This ebook is a YA science fiction adventure, very much aimed at the early/mid-teen market. Bria Harrison, brilliant teenage daughter of two prominent scientists, searches for her mother, whom she insists is alive, despite the devastating explosion at the National Laboratory. While re-creating her mother’s last experiment in her basement, Bria, her autistic brother Dylan, and four friends cause a rip in time-space – and out of the resultant black hole tumbles K-Six, a time sniffer who has come to get them.

The blurb chatters on for a few more lines, but as it contains a number of spoilers I have decided to leave it there. The intriguing title and well-written sample convinced me to download this book. But would the subsequent story hold me?

Written in Bria’s viewpoint in first person, the start of this novel is emotional as she and her family grapple with the death of her brilliant mother. The trauma and grief caused by the bereavement is well depicted and I also found Dylan’s autism believable. But Bria becomes convinced her mother isn’t dead, the pace starts to pick up and the adventure shifts into top gear.

Lakin set herself a hard task – Bria and Dylan are accompanied by a veritable posse of friends and companions. So, in addition to narrating a fairly complex time-travelling story where the party of youngsters visit a variety of very different worlds, Lakin also has to ensure that we learn about each of the group’s personal journey and what impact all the danger and adventure is having. Writing science fiction is a technically demanding task – which is why there are so many mediocre efforts out there. But, Lakin manages to braid the unfolding action, the changing backdrops and the various personal crises besetting the group very deftly. There is even a spot of romance…

I found Bria’s character and narration convincing and the story compelling – I certainly wanted to know what was going to happen next. Lakin manages to produce a clear story arc for each character and in addition to providing a satisfying conclusion to all the excitement, she also has a twist that sets the team off on their next adventure. Altogether, an entertaining, engrossing read with some interesting ideas about Time and our conception of the universe. I shall certainly be looking for more books by this author.
8/10

Christopher Boone is fifteen and has Asperger’s Syndrome. He knows a very great deal about maths and very little about human beings. He loves lists, patterns and the truth. He hates the colours yellow and brown and being touched. He has never gone further than the end of the road on his own, but when he finds a neighbour’s dog murdered he sets out on a terrifying journey which will turn his whole world upside down.

This short book caused a huge fuss when it first came out in 2003 – and having finally read it, I now know why. Haddon has managed to masterfully inhabit the skin of a teenager who cannot cope with human emotions, suffers from sensory overload and compensates by retreating into mathematical formulae and logical list-making. As a result, when confronted by major events – like being told of the death of his mother, for instance – Christopher tells us what he had to eat that evening and that he went to bed and fell fast asleep.

This doesn’t mean that Christopher is incapable of loving – but that he finds it difficult to understand or relate to his feelings. So when he discovers Wellington, the standard poodle who lives next door, skewered by a garden fork to the lawn, he resolves to find out who murdered it – even when told repeatedly by his father that he mustn’t interfere. He even overcomes his reluctance to engage with strangers in order to ask if anyone has seen anything suspicious – trouble is, he cannot process the heavy hints that a well-meaning neighbour gives him about his own domestic set-up.  His inability to process information that the reader clearly understands gives us greater insights into Christopher’s capacity to engage with the world, while also providing some comedy, albeit the darker, lump-in-your-throat variety. Books that make me both want to weep and laugh hold a special place in my heart – and this one joins that select few.

Haddon not only manages to give us an idea of what it must be like to experience the world while coping with Asperger’s – he also provides us with the daily challenges facing Christopher’s carers. I found myself wondering how you’d survive when the strong-willed, highly intelligent individual in your life retreats into black silence when he encounters a series of the wrong coloured cars on his morning bus ride…

But don’t go away with the notion that this is some worthy, high-mindedly literary attempt to give the rest of us an appreciation of what being born with Asperger’s can entail – the story that powers Christopher’s narration is a mystery. And while we learn who did do it, we also learn what the strains were that led up to the deed and Christopher’s unwitting role in the whole affair. It will be a book that will stay with me for a very long time – and if you want an outstanding example of character-led fiction, then this is a must-read book. Come to think of it – this is a must-read book, anyway.
10/10

Wow

SJ sure has a lot of cool things in here guest room. I guess since her family has lived her for so long these old artifacts just sort of pile up.   Still, why does she let her place go when she has all these old jewels lying around? She could probably just sell a few of these off and be fine.

