Arborescence

Image credit: Hachette Australia

A reading experience can be many things. It can be immersive, disruptive, comforting, harrowing, scary, exhilarating, it can be anything and everything all at once sometimes. While we are tempted to measure the brilliance of a book by how positive we find the reading experience that it provides, that’s not always the best way to go about it. Sometimes we need to consider that the books that disturb and unsettle us are just as brilliant as the ones that excite and uplift us. Having been late on the last book for bookclub, this week I have gone to the other extreme and finished the book with almost a month to spare! It’s a cliché to gush that the brilliant thing about bookclubs is that they encourage you to read books that you ordinarily wouldn’t, but it’s one hundred per cent the case. A complete departure from the hilarious detective-noir farce that was The Empress Murders, this week’s read had me skeptical, curious, enthralled, unsettled, and dispirited. This week I’m talking about Rhett Davis’ Arborescence.

Bren works for a company that he doesn’t understand the point of with colleagues whom he has never met. His partner Caelyn cycles through jobs looking for something, though she’s not sure what. One day the couple discover a group of people in a nearby forest who believe that if they stand still for long enough, they will eventually take root and become trees. While Bren dismisses the idea as a weird cult ideology, Caelyn becomes fascinated by it. She goes back to university and writes articles about it and soon the two realise that the idea is spreading. People are going missing and trees are appearing in places where they weren’t before. Could arborescence really be true? As the world becomes greener and cities and technology stagger, Caelyn sees nothing to fear but Bren is not so sure.

Arborescence begins as a wholesome, almost hippy-dippy exploration about the bizarre and dysfunctional love triangle that is the human-technology-nature relationship. It then begins to slowly and eerily turn towards the avenue of thriller territory before suddenly taking a hard turn into the realm of dystopia. It’s a hugely provocative book, inspiring an absolute tirade of thought processes regarding the state of the world, the toxicity of humanity, what the human condition truly means and how it affects everything it around it, as well as social, economical, and natural evolution.

Davis writes in a structurally fragmented way to depict the erraticism of human thought processes while at the same time using prose that is rich, poetic, slow-moving, and even soothing. The disjointed paragraphs mixed with this soothing, measured language has an unsettling effect as it both startles and lulls the reader, diverting their attention away from the creeping doom that inches ever closer. This way, when the horror of the story does finally settle in, it’s truly upsetting enough to inspire stomach drops, gooseflesh, and shivers.

While I spent a fair potion of this book being captivated and then horrified, the remainder was spent feeling depressed as Davis really writes about two dystopias, one replacing the other. When the book starts in what I assume is the modern day, AI or ‘alternative intelligences’ are prevalent, running entire companies, issuing orders and workloads, and even hiring human actors as representatives when face-to-face interviews are required. It’s eerily science fiction without really being in that hyper-futuristic setting and the interactions between human and technology are so nonchalantly depicted that the strangeness of it doesn’t quite register until you realise that the ‘boss’ sitting across from Bren in the café is actually a man working for a robot. This technological dystopia that the book begins in establishes the shift in human relationships with one another, showing a lack of vibrance, energy, or spark. Perhaps I interpreted this on a more personal level as I’ve recently had to adjust to working remotely with all colleagues being online: isolation can really be a downer. By the time the natural dystopia takes root, Davis has raised so many questions about the changing flavour of human relationships that it’s hard to find the will to stand up.

Image credit: Curtis Brown

I think if I read this book again, it will be some years down the track, but I do think that it was brilliant! There is so much going on and being explored narratively, structurally, and socially. It really makes the mind whirl with theories, questions, anxieties, and hope. And while I haven’t come away from a read so depressed since The Great Gatsby, Davis does leave readers on a hopeful note. It’s certainly not a comfy, cosy read, but I think I would recommend Arborescence if you’re out for a challenge, a stimulant, or an emotional shakeup.

Author: Rhett Davis, 2025

Published: Hachette Australia, 2025

The Empress Murders

Image credit: Allen & Unwin

So it’s early days of having joined a real book club – I attended my second meeting this week- and I have already become that person who totally mistook the date and ended up in the position of having one day to read the book! Thankfully, our book this month – The Empress Murders- is such a fast-paced and engaging read that I was able to get through to thirds of it before the meeting!

Aboard the Empress of Australia, a plethora of passengers are crossing the Atlantic and heading for New York. It is smooth sailing until a dead body is discovered. It quickly falls to house detective Archie Daniels to find the killer but as soon he begins, it escalates into a case of solving not just one murder, but two, and then three, and then more. Suddenly Daniels is on the trail of a serial killer and no passenger, from the wealthy 1^st classers to the societal dregs below deck, is safe from being either victim or villain. 

