Fragments from the Underground: On Ali Smith’s Memoir

The Ballad of Speedbaby by Ali Smith

A woman approaches bassist Ali Smith at the end of one of her shows and says, “It makes me so happy to see a girl up there on stage. Because you know… it’s a man’s world!” Smith finishes her memoir with this story, which sums up the whole book: she sets herself up to deliver a feminist perspective of life in the punk underground, but unfortunately, the only thing she has to share is that it’s hard to be a woman.

The Ballad of Speedball Baby recounts Smith’s time as a bass player in a 1990s punk band as she navigates the notoriously seedy underground New York City music scene. Her stories centre her experience as one of few women in situations ranging from chaotic to downright terrifying.

The problem with this book is that it lacks the growth or narrative payoff essential to a memoir. Smith draws us in with blood, addiction, violence, and harrowing stories, but she leaves us hanging. You don’t see her evolve or change, aside from a brief glimpse into her adult life at the start of the book. We also learn little about Smith herself or the world she’s living in. There are no answers to questions around what she learned about herself or whether it’s worth it for women to stick it out in environments that actively reject them.

She presents the book as a feminist account of her experience in a male-dominated world, but the takeaways are shallow. It’s hardly groundbreaking to observe that it’s difficult for women to flourish in a hardcore rock-and-roll environment surrounded by drugs, violence, and various flavours of misogyny.

Rather than a memoir, the book is at its best when viewed as a collection of essays or vignettes. You can see this in her story about crossing the Croatian border while touring Europe. Speedball Baby gets to Croatia two years after the devastating war of independence in the 1990s. She describes being strip searched at the border and convincing officials she’s not smuggling contraband in a tampon box — all while her bandmate is held for questioning over his various health supplements. In the details of the story, we see both the tension of the broader political climate and the fact that, as a band, they’re a group of kids way out of their depth.

Also a talented photographer, Smith can clearly capture a moment in time. It’s just in bringing all these moments together to form a cohesive story that this memoir falls short.

It’s hard to critique the stories of someone’s life, especially one fraught with so much difficulty. However, this book is sold as a contribution to feminist discourse yet does little to drive the conversation forward. Smith would have done well to do a bit more reflecting — or change course altogether — before writing it.

This review was written by book club member, Anna Meehan. When Anna’s not pretending to be a book critic, she works in Content Marketing in London. Her passions include feminism, reality tv, and the correct use of commas. She’s also willing to read pretty much anything with a strong female character.

If you’d like to become a book club review writer, or if you are a publisher and would like to contact us, please email: tfbcbookreviews@gmail.com

Cleopatra, Stripped of Myth

Cleopatra by Natasha Solomons - pictured in the British Museum (a great accompaniment to the book).

Some books are incredibly easy to review, and this was one of them. Cleopatra by Natasha Solomons was an instant delight. Teeming with rich imagery and immersive detail, the novel transported me to an ancient Egyptian world I had never before fathomed - and at its center, the formidable, otherworldly queen herself: Cleopatra.

Solomons does something truly remarkable in Cleopatra: she takes one of history’s most recognizable figures and reimagines her in a way that feels vivid, grounded, and deeply authentic. For centuries, accounts of Cleopatra have been written almost exclusively from Greek and Roman perspectives, leaving both the narrative and her legacy in the hands of her enemies rather than her allies. In hindsight, it’s clear how absent Cleopatra’s own voice is from the historical archive, and Solomons’ novel is an ambitious and compelling attempt to give it back.

Through Solomons’ lens, we follow Cleopatra’s life from childhood to the aftermath of Julius Caesar’s murder. After her father’s death, a bloodthirsty scramble for the Egyptian throne erupts, forcing Cleopatra to go up against her brother, Ptolemy, to secure both her freedom and her power. In order to survive, she must rely on the support of her supposed ally, Julius Caesar. Their relationship is rendered with remarkable subtlety, capturing the delicate political and personal balance Cleopatra would have been forced to maintain. Her cunning, resilience, and diplomatic skill are never in doubt, and Solomons ensures we never underestimate them.

In her own time, Cleopatra was believed to be a living goddess, and the novel hums with an otherworldly quality that I absolutely adored - the ancient rituals, prayers, and sacrifices; the superstitions, beliefs, and seemingly absurd luxuries of the era. The world-building is lush and immersive, speaking to the incredible depth of research behind the novel. Scattered throughout are fascinating historical details: did you know Cleopatra’s palace now lies beneath the Mediterranean Sea? I certainly didn’t. Or that Cleopatra was in Rome when Julius Caesar was murdered? Again, news to me.

By the time the novel ended, I felt as though I had met the most authentic version of Cleopatra yet. Skimming through other reviews, I noticed many highlighted the sections dealing with Cleopatra’s personal life as particular standouts - and I couldn’t agree more. From her daily life in the Egyptian palace to travelling through Rome on her litter, from her royal court to her complex relationships with her sisters, her slaves, her advisors, and her enemies, these intimate details bring her fully to life. For all the grit, grandeur, and political drama, it is Cleopatra herself - and the minutiae of her world - that truly made the novel sing.

So there you have it. One of history’s most misunderstood women is, at last, reintroduced - not as a myth or a seductress, but as a woman of intelligence, depth, and humanity. Even if you’re not a history buff, or have little interest in ancient Egypt, this novel reads with the momentum and immersion of great fiction.

This review was written by our Lead Reviewer, Jess Pagel. When Jess isn’t dreaming of Ancient Egyptian palaces, you can find her reviewing books at @fiftytwo_books.

If you’d like to become a book club review writer, or if you are a publisher and would like to contact us, please email: tfbcbookreviews@gmail.com

The Many Layers of Maggie Stiefvater’s The Listeners

Maggie Stiefvater’s first adult novel is an ambitious story of class, power, and mysticism in wartime Appalachia.

The Listeners is an entertaining and ambitious, albeit slightly protracted, novel that shows the growing pains of a YA novelist trying her hand at adult fiction. The book takes place in American Appalachia in 1942, shortly after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbour and dragged the US into war efforts. Our protagonist is June Hudson, the manager of a luxury hotel with seemingly mystical powers. At the start of the book, the hotel is commandeered by the FBI to house a number of Nazi diplomats, Axis sympathisers, and the federal agents there to look for spies amongst them. June has to rally her staff to serve the enemy and contend with everyone who makes that difficult: surly FBI agent Tucker Minnick, playboy hotel owner Edgar Gilfoyle, and countless controversial hotel guests. To cover every plot point in a review wouldn’t leave room for any opinions. In other words, the book is ambitious.

It explores themes like the inescapability of class in America, reflected in June’s enduring West Virginia accent — unchanged despite years of hospitality training — and in Minnick’s coal tattoo, a literal mark of his working-class roots. There’s the sweetwater beneath the hotel, which embodies the mysticism of Appalachia and seems to control the mood of the whole establishment. There are even neurodiverse characters navigating a stressful environment, to name a few.

Stiefvater writes a good story. It’s well paced. The characters are believably complicated and sympathetic. In particular, the romantic storyline between June and Tucker is genuinely moving. However, there are several elements which could be cut altogether and would not be missed.

The prime example of this is the mystical element of the story. At the beginning, the sweetwater is introduced as a character in itself. But what starts out full of potential peters out confusingly with little explanation of what it is or how it works. In good fantasy, magical elements drive the plot forward and embody the meaning of the story. Instead, the sweetwater sits awkwardly beside the plot as though Stiefvater had a good idea but couldn’t quite decide what to do with it. It’s clear she’s set herself a challenge moving into adult fiction and wants to keep her fantasy roots. She starts to weave a rich tapestry — she just can’t quite thread it all together.

