Since 2013, I have reviewed (almost) every single book I've read. With over 500 individual book reviews and averaging around 1,000 unique readers a month, I'm very proud of what I have achieved. Due to my eclectic reading habits, everyone from Agatha Christie to Zoran Drvenkar puts in an appearance, as well as the occasional film or podcast review too, and monthly interviews with fellow writers and creatives who have a thing or two to say about literature.
There’s even a lovely little meta-joke: when one of the hotel guests asks Poirot to share with them his thoughts, he says, “I reserve the explanations for the last chapter.” And indeed, as usual, he does.
Despite the horror and creepiness of the story, it is absolutely beautiful. Barnes writes like his words are being woven into a patchwork quilt, and there isn’t a dropped stitch or lose thread in it.
Like all Fforde’s work, it’s a book that’s impossible to explain in simple terms. He throws in so many concepts and lets you get on with it, always with remarkable results.
From 2015-16 I ran a blog that went into detail about various cultural and historical aspects of London, including the ghost stations of the Underground, how London came to be in the first place, the etymology of some of the more unusual locations, and the best places to get breakfast.
Across the city, two thousand chimney stacks were knocked down, the roof was blown off Westminster Abbey, and some seven hundred ships were blown together and destroyed in the Thames.
Home to plague, pestilence, many brothels and those who enjoyed a drink or eleven, the street gained a negative reputation.
Cockfosters, that name that makes everyone going northbound on the Piccadilly line chuckle inwardly even a little, actually refers to the home of the chief forester, the “cock” being the head of something in old English.