Beginning life as a play, The Empress Murders is the debut novel from actor and writer Toby Schmitz and it’s a book that promptly catapults you into its world and mirrors the plights of the characters in that it keeps you hostage. While I had other reasons for wanting to read through it as fast as possible, the fragmented prose, compelling take on the genre, and delightfully despicable characters really aid you in absolutely powering through its pages.

The events are uniquely chronicled with the ship (or the idea of the ship) as the narrator, an omniscient being that still has a direct connection to the unfolding events. While Daniels’ hunt for the serial killer is undoubtedly the main story, the book is fleshed out with wispy side hustles featuring a revolving cast of select characters: all of them pretty pitiful. The fragmented style in which Schmitz chooses to tell the story not only gives the book its machine-gun pace but also makes it read in a more visual manner with events being crafted to read more like a script or screenplay. On top of this novelty, the book is also a farcical take on the detective-noir genre. There are definitely vibes of Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie, while at the same time the language and character dialogue is spliced and very modern. We then have increasing levels of ridiculousness that manifest in the form of the murders – these paragraphs are not for the squeamish. I personally found the thick and bloody layers of gore added to the nonsensical farce of the narrative, but they can seem gratuitous and not really adding anything to the story – how you interpret it depends on the type of reader you are.

Image credit: The Sydney Morning Herald

Despite the very serious and gruesome events that unfold, I found The Empress Murders to be an extravagant and often hilarious farce, a bit like The Master and Margarita. It’s filled with action, characters that you love to hate, intriguing little histories that you want to find out more about, and plenty of drama. There is certainly a lot packed into it and the machine-gun pace does make the reading experience akin to staring out the window of a speeding train. I’m certain there are things that I missed, no doubt a revisit is warranted.

Author: Toby Schmitz, 2025

Published: Allen & Unwin, Australia, 2025

Odyssey

Image credit: Amazon

I have recently been meditating on several ironies in the world, most pointedly the argument in mainstream cinema that there are too many reboots and remakes and not enough films being made from original content. On the opposite side of the coin, in the world of literature there are seemingly endless fonts of (at least) semi-original content, and isn’t it funny to consider the joy of reading something that is essentially a reboot of a classic work? What is it about literature that makes the remake more enjoyable than cinema? This train of thought was prompted after I closed the cover on this week’s book of choice: the fourth instalment in Stephen Fry’s Ancient Greek series – Odyssey

As the name suggests, the book is a retelling of Homer’s epic poem of Odysseus and his dramatic adventures on a ten-year journey home from the Trojan War. As the Olympian gods fidget uncomfortably at the idea that mortals are moving on without them, petty squabbles turn deadly when Poseidon sends a great storm to punish Ajax. While the other fleets survive and make it home, poor Odysseus’ ship is buffeted from shoreline to shoreline with the cunning king and his men faced with many trials and tribulations that waylay them for over a decade.

Odysseus’ story is a mighty one that really highlights the idea that home is where the heart is. Like its predecessors – Mythos, Heroes, and Troy – Odyssey retells the story, jumping from kingdom to kingdom, in a clever and concise modern voice that not only expertly conjures the scenes in the mind’s eye but also simplifies them and powers through them with a pace that pushes the reader further and further along in the story – like Poseidon’s stormy seas.

Image credit: AXSChat

While primarily a tale about the allure of home and the anchor that a steadfast home and hearth is to morals, the book also explores the human nature of evolution and social progression and delivers a tickling truth in the idea that ‘the times are a ‘changin’ is actually an idea that has been around for millennia. Added to this at the very end is an indulgent little social commentary on the current progression of mortals and storytelling: the evolution of AI.

While I didn’t find Odyssey as compelling as his other books in the series, I can’t deny that the hero’s journey narrative archetype is a classic for a reason and it’s really nice (and relatable) to read a book about a hero going through epic adventures just so he can sleep in his own bed at the end.

Author: Stephen Fry, 2024

Published: Penguin Random House UK, 2024

Box Office Poison

Image credit: Amazon

After quite a long stint of fantasy, history, and cats it was certainly time to take a break from fiction and dive into reading about my other great love from the human experience: films. I’ve had a love of movies from a very young age, particularly talking about the reasons why I like certain movies, what makes them so good (or sometimes bad). So, when Partner gifted me Box Office Poison by journalist Tim Robey, you better believe I was excited to read it.

Beginning with Intolerance (1916) and finishing up with Cats (2019), Box Office Poison, a term that was once used to describe actress Katherine Hepburn, chronicles the delicious dramas and disasters of a carefully chosen lineup of cinematic flops.