An interesting side to the story is how June uses her domestic power to her advantage. As hotel manager, her role is to make people comfortable — both figuratively, by smoothing conflicts for her guests, and literally, by grabbing clean towels and sheets for them. This would embody the female stereotype in any story: accommodating and subservient.

However, it’s in that domestic role that June finds her power. She knows the hotel inside and out, better than anyone. It makes her an asset to the US government during a volatile diplomatic initiative. It helps her placate guests and staff, persuading them to do what she needs. Ultimately, it gives her freedom and keeps her a step ahead of everyone else — male or female. It’s a smart take on how a woman of the time could find autonomy using the tools available to her in her fairly limited gender role.

The Listeners is worth a read. It’s entertaining and thoughtful. You may just find yourself skimming a few sections.

This review was written by book club member, Anna Meehan. When Anna’s not pretending to be a book critic, she works in Content Marketing in London. Her passions include feminism, reality tv, and the correct use of commas. She’s also willing to read pretty much anything with a strong female character.

If you’d like to become a book club review writer, or if you are a publisher and would like to contact us, please email: tfbcbookreviews@gmail.com

Voices of Resistance: Life and Defiance in Gaza

We at the book club feel very fortunate to have received a copy of Voices of Resistance, Diaries of Genocide from Comma Press in Manchester - an extraordinary collection of diaries from four women in Gaza. It’s a subject we care deeply about, and with all proceeds going directly to the authors and their families, it’s also a way to offer tangible support.

Book review written by our lead reviewer, Jessica Pagel, follow her on her Instagram (@fiftytwo_books), and see more on our Instagram.

Featuring the diaries of Batool Abu Akleen, Sondos Sabra, Nahil Mohana, and Ala'a Obaid, Voices of Resistance, Diaries of Genocide is translated and co-edited by Basma Ghalayini, herself Gazan, with forewords by Gillian Slovo and Caryl Churchill.

Over the past two years, the world has watched Israel’s bombardment of Gaza - cities reduced to rubble, families pulled from the wreckage, children deprived of the most basic necessities - all witnessed through fragmented snapshots on Instagram and social media. The effect has been numbing, and the enormity almost impossible to process. Knowing what to pay attention to - and what to set aside - has been an ongoing struggle. In reading Voices of Resistance, Diaries of Genocide, I discovered the clearest and most vital account amidst all of the noise: a profoundly human perspective of what is happening in Gaza, and one I simply cannot recommend enough.

In this book, we are privy to the diaries of four Gazan women - Batool Abu Akleen, Sondos Sabra, Nahil Mohana, and Ala'a Obaid - who describe, with stark honesty, the daily realities of airstrikes, forced displacement, and severe shortages of food and medicine. Yet alive in their stories are moments of quiet defiance: from the grocer giving his last egg so a child can have a birthday cake, to displaced neighbours pooling what little they have to hold a wedding amid the rubble. These are not stories of pity, but stories of hope, humour, individuality, and pride.

Batool Abu Akleen is a twenty-year-old Palestinian poet and translator born and raised in Gaza City. Her diary begins in January 2025. She and her family are displaced, living in a tent on the Gaza Strip. Despite it all, Batool is still a student, attending lectures, submitting assignments and working on her poems. The noise of the camp - over 900 people living in close quarters - overwhelms her, stirring her anxiety. All she longs for is peace and quiet. 

Sondos Sabra, twenty-five, is a writer and translator. When her diary begins in October 2023, she eagerly awaits the rains in northern Gaza - a signal of the olive-picking season, when families come together to work and celebrate. Her greatest joys are her father and her four-year-old sister, Fatima. And yet, when evacuation orders arrive, that simple happiness is shattered, and she is torn from those she loves most.

Nahil Mohana is a novelist and playwright who lives in northern Gaza with her young daughter, Habiba. Like so many Palestinian women, she is a force - full of love, humour, and a deep affection for coffee. When it finally returned to the markets in August of 2024 at the staggering price of 400 shekels, she joked about finding fellow “crazy people” willing to split the cost. Soon enough, she did, and together they shared a single jar. Despite evacuation orders, airstrikes, and constant terror, Nahil and her family remain in their home in the north. 

Ala’a Obaid is a writer and mother of three. She gave birth to her third child, Ibrahim, on Valentine’s Day of 2024. Her story stands in sharp contrast to much of the book - new life emerging amid relentless death and destruction. It acts as a simple reminder that life continues - stubbornly and tenderly - without food, proper healthcare, or something as simple as baby clothes. In Gaza, that act of carrying on, of insisting on life, is itself an act of resistance.

Reaching the end of this book was difficult, because of course, it is not the end. The relief, exhaustion, and fleeting joy these women felt at the announcement of a ceasefire marked a pivotal moment in their diaries - yet reading it now, knowing what was still to come, was devastating.  Finishing their words, I felt both overwhelmed and helpless. Yet when I look at the images of Gaza online, I can now see what lies behind them: ordinary lives of hope and love, of babies and birthday cakes, shared coffee, marriages celebrated, and life undiminished. These diaries are a testament to that, a testament to survival and defiance, and all that’s asked of us is that we read them.

If you would like to purchase Voices of Resistance, Diaries of Genocide, you can do so here. If you are a publisher and would like us to review one of your titles, or if you would like to become a book reviewer for us, please email us!

Join Our Board: Join us as Chair of the Board and help shape the future of The Feminist Book Club!

If you’re committed to feminist values, have board or leadership experience, and want to help shape the future of a growing community, we want to hear from you!

The full job description is available below - we encourage reading this before application.

We can’t wait to hear from you! If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.

Tenderness and Bite: A Review of C.J. Leede’s American Rapture

American Rapture by C.J. Leede follows Sophie Allen, a naïve, deeply religious teen, whose world is upended when a virus called Sylvia sweeps the Midwest - triggering feral, uncontrollable lust in those it infects and turning them violent. Book Club reviewer Vicky Malagrino shares her thoughts on this imaginative coming-of-age apocalypse story below - enjoy!

C.J. Leede’s American Rapture completely swept me away. Her writing is so vivid and atmospheric that from the very first page, I felt like I was right there in the protagonist’s skin: feeling her heartbreak, her longing, her fear, and those small, sparkling moments of hope.

At its heart, this is a story about loss. The pain of losing someone you love is written so tenderly, it hits you in that deep, quiet place where grief lives. There’s this bittersweet nostalgia running through the whole book, and if you’ve ever lost someone important, you’ll recognise that ache instantly. But there’s also this simmering, forbidden kind of love in the story: the kind that builds and builds until you’re almost holding your breath. It’s not about shock value or clichés; it’s about connection, vulnerability, and that delicious anticipation you get in your favourite slow-burn romance, where you’re practically counting the pages until that kiss.

