John Fowles. The French Lieutenant's Woman

 Best book I have read in a long time and not at all what I was expecting. In my ignorance I assumed it would be a standard Victorian novel of repression, societal restriction and restless romanticism as the heroine spends her waking hours on the Cobb vainly wishing for the return of her lost love. What I hadn't realised was that the book is a post-modern reinvention of the Victorian novel, so although all the above is true, the book comes with a playful narrator who offers alternative endings, can see into the future and play with his characters, and also (hurrah) makes the servants real people with motive and drive rather than wall paper and devices to further the plot. I enjoyed it far more than expected and only wish I'd read it when we holidayed in Lyme, as the town plays such a large part in the early sections of the book. More Fowles please. 

Lucy Mangan, Are We Having Fun Yet?, Caroline Roberts & Angus Hyland, The Book of the Raven: Corvids in Art & Legend

 'I'd read anything by Lucy Mangan, a writer for The Guardian for many years who is an introvert bibliophile with excellent tastes in culture, and writes on the topics and in the style I would if I had the talent. This is her first novel, and as a recent mum it's about the challenges of child-raising. Very funny, and at times was like a mirror on my own life (or how I would like my life to be represented). Worried about Helen reading it as  the husband is very similar to me and is not portrayed in a positive light. This book could cause the Eye of Sauron to be turned on my own slack behaviour. The Book of The Raven was a coffee-table book, read in half an hour or so. Today is my first day back at work and I've been stuck on a call all day so far looking at slides. . . 

Michael Pye, Antwerp: The Glory Years

 I've just been out and spent a fortune on all the books I have wanted to buy since September, and the first one I read is one that wasn't even on the list. An impulse purchase in Waterstones' half-price hardback sale, and not a history of Antwerp as I had assumed, but a telling of Antwerp's golden age in the 16th Century. I whizzed through it somewhat, but a nice easy read to end the year. Tomorrow if all goes to plan I'm going to cycle round London and do some IRL Zwifting as it should be quiet on The Mall and Whitehall for a change

Charles Dickens, The Pickwick Papers

 'It took me a while to get into it - the orignial intention was to read it in instalments in the same way it was published, but I found it tough to follow and distinguish between pickwickians. The arrival of Sam Weller changed all that, and all of a sudden there was an engaging character to follow through the story, By the end I was very happy to see his good fortune. We're in Twixtmas at the moment, although I am still working so it isn't the normal cheese quality street and sofa period. I didn't feel great over christmas following my booster, so I need to get back in the habit of exercising properly. I also came off the wagon spectacularly with my book buying after the self-imposed moratorium. I'll try and do a similar thing for books and booze between Jan and my birthday and try and buy neither. Will see how I get on - there will, of course, need to be the occasional discreet exception 

David McCullough, John Adams

 Back on home territory, and I feel I know and admire Adams far more than before. The preening, pompous quasi-monarchist I had pictured was a kind, faithful, honest man. The complexity of the founding fathers is an endless study, it's like different aspects, foibles and personalities of ancient gods. Which in a way, they are. Christmas is approaching, the omicron virus variant is spreading at record levels throughout the UK and we don't know what the situation will be at Christmas. Helen has had a booster jab, I have mine tomorrow, but Freddie is not yet eligible for his and Libby and William aren't vaccinated at all. At the same time whoever in the media has been protecting Boris Johnson has cut loose and every day more and more damaging stories are emerging about how he and his administration have flouted the lockdown rules. He looks like a dead man walking, but then it's always been obvious that he is completely unsuitable for public office, why did we have to suffer 2 years of his incompetent premiership to find out what we knew already

Laura Shepherd-Robinson, Blood & Sugar

 'I shouldn't have bothered. The book is a period murder mystery set in 18th Century Deptford and revolving round the iniquities of slavery. It was awful though. The dialogue was clunky, a sample from a random page being ' Forgive me for interrupting your breakfast, but I require a few minutes of your time'. Maybe an attempt to write in the perceived elevated tones of the times, but it just sounded clumsy. Add in to that a dull as ditchwater main character, one dimensional and of course, the white saviour destined to solve the case. When the murderer turned out to be a black slave, well. . . uggh. 'But he was brutalised by his white masters, don't you see? It's actually a very clever commentary on the depravities of slavery and how it debases us all. Except the white saviour of course'.

John Le Carre, The Russia House, Eduardo Galeano, Football in Sun and Shadow

 The Russia House was my read on the best day of the year, the day I drop the car off for a service and MOT in Farncombe and have to kill a few hours in Guildford. I hung found on coffee shops, pubs and tea rooms doing the crossword and reading. Got the christmas shopping finished too. The normal complex, cynical second-guessing cold war paranoia of Le Carre, he was a truly great writer. Galeano was an impulse purchase, the first book I've bought to read myself since September as part of a self-imposed embargo. I'm not sure of the point of the embargo, at least it means there are things I want for christmas. I think I may finally have understood the concept of delayed gratification, as I fully intend to be buying all of them on Boxing Day