From billowing budgets that bankrupted studios, to the increasing social need for censorship, to creative conflicts, and misread interpretations of source material, the book is more than a mere collection of reviews about films that bombed. It simultaneously is an exploration into the Hollywood evolution story, the changing times, and how cultural, social, and technological attitudes and aptitudes influence the industry. Robey explores a whole range of potholes and roadblocks that caused films to underperform at the box office, as well as outrage social groups, destroy careers, demolish empires, and sink into obscurity. Each film’s entry focuses on a different villain: budget balloons, social intolerance regarding sexual identities, scheming moneymen, and more besides, and what makes the book particularly interesting is the fact that a compelling evolution narrative takes shape in the background, telling a story despite the unconventional, compilation format of the book.

Image credit: Amazon

Robey writes professionally as well as with an attitude and a deep love and appreciation of cinema, providing a reading experience that feels a bit like a lecture of a favourite subject in university. Both facts and opinions are delivered with the same passionate tone that enlightens and excites the reader as well as very subtly draws their attention to the evolution narrative taking place in the background.

Box Office Poison is both a fascinating and fun collection of film reviews that gives insight into a huge industry as well as chronicling an intriguing tale about its evolution over the last century. While it’s insightful and entertaining, it’s also provocative and piques a desire to track down the films that it examines and give them a watch (a few of them anyway).

Author: Tim Robey, 2024

Published: Faber & Faber Limited, London, 2024

Nightingale

Image credit: Amazon

So, I have recently joined a real book club - as in I am soon to attend a meeting with a bunch of people I have never met in which we discuss a book that I would probably have never picked up and read under my own power. I have just closed the cover of said book and figure, what better to why to try and decipher what I think about it than writing my own review? The book: Nightingale by Laura Elvery, a debut novel.

Mayfair 1910: Aged and frail at the age of 90, Florence Nightingale is no longer of sound mind. After a celebrated career as a nurse, writer, statistician and female pioneer, she now lives as a recluse: bed bound and constantly haunted by memories of lovely and tragic times from her past. One night she is visited by a young man named Silas Bradley who claims that they have met before, during the Crimean War. The encounter forces Florence to recall a most trying time, traumatic even, as well as try to remember a strange and ambitious nurse named Jean Frawley.

Part historical fiction and part ghost story, Nightingale is the first novel from Australian author Laura Elvery. It’s a dramatic exploration into the final days of a great, but considerably undercelebrated historic figure that explores themes of memory, gender roles, the horrors of war, and the way in which even the most adventurous life can go in a circle.

Narratively, it’s both an easy and challenging book to read. It’s easy in that Elvery’s prose is simple and sensual, using tangible sense words to create the scenes and implant the reader right in the middle of them. I was able to bang this out in two days: through its language, it’s a book that instantly envelopes the reader and inspires the constant flipping of pages. But it’s challenging too in the narrative techniques Elvery uses to tell the current story and ones from the past. There is a fair amount of time jumping, made easier to grasp as each new section in time is pronounced in a chapter title or letterhead. We then have the different points of view in which the novel is written. We have the chapters written as the aged Miss Nightingale, contents of which are already to be taken with a grain of salt as the blurb hints that this is an unreliable narrator. Elvery is cleverly playing with this technique, making us think longer and harder about it as we know that the interactions that Florence has during these scenes may well be in her own mind, while at the same time her interior monologues might be the closest thing we get to clarity with her. We then have the chapters in the voice of Silas. These threw a spanner in the works for me, as it’s through Silas’ character that the ‘ghost story’ part of the novel comes in to play, but this is merely an idea that is hinted at and then made murky in the way that Silas is described, his interactions with other characters besides Florence, and the timeline that we are given. The middle of the book then jumps back in time and speaks in the voice of the omniscient narrator, recounting the encounters between the central triangle of Florence, Silas, and Jean.

Image credit: Faber Academy

Elvery’s sensual language works to smooth the jaggedness created by the character POV break-ups and it’s during the middle part of the book that we get to see the real and ‘historical’ part of the novel, as this is where the character of Florence Nightingale, as the world saw her, is depicted. A woman with ambition, who took the gender roles assigned to her by time and society and made them bigger, broader, heavier…sigh, only to have the men who created her workload blame her for the everything that was and became wrong with it. The Florence we see is inspiring and patient, a stoic matron.

While I don’t know if I would read this book again, I was certainly entertained and challenged by it. It’s transportive, inspiring, engaging, and thought-provoking: a brilliant debut novel.

Author: Laura Elvery, 2025

Published: University of Queensland Press (UQP), 2025

We'll Prescribe You a Cat

Image credit: Dymocks

After closing the cover on the Temeraire series, I was certainly done with fantasy for a while but at a loss as to what to read next. At the recommendation of my partner, I had had a book sitting on my bedside table for months, which I was able to finally crack the cover on during a recent holiday trip. A delightfully sweet and wholesome collection of stories that I powered through in two days, we’re talking about We’ll Prescribe You a Cat.