One of my favourite parts was the way an ally emerges in the story, offering such a safe, steady presence for Sophie. The bond between them is so beautiful and grounding, and it’s written in a way that makes you feel like you’re part of it, too. It’s the kind of relationship that reminds you how powerful it is to have someone in your corner, especially when the world feels like it’s stacked against you. And that’s the thing, the world in this book is stacked against her. Religion, trauma, guilt, violence, patriarchy, all the unspoken “rules” that keep women small… It’s all here. The way Leede switches between tender, love-filled moments and the cold slap of reality is so effective. One minute you’re lost in a warm, almost dreamy scene, and the next, you’re snapped back to a world where being a young woman means having your choices limited, your body policed, and your freedom stolen because of what you’re not told. The religious influence, in particular, is haunting. That constant “mea culpa” weight, the pressure to be the “good girl” no matter what, is so relatable, and honestly heartbreaking. It’s about growing up too fast, keeping your life together, and surviving - all while smiling sweetly and never stepping out of line.

As a vegan, I also loved the way animals and the quiet presence of nature sneak into the book’s emotional world. Being surrounded by animal love has always felt healing to me, and I found it touching how this care for other living beings mirrors the way women often instinctively nurture and protect. There’s something so beautiful, and sometimes so heavy, about how women put other lives before their own, whether those lives are human or animal. That tenderness is a quiet form of strength running through the story. Some moments feel almost surreal, like they’re plucked from a sci-fi dream, but they always circle back to something painfully real. That mix of reality and strangeness keeps you hooked, and it makes the emotional beats hit even harder.

From a feminist perspective, this book absolutely shines. It’s not a polished, Instagram-ready “empowerment” story; it’s raw and real and examines what it takes for women to exist, resist, and keep claiming pieces of themselves in a world that tries to shrink them. It makes you want to talk, share stories, and hold space for each other’s truths. By the time I finished, I had that rare, bittersweet feeling: part of me didn’t want to leave her world, but part of me was full from the journey.

This isn’t a story that ties everything up in a neat bow. It lingers with you. It makes you think about love, loss, survival, and the quiet bravery it takes to just be. C.J. Leede writes with a mix of tenderness and bite that I can’t get enough of. Some lines made me pause to just feel, while others hit like a gut punch. If you’re into thrillers, books that break the rules, that speak honestly about womanhood, that make you feel deeply seen, and that remind you of the beauty of caring for life in all its forms, American Rapture is a must-read. So, so recommended. 💖

Vicky Malagrino, Book Club Reviewer

Vicky is a literary translator and writer living in London, originally from Buenos Aires, Argentina. She adores London and how it has allowed her to connect with women from around the world, learning from them and their stories. She has a passion for reading and creative writing, although she is currently working as a manager at a cultural centre. You can find her on Instagram at @theskyisascissor, or read more of her essays on Substack at @victoriamalagrino.

If you’d like to become a book club review writer, or if you are a publisher and would like to contact us, please email: londonfeministbookclubcic@gmail.com

Book review: Unearthed Voices in Else Jerusalem’s Forgotten Classic

A book review written by our lead reviewer, Jessica Pagel, follow her on her Instagram (@fiftytwo_books), and watch her video review of this book on our Instagram and at the bottom of this post.

The Red House, a nineteenth-century brothel tucked away in the heart of Vienna, is hidden in plain sight. Just behind the shimmering streets frequented by respectable men and women, it lies in a dark, narrow alley. As the streets grow quiet and the elegant crowds return home, the alley begins to stir - this is when they awaken: the women of the Red House.

The brothel is the novel’s central setting, and it’s here we meet our heroine, Milada, the young daughter of Black Katerine, one of its most notorious prostitutes. We watch Milada grow up within its walls - first as a maid, and by fifteen, a prostitute herself. It’s the only life she has ever known: one where women are procured and destroyed by a system that encourages its trade while simultaneously condemning those involved. Yet, with stunning defiance, we watch as Milada refuses to accept degradation as her fate, and instead carves out a new future for herself and others.

Written in 1909 by Else Jerusalem, Red House Alley offers an unflinching look at the lives of women in the sex trade, with a social context just as compelling as the story itself. It was released to critical acclaim and instant success, scandalising society with its portrayal of sex workers as complex human beings. Later banned by the Nazis, the book remained forgotten for over seventy-five years. 

Jerusalem was a fierce feminist, intellectual, and powerful voice in the women’s movement.  She researched prostitution extensively and was one of only two women granted permission to attend the notorious trial of a Viennese brothel madam, where she heard firsthand accounts of abuse and exploitation. These truths are woven into her work and stand as a testament to her insight and determination to centre the lives of women that society tried to ignore.

In Milada, Jerusalem crafts a powerful and inspiring character. Though she grows up with little love or nourishment, her mind remains open - always seeking knowledge and a deeper understanding of her life, her place in the world, and how best to live. She believes that women are confined by their own limitations, those cruelly imposed by society, and pushes boldly through doors that others assumed were forever closed. Yet, for all her ambition, Milada never forgets the women beside her - those with whom she has long stood shoulder to shoulder.

Milada is confronted with her most painful dilemma when she falls in love with one of the young men who frequents the Red House. Though he claims to love her, he harbors deep contempt for the women who work there, viewing them as idle and immoral. Even in love, he cannot see Milada or the others as full human beings. Through him, we see the hypocrisy at the heart of the sex trade: a world where men are free to indulge their desires without judgement, while the women who provide that outlet are shamed and degraded.

At its core, the novel is one of hope and empowerment, and I’ve come away with deep respect for Else Jerusalem. In this remarkably candid exploration of a subject still often considered taboo, she confronts brutal realities with unflinching honesty. Yet alongside the harshness, there’s profound insight into the lives of marginalised women, bold reflections on the female body, and views on sexuality that remain progressive even today. Jerusalem was unafraid to be provocative, to speak openly about what others avoided - and judging by the novel’s early reception, it was exactly the kind of voice society needed. 

So give it a read! And don’t skip the foreword or afterword, because they are filled with interesting nuggets about the author and the novel itself.

Enjoy! 

[If you would like to purchase Red House Alley, you can do so here. If you are a publisher and would like us to review one of your titles, or if you would like to become a book reviewer for us, please email us!]

A fact file on Nicola Dinan - our author for Books You Should Be Talking About!

You may or you may not have seen - but we have recently launched our brand-new segment: Books You Should Be Talking About! And to kick this off, our first book is Disappoint Me by Nicola Dinan.

To really bring this segment to life, we’ve had our book club board member, Ilona Bannister recorded a video on our Instagram page, noting all the reasons why this is the book of the month.

But, our wonderful summer intern, Sofia Pal, has also created a fact file - listing all the things we can learn about Nicola Dinan. Thank you so much Sofia and we hope you enjoy reading!

Who is Nicola Dinan?

Nicola Dinan is a British-Malaysian novelist who grew up in Hong Kong and Kuala Lumpur, and now lives in London.

After completing her undergraduate degree in Natural Sciences at the University of Cambridge, Dinan converted to law and spent the following years at a firm. It was not until her mid-20s, after working on a short story that would become her first novel, that Dinan chose to leave the world of law and pursue her passion for writing. 

How did Nicola start writing?

In 2021, Dinan attended the Faber Academy: Writing a Novel Workshop. She notes how the course was fundamental in bringing together a community of like-minded creatives in an otherwise ‘isolating profession,’ instilling her with the confidence and know-how to complete a final draft of her electric debut, Bellies.

What was Nicola’s first title?

Bellies was published by Doubleday in 2023. The novel went on to win the highly acclaimed Polari First Book Prize, was shortlisted for the Diverse Book Awards and Mo Siewcharran Prize, and was longlisted for the Brooklyn Public Library Book Prize and Gordon Burn Prize. Playful and poignant, Bellies is an intoxicating examination of our capacity to love, to forgive, and to understand one another.

