Back from Crete but not crazy-exhausted because I’d expected to have to fly back for the Ink Book Prize awards in central London on 25 June and then – win or lose – fly out again. Had been dreading the London trip to the Ink Book awards ever since the weather warnings started, three or four weeks ago Over-imaginative to a fault, I instantly visualised every EasyJet engine suffering heatstroke – probably somewhere over France – Gatwick’s runway reduced to tarry custard, the Gatwick Express rails frazzled at every edge, and the M25 motorway riddled with cracks. Basically, your travelling nightmare.

However, June 25th turned out to be – as some of you might just have noticed – one of the hottest days in London, EVER. And so the Ink Book Prizegiving is postponed till September, yay!!! (I’d never have dreamed of flying home for an award event EXCEPT that (a) there are only four finalists for adult fiction, which is unusually good odds. Also (b) they sound really friendly and it’s a networking thing.)

I’m also secretly thrilled that the new date is a resonant one for me. Not only will my mum be 95^th on September 15^th BUT… September 15^th is the date I first flew – a nervous 22-year-old cellist– from Dulles Airport to Heathrow, clutching (a) my Hill cello – for which I had to purchase a child’s seat – and (b) a suitcase, for what was supposed to be a single, adventurous, year in London, studying with Jacqueline du Pre. Have been a Londoner ever since.

I am allergic to heat plus humidity. Have yet to win a serious tennis match in temperatures over 80 Fahrenheit/26 Celsius. In fact, on one memorable occasion, Fang – her first name, but one which also perfectly describes her approach to singles – demolished me 6-0, 6-0 in the singles quarterfinals. And yes, I had break points, loads of them. Trouble was, on every deuce or break point,  Fang dug in harder. Fang is a natural tennis predator, which I’ll never be! ☹!!!

Instead, on hot days, I morph into a typical Regency heroine. In dire need of smelling salts, my service toss wobbles, my lob loses the will to live, my groundies misfire. Had Jane Austen’s Regency heroines ever messed about with tennis, they might’ve been pretty much the same. (Though I can imagine Emma’s wicked forehand, and Lizzy with a crazy-good serve... which is yet another thing I have not got.

Also great was that I meanwhile received the thrilling news that the Warleigh Hall Press Jane Austen Series just won the silver medal in the famous IPPY’s Book Series Award (fiction, all genres). REALLY happy about this.

Pride and Perjury won a gold IPPY last year and Harriet swiped a bronze in 2023, so now I’ve got all three!!! The gold medallist for the series award writes LGBTQ fantasy fiction… and the bronze medallist’s series is Christian whodunnits, so it really was a massive range of entrants for the fictional book series.

When we’re in Crete and it gets anywhere near 35 Celsius/90 Fahrenheit, you’ll catch me in the air-con, reading, with the World Cup/pro tennis on.

This trip – well, we were away for weeks –  I read the following (ranked in THIS order by me and entirely omitting those I didn’t finish. (If a book hasn't grabbed me by forty pages, it's a DNF. There are too many great books I still haven't got round to yet, is why.

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• Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders. This was smacked-it-out-of-the-ballpark good. Crazily good, won the Booker Prize about a decade ago). Just a wow!!!!
  
  
• This is Where the Serpent Lives by Daniyal Mueenuddin A Shakespearian drama set in modern-day Pakistan. Stylish, believable, and unputdownable!!
  
  
• The Land in Winter by Andrew Miller is clever and well-written. Counts as historical fiction, as set in1962 Britain, amid the famous snow storms. Unluckily, the end didn’t quite work, imho.
  
  
• Don Quixote by Cervantes (the second half). I’d already read the first half near the end of 2025 and took a break… the best way to read Don Quixote is in snippets. But yes, it is brilliantly funny, and a classic, of course.
  
  
• The Loneliness of Sonya and Sunny by Kiran Desai. Another Booker shortlister. Well-written but, “once I put it down, I just couldn’t pick it up”. Think Seth’s A Suitable Boy with posher prose.
  
  
• Audition by Katie Kitamura displays truly stunning writing, but the second half simply didn’t work… everything in the first half thrown out of the window. Just a gamble too far from this great writer.
  
  
• I’ll mature When I’m Dead by Dave Barry. I picked this only for light relief by the beach.
  
  
• Ditto for Trollope’s Doctor Thorne, as have read it maybe five times already. Any Austenite who hasn't read it, DO!!!
  
  
• The Correspondent by Virginia Evans. This had a great inciting idea but was ultimately rather annoying. However, if you – like so many – adored The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, this one’s for you!
  
  
• Whistler by Ann Patchett. Sadly, my disappointment of the summer. Just glutinously sentimental, especially the ending. Patchett is generally one of my unmissable authors. Strongly recommend you read her masterful Tom Lake or The Dutch House.
  
  
• The Things We Never Say by Elizabeth Strout. This has moments of Strout’s true genius but, rather like Patchett, she's not quite at her best. Still has moments of wry humour, though.

 Almost open!!!! Women's fiction (all types but all clean romance)

From ancient Egypt to the 20th century, some brand new and some multi-awardwinners!!!