only did I find this slightly disorientating, but the juxtaposition of setting with the family’s warmth and friendliness created a feeling of unease throughout.

John tries to inform them that he is not who they think he is, but every time he is briskly ignored or misses the opportunity to speak out. Accepting the family’s hospitality with some degree of guilt, he waits for the earliest opportunity to make his unannounced escape. Of course, this is prolonged further and further, which only added to my level of frustration. I got the impression that the novel was like a very weird dream and its style reminded me very much of ‘The Yellow Wallpaper’ by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. You’ll have to read into it to find out, but let’s just say it’s left a lasting impression upon my studies in Literature!

Credit: Unknown Source.

I thought the novel started off very promisingly with a high degree of intrigue, and Sarah Perry’s beautiful flair for lyrical and poetic passages is indisputable. However, when this and an excessive amount of boring dialogue overwhelms the novel, her writing (in my humble opinion) comes across as quite pretentious. The story lacked a chunky middle and an end, and it quickly became confusing and dull. Instead, I got the impression that the novel was a showcase of Sarah Perry’s capabilities as a creative writer rather than a fully fledged author. I’d say that it’s a typical book that will appeal to the feminine mind – only I’m not a typical female reader. Nor is it my cup of tea. 


Some positive reviews. I’ll leave it to you!

Published in 2014 by Serpent’s Tail, Reprinted 2017

Written by Sarah Perry, front cover design by Peter Dyer

ISBN: 978-1781259559

‘The Strange Affair of Spring-Heeled Jack’ by Mark Hodder.

One place you’re most likely to find me is: nowhere. I don’t get out much; I mainly escape through the pages of the latest book I’m reading. After many school years over-analysing lines of text, I had forgotten how to simply read a book. It wasn’t until Christmas that a tall stack of gifted novels triggered me into making a first determined effort to break the back bone of my reading anxiety. As it turns out, I enjoyed the first book I read so much, that I decided to write a book review on it here:


The Strange Affair of Spring-Heeled Jack’ (2010) is a 479-page Victorian Steampunk novel, written by Mark Hodder. I was initially apprehensive, because if reading the dystopian passages of Mortal Engines was anything to go by, then I would find this one mighty tough read. However, this exciting novel is set in an alternative ‘Albertian’ London and makes use of an array of 19th-Century historical figures. Sir Richard Francis Burton is the multi-disciplined and charismatic protagonist who investigates two parallel subplots. The more interesting of which is his terrifying encounter with the alien figure of Spring-Heeled Jack. I enjoyed Hodder’s use of a third-person narrative, told from the perspective of Burton, as I ‘shared’ the sensation of being plunged into a murky world of terror and mystery. I also liked the fact that I had stumbled across a story about the lesser-known urban myth of Spring-Heeled Jack. There are too many stories which revolve around Jack the Ripper and if you haven’t heard of Spring-Heeled Jack before, then just a mention opens you up to a new avenue of education into English folklore.


   Credit: The British Library.

At no point is the plot tiresome and this is diverted with the aid of Burton’s youthful and naive companion Algernon Swinburne. Swinburne not only provides opportunity for exciting and daring plot twists but instant likeability and flippant humour along the way. I was able to sit down with this book and become engrossed in its pages 2-3 hours at a time.

Another thing I appreciate, and respect is Hodder’s extensive knowledge of the period and this is clear with his rich detailing of factual events that occurred at the time. Not only does this offer a real flavour for 19th-Century history, but the material is beautifully entwined with fictional creativity. If you have an appreciation for the Victorian period, this book will be well within your comfort zone – both engaging and rewarding with a few delightful guest appearances sprinkled throughout. On the fictional side, the narrative is set against the backdrop of an alternative London, where the Romantic-like factions of society known as the Rakes and hard-line Libertines are waring with the Eugenicists and Technologists, who form the backbone of the empire. There are velocipedes and swearing messenger parakeets, a vicious albino panther man, and wolves which kidnap chimney sweeps in the smog. And Burton finds himself plunged into this insane reality when he is called upon by Prime Minister Lord Palmerstone as the King’s secret agent, to investigate the strange disappearances. For a considerable chunk of the novel I wondered about the significance – if any – of Hodder choosing to write a story in ‘Albertian’ Britain. As it turns out, there was a lot of significance and this concept was a result of a key part of the plot.


Just when I thought things were being tied together, Hodder flipped the narrative on its head and the reader gains a completely new version of the story from a different perspective. Yes, the novel has elements of Victorian Steampunk in it, but I’d argue that this doesn’t define it. The combination of a 19th-Century setting, the mystery, grime and Hodder’s detailed navigation around London are what largely set the mood, and this isn’t the typically ‘dry’ result you get from a lot of books set in similar periods, like Terry Pratchett’s ‘Dodger’ (sorry Terry).


If I had to find something potentially negative in Hodder’s writing, it would be his characterisation of female figures. And characters like Isabell Arundell and the famous Florence Nightingale have very limited dialogue to none whatsoever, which makes them come across as quite two-dimensional. However, in a period which was effectively a man’s world, I guess this can be accepted. Another questionable aspect were instances of assault, but again in the greater context of the storyline, it made sense in its own twisted way. Hodder’s writing was plausible enough to even make me feel pity for person responsible for the acts. Whilst I did get the impression that the story became convoluted and it dissolved into dramatic fantasy near the end, the overall experience of the novel was so enjoyable that the next book in the Burton and Swinburne series is on my eventual wish list. If you’re into mystery slightly more than crime, as well a clash between science-fiction and history, then I’d recommend.

Published in 2010 by Snowbooks Ltd, Reprinted 2017
Written by Mark Hodder and Illustrated by Kate Hiscock

ISBN: 978-1-906727-20-8


Every story starts with a blank page.

If you have been interested enough to open the link that has led you to this blog page, then congratulations! You are part of a small minority of people who are not exclusively engaged by visual media – but the power of the written word, too. I myself am not the most prolific writer, but I hope I can sustain your interest with the musings of a humble young person. This space is yet to take shape, but we’ll see how things go. Every story starts with a blank page and this blog will always exist so long as there’s someone reading it.

Good company in a journey makes it seem way shorter. — Walton