Dinan captures the rhythmic pulse of the modern metropolis, and calls into question themes of devotion, sacrifice and self-evolution against the backdrop of this dynamic setting. Bellies has quickly become a fierce frontrunner and must-read of contemporary queer literature.

Learning more about Disappoint Me

Dinan hit the ground running with Bellies, and her latest novel, Disappoint Me– our Book Club pick for ‘Books You Should Be Talking About’–  has all of the wit, intimacy and allure of its predecessor. Dinan encourages us to reflect on our own sense of disappointment, suggesting that we should embrace rather than suppress it. The novel destigmatises shame, failure, and aimlessness, insisting that these are inevitable facets of aging and changing. A self-proclaimed ‘serial quitter,’ Dinan demands that dysfunction is an inescapable– and even necessary— part of self-growth. 

Themes in Nicola’s books

Both Bellies and Disappoint Me explore what it means to be mixed-race and transgender in London. Dinan’s novels are distinctly autobiographical in this way, reflecting her own confrontation with the ‘struggles of heteronormativity’ and the ‘contingency of racial identity.’ In each of her novels, Dinan investigates how those who have been marginalised from society address universal anxieties such as career choices and life partners. Her work is captivating in its exploration of identity, particularly in its presentation of complex trans characters whose flaws are merely a celebration of their humanity. 

Dinan has described the process of writing her characters as ‘a little bit like dating them,’ as she rarely pre-plots their narrative journey, instead making decisions in real-time as she writes. Because of this, characters like Disappoint Me’s Max and Vincent are complicated and surprising, taking on a life of their own. Dinan never appears to judge them. The tone of Disappoint Me is brilliantly sardonic and effortlessly witty, with her direct, blunt sentences perhaps informed by her background as a lawyer. 

What is next for Nicola?

Nicola Dinan is currently editing her third novel, and writing her fourth, whilst also tutoring on the Creative Writing MA course at Royal Holloway. Her debut, Bellies, is in the process of becoming a screenplay. 

The most beautiful photo of Nicola, supplied by Nicola Dinan.

A huge thank you to Sofia for writing this fact file, for Nicola for her gorgeous writing, and to you for reading!

Six questions with Rose Diell, author of ‘Fledging’

Back in April, Lydia and Zara, who co-lead West London Feminist Book Club, hosted their first author event! This author event was with Rose Diell, talking about her debut novel, Fledging. The evening, hosted in The Other House in South Kensington was everything you could’ve imagined and more, with lots of questions to Rose and Nikki from Herne Hill and Clapham Books there to sell not only copies of Fledging, but other titles relevant to the book.

The one problem with the evening? We were left wanting more. So, we posed the questions we wanted to ask Rose to her in a follow-up interview after the author event. This way, we don’t have to gate keep and we can share the love about this title with all of our book club members.

We hope you enjoy, and if you scroll to the bottom you’ll see the imagery from the evening.

Love, WFLBC x (@westldnfembookclub)

1. For those who haven’t yet read Fledging, can you tell us a little bit about the book in your own words and what inspired you to write it? 

Lia is a woman in her thirties trying to achieve her dreams of being a songwriter and thinking maybe motherhood isn't for her. But all her friends are having kids. She's going round and round in her head. Meanwhile, her mum has a terminal illness, throwing her decision into sharp relief. One day, she's suffering bad abdominal pains so she goes to the bathroom... where she lays an egg!

I was inspired to write the book because, while I haven't laid an egg, I have been a woman in my thirties obsessing over the baby question. I noticed how much other women my age were focused on this too, whether they were trying to have children or were trying to make up their mind. At the same time, I couldn't find much fiction written on the subject. So to an extent, I wrote the book I wanted to read.

2. What impact do you hope this book has on its readers? And what has the reaction been so far? 

I wrote it primarily to help those who, like me, just weren't feeling that 'baby fever' but kept hearing 'won't you regret it?' I hope the book helps articulate some of their feelings, and make them feel 'seen.'  

I also wrote it to explain myself – to explain to others around me some of the complexity involved in this dilemma and why it can be such a difficult decision. Friends or family would make false assumptions like 'she doesn't like children', or if they did ask 'why not?,' I felt like there was no simple answer.  I needed to sit them down for three hours to explain. Maybe this book is me doing that! So I hope it opens up a conversation between mothers and non-mothers, those who want children and those who don't – as well as those who want them but can't have them.

I've also been really touched by how the book has resonated with mothers because of the mother-daughter relationship and the many facets of motherhood that are explored in the book (positive and negative!). That wasn't something I'd expected as much but it's been really nice to hear.

3. What books have inspired your writing? 

A book I read just before writing Fledging that really influenced me was The Vegetarian by Han Kang. It's more literary and even weirder than Fledging, but I love the way Kang creates a modern day fable to explore a woman's lack of agency and subsequent unravelling – a South Korean contemporary Ophelia. I wanted to find my own weird, surreal way to explore the motherhood decision. Which is when I came up with the egg...

Two others authors I'd mention are Margaret Atwood and Angela Carter. Fledging has been compared to both, which is hugely flattering. I love Atwood but had never heard of Carter. Thankfully I have now!

4. How does Lia's experience challenge or reflect broader cultural assumptions about what makes a “woman”?

One of the most insidious cultural ideas that can really affect women without children – whether by choice or circumstance – is that if you don't have children, you're not a grownup or not a full woman. That you're less-than and couldn't possibly be fulfilled. Although there are prejudices and challenges for men without children too, I really think that's something that affects women in particular - you can see it in the way media reports on female politicians and music stars. In Fledging, I hope I show - and Lia learns - that there are many different ways to make a contribution and to leave a legacy in this world. And that there's nothing inherently more selfish about not wanting children. 

“I know it’s a common complaint that strangers like to pat pregnant bellies, but I feel no urge. Instead, I’m thinking that Safa is no longer a woman; she has become a different species. Or rather, something unnatural. An alien. I know this is completely illogical. Some would say she’s more a woman than me. One that I can’t relate to, can’t imagine being. I feel a kind of dissociation just looking at her."

5. In what ways do you think her friends serve as mirrors, showing Lia who she is or who she’s not?

I think they definitely do. There are lots of scenes exploring Lia's relationships with friends, and that was an aspect of the book I really brought out after feedback, because it's something that both mothers and non-mothers can really struggle with during that time in our lives when people's paths are diverging. I also wanted her friends, and the various women in the book, to give insight into how many diverse perspectives there are on this issue. Through her reactions to the things they say, Lia learns more about herself. Perhaps the reader will too.

6. What made you center so much of the emotional tension around Lia’s mother’s illness?

There are a few reasons.

First, I had an idea in my head when I started writing the novel, of life going full circle, of different kinds of mothering and of Lia coming to a time where she mothers her own mother, in a way.

Second, because the fact Lia's mum is running out of time heightens the time pressure on Lia's own decision. Like many, part of her dilemma is that she knows her mum would like grandchildren, and she likes the idea of that – but she knows she doesn't have much time left to make that happen.

It also accelerates her journey, that we all go through as adults, of trying to understand her mother on a deeper level – who she has been before and beyond being a mother, and the choices she has made – in order to work out what the right decision is for her.

And finally, it heightens Lia's sense of her own mortality, and questions of legacy and what we leave behind when we die.

"I think of Mum. I think of her years. I think of children without grandparents, grandparents without grandchildren. I think of how eggs are first formed in the ovaries of the foetus, so that some iteration of me, no wider than a hair, has existed ever since my mother came into being in the womb of my grandmother."

