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Wintering by Derek Johns. The Palmer family have just arrived in a small village in the vicinity of Glastonbury Tor . There's Jim, Marga...

We had a family holiday up near Brecon last week, in this spacious barn conversion that my parents managed to find. Aha, Brecon, you'l...

Lullaby by Chuck Palahniuk. Carl Streator (not, it turns out, his real name) is a journalist; in common with most journalists he is occasion...

Another post expanding on a bit of passing Twitter nonsense: the purpose of the original poster in tweeting the clip in the tweet below was ...

Cause For Alarm by Eric Ambler. Nicky Marlow is having a day of mixed fortunes; tears and laughter, light and shade, sausage and mash, that...

The Girl On The Train by Paula Hawkins. So there's this girl, Rachel. And she's on a train. I mean, not all the time, just twice a ...

Great Apes by Will Self. The artist Simon Dykes is living the basic London minor media celebrity lifestyle to the full: we meet him at the ...

It struck me during a futile attempt to use it to inflate some tyres on my daughter's bicycle the other day... Bikeability day at school...

I note that after the sad death of Welsh rugby legend Phil Bennett last week his legendary try against Scotland  at Murrayfield in the las...

Auto-da-Fé by Elias Canetti. A rum cove, this Peter Kien. An eminent sinologist  living in a mid-European city (never named but most likely...

Halibut Towers has always been a location of the mind, not tied to anything as mundane as actual physical bricks and mortar, concrete and st...

The World Snooker Championship is on again, which means it's time for some pointless bitching about how the scoring system is all wrong...

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel. So there's been a global pandemic of an airborne flu-like viral disease. I mean, stop me if y...

Same as last time , just a few follow-up thoughts after the last book review :  Firstly, I follow Flags Mashup Bot on Twitter because I hav...