Exit Party, Emily St. John Mandel, 2026

Rating: 4/5

Emily St. John Mandel’s latest novel, Exit Party, takes her fascination with interconnected lives, fractured timelines and speculative fiction into more ambitious territory. Having enjoyed Sea of Tranquility, I was looking forward to this book. There are similarities in the way Mandel moves between characters, time periods and seemingly unrelated events, gradually revealing the connections between them. However, Exit Party is a more elaborate undertaking, exploring not just different timelines but alternative versions of America. 

The novel’s central idea is particularly interesting. One version of America has descended into chaos, with competing factions struggling for power, while another has survived by becoming an authoritarian state built around surveillance and control. Through the two central characters – Ari and her counterpart, Ibari, Mandel examines how different circumstances can lead the same person down very different paths. Mandel makes complex ideas accessible through the lives of ordinary people rather than lengthy explanations. Her writing also makes the book an easy read despite its ambitious structure.

What I particularly liked about Sea of Tranquility was how much Mandel managed to achieve in just 200 pages, without making the story feel rushed or the characters superficial. Exit Party has a larger canvas but the discussion on the two versions of America seems superficial. The settings sometimes feel more like backdrops for Mandel’s ideas than fully developed worlds. And because of this, the book ends up feeling somewhat like a delicious but an incomplete meal.

Ultimately, Exit Party is an engaging novel that combines mystery, speculative fiction and reflections on human nature. Not every element is equally convincing, but the interlocking stories kept me interested, and Mandel once again shows that speculative fiction can be a useful way of examining the world we inhabit. A very good read, even if it falls a little short of her previous novel.

Pros: Elegant writing, ambitious ideas

Cons: Underdeveloped world-building

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, Gabrielle Zevin, 2022

Rating: 5/5

MORE THAN A GAME

Friendship, love, ambition, heartbreak and redemption are hardly novel premises for a book. Yet Gabrielle Zevin manages to make them fresh and interesting by setting her story against the backdrop of the video gaming industry. Zevin describes herself as a “lifelong gamer”, and her familiarity with the subject is evident in the way she brings the world of game development alive, from the creative process to the business and technical aspects. However, she never allows this detailing to get in the way of the story or make it inaccessible to readers who know little about gaming. At its heart, this is a deeply human story about relationships, and the gaming world provides a wonderfully unusual setting for it.

The story revolves around three characters – Sam, Sadie and Marx. Sam is intelligent, introspective and often difficult to understand, carrying the physical and emotional scars of an accident that has shaped much of his life. Sadie is fiercely creative, ambitious and independent, but also complicated. Their relationship is the central thread of the book, moving between friendship, professional collaboration and something that neither quite knows how to define. Marx is the more easy-going and emotionally balanced of the three, often providing the glue that holds them together. Their individual journeys and the changing dynamics between them make for a fascinating portrayal of friendship over several decades.

Zevin is an engaging storyteller, with an easy writing style that makes the book extremely readable. She moves effortlessly across the different phases of the protagonists’ lives, while bringing the fictional games to life with considerable imagination. The narrative is also refreshingly inventive, particularly towards the end, when a sort of redemption arc unfolds through the lens of an MMORPG (Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game).

The title is drawn from Macbeth's famous soliloquy, which describes life as a brief and ultimately meaningless passage towards death. I found the choice somewhat puzzling, given that the novel, despite its spectrum of emotions, is ultimately much more hopeful – the idea of starting again and having another opportunity to make things right, as in video games, runs through the book. Nevertheless, an unusual subject, complex characters and some wonderful storytelling make this a thoroughly satisfying read.