We’d like to say a huge thank you to Rose for coming along to our book club, and for taking the time to answer these questions. Please follow our Instagram page , or sign up to our newsletter to keep up to speed with all of our West London book club activity!

Images from the evening, please click to the left or the right to scroll through.

Our new segment: Books You Should Be Talking About!

In this blog post, you’ll be hearing from our board member (and incredibly talented author) Ilona Bannister, about our brand-new segment - Books You Should Be Talking about!

What is Books You Should Be Talking About?

Well, every month I will do a short interview with a writer or a book lover who will recommend a book that we all should be talking about!

We'll be talking about books and writers which you may or may not be familiar with, but that we are certain you will love discovering. 

Why does this new segment excite you?

One of the things I love about The Feminist Book Club is how supportive it is of women, LGBTQ+, and non-binary writers and of feminist writing. Writers rely on curious, avid readers to find their work and The Feminist Book Club is a great forum for putting new books by diverse authors on everyone's radar. 

Can you tell us the first pick?

Our first book, in celebration of Pride this June, Is Disappoint Me, by Nicola Dinan.

Tell us more about the story!

It's the story of Max, a trans woman, and her relationship with Vincent. Max is a published poet and a disenchanted lawyer. This book is a fantastic portrait of that time of life when everyone around you seems to be getting married or having kids, and moving forward in those ways, and the feeling you get when you're not sure if you're falling behind or leading a life down a different path.

Dinan shows us these milestones through Max's perspective and understanding their layered meaning for her as a trans woman.  Dinan is amazing at funny, witty dialogue, and Disappoint Me is at turns very funny, and very poignant and heartbreaking. It's a fabulous read or listen in audio. 

I hope you enjoy this month's pick, and I'm looking forward to introducing you to my guest next month! 

Ilona x

Here’s more about Ilona:

Ilona Bannister was a dual qualified US attorney and UK immigration solicitor before she started writing fiction. Her first novel, When I Ran Away, was developed on Faber Academy’s Work in Progress course.

Ilona’s experiences as a mother, lawyer, and an American transplant in Britain are reflected in her novels. Although she will always be a New Yorker at heart, Ilona’s is currently living by the seaside in Brighton. Find out more about her on her website here.

A Hunger for More: Appetite and Autonomy in Kat Dunn’s Hungerstone

Hungerstone by Kat Dunn is a dark, gothic reimagining of Sheridan Le Fanu’s Carmilla - the novella that famously inspired Dracula - set in the shadowy, windswept landscapes of Victorian England. Rich with atmosphere and emotional depth, it explores themes of female desire, repressed rage, and the suffocating weight of societal expectations. At its core, Hungerstone poses a piercing question: what do women hunger for in a world determined to confine them?

The novel centres on Lenore Crowther, a 30-year-old aristocrat locked in a marriage of strategic convenience to Henry Crowther, a steel magnate. Lenore, of high birth but little fortune, and Henry, lacking in title but heir to a vast industrial empire, form a union that is socially advantageous but devoid of love. Together their life is safe, structured, and sterile - offering Lenore stability, but little passion, freedom, or fulfillment.

When Henry abruptly relocates them from the bustling familiarity of London to the decaying Nethershaw estate in the remote Peak Lands, the isolation intensifies Lenore’s sense of displacement. It is here, amid the mists and the moors, that they rescue Carmilla Kernstein from a carriage accident - and invite her to stay.

Carmilla’s arrival is a catalyst. Mysterious, sensual, and defiantly unconventional, she fascinates Lenore from the outset. The longer she remains at Nethershaw, the more Lenore is forced to confront her own long-buried desires and simmering dissatisfaction with her life. What begins as intrigue deepens into longing - an emotional and erotic awakening that threatens to unravel everything Lenore has been taught to value.

Lenore’s privilege, though perhaps outwardly enviable, is built on restriction. As a woman of her class, her role is narrowly prescribed: be dutiful, be ornamental, be silent. She is bound by her husband’s name, status, and expectations. In this light, her hunger is not just for touch or affection - it is for selfhood. For autonomy. For escape.

The evolving relationship between Lenore and Carmilla captures the intricate tensions of female desire in a world that punishes women for wanting more. Their bond - undeniably charged with attraction - transcends romantic or physical desire. It becomes a testament to the power of female solidarity in a culture that thrives on pitting women against each other. In Dunn’s world, that solidarity becomes a quiet form of revolution in itself. 

The gothic setting - Nethershaw’s crumbling corridors, the bleak moorland, the shadows that cling to every surface - all act to mirror Lenore’s inner turmoil. The recurring motif of hunger, both physical and symbolic, pulses through the novel, representing a yearning for freedom, authenticity, and the right to claim one’s own narrative.

Ultimately, Hungerstone is a fierce feminist reimagining of a classic gothic tale. Through Lenore’s journey of self-discovery and quiet rebellion, Dunn crafts a story that is haunting, sensuous, and profoundly moving. For anyone interested in stories where the personal is political, and where desire becomes a form of defiance, Hungerstone is a must-read!

*This book review has been written by Jessica Pagel (@fiftytwo_books), Hungerstone is published by Bonnier Books LTD. If you’d like to become a book club review writer, or if you are a publisher and would like to contact us, please email: londonfeministbookclubcic@gmail.com

Fragments of Self: Identity and Womanhood in ‘Mongrel’

(Jessica’s lovely image of ‘Mongrel’ by Hanako Footman, taken in one of London’s sunny parks!)

Hanako Footman's debut novel, Mongrel, is a poignant exploration of identity, belonging, and the multifaceted experiences of womanhood.

Through the interwoven narratives of three Japanese women —Mei, Yuki, and Haruka — Footman delves into the complexities of cultural duality, grief, and the search for self in a world that often marginalises and misunderstands.

Mei lives in suburban Surrey with her father and stepmother, her Japanese mother having died when she was just six. As the years pass, her connection to her heritage slowly fades. Surrounded by subtle racism and well-meaning microaggressions, Mei learns to downplay the parts of herself that are Japanese — gradually chipping away at her identity in order to belong. What remains is a young woman left with a hollow sense of self and a quiet ache for a cultural home she has never truly known.

Yuki, a gifted violinist, leaves Japan to study at a prestigious music school in London. Her dreams of freedom quickly curdle as she finds herself entangled with her older, manipulative music teacher. Isolated by language, culture, and a predatory dynamic she can’t easily escape, Yuki’s story is a haunting portrait of coercion and displacement.

 Then there’s Hanako, who runs away from a harsh and stifling upbringing in rural Japan to become a hostess in Tokyo’s sex district. She drowns her grief in the neon-lit nightlife of the city, but when long-buried family secrets resurface, Hanako must face the very past she’s tried so hard to forget.

 At first, the connections between these women are unclear, but as the novel unfolds, we see how their stories echo and intertwine. All three navigate questions of identity, belonging, and the crushing weight of other people’s expectations—especially men’s. The novel deftly critiques the fetishisation of Japanese women and the internalised racism that often results. One powerful motif is the characters’ discomfort with their own appearance—stretching their eyes, envying lighter features, longing to be someone else. Mei’s own struggles as a 'Hāfu'—a term for someone half-Japanese—are particularly poignant; she is both envied and alienated, celebrated and erased.

