Category Archives: Book I’ll Forget I Read

July 16, 2025 · 5:50 pm

The Ministry of Time: Such a great premise and yet

Kaliane Bradley’s Ministry of Time promises to be such a great read from the plot description. It’s the near future and things are Not Good politically or environmentally, but Britain has discovered time travel. The appointed Ministry of Time is responsible for bringing back a sampling of historical figures as an experiment to see how they handle the journey through time (like does it destroy their bodies or minds?). Each figure is assigned a ‘bridge’ – a contemporary person who will be their translator for the present and who will live with them for the year helping them understand all the intervening years and discoveries since their historical time (as well as their own sense of self and identity displaced by centuries). Our protagonist is one such bridge, paired with a British naval officer from the lost Franklin expedition. Their romance is at once inevitable and a slow burn.

There are attempts to make the book political – with nods to contemporary crises of refugees, climate wars and deteriorating democracy. But most of this gets lost in the weave of trying to literally understand what is happening in the plot of the novel where the story gets muddled with explanation of time travel (or failed explanations), too much cloak and dagger spy missions where the reader is (I guess) meant to understand in the limited narration way of our protagonist but is – at least I was – just confused about what is going on and why. It culminates in a climax where I remain entirely unsure what happened in terms of basic plot points, nevermind if it was a satisfying ending for the affective threads that had been – at least at first – so carefully stitched.

So sure – if you happen to be very focused and willing to take notes and maybe to just give up on the idea that there’s understandable world building to be had then maybe it’s enjoyable? At the very least it’s an enjoyable first 70 pages as you’re absorbed in the novelty of the plot. And then it’s just… not.

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June 5, 2025 · 9:22 pm

Playground: Meh?

I don’t know. Richard Power’s Playground is a book I *should like. It’s an interweaving of different characters that all converge at the end. It has (some) good writing (a lot of it, though, is over written and exhausting). There’s interesting (?) questions about the nature of humanity – how we might or might not be distinct from animals or machines. Certainly compelling questions about friendship and how our friends can define our lives.

But ultimately I’m here to report it’s pretty boring. End of the day, bottom line, if I had to read another description of a coral reef or game of Go I think I’d have hurled the book across the room.

Do we care that there’s an AI character? And that I am someone who is (ostensibly) interested in AI? Not really.

What about an intrepid woman scientist who explores the oceans trailblazing for other women (while suppressing her sexuality – there can only be So Much Trailblazing)? I guess that’s interesting enough, but somehow it reads as.. not very.

I don’t know. Maybe it’s my mood – it’s hot and I wish the air conditioning was on. Perhaps if you were to read this book in the winter it might be a different experience.

You tell me – have any of you enjoyed this one? What am I missing.

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April 5, 2025 · 3:07 pm

The Club: Driving book

Ellery Lloyd’s The Club is equal parts forgettable murder mystery and entirely engrossing distraction. Very fancy private club for the richest celebrities – there’s blackmail, murder attempts, hidden identities, adoptions gone wrong. All the best things you might hope from a soap opera among the rich and famous. I can’t say the book does much to explore deep themes (maybe you could stretch at something about women’s autonomy or objectification or power), and probably that is fine for what it is. A glossy magazine turned novel. A novel destined to be adapted for HBO. So enjoy it as an audiobook, or on a beach, or on a rainy Saturday morning (while your kids tear your house apart and the book lets you absolutely ignore the chaos: a true gift).

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March 11, 2025 · 4:56 pm

The Life Cycle of the Common Octopus: Not Memorable, but Also Fine

I read Emma Knight’s The Life Cycle of the Common Octopus in nearly one sitting, which is a good thing because the characters are so pleasant as to be extremely forgettable, and the plot – which couched as mystery/romance/wealthy-people-doing-rich-things should have been captivating – was slow to engage.

(On the forgettable characters: the first 20 odd pages were almost impossible for me to sort out as characters get introduced every six sentences, each with something (apparently) unique for the reader to try to latch on to, but let me tell you, just telling me a character is ‘quirky’ does not a memorable character make. So either make yourself a little chart or trust me that it really doesn’t matter if you know who Fergus or Charlie are because they are both unimportant and underdeveloped).

Our protagonist, Pen, is tackling a few things: what happened that ruptured her parents’ marriage? Is sex really all that people say it is (and when should you have it? with who? for what reason?)? what ties families together if not only blood?

Mostly these questions turn out to have fairly straightforward and boring answers: parents marriage: infidelity (isn’t it always); sex: it depends and whatever you want to do or not do is great as long as you’re consenting and choosing; family: family can be about blood relationships, but that is always an insufficient condition for Family, and family doesn’t have to be about blood relationships. There’s a vehn diagram in there for chosen family for sure.

The fun parts are descriptions of the big Scottish estate where most of the plot unfolds. Lots of misty walks through overgrown gardens.

And the best part for me were the moments where friendship is (lightly) explored. Pen’s best friend Alice is with her and has been her best friend since forever. This kind of friendship is held up as some kind of unassailable fortress of knowing-and-being-known. As if the sheer length of time they have been friends is proof of the power of that trust. And here I quibble. I do dearly love the friends I have been friends with for a long, long time (I see you S. and C. and J. and J.) and yes, there’s something to be said for a person who has chosen you to be around for years and years (something quite different from a sibling who often has no choice or a partner who chooses you for a different kind of love and usually well after your identity has solidified). But Pen and Alice seem to think that length of friendship alone is sufficient justification for depth. And maybe that’s true? I don’t know, I’m not sure it is, but perhaps the real complaint is that the book makes no effort to complicate or question this – instead just: Old Friends Always Friends.

Anyway, I wouldn’t bother with this one, but you do you.

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