Why men read less than women — And how to change it

It remains a sad truth universally acknowledged that women read more books than men.

Twenty years ago, Ian McEwan remarked that ‘when women stop reading, the novel will be dead’. I found myself thinking about that last week, sitting by the pool on holiday. 

The women — myself included — were all reading novels. The men, almost without exception, were staring at their phones. Doom scrolling. A small snapshot, perhaps, but one that reflects — and still reflects — a broader reality.

When cosy meets cathartic: the revival of WWII family sagas

There is something quietly astonishing about returning to a decades-old series and finding it not only still relevant, but newly resonant. That's precisely what is happening with the revival of Elizabeth Jane Howard’s Cazalet Chronicles. I have loved reading these.

It’s no wonder Hilary Mantel said these were the books she told everyone to read, and wondered why she wasn’t as widely read as Jane Austen. Mantel suggested, in a Guardian article, that part of the reason Howard was underrated and underread was because she was a messy modern woman and was judged for it. 

Beyond genre: experimental and alt-lit’s bold new directions

Genres are meant to be helpful. They signpost where to look on the shelves in bookshops and libraries, offering a comforting sense of what to expect. But what happens when a book won’t stay put? 

When its narrative is fragmented, its form elastic, and its voice deliberately hard to pin down?

Eco-fiction and cli-fi: why climate-centred narratives are more crucial than ever

Not long ago, a story about climate disaster might have been shelved neatly in the realm of science fiction. Now, it reads like realism with a sense of urgency. 

As global temperatures climb and natural disasters become routine news, climate fiction, often shortened to "cli-fi", has shed its speculative skin and settled into something uncomfortably close to home.

The quiet power of slow books

Some novels refuse to be hurried. They ask for patience, not because they’re difficult, but because they move differently. You don’t tear through them. You live in them.

I was thinking about this as I slowly make my way through Lonesome Dove, by Larry McMurtry. It’s that kind of book. There are, of course, plenty of others.

Why we keep coming back to the same books over and over

There are books I’ve read two or three times, and picked up more times. Not out of duty, but from a pull I can’t quite explain. 

They’re not always my favourites in the traditional sense. But they know something about me, or I know something about them. That's the power of rereading. 

Why the Literary western endures — and what’s driving Lonesome Dove’s TikTok resurgence

There’s something quietly electric about Lonesome Dove’s return in the BookTok universe: the dust-swept epics and tender, layered characters suddenly feel urgent again. 

In a time when TikTok scrolls through bite‑sized narratives, this sprawling western reminds us that sometimes we long for horizons—not just on screen, but in story. 

Reading for Joy: How to escape a reading slump and embrace comfort in 2025

It happens quietly. It has happened to me. The pile of unread books grows taller, the will to open one grows thinner, and suddenly reading—this thing we once loved—feels like homework. We tell ourselves we’ll get back to it.

When things slow down. When we’re more focused. When we finally feel smart enough for the Booker-longlisted doorstop. But maybe the way out of a slump isn’t through discipline or guilt. Perhaps it’s a return to softness. To stories that ask nothing of us except to enjoy them. In 2025, perhaps the kindest thing we can do is let reading be easy again.

How to write like Joan Didion

What makes a Joan Didion sentence unmistakable? It’s not only the vocabulary or the rhythm. It’s the control. The precise needlepoint balance between distance and emotion, between clarity and chaos. Her prose doesn’t shout; it slices.

In her best work, Didion captures a moment so cleanly that the emotional aftermath lingers longer than the reading itself. Consider this line from The Year of Magical Thinking:

"Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it."

Experimental & Alt-Lit movements — When internet culture writes fiction

If you’ve ever found yourself falling down a rabbit hole of Tumblr confessions, TikTok poetry, or a Reddit thread that reads like a novella, you’ll recognise the spirit of alt-lit.

This loose, slippery movement isn’t a genre so much as a sensibility, one that embraces the textures of online life and folds them directly into literature. It’s fiction with its hair mussed up, still smelling faintly of late-night scrolling.

Climate fiction and Neurodivergent narratives — The rise of conscious storytelling

Something’s shifting in the novels. The stories feel sharper somehow, as if they know they’re not just here to entertain. They’re here to nudge us. Sometimes to provoke us. Occasionally, to jolt us out of complacency.

Two trends stand out in this tide of literary urgency: the rise of climate fiction (or “cli-fi” if you like your genres neatly abbreviated) and a richer, more authentic representation of neurodivergent characters. These aren’t new themes in literature, but they are being handled with a depth and immediacy that feels uniquely 2025.

Is fan fiction the new slush pile? What editors are really looking for

There was a time when fan fiction lived in the shadows, tucked into forums, buried in tags, dismissed as derivative, and looked down upon. It wasn’t writing. It was adoration as typing. 

Not anymore. Now, it’s edging toward centre stage, commanding the attention of publishers, agents, and readers alike.