 Footman’s prose is lush with detail and alive with specificity—her descriptions of the Japanese countryside, the London underground, even Mei’s best friend Fran, are vivid and textured. The narrative structure, characterised by short chapters and shifting perspectives, allows for a deep dive into each character's psyche, revealing the nuanced ways in which their lives intersect. The inclusion of Japanese fairy tales adds another layer of cultural richness, serving as both a narrative device and a reflection of the characters' inner worlds.

Ultimately, Mongrel is a story of longing—for wholeness, for home, for a version of oneself that feels intact. It’s a stunning, nuanced, and deeply feminist novel, and one I’ll be thinking about for a long time.

*This book review has been written by our book club reviewer, Jessica Pagel, (@fiftytwobooks on Instagram). If you would like to become a review for The Feminist Book Club please email us.

‘Deep Cuts’ by Holly Brickley, reviewed by Ceire

Set against the lively backdrop of the early 2000s music scene, Deep Cuts follows Percy Marks, a UC Berkeley student whose talent lies not in playing music but in her sharp, passionate critique of it. A chance encounter with aspiring songwriter Joe Morrow sparks a years-long partnership.

Percy’s voice—self-aware, biting, relatable— and her tendency to dwell and over-analyse makes her a vivid and flawed protagonist. Her excitement and vulnerability as she connects with Joe at the bar sets the tone for their entire relationship. Percy’s fascination with, and adoration for, music, despite not being a musician herself, is a reminder of how passion alone can make us feel like insiders even when we’re on the periphery.

Through her obsessive listening and analysis, she has developed a deep, almost instinctual understanding of what makes a song great. Joe, despite his undeniable talent, relies on Percy’s wit and nuance to craft his most successful songs.

Their collaboration is exhilarating at first, each pushing the other to be better. But their ambitions and insecurities collide, disrupting their briefly idyllic relationship. Percy struggles with being a sidekick to Joe’s success—the uncredited architect of his best songs. Brickley navigates these tensions with honesty, beautifully articulating the mess of pride and jealousy that comes with the intimacy of a creative partnership, highlighting how creativity can both unite and isolate.

The settings—from Brooklyn dive bars to San Francisco’s vibrant dance floors—are richly drawn, capturing the spirit of the era while grounding the characters’ emotional journeys.

Brickley’s writing is playful and descriptive without being overwrought. Music is constantly weaved into the narrative - at the bar, in their flat, in her writing, in his playing - but this feels natural, unforced. And the playlist Brickley has created to soundtrack the book is fantastic—eclectic, unpretentious, full of bangers.

Deep Cuts examines the cost of collaboration. Percy is forced to question whether their partnership is helping her grow or holding her back—a relatable question for anyone who’s struggled to balance shared goals with personal identity. It’s a sharp, heartfelt novel about the messy, exhilarating process of finding your voice— in art, love, life.

We really enjoyed Deep Cuts and are very grateful to The Borough Press at Harper Collins for giving us advance copies of the book! The book will be coming to stores near you in March 2025, and if you are living in London, we will be giving away ten copies of this at our upcoming silent book club.

Finally, a huge thank you to our South London member Ceire (pictured below) for continuing to write such excellent book reviews for us! If you would like to become a review writer for us, please email us.

‘Fledging’ by Rose Diell: magical realism meets existential life questions

Fledging is a novella written by Rose Diell which was long listed for the Reflex Press Novella Award 2022. It follows a woman in her thirties, Lia, as she navigates making the biggest decision of her life: whether or not to have children.

Doctors warn Lia that she will soon be out of time, considered a ‘geriatric pregnancy’, and could regret not having children soon.

With her partner touring the world as a musician and her mother terminally ill, Lia is left alone with deciding whether or not motherhood is for her.

When one day, Lia shockingly lays an egg, the role of mother, or caregiver, is thrust upon her.

But motherhood is not Lia’s only dream. She is an aspiring songwriter, and while caring for the egg, which she calls Bird, she is also desperately trying to write the perfect song.

As Lia watches her friends move on with their lives through marriage and children, she struggles to be a supportive and compassionate friend.

She finds herself reaching out to her dying mother for support, questioning if she has any regrets in her own path, and within the book comes an incredible search for meaning.

“I adored this book. Fledging is so beautifully and cleverly written, drawing the reader in on the first page.” 

Diell has an incredible ability to write characters that feel so real and relatable. As a woman in my late twenties, I could strongly relate to so many elements of this book. 

I particularly loved the use of magical realism- Lia laying an egg feels like an impossibility, both for her and the reader, and yet the themes explored feel so real and engaging.

Exploring motherhood in this way hits on so many emotions that a new mother would feel: isolation, confusion and love, but in a way that feels novel and innovative. 

I adored this book. Fledging is so beautifully and cleverly written, drawing the reader in on the first page.

It is the perfect story for someone embarking upon this journey, but I truly believe that anyone can learn something from the novella.

People who can have children will understand the challenging decision-making process, as we are forced to choose between a career and parenthood.

For those who cannot carry a child, it is a beautiful insight into the mind of someone deep in the battle. 

Diell perfectly writes this scenario, without preaching or guilt-tripping, into an honest, open and often funny walk in Lia’s shoes. A must-read for parents and childfree adults alike.

If you would like to submit a piece for our blog, please email us.

‘Jaded’ by Ela Lee: the debut novel impossible to put down

I’ve always been a voracious reader, steaming through at least one book every week. 

But since I joined the Guildford Feminist Book Club, I have found myself reading more slowly, thinking more deeply about the plot and characters and why the author may have written the scene in a particular way. 

I want to be ready to talk about the book with the amazing bunch of women who come to these meetings each month.  We always have a lively and entertaining discussion, and each book club member sees something different in every book.

When there is an author event, we learn even more.

We were lucky enough to have Ela Lee, author of Jaded, visit us in January, and it was such an amazing experience to hear how the story was developed, what forms the characters and how their fates are decided.

Jaded is the story of a young mixed race woman, Jade, working in a city law firm.

She has a perfect English boyfriend and exciting job prospects, just as long as she works impossibly long hours and makes every effort to fit in. From the outside, Jade seems to have it all.

Things, however, are perhaps not quite as they seem.

The prologue reads, “…Jade isn’t even my real name. …Jade began as my Starbucks name, because all children of immigrants have a Starbucks name.”

This opening drew me in and made me want to know more about Jade’s complicated life.

Early in the story, at a company party, a lecherous senior partner is plying her with booze, and a male colleague who she likes and trusts, rescues her, takes her back to her own flat and puts her to bed. And when Jade wakes the next morning, hungover and sore, she can’t believe, or doesn’t want to believe, what else may have happened that night.

This is Lee’s debut novel and it is obvious she is writing about a world she knows well.

As I read how Jade’s life and relationships unravel, the pacing of the story and the well-rounded characters made the book impossible to put down.

While Jade dealt with her own pain, confusion and sense of betrayal by denying the whole thing and burying herself in work, I was willing her to act and demand help.

When her horrified mother wanted her to bury the whole experience, I was shocked and hurt.

When the heartbroken boyfriend sought Jade’s sympathy for the pain he was suffering (oh the poor injured perfect boyfriend) I wanted to shake him.

When senior colleagues turned their backs instead of supporting her, I was raging.

This isn’t a new story, but it is an important one to tell again.

Lee brings her professional experience and legal training to a forensic examination of how a young woman is so often let down by those who should protect her.

There is no Ally McBeal happy ending here because, in the real world, things are messy.