This Orb is the best though. I can’t stop staring at it.  SJ is off making tea again. Does she have to do that like eight times a day? I must have dozed off. Where was I? Wow this Orb thing almost seems to be glowing. Hmm that is strange. Wasn’t I sitting on the other side of the bed?

Huh, what is SJ all worried about now? She is all in a tizzy about the long drive I asked her to go on. Shoot – after that stupid tank museum, I feel like taking a break.

Chepstow Castle in Wales? I don’t remember asking her to take me there at all. She must be drinking too much tea. But it does sound cool. Oh it’s in Wales, even better!

Sheesh she acts like it is so far. Driving from here to Wales is like going on a wood run back home. Big deal. She says she can take me in the morning. Sweet. It is about time we saw some real castles. Now… where did I leave those Samual Smiths?

***

Thank goodness our day out at Bovington went off smoothly – no ‘wax’ incidents, I’m pleased to say. Altho’ Mike wasn’t in the best of moods.

I thought he’d enjoy seeing all those cool tanks, with their riveting history. But he grumbled constantly about the car journey. Kept telling me to ‘open her up’ and ‘put the pedal to the metal’. Whatever that means. I’ve got perfectly respectable mats in my little Ford Fiesta, I’ll have you know. And as for ‘opening her up’ – as I kept telling him HOW??? There were always cars ahead of us. So then he’d jab me in the ribs and yell, ‘There’s a space, go on, just zip by…’ When we’d have been smeared across the radiator grill of some 42 tonner coming towards us.

And halfway around Bovington museum, when I’d just got onto explaining to him the crucial role of the Sherman T in WW2, he got all fidgety and wanted to know whether there were any swords or suits of armour. So we had a nice cup of tea and went home again. With him still moaning about the traffic, all the cars, the speed I was driving at… Meaning, I was obeying all the speed restrictions (there’s lots and lots, by the way.) I was taking extra care to make sure I wasn’t breaking any rules, because there was this black SUV four or five cars back. It tailed us all the way to Bovington and all the way back…

So when we got home to a tasty, nourishing meal of spaghetti hoops on toast (Mike grumbled about that too. Bit of a cheek from someone who served up rat burgers night after night, when I was his guest…) my jaw grazed the floor, when he announced that he wanted to drive to Wales the following day. Wales! He’d been nearly cross-eyed with frustration on the drive to Bovington. Wales was a whole lot further… But – nope, I couldn’t talk him out of it. Mike wanted to go to Chepstow Castle. When I mentioned the price of fuel, he just sniggered and said I should think about selling some of the cool stuff in my spare room.

I smiled and said it was too precious. I mean, I know my signed copy of Terry Pratchett’s Hogfather would be worth a bit – even with the crayon drawing little Johnny did of the pig arriving at Crumley’s all over the first 30 pages… But I couldn’t part with it. I don’t ever part with a book…

So, this morning we set off. And now… here we are. Finally arrived in Chepstow. Thank goodness. If I’d had to spend another hour in the car with Mr Why-aren’t-we-there-yet, one of us would have ended up on the grass verge. And it wouldn’t necessarily have been Mike…

And after raising a second mortgage on the house to pay for the fuel to get here – Mike threw a tantrum cos I wouldn’t take us to St Justinans Country Hotel for our stay. Accused me of being mean! Well, then I lost it. Parked on a double yellow – hauled him out’ve the car and took him to the nearest hole in the wall, punched in my PIN number and showed him the extent of my wealth. He had the grace to look a bit ashamed, but still went on muttering about the ‘stuff in my spare room’.

So, we’ve ended up here, at the Rat and Dog Inn on a ‘bargain’ package. Meaning our rooms would make the average wardrobe look spacious. Never mind. I’m too tired to care. And tomorrow, we’re off on a proper tour of the Castle. I think *yawn* Mike’s headed down to the bar. Maybe his waxed hairdo will keep them all amused with his beer-sucking trick…

Hope… it’ll… be… ok…zzzzzzzzzz

A friendly Year 5 girl nudged Frankie. ‘Look in the Boys section. There’s some cool adventure books there.’

She was right. That was where we found the Space Penguins books, which Frankie scooped up, flicking through the pages. She immediately decided she wanted to take these home because of the enjoyably madcap illustrations.