Pros: Original setting, memorable characters, inventive storytelling

Cons: The Sam-Sadie dynamics can be weary at times

London Falling, Patrick Radden Keefe, 2026

Rating: 5/5

ORDINARY STORY BUT EXTRAORDINARY TELLING

Patrick Radden Keefe’s “London Falling” begins with the mysterious death of 19-year-old Zac Brettler, who was found in the River Thames after falling from a luxury apartment block in London in 2019. Zac came from a well-to-do Jewish family, but had been leading a secret life as the book soon reveals. The circumstances surrounding Zac’s death were never satisfactorily explained and the police investigation left many unanswered questions. With the permission and cooperation of Zac’s parents, Rachelle and Matthew Brettler, Keefe spent several years investigating what had happened to their son, writing first about the case for The New Yorker, and subsequently, publishing this book. The result is a combination of true crime, family tragedy and investigative journalism.

The most impressive aspect of the book is the sheer extent of Keefe’s research. He goes through police records, phone messages, CCTV footage, financial records and location data, while also reconstructing the backgrounds of the principal characters and interviewing people connected to them. Along with the parents’ own detailed investigation, the book helps piece together a picture of what may have happened on the night Zac died. More importantly, Keefe’s involvement brought renewed public attention to a case that might otherwise have remained largely unknown. It offers some conclusive insights in what really transpired and for Zac’s parents, who had spent years trying to understand what had happened to their son, this may have brought at least some measure of closure.

Keefe also tries to make the book a commentary on London today – a city where vast amounts of international wealth coexist with organised crime, dubious businessmen and authorities that either turn a blind eye or simply seem remarkably incompetent. But I am not entirely convinced by this aspect of the book. The problem is that the foundation for this commentary is Zac’s story, which, stripped of its unusual characters and circumstances, is ultimately a rather ordinary and inconsequential one. A troubled young man invents an elaborate fantasy about wealth and status, gets involved with the wrong people and ends up dead. It is a tragedy, certainly, but it doesn't necessarily tell us much about London or the state of modern society.

I must admit that while picking up the book, and even during the early chapters, I wondered what all the fuss was about. It is an interesting story, but hardly an extraordinary one. What Keefe does brilliantly, however, is turn it into a deeply human story, particularly through the perspective of Zac’s parents and their determination to understand what happened to their son. And then there is Keefe’s writing. He has this ability to take mountains of investigative material and make it read like a page-turning thriller. The book may not live up to the larger significance Keefe tries to attach to it, but as an easy, engrossing and well-written read, it is hard to fault.

Pros: extensive research, page-turning narrative, human interest story

Cons: Unconvincing larger thesis

Table for Two, Amor Towles, 2024

Rating: 5/5

A TABLE FULL OF DELIGHTS

Amor Towles has produced another wonderfully entertaining book with Table for Two, a collection of six short stories followed by the novella Eve in Hollywood, a sequel of sorts to his earlier novel, Rules of Civility. The six stories are set mostly in New York, while the novella takes us to 1930s Hollywood. It brings back Eve Ross and follows the new life she creates after leaving New York. Apparently, Towles originally wrote six linked stories about Eve before expanding them into this novella.

The breadth of these stories is remarkable and good evidence of Towles' imagination. “The Line” takes us to communist Moscow in the 1920s in a feel-good story about simplicity, patience and a good nature. “The Ballad of Timothy Touchett” is an amusing tale of a lazy writer whose lack of experience becomes an increasingly untenable excuse. “Hasta Luego” turns a cancelled flight into an unlikely human connection, while “I Will Survive” explores the complications of a second marriage. “The Bootlegger” begins with an annoyance at a Carnegie Hall concert and becomes something much more poignant. “The DiDomenico Fragment” turns an absurd inheritance into a meditation on art, money and family. Finally, Eve in Hollywood is a noirish tale of Hollywood, blackmail and reinvention. I’m sure every reader will have a favourite. While I find it difficult to choose one, I found “Hasta Luego” pointless and didn’t agree with the conclusion of “I Will Survive”.

Towles can make each story a page-turning drama, with twists and turns that keep you wanting to know what happens next. At the same time, every word, phrase and sentence seems to have been polished until it becomes a treat in itself. His descriptions, observations, humour and choice of words make even the smallest details worth lingering over. You want to race ahead to discover how the story ends, but also slow down and savour the writing. Consequently, each story deserves to be read twice – once for the story and once for the writing.

