Shroud by Adrian Tchikovsky:

In the far flung future, humanity lives among the stars and exploits any planet it comes into contact with.  On the moon of Shroud, a survey team comes into contact with a primitive society, but one with  the capacity to learn.  When they become stranded, will peace or science win the day?

Well, neither actually. Hard SF fans will lap this up quicker than a second-hand copy of New Scientist, but it’s not dynamic enough to sustain attention.  The writing is heavily factual.  And, yes I’ll admit that is a trope of the genre.  But despite the odd flourish (humanity is genetically engineered for deep space) the crew are the hard-boiled narks that have inhabited SF since the Nostromo in 1979.

The plot picks up a little in the middle eight of the book, but this is what Whovians will know as ‘base under siege’.  The prose style here is choppy, episodic and resolved far too quickly.  The alien race (worm-like, using endoskeletons and sacrificing the injured to their god) is a fascinating concept, but they are seen first as bloodthirsty Lovecraftian beasties and then noble angels at the ends of the novel.  

It’ll have its fans, but it found it too cold and worthy to keep my interest.  It’s published by Pan Macmillan on February 27th, 2025 and I thank them for a copy.  #shroud

The Quiet by Barnaby Martin: 

Hannah is a college lecturer in the mid-21st century, she’s a mum to Isaac, a hearing-impaired child.  She lives in a pre-apocalyptic world, with UV levels so toxic, going out without protective clothing invites skin cancer. Plus, there’s a maddening, ever present hum called The Soundfield.  And then Hannah becomes involved in a conspiracy against the government.  

There is the potential here for a cracking dystopian sci-fi novel. Sadly, potential is what it is.  The novel has a well-realised world, but a lot of the plot devices (censorship, neo-fascism, an underground resistence) have been done before, better.  The odd cracking idea (society lives at night to avoid UV levels, The Last Jedi is a classic movie) seems lost in it.  

The truly revolutionary bits of the novel (a theocratic government and Issac’s connection to The Soundfield) are ignored or not explained clearly.  The flash back, flash forward structure of the novel makes it difficult to follow, plus it’s not exactly clear how to novel ends.  

It might be enough for some people,  it I found it messy, disappointing and unsatisfying.  It’s published by Pan Macmillan on May 15th, 2025 and I thank them for a preview copy.  #thequiet

 May You Have Delicious Meals by Junko Takase:

 A Japanese novel, this features on the office romance between Ashikawa and Nitami. She is sweet, wife material and an avid baker.  He is looking for sex, rather than love and is powered by instant noodles.  

It’s an interesting concept - the idea that we are defined by what we eat, rather than whom we love.  But the flavour of it doesn’t really cut through.  Too much energy and prose is devoted to this existential, almost Buddhist concept.  The sex itself is flatly written and it is hard to discern where the actual narrative arc pans out.  

I think that may come down to the translation, but as my Kanji isn’t what it was there seems no flair or weight in the prose.  It’s also a very short book (144 pages).  And yes, I know Japanese fiction is short for a number of reasons, but Japanophiles may gobble this up.  The rest of us may require something more substantial. 

It’s punished by Random House on 20th February 2025 and I thank them for a preview copy.  #mayyouhavedeliciousmeals. 

Really Good, Actually by Monica Heisey: 

You may know the author from her journalism, her work on Schitt’s Creek, you may have even heard on This Way Up.  

Leave all that aside.  This is that sweet spot between funny and heartbreaking. Maggie’s marriage ends after just under two years and she navigates single life, sexuality and picking up the pieces.  

This alternates between deadpan humour and the pure emotional carnage of a break up. It’s heartfelt, filthy and warm at the same time. 

 Friends Of Dorothy by Sandi Toksvig: 

This is Toksvig’s sixth novel.  It’s an amiable read, but offers little in plot development.  Stevie (a policeman) and Amber (a paramedic) but their first home in a quiet part of London.  The only trouble is, the previous resident, an old woman called Dorothy is still there.  As Stevie and Amber cope with a new home, deciding to have children and demanding, often dangerous jobs Dorothy becomes a constant presence in their lives.  

Fan’s of her warm, yet cheeky humour will lap this up.  Dorothy (who likes pop music and Minecraft) is a fabulous creation.  And it is nice to see such a queer friendly, acceptant novel.  The real problems lie structurally.  There is no real sort of plot, it sort of ambles from situation to situation.  That episodic nature will work on TV.  And although the novel ends on a sweet note, a shocking situation in the final third is resolved far too easily.  

Some may enjoy this, but I found its lack of focus problematic.  It’s published by Little Brown on September 26th and I thank them for a preview copy.  #friendsofdorothy.

 The Secret Public by John Savage: 

This is a high concept book, discussing LGBTQ in culture.  It’s as enriching as any of his previous books, even with such a high concept as Sylvester being the last gay pop star and Little Richard as the first.  

You can’t argue with near 700 pages of book, with another 100 of notes.  We move from Richard, through the sixties with Joe Meek and Epstein.  The 70’s see Bowie declare his gayness, and backtrack whilst Jobriath crashes and burns. 

It’s a book that admits it’s own failings (the lack of lesbians, those who chose not to come out). Plus vinyl nerds will debate whether ‘Soul Makossa’ was the first disco record. 

But as music journalism becomes more what Zappa said, Savage is the exception that proves the rule.  It’s published by Faber And Faber.