What’s black and white, and flies faster than the speed of light? The Space Penguins! They’re the ice-cool crew of the spaceship Tunafish. With their pioneering flying skills and resistance to the deep freeze, these intergalactic avians are going where no fin has gone before. Captain T Krill, Rocky Waddle, Fuzz Allgrin and Splash Gordon are on a mission to explore new planets, rescue alien life, and battle their former comrade-in-wings: Dark Wader. Alert! Alert! In Cosmic Crash! the penguins splash-land on a watery planet, they find themselves in the tentacles of a monstrous sea creature. Can they escape with their ship in one piece or are they well and truly sunk?

As you can tell by the blurb, the books are delivered with a stream of puns, shamelessly plugging into science fiction classics with the wordplay around the names of the characters – and using non-stop adventure to keep young readers and listeners hooked. Each of the penguins has well-defined characteristics, and the dialogue had both of us laughing aloud at times – though there were a number of jokes only I got. Though I’m quite comfortable with that as the best children’s books recognise that adults can spend significant chunks of their lives reading stories aloud and reward us accordingly.

I like the premise that NASA decided penguins were better suited to space travel than humans as they can swim through zero gravity without losing control and are far better acclimatised to the cold of deep space. Their ship, the Tunafish is equipped with an extensive supply of frozen fish and a cool onboard computer – and they are ready for the next daft adventure. Is the story believable? Not really – but it features one emergency after another to test the space penguins’ courage and ingenuity. Needless to say, they all emerge with credit – however, they still haven’t managed to evade their nemesis, former crew member Dark Wader, which sets up the team for the next adventure in Galaxy Race!, the next book in the series. I don’t think Frankie and I will be waiting for the school book fair before we get hold of it, though…
8/10

When dirigible pilot Elle Chance accepts an unusual cargo in Paris, she finds herself in the middle of a deadly war between the Alchemists and Warlocks. The Alchemists will stop at nothing to acquire the coveted carmot stone and its key, and Elle must do everything in her power to thwart their diabolical plans.

I felt Schwarz managed to achieve a strong sense of the Edwardian era in her writing, without unduly holding up the action. The period details and customs were well depicted and, particularly the scenes in Constantinople which were full of colour and a number of interesting characters. Schwarz’s lively and pacey writing style is well suited to keeping the tension going in a variety of settings, without losing a sense of place.

Elle is also an engaging heroine – a suitably plucky gel, with plenty of the intrepid drive that finally won women the vote. Her determination to break away from the boring, narrow life of a married woman of the time was both appealing and convincing. However, I was less persuaded by the romantic thread running through the story. Mr Marsh is an interesting character in his own right – and his views on women and their role in society certainly is of the time. The trouble was, this part of the story suddenly seemed to fall into a clichéd dance that didn’t happen in the rest of the narrative. So I found I was slightly skimming the scenes between the two protagonists in order to get to the more interesting plotlines. Fortunately, there is plenty going on that is great fun, so that this was a minor disappointment rather than a big deal.

As the story romped to the climax, I stayed up reading until the small hours to find out what happens – and Schwarz manages to bring this slice of the story to a satisfying conclusion, while leaving some interesting plotlines dangling for the next instalment. Patrice, in particular, is an intriguing villain who kept popping up throughout the book and promises to figure prominently in the next slice of this adventure. Which I shall definitely be looking forward to with interest and anticipation. Steampunk can only benefit with a series like this to add to the genre.
8/10

I don’t know why SJ keeps bugging me about my hair.

I mean didn’t the English invent the mohawk anyway? Once we get to London and see all those punks, SJ will realize that my ‘hawk is actually pretty tame.

Other than the food, London was great. At least at first… I did want to go to the Tower of London and see the Giant’s suit of armor that would actually fit me quite well and also see where my ancestor Prince Griffith, the second to last Real Prince of Wales, fell to his death trying to escape that bastard, King Henry. So yeah, I was excited.

But she, (just like a woman) wanted to see the crown jewels first. I had already seen these with my folks, but I thought I would humor her, even if I did just want to see the weapons and stuff. Everything was going well except the boring part. (Ooo ahh, so shiny…) When I think all the excitement caused me to drift off.

Next thing I know, the alarms are going off and these guys are grabbing me. I looked over and see SJ’s face redder than the swirling security lights. The men kept screaming something about missing rings or something. Half the time I could barely understand these guys and I thought they invented English?