In “Table for Two”, whether writing about Moscow, New York or Hollywood, about books, art, marriage, music or chance encounters, Towles retains the wit, elegance and humanity that make his novels so enjoyable. This is a book to savour rather than simply finish, and easily one of my favourite  recent reads.

Pros: Wonderful writing, incredible variety, page-turning stories, memorable characters

Cons: None really

Marble Hall Murders, Anthony Horowitz, 2025

Rating: 4/5

STILL CLEVER, JUST A LITTLE WEARYING

Anthony Horowitz returns with Marble Hall Murders, the third novel in the Susan Ryeland series and another outing for the fictional detective Atticus Pund. By now, the novel-within-a-novel format has become the defining feature of the series, and Horowitz continues to find different ways of playing with it. Magpie Murders embedded almost the entire Atticus Pund manuscript after only a few pages of the main story. Moonflower Murders placed the contemporary mystery around the Pund novel, effectively bookending it. Here, the two narratives are interspersed, with Susan Ryeland's investigation and the Atticus Pund mystery unfolding side by side. Remarkably, the structure remains easy to follow despite the constant shifts between the two worlds and the plethora of characters.

The main story finds Susan Ryeland reluctantly drawn into yet another literary mystery when events surrounding a new Atticus Pund manuscript begin to have real-world consequences. As always, clues hidden within Atticus Pund’s investigation may hold the key to solving a real crime. Meanwhile, in the embedded novel, Atticus Pund investigates a murder connected to Marble Hall, a grand country house with more than its fair share of secrets and resentments. The two mysteries mirror and complement one another, yet each is satisfying enough to stand on its own.

Despite weighing in at nearly six hundred pages, Marble Hall Murders is a genuine page-turner. The Atticus Pund story is unmistakably inspired by the classic Agatha Christie tradition, with its quintessential English country house, while both narratives feature large casts of characters, each with plausible motives and carefully concealed secrets. Red herrings abound, yet Horowitz also plays fair, scattering enough clues for the attentive reader to feel the solution was always there to be found. As with the earlier books, half the pleasure lies in separating the genuinely significant details from the deliberate distractions.

But the series begins to show signs of fatigue. Ingenious though the concept remains, it is becoming increasingly difficult to accept the central premise when essentially the same extraordinary circumstances have now drawn Susan Ryeland into three separate investigations. The freshness that made Magpie Murders such a delight is inevitably diminished. Both mysteries also reach their denouements more quickly than expected, almost as though Horowitz, after patiently laying out hundreds of pages of clues, was eager to bring everything to a close. Even so, this is a satisfying mystery, cleverly plotted and entertaining. Susan Ryeland's closing words, "Never. Never again.", feel particularly apt. I sincerely hope Horowitz lets them stand, because this would be a fitting place to conclude a fine series.

Pros: Clever structure, two engaging mysteries, classic Christie atmosphere, page-turner

Cons: Formula beginning to feel repetitive, premise increasingly implausible, slightly hurried ending

Important: Please don't read this novel first if you intend to work your way through the Susan Ryeland series – Marble Hall Murders contains the major spoiler for Magpie Murders.

Apple in China, Patrick McGee, 2025

Rating: 5/5

CORPORATE HISTORY MEETS GEOPOLITICAL WARNING

Most books about Apple celebrate its products, its design philosophy or the genius of Steve Jobs. Patrick McGee takes a different approach. He argues that Apple's greatest achievement was actually building the most sophisticated manufacturing ecosystem the world has ever seen, and that this very success may have fundamentally altered the balance of technological power between the United States and China. Apple did not just move production to China – it helped build the industrial system that made China a manufacturing superpower. Apple in China is a meticulously reported account that combines corporate history, supply-chain strategy and international politics into a narrative that is both gripping and, for the most part, a page-turner.