Jade is turned inside out and has to look hard at herself and decide how much of the person she has created in order to fit into the system is worth saving.

Watching her decide who she is makes for a compelling read.

Guildford Feminist Book Club member Alison with Ela Lee’s Jaded, which is now out in paperback.

Ela Lee attended The Feminist Book Club events in London, Guildford, Bristol and Sheffield.

‘Think Again’: Wilson’s beloved characters have grown up with us

Those who say never meet your heroes have never spent anytime in the company of Jacqueline Wilson.

My love for reading started when I was a child, to be specific it was the day I discovered author Jacqueline Wilson on the shelf in my school library.

Before I knew it, I had read her entire collection of children’s books.

I recall being quite a worried and anxious character yet I gained great comfort from her writing about the struggles of growing up.  

Fast forward from the 1990s to 2024, Jacqueline Wilson released her first adult fiction book: Think Again. This story covers the wonderful, unpredictable and puzzling journey of living life as a female.

This book features the characters from her beloved children’s novels but this time as adults: three girls in their forties.

Her writing style is engaging and captures joy in the most mundane and ordinary life events. The book therefore took me on a trip down memory lane and makes me so grateful the iconic author is back!

Wilson has taught me many things. One being how to feel comfortable in being myself, during an era when being an introverted and cautious kid was often viewed by society as a fault 

We live in a time where doing what makes me truly happy, and making decisions about my career and lifestyle which go against social normalities, are seen as acts of rebellion.

The launch event of Jacqueline Wilson’s latest novel ‘Think Again’

 On the day ‘Think Again’ was released, I attended the launch event with Dame Jacqueline Wilson. It was a very uplifting and wholesome evening.

I sat on the front row, with my copy of a signed edition in hand. Seeing Wilson come on stage was hard to put into words, I felt as if she is a life-long friend of mine, and this was the first time we were actually meeting! It was a very exciting evening filled with genuine and honest conversations, ahead of me starting to read the book.

 Think Again is sure to be a fantastic read for those discovering Jacqueline’s novels for the first time. She navigates new, fun and occasional choppy waters. Wilson still creates characters with such depth and relatability and the book is full of heart-warming friendships and an empowering reminder to all women: its never too late to change course. 

This review was written by book club member, Kerry.

If you would like to submit a piece for our blog, please email us.

‘Baby Teeth’ by Celia Silvani: a clever, gripping page-turner

Baby Teeth by Celia Silvani is a clever, astute and spine-tingling read. Fraught with tension and a sense of subtle unease, it left me feeling as though something bad was just around the corner. 

Baby Teeth tells the story of Claire, a newly expectant mother, who has struggled to fall pregnant for months. Now that she is pregnant, her dream is starting to feel more like a nightmare. The doctors and nurses are cold and distant, her husband has reduced her concerns to mere anxieties, and her family thinks this is all just a passing phase. Everyone thinks they know best, but isn’t that a mother’s job?

Isolated and vulnerable, Claire finds herself drawn into online ‘mummy forums’ for groups of women who believe in natural and ‘free’ birthing. One group in particular called ‘The Secret Goddesses’ slowly become an all-consuming obsession of hers. She begins talking to these women online for hours, reading their stories and finding a kinship and connection that she so desperately craves. She starts to confide solely in them rather than her husband, friends and family.

However, the more she withdraws into their world, the more unsettled she starts to feel. The group’s complete shunning of any medical intervention and refusal to sway from their beliefs starts to raise concerns – they seem intent on being right, but at what cost? 

“Silvani has tackled these important and ever-relevant themes in a clever, gripping and page-turning way”

Silvani writes effortlessly on the distress and vulnerability of pregnancy, maternal care and motherhood. Combined with the pressures of social media and the information overload of the internet, it is no wonder that the tension in the book is so palpable. Claire’s character, although frustrating at times, is always relatable. 

Silvani does a brilliant job of creating empathy for her characters and the choices that they make, even though we may not always understand them. Using a clever switch in perspective, we suddenly see another side of the protagonist and likewise, we gain a glimpse into the life of one of the more controversial characters, Flora, one of the main ‘Goddesses’. 

The traumas and anxieties associated with infertility is another topic that is adeptly handled in the book. We see the toll that it takes on Claire in the beginning and then again, we see it later through the character of Claire’s new friend, Taya. A ‘hostile environment’ is how the doctors describe her womb when she is finally denied any further rounds of IVF. The distress and suffering that this causes Taya is clear and saddening. 

What this highlighted for me is how harsh and alienating medical language and care around fertility struggles can be, it seems to suggest that the failure to conceive is the failure of the mother. This works further to demonstrate the many ways in which women may feel isolated, vulnerable and desperate for advocacy in their motherhood journey.

Silvani has tackled these important and ever-relevant themes in a clever, gripping and page-turning way. The story is character driven and through her cleverly drawn-out protagonists, Silvani manages to deliver insight and understanding in a poignant way. Shocking revelations, a dark online sisterhood, a sense of mounting dread as the finale approaches – Baby Teeth truly has it all! 

This blog was written by our book club volunteer, Jess Pagel.

Jess is a financial analyst living in London but originally from South Africa. Jess loves London and takes great inspiration from the city. She has a passion for reading and creative writing and tries to fill her spare time following these pursuits.

She graduated from the University of Cape Town with a degree in Marketing and Economics. You can find her on Instagram at @jess_pagel or you can read more of her book reviews at @fiftytwo_books. 

If you would like to submit a piece for our blog, please email us.

‘Mamele’ by Gemma Reeves: a story of love, sacrifice and belonging

Mamele by Gemma Reeves is a moving exploration of love, sacrifice, and the search for belonging.

The story dives deep into the complicated relationship between Edie and her mother, Zelda, as they struggle with their personal and cultural expectations. For me, the heart of the novel lies in how it portrays the tension and tenderness between mother and daughter - it is both relatable and heart-breaking.

At the start, I found myself feeling a lot of sympathy for Edie. Her sense of not fitting in hit close to home, and I think anyone who has ever felt like an outsider will feel that same pang. But as the story progresses, it becomes clear that Edie isn’t the only one shaped by her mother’s unpredictable and sometimes cruel temper.

Zelda is complicated - she is clearly carrying her own unresolved trauma, which spills over into selfishness and a deep-seated neglect of herself and those around her. It is a dynamic that is not uncommon, and I appreciated how the book captured those messy, generational patterns that shape us.

“Reeves’ prose is gentle and lyrical, which made even the tougher parts of the story feel strangely comforting”

Edie’s learned self-neglect follows her into adulthood. She lives with Joanna, who was part of a long-term polyamorous relationship with her and her late husband, Harry. Edie’s feelings for Joanna are so clear, but Reeves keeps us wondering whether the love is fully reciprocated or if Edie was just an add-on to Joanna and Harry’s marriage. Seeing Edie start to value herself more through her interactions with Joanna’s daughter and her half-sister throughout was one of the highlights of the novel.

Reeves’ prose is gentle and lyrical, which made even the tougher parts of the story feel strangely comforting. I felt transported between the tranquil Kent countryside and the vibrant energy of London in the 60s and 70s.

I didn’t grow up in a religious family, so I can only imagine how isolating it must be to come out as a young queer woman when your identity clashes with the values you’re surrounded by. Mamele opened my eyes to a depth of rejection and struggle that I hadn’t fully considered before, and it made Edie’s journey even more moving for me.