I was searched about 14 times, but when they didn’t find anything they had to let me go. One guy even ran a metal detector over my very trim stomach, but of course found nothing there.

SJ was so freaked we had to leave before seeing the armor or at least I think she was freaked. It is hard to tell how someone is feeling when they are concealing their entire face with a scarf. So now I have been left in an Internet Pub, while SJ, ‘makes a few phone calls.’

I wonder if she will be willing to go to a Punk Rock show with me?

***

What a disaster! We are in SOOOO much trouble…

There we were, admiring the Crown Jewels – I know he’s got this ‘I’m a Yank, you can’t impress me’ attitude, but even Mike was awestruck into stunned silence at the sheer gleaming magnificence of some of those jewels.

When his face goes all waxy again and his hair does that slithering thing. A wax-blobbed lock seems to sort of dissolve as it reaches the glass of the display cabinet – and the next thing, Mike’s hair is waving around inside the display cabinet, fanning out a bit like the tentacles of an anemone. Then this little waxy hand stretches out and a gloopy voice mutters, ‘Ooo, pretty. So shiny.’ It gave me the shivers, I can tell you.

By now, we’re attracting a LOT of attention. A bunch of Chinese tourists are snapping away – even though you’re not s’posed to take pics. I tried thumping Mike a couple of times to snap him out of his trance, but nothing doing. He was gone… All rigid and waxen. That’s when the alarms started. And when I swung round to check out the display cabinet, The Orb was gone. I mean, I sort of caught sight of the diamond-studded cross as Mike’s hair thickened into a wriggling mass as it wrapped around the jewel. The glass shivered and creaked as his hair retracted in a ball – but didn’t break. Meantime, Mike is still out of it, with his head resting against the glass cabinet. And The Orb is gone, as his hair writhes around and settles back into its customary spiky style.

By now, security is swarming all over us. Some child is screaming that the ‘bad man has the jewel hidden in his head.’ And this is when Mike finally comes to – all dopey and protesting his innocence.

Well, that’s our day out down the drain… Rest of the time was spent in a stinky little room where I was searched, every little nook and cranny. And asked over and over what happened. Not that they were very happy with my answers. They must’ve done the same with Mike- though he didn’t say very much about the whole thing. Except complain that he didn’t understand what they were saying. It didn’t help that the security guy interrogating us had a North-country accent thick enough to spread on toast. Never mind Mike having problems understanding what he was saying – I was having a struggle.

Finally, they decided to let us go. Well, as I kept pointing out – if we’ve stolen something, find it and then charge us. I felt horrible walking out of there – so guilty. So I wrapped my scarf around my face, just in case the journalists camped outside covering the sensational disappearance of The Orb, caught sight of us. Aunt Gertrude never misses the News and I’m in enough trouble with her, just now…

As we stagger off toward the nearest Tube station, I get the feeling we are being followed, so I dodge into an Internet Cafe and Mike grumpily follows, complaining that it doesn’t serve beer.  For some reason he seems to think that everywhere has to serve beer or tea.

I’m hoping tomorrow to take him on another outing. Somewhere his hair can’t possibly cause any problems. We’re off to Bovington Tank Museum – what could possibly go wrong, there?

Experimental psychologist Daniel Kahneman has won a Nobel prize for his work on Prospect theory – but that is only part of the work he has done in a long career examining how the human mind operates. I found the font downright unfriendly as it’s far fainter and close packed than my middle-aged eyes want to tackle, but I soon discovered that this was a deliberate ploy. Kahneman has noticed that we respond to problem solving in largely two ways that he calls System 1 and System 2. Our System 1 is the normal default setting that mostly responds to the multitude of decisions that confronts us in our daily lives – it is quick, often providing an answer in less than a second; instinctive – System 1 will take clues, often inappropriately, from our surroundings and is also influenced by our emotional state. While Kahneman is at pains to emphasise System 1 works very well in a large number of situations, every single one of us make some major mistakes that can have life-changing consequences by relying too much on our System 1 reflexes.