The book begins with Apple in the late 1990s, on the verge of bankruptcy and desperately searching for manufacturers capable of producing increasingly ambitious products. What follows is the gradual migration of Apple's manufacturing expertise, from Japan and Taiwan to mainland China, driven initially by lower labour costs but eventually by China's unmatched ability to scale production at breathtaking speed. McGee demonstrates that Apple did not merely outsource assembly – it trained suppliers, transferred manufacturing know-how and financed advanced production processes. While Apple believed it was simply creating an efficient supply chain, it was also helping build the capabilities that would eventually underpin China's modern electronics industry. By the end, China had become indispensable to Apple.

McGee also reveals a wealth of surprising details that rarely feature in Apple's carefully cultivated story. For example, Apple reportedly pledged to invest $275 billion in China over a five-year period to appease the Chinese authorities – not in factories it owned, but through supplier investments, training and manufacturing support. McGee argues that this commitment dwarfed even the Marshall Plan (the US programme to rebuild 16 European countries after World War II) in inflation-adjusted terms.

Ultimately, Apple in China is all about unintended consequences. While McGee is extremely critical of Apple throughout the book and even questions Tim Cook's legacy, he never suggests that Apple consciously set out to strengthen China or weaken America's industrial position. Instead, he argues that countless rational business decisions accumulated into an extraordinary strategic vulnerability. Whether one fully accepts that thesis or not (and some of the arguments do feel like a stretch), the evidence he assembles is difficult to ignore. This is an exceptionally well-researched and thought-provoking book that changes the way one thinks about globalisation, manufacturing and the hidden machinery behind every iPhone.

Pros: Exceptionally researched, packed with fascinating insights into Apple's supply chain, an insider’s look at key policy decisions made by Apple

Cons: McGee is occasionally too critical of Apple, some geopolitical conclusions feel extreme

The Ministry of Time, Kaliane Bradley, 2024

Rating: 3/5

WHEN A GOOD IDEA ISN’T ENOUGH!

This book has been widely positioned as a clever blend of science fiction, humour and romance. In practice, I found that it delivers none of these in sufficient measure, and each element feels only partially realised. The science fiction is more conceptual than detailed, the humour is sparse and understated rather than genuinely funny, and the romance, while central, never quite achieves the emotional depth it seems to aim for. The result is a book that feels like it is constantly hinting at something richer and more engaging, but rarely getting there.

At its core, the story follows an unnamed narrator who is recruited into a mysterious government programme and assigned to act as a “bridge” for a historical figure transported into the present day. She is the daughter of a British man and a Cambodian immigrant — this is supposed to be significant, as the historical figures are immigrants in a way, but the comparison does not really land. Much of the narrative unfolds through her perspective as she navigates this unusual role, balancing bureaucratic expectations with the practical and emotional realities of integrating someone from the past into modern life. Without getting into specifics, the setup is intriguing and offers ample room for tension. However, the storytelling makes it difficult to stay fully invested in the characters or their arcs.

There are some enjoyable aspects of the book, such as its attention to everyday detail, particularly around food and domestic routines. These, along with differing gender and moral lenses, are used as markers of adjustment and connection. These moments hint at warmth and intimacy but rarely build into something more memorable.

Ultimately, the novel seems less interested in its premise and more focused on themes of institutional control, moral compromise and the gradual awakening of individual conscience. These are worthwhile ideas, but the execution does not make them compelling. The science fiction framework, in particular, feels both thin and oddly opaque — insufficiently detailed to be convincing, yet convoluted enough to be confusing. By the time the narrative reaches its conclusion, I found myself unclear on the mechanics of the plot, but given that I had become somewhat disengaged from its outcome, I didn’t really care.

Pros: Interesting central premise, thoughtful themes around institutions and control

Cons: Underdeveloped science fiction elements, uneven blend of genres, difficult to stay fully engaged