Overall, I found Mamele to be both a beautiful and insightful read. One of my favourite aspects was how it follows Edie’s life through the lens of different female relationships - each one adding layers to her story and showing the many ways women can shape and influence each other.

It is a novel that is as much about finding strength through connection as it is about navigating the scars of the past. If you’re looking for a story that is heartfelt, thought-provoking, and beautifully written, I’d definitely recommend giving Mamele a read.

This review was written by book club member, Ceire.

Ceire is originally from South Wales and now lives in West Norwood, London. She holds a PhD in chemical biology and works in policy and data analysis for a tech startup.

In her spare time you'll find her strolling around South London's parks with her dog and partner, or curled up with a good book.

If you would like to submit a piece for our blog, please email us.

Swifties and non-Swifties unite: ‘Look What You Made Me Do: A Love Letter to the Fandom Era’

I was so excited when I heard about Kat McKenna’s new book, Look What You Made Me Do: A Love Letter to the Fandom Era. I’d seen an influencer describe it as “a book about Taylor Swift”, and as a massive fan, I was intrigued.

Although Taylor’s name isn’t explicitly mentioned on the cover, the cover is suitably Taylor coded, with snakes and sparkles, the title a track from her 5th album, Reputation, and the golden word of the year: “era”.

However, the book is not all about Taylor. It is an exploration of fandom culture, looking at the history, culture and controversy of being a modern fan. While different groups of fans throughout pop history are analysed, the main objects of observation are Taylor Swift fans.

Kat herself is a huge Swiftie. She starts the book by sharing how her interest in Taylor began, and later describes how she went from a 11-year-old writing songs in her bedroom to the global powerhouse that she currently is.

From a fan’s perspective, Kat hits all the marks, including obscure facts about Taylor that I did not know while marking out the biggest moments in the timeline for new fans. She sprinkles her own magic throughout the book, casually dropping song titles into sentences, which keeps it exciting for long-time fans. 

Kat proceeds to step back and examines why fans hang onto these details in the first place. She observes how being part of a fandom used to be secret and something to be ashamed about (I remember from my teenage years endlessly watching Taylor Swift music videos alone in my room).

“This is a fun and thought provoking read for Swifties and non-Swifties, who are looking to learn the lore or for a detailed observation of fandom culture. ”

Nowadays, it is a lot more accepted to be a fan of something. Celebrities like Taylor stand to benefit from having strong fandoms who will buy their merch, pack their stadiums and support their causes. Their keep their fans interested and value them which is crucial.

Yet, Kat shines a light on the darker side of fandom. The removal of the “fourth wall” has allowed celebrities to become closer to their fans than ever before, but this becomes problematic when the line of openness and privacy is blurred.  

An example given in the book is when Taylor dated Matty Healy last year and fans started a hashtag questioning her relationship given his previously problematic behaviour. They felt they were owed an explanation, when really, Taylor's love life is no one’s business. Her song writing abilities makes fans feel close to her, so much so that they think they know every thought in her head, because she seems to know theirs. Taylor’s fans are in a parasocial relationship with her, but it’s very much one way. 

This fact was hammered home to me when I went to the Eras Tour. I was one of 92,000 fans that night, each one of us screaming for Taylor to look our way just for a second. It was an amazing experience that made me blissfully happy for days afterwards. 

But as Kat points out, anything that makes young women happy is always going to be judged slightly more critically. Kat covers not only the endless sexism Taylor has faced throughout her career, but the sexism against female fans. Excited, screaming female fans are seen as “out of their minds”, where anything that makes women feel emotions is dismissed as trivial.

This is a fun and thought provoking read for Swifties and non-Swifties, who are looking to learn the lore or for a detailed observation of fandom culture.  

This review was written by book club member, Erin.

Erin lives in Tooting Bec and works as a Marketing Manager for a non-fiction publisher.

She's from Scotland and moved to London 3 years ago. You'll find her zoning out to an audiobook around Tooting Common or enjoying a pint at the Wheatsheaf.

If you would like to submit a piece for our blog, please email us.

‘Butter’: rebelling against Japanese beauty standards

Butter by Asako Yuzuki is a bold, indulgent and confronting look at misogyny, loneliness and food in Japanese culture. The book is based on the real case of the ‘The Konkatsu Killer’, and tells the story of Manako Kaji, a talented home cook and ‘femme fatale’ who uses her culinary skills to seduce and kill her lovers.

The book begins with Kaji in the Toyoko Detention House awaiting trial. Her case is a media sensation: everyone is talking about it, and every journalist is vying for an interview. Kaji, however, refuses them all. Early in the novel, it becomes clear that the  true horror and fascination that the public hold with over this case is less about the grisly murders and more about the fact that Kaji is considered ‘fat’ and ‘ugly’ and couldn’t possibly have been loved by these men as she claims. This provides our first glimpse into the obsessive and oppressive culture around women’s aesthetics in Japan.

Kaji wholeheartedly defies this; she rebels against the expectations of weight and womanhood that are thrust upon her. She takes great pride in her figure and love of indulgent food. She boldly states: “There are two things that I simply cannot tolerate: feminists and margarine.” It seems to me, however, that her act of defiance is more feminist than even she realises.

On the other side of the spectrum is Rika Machida. Rika is a hard-working journalist in her 30s.  She works most nights and weekends, survives off convenience store bento boxes and maintains rigid control of her slim figure. She appears to be the very antithesis of Kaji. Rika attempts to gain an exclusive interview with Kaji by asking her for beef stew recipe – the last meal eaten by one of her victims. To her surprise, Kaji agrees and the two begin an intimate and controversial relationship.

Butter is a bold, indulgent and confronting look at misogyny, loneliness and food in Japanese culture

Our November meeting with North London Feminist Book Club members to discuss Asako Yuzuki’s, Butter

Their meetings are more culinary masterclasses than investigative journalism. Rika hopes that these informal exchanges will soften Kaji, but instead, it is Rika who begins to change. Kaji’s complete rejection of anything considered ‘feminism’ shifts something inside Rika and forces her to confront some of the contradictions that women are faced with: “Japanese women are required to be self-denying, hard-working and ascetic, and in the same breath to be feminine, soft and caring towards men.”

These unforgiving expectations are cleverly juxtaposed with the incredibly lenient ones placed on men. The book has a few older, male characters whose lives have fallen into disrepair. But instead of this being seen as a failure of personal responsibility, it is looked upon kindly and politely excused. Taking this one step further, Yuzuki points out that, in fact, it is often the responsibility of women to care for these men and it is seen as their failure if their father/husband/brother allows themselves fall apart.

Butter clearly tackles some meaty themes (as well as some delicious meats) and does so in such a clever way. The food descriptions in the book are rich and luscious, they seem to ooze off the page - and contrasted with the constant barrage of fat phobia - it makes for a compelling mix.

The ‘crime thriller’ element, which I expected to drive the novel, becomes secondary to the social commentary, and what evolves is a book centred around women: our roles, our responsibilities, the expectations and pressure we face, the power of female connectivity, and the true potential that lies beyond all these oppressive forces.

This blog was written by our book club volunteer, Jess Pagel.

Jess is a financial analyst living in London but originally from South Africa. Jess loves London and takes great inspiration from the city. She has a passion for reading and creative writing and tries to fill her spare time following these pursuits. She graduated from the University of Cape Town with a degree in Marketing and Economics. You can find her on Instagram at @jess_pagel or you can read more of her book reviews at @fiftytwo_books. 

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