System 2 is the type of thinking we employ when we come up against a problem that we identify as too difficult for our System 1 to process. System 2 is slower, more measured and less prone to be affected emotionally, although we should all be aware that our surroundings have far greater impact on our mindset than we realise. Kahneman discusses a set of experiments where the participants sat in a room and answered questions about how willing they were to help friends and/or people they didn’t know. When dollar signs were displayed across the screensavers on the computers, participants were noticeably less generous – even though they didn’t consciously notice the screensavers. But Kahneman also characterises our System 2 mental processing as being lazy – it is reluctant to engage. One of the things that nudges it to work is when the font is difficult to read…

Much of his most productive experiments were conducted with his collaborator and friend, Amos Tversky, now dead. Kahneman is more than generous with attributing a great deal of the credit for his achievements to his partner – and you get the sense that this book is, in part, a tribute to Tversky.

Kahneman’s prose, is very clear and if he uses any kind of jargon connected with his studies, he is at pains to fully explain exactly what he means. And the unfriendly font and measured writing style delivers some head-swivelling discoveries. For instance, when questioning patients who had just undergone a painful medical procedure, their recollection didn’t hinge on the duration of the procedure at all. Patients judged their experience on the peak pain levels (which they were asked to evaluate on a scale 1-10 every 60 seconds) and how much they were suffering when the procedure came to an end. So one patient who endured the procedure for twenty-five minutes felt more positive than another whose surgery lasted eight minutes, because that patient’s pain level right at the end was still significant. Ah, you’re thinking – that was because the second patient was in greater pain during the shorter operation. No – both patients reported the same pain levels… And this isn’t a one off finding – when recalling similar episodes, the duration is something that most people don’t recall effectively and so don’t factor in when recalling their experiences. Although, I’m hoping that particular experiment won’t be repeated any time soon, as those patients enduring the longer procedure had their operation deliberately extended.

So does the book measure up to the back cover hype? The answer is – yes it does. And if you are thinking of dabbling in the stock market, making any large purchases, or have a crucial decision to make regarding your health, then read this book first. In fact, I think I’m going to have to get my own copy, just in case…
9/10

Humanity has colonised the solar system – Mars, the Moon, the Asteroid Belt and beyond – but the stars are still out of our reach. Jim Holden is an officer on an ice miner making runs from the rings of Saturn to the Belt. When he and his crew stumble upon a derelict ship, the Scopuli, they find themselves in possession of a secret they never wanted. A secret that someone is willing to kill for. War is brewing in the system, unless Jim can find out who left the ship and why.

Detective Miller is looking for a girl. One girl in a system of billions, but her parents have money and money talks. When the trail leads him to the Scopuli and rebel sympathiser Holden, he realises that this girl may hold the key to everything.

Holden and Miller must thread the needle between the Earth government, the Outer Planet revolutionaries, and secretive corporations – and the odds are againstem. But out in the Belt, the rules are different, and one small ship can change the fate of the universe.

This whole tale – that spans the Solar system – is told through Holden and Miller’s viewpoints. Both characters are complex and convincing, with dislikeable traits as well as their evident strengths that get them through the repeated danger they find themselves running towards. There are also solid reasons why they are busy putting themselves in harm’s way, which I liked. I do get a tad fed up when the plucky heroes keep muscling their way to the danger zone, as everyone else is busy fleeing. During the book, the characters go through a variety of adventures which completely yank them out of their previous lives and take them on a journey that changes their viewpoint about most things. Miller, in particular, is extremely poignant near the end.

The world is detailed, layered with awkward corners and believable factions that are busy blaming each other for the unfolding terror unfurling in their midst. And all this comes to us filtered through the protagonists’ viewpoint – this isn’t a book where the author sees fit to jump out of the characters’ heads and serve up chunks of omniscient point of view. The result is that the narrative tension doesn’t ever let up. The storyline powers this long book from beginning to end – all 561 pages of it. So I was locked into the plot for every single page and would have happily gone on reading another 500…

That doesn’t happen very often. Though I’m a sucker for a really tight, well-written space opera, they aren’t all that thick on the ground. Certainly not one with the readability, tight plotting and strong characterisation that Leviathan Wakes offers. I’m going to give myself a late Easter present and buy the next instalment - Caliban’s War – stories of this quality don’t come along every day of the week.
10/10

Huh

SJ is all sweetness and punch and then I check her blog and find that she is telling everyone I have a big belly. Hey! I rode my bike to work all summer to make sure my beer belly didn’t-oh never mind.

What SJ isn’t telling you about is her secret plan to have me do about 10 year’s worth of ‘upkeep’ on her little cottage that she ‘might have let go for a while.’

For a while, in her case, means since her granny owned the place. I barely finished my fish and chips before she asked for my help with a little something. That little something was a reshingling the entire roof.

