I just finished reading this and I loved it. It was easy to identify with, because 1) it’s of my time and 2) I am also a female geeky sort. DN has got the balance just right: romantic without being too mushy, cockiness muted by self-doubt, elation and misery in equal parts. I feel like I’ve lived the twenty years with Dexter and Emma; I’m now older and wiser. Wonderful book.

David Nicholls talks to the Guardian book club about One Day.

(14th in 2012)

This book was part of a display at the local library. My eye was drawn by the ‘Costa Book Awards, Shortlist 2010’ sticker on the front of it so I thought I’d give it a try.

It was easy read and I got through it very quickly. It’s a story about a woman who loses a child and the blurb on the back promises that she takes revenge. Well, the revenge was a complete anti-climax. There was also an unrealistic sub-plot with anonymous letters. I felt that the whole book lacked a certain depth, as if the tale was told in a hurry. I couldn’t relate to or sympathise with any of the characters. There’s a recommendation on the front from the Observer: ‘ A brilliant and brutal novel that continues to unsettle long after the final page has been turned.’ But that is the complete opposite of what I feel on completing the book; I’ve almost forgotten about it already. Maybe I’d relate more if I had children. But isn’t that the author’s job, to take me into a different world?

Having said all that, the depiction of grief is very good: truthful and convincing. This book had a lot of potential but, for me, it didn’t live up to it.

(13th in 2012)

Two days ago it was Mothers’ Day. I was halfway through We Need To Talk About Kevin. While friends posted happily on Facebook about their special day celebrating the unique love between a mother and her children, my mind was full of the ‘worst case scenario’.

I had been warned by someone that the book was mostly boring until the end when it was horrific. Someone else told me that that the book was hard work until the last third. But, only halfway through on Sunday, I was affected enough to have a nightmare that night influenced by what I’d read so far.

‘Kevin’ is one of the best books I’ve read. With the exception of the mentions of American politics, I didn’t find it hard work. It’s powerful, disturbing and convincing. Although it’s extreme, I’m grateful that someone has written about motherhood without censoring the unpleasant parts. I get tired of the flawless depictions of motherhood in society and the media. This book is a breath of fresh air.

To try to answer the book’s central question of who was to blame: I think that the problems started because Eva was not willing to deal with a difficult child by putting that child before herself. Yes, Kevin was unpleasant but as a potential parent you have to be prepared to deal with that. (But it’s easy for me to say that since I’m not a parent.) The interactions between Eva and Kevin became a hideous game rather than a mother bringing up her son. I don’t think that that absolves Kevin of all responsibilty for his actions though- even if you’re not as bright as he is, at fifteen you must know, no matter how awful your mother is, that it is wrong to kill.

The most chilling aspect of the book is that Eva is so intelligent and articulate, charming even, but her actions are manipulative and selfish. Kevin takes after his mother, so which of them is the monster?

Lionel Shriver talked about the book for the Guardian book club when ‘Kevin’ was the book of the month.

(12th in 2012)

I read this book twice; as soon as I reached the end I started it again. The story flits between past and present and is narrated by different characters. Sometimes the same segment of the story is told by different characters. On the first reading I was kept wondering what the connections are between the past and the present. On the second reading, knowing how things turn out, it was delicious to discover all the clues left by the author en route. There is so much stuffed into this book: memories, happenings in the present and loads of characters. An added bonus is that the book is set in Cambridge and the area surrounding it; most of the places mentioned are familiar to me.

This is the first Kate Atkinson novel that I’ve read. I was impressed at how well the characters, particularly the females, are written. They all seem so real, possibly with the exception of Julia who is completely OTT. They are of all ages and temperaments and I was glad to read a book about women and it is definitely a book about women, in spite of the main character being male. I loved KA’s liberal use of echoes between different characters, which adds further connections between the interweaving plot strands. A few examples: Baking and knitting are done by both Michelle and Josie (after she took up with David). Brodie and Caroline independently don’t believe in ‘The One’ and think even if such a person existed they might never find them. Rosemary and Theo both have a favourite among their children.

So this book certainly held my attention, right through till the end. However, as a mystery, I don’t think it’s as good as some of the others I’ve read and loved, e.g. Gentlemen and Players by Joanne Harris and even The Behaviour of Moths by Poppy Adams. Case Histories isn’t particularly atmospheric so I wasn’t able to get completely lost in it, though I think it will lend itself well to the TV adaptation, which I look forward to watching. The only other downside was that I wasn’t satisfied with the conclusion to two of the three cases. One seemed highly improbable, the other seemed like a a bit of a cop out. Apart from that, a decent read and I hope to watch the programme if it’s repeated.

(11th in 2012)

This is a deeply unpleasant story. It’s about an alcoholic, drug-addled sex maniac. His sexual encounters and his neglect of his son after his wife’s suicide are simply awful. But there is something compulsive about the writing that kept me turning the pages and completing the book in a weekend. Cave takes the reader on a horrfic, unreal rollercoaster ride. The slow bits are those narrated by Bunny’s son and they are touching and heartbreaking. The book reminded me of Irvine Welsh’s Filth: a depraved journey in which, to the relief of the reader, the protagonist finally gets what he deserves.

The book has its own website and the Guardian interviewed Cave about the audiobook version to which he wrote a soundtrack. The audiobook sounds very interesting but, for now at least, I think I’d like to leave Bunny for something a little less horrible.

(10th in 2012)