Tucked away in an alley in Kyoto is the Nakagyo Kokoro Clinic for the Soul, a clinic that most patients discover through hearsay that specialises in the healing power of cats. While the patients that find their way there are often puzzled at the clinic’s methods, they can’t argue with the results: a disheartened business man discovers the joy of physical labour, a middle-aged father finds relevance at his job and home, a young girl navigates the complexities of schoolyard cliques, a hardened designer learns the precious balance of work and life, and a geisha manages to finally move on from the memory of her lost cat.

Similar to Before the Coffee Gets Cold, this book is a collection of individual stories that are tied together by a building. In BTCGC it’s the café where you can travel back in time that inspires the heartwarming stories of character growth and here it’s the clinic that works to the moto, ‘cats can solve most problems.’ Humorously, each character ends up bringing home a cat from a consultation, despite not really knowing anything about caring for the creatures, and through this forced period of temporary pet-ownership their worlds are opened and transformed. It’s similar to the manga and anime series My Roommate Is a Cat.

The stories are sweet and relatable and made just a little sensational by the funny and nonchalant narrative treatment of such an abstract clinic concept. Admittedly I have not read a lot of Japanese fiction, but what is appealing to me most from what I have read is the narrative minimalism that flavours the novels. The prose is simple, even blunt, which allows the emotional clout of the story to just wash over the reader in all its lovely wholesomeness. It also makes books such as this very easy to read and devour in no time at all, adding to the delightful reading experience by giving that quick and delicious feeling of achievement when we close the cover.

Image credit: Penguin Random House

We’ll Prescribe You a Cat is the type of book that consistently makes you audibly sigh happily, it’s a cosy little read made up of compelling stories of relatable characters that envelop you right from the first page. It’s funny, fresh, sweet, and sometimes a little melancholy; a delightful and comforting reading experience that makes the day better.

Author: Syou Ishida, 2024

Published: Penguin Books, 2024. Translated from Japanese by E. Madison Shimoda.

League of Dragons

Image credit: HarperCollins

We’ve made it! The final book in the exciting, dramatic, and action-packed Temeraire series: League of Dragons. I’m not going to lie, after being firmly planted within the fantasy genre for so long, I am sooo ready to read something else. That is not to say that I have not enjoyed this series. While the initial, somewhat childish, joy that made my heart flutter when I read the first couple of books definitely petered out as the story got more elaborate and the convoluted, I still enjoyed the journey and was satisfied in the end.

With Napoleon’s invasion of Russia thwarted, the time to strike a final blow is upon the Allies. But their numbers are dwindling and internal squabbles and prejudices threaten to tear them apart. While Captain Laurence struggles to bring his own enraged countrymen under his newly-appointed command, Temeraire has his claws full trying to dissuade all the dragons his can against siding with Napoleon who has publicly promised the dragons of every country – including the ferals- new rights and powers if they fight under his banner.

League of Dragons brings us back to the action-packed and narratively enthralling drama that catapulted us into the second half of the series. Reminiscent of the fourth and fifth books, it’s a well-paced balance between wartime action and closeted narrative drama that widens the arc of the series and brings that second, underlying story into the limelight: the changing relationships between humans and dragons in European civilization. Until now we have been drip-fed the drama of the simmering revolt of the British dragons, but here it finally comes to a head and makes for very entertaining scenes in which the dragons diplomatically puzzle out how they can best improve their status and treatment at home without upsetting their sense of duty. It’s a very nice example of character development that had almost gone unnoticed, veiled by the captivating action of the central, wartime narrative.

As we more or less know how the war will pan out, the drama of the central plot is made enthralling thanks to Novik’s thrilling descriptions of aerial combat interspersed with scenes of social drama and intrigue that still manage to draw a delighted ‘ooh’ from the reader as they flip the pages.

Being the final book, it’s time to tie everything up and sometimes that can be hard to do with long-running series. But I think that Novik has closed up the series nicely, ending on an uplifting and hopeful note that life goes on…

Image credit: NPR

At the end of the day, I really enjoyed the Temeraire series. Yes, there were peaks and troughs in the action and the pacing sometimes, but ultimately this series is a fun and fresh fantasy series that pulls you in and keeps you enthralled with its characters and engaging story.

Author: Naomi Novik, 2016

Published: HarperVoyager, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd, 2016.

League of Dragons is the 9^th and final in Naomi Novik’s Temeraire series. It follows Temeraire, Throne of Jade, Black Powder War, Empire of Ivory, Victory of Eagles, Tongues of Serpents and Crucible of Gold, and Blood of Tyrants.