In 1980, Elise follows her lover Connie from London to LA, where Connie’s novel is being adapted into a major film. Their stormy love affair will leave its mark on the city. Three decades later, Rose is on the trail of the mother who left when she was a baby. The only clue she has is a book by elusive novelist Constance Holden, who may hold the key to why her mother left everything behind.
Maurice Hall appears to be the prototype of the English gentleman - educated at a prestigious school, he will inevitably go on to study at Cambridge then take his place alongside London's wealthy financiers. Yet when he falls in love with a fellow male student at Cambridge, Maurice feels the ground of convention pulled from beneath his feet. He is forced to make an agonising decision: betray his true self in exchange for a place in polite society, or risk turning his back on this safe and familiar world to live authentically.
For our December meeting, my book club had the theme 'Best of 2020' and voted on an award-winning book to read. We ended up choosing Queenie by Candice Carty-Williams which won the British Book Award - I loved it and you can read my review here! However, the time I spent trawling through different book award shortlists to put our poll together got me thinking - do book awards really matter?
I actually can't remember the last time I DNFed a book. In fairness, a lot of the books I read are for my degree modules so kind of require me to power through, but even when reading for pleasure I tend to cling on until the bitter end.
Over the years since I started blogging, I have noticed that so many other book bloggers aren't afraid to call it a day if they're not hooked after x number of chapters. This has got me thinking - could becoming a more ruthless DNFer improve my reading life?
I am a proud member of the Better World Books affiliate network – the ethical online bookshop. Please note that this post contains affiliate links. The wonderful Aditi has a comprehensive range of posts on her blog, from author interviews to discussion posts. Her unique poems on both familiar and more unusual topics are 100% worth a… Continue reading Reblog: Diversity in YA Books — One In a Million
It's that time of year when everybody is starting to plan out what their reading life will look like in 2019! With so many challenges and checklists, there are plenty of resolutions to choose from.
Personally, I have not set myself any reading goals this year. As an English Literature student, my compulsory reading is enough without setting myself any more deadlines! However, if you are reading purely for pleasure, can setting goals help to enhance this or turn reading into a competitive activity that puts you under pressure?
As a teenager reading was perhaps an even bigger part of my life than it is now. Without the inconvenient responsibility of study, jobs and exams, I devoured books like they were going out of fashion, and was practically an expected presence in the YA section of the local library. However, as I progress into my twenties, I feel myself turning away from the books that inspired me in those years. I am somehow self-conscious about being seen reading YA books on the bus, I skip past YA reviews, and I avoid recommending them at my book club for fear of not being taken seriously.
This has got me thinking about today’s debate topic – are you really ever too old for YA?