I still haven’t recovered from jet lag and now I’m working on zero sleep to try to finish this before the dark clouds overhead dump their rainload on me. Oh shoot – I gotten go. My break is over and she is telling me to get back onto the roof, since it has already started to rain. Dang – I didn’t even finish my porter yet.

***

Ok… This visit has already gone to Hades in a handcart and Mike has been only been here a day.

We’re into a world of weirdness, here. I mean, I’d never have called Mike lazy – he does far too much writing for that… But he used to be able to relax… Chill out…

No longer. Ever since he’s been here, he’s been buzzing around the place, hammer in hand, fixing the place up. I mean, six hours into his visit, once I’d dabbed some witchhazel on his bruises and injuries after the bookslide, he was up a ladder, busy stripping the roof off cos he reckoned it looked ‘hinky’. I had to talk a mile a minute to persuade him that the sag in the middle was cos the roofbeams had settled that way – it’s an English method of building. So then, he’s up there in a thunderstorm, replacing them all… While I’m getting drenched at the bottom of the ladder, wondering what I’ll say to his Mom if he gets zapped by lightning…

He was all set to dig a swimming pool in the back garden this morning. With a trowel. Seeing as I don’t have a shov- I mean, spade on the property.

Last night, I took him to the local pub for a slap-up home cooked meal of bangers, mash and mushy peas. So, there he is pushing the food into his mouth – and then he just freezes. There’s this waxy look to his face – and a lock of grease-caked hair slithers down his cheek, wraps around a sausage and as his whole hair-do sort of writhes around his scalp and re-settles with a disgusting sucking sound – I realise the sausage has gone… And no wonder he reckons beer is expensive – I watched his hair slurp at least two pints, last night. It didn’t help that a couple of the neighbours set him up with several drinks – just to watch his hair do its thing. They reckoned it was a crazy Yank trick brought on by eating too many McBurgers (they’re not the shiniest tools in the box, this pair. Caught last year trying to glue-sniff a Pritt stick…)

Whereas, once Mike snaps out of this trance-thing, he hasn’t a clue what’s been happening. WHY didn’t anyone warn me he’d gotten into this state? So, I’m appealing for information. Urgently. Only… try to keep it away from poor old Mike, guys. You know how he panics when things go wrong. And I’m going to keep him occupied – and away from here. My neighbours reckon I’m peculiar enough, as it is. Without Mike finally hosing the last of my reputation down the plug-hole.

Starting tomorrow, I’m taking him out and about. We’re visiting London on the train – they’re broader-minded up there. Thought I’d take him to see the Tower of London and the crown jewels and then go for a nice peaceful ride on the London Eye…

What could possibly go wrong with that itinerary?

Living on the outskirts of the tribe, Tillu is happy spending her time tending her strange, slow, dreamy child Kerlew and communing with the land to heal the sick and bring blessing on new births. However Carp, the Shaman, an ugly wizened old man whose magic smells foul to Tillu knows that Carp’s magic will steal her son and her soul. So begins a harrowing and desperate pursuit across the winter-ravaged lands, as Tillu’s flight leads them into an uncertain, and deadly, new future.

This tale pulls you in immediately as we follow Tillu in her efforts to keep her son safe in a period where Life is tough – particularly for a lone woman with a child who is oblivious of the social conventions surrounding him. Where the weather and any number of illnesses or accidents can wipe out a life and those depending upon it in a matter of hours, Lindholm manages to depict the time and place with pinsharp attention to detail, without giving us any long-winded exposition. We are not only confronted with Tillu’s dilemma – we also learn of Heckram’s struggle to secure himself a reasonable future, after the untimely death of his father. He feels a strong sense of sympathy for the fey Kerlew and desires to help him. But he has other calls on his loyalty and energy, as Elsa, his childhood sweetheart is clearly in trouble and looks to him for help…

Lindholm manages to give a wholly convincing slice of life in a reindeer herder’s village and the scene when a young couple are setting up home together is a particularly fine example of how deftly this author crafts a technically demanding scene. I don’t know whether Lindholm has much immediate experience of the sort of landscape she uses in this story – but it certainly reads as if she has.

If you enjoy reading historical tales that have the characters and their particular problems jumping off the page and into your head, then go looking for this book – and one of my main priorities is to get hold of the sequel, Wolf’s Brother.
10/10