Best Books of 2025 — My Top 10 Favourites

First off I should clarify that this is a list of favourite books that I read in 2025. It is not a list of favourite books published in 2025. Although, there are two books here that do fit that description. 

Secondly, I know what my number one book of the year is, but while I did try to come up with an order for the remaining nine books it felt arbitrary. After a month of trying to rank them, I gave up. In 2024, I couldn’t even come up with a top 10, it was a top 29. I never did publish that post, because by the time I had whittled the list down to 11 books, it was February, and the moment had passed. In 2023, I was only able to get the list down to 32 books! And a top 32 books of the year just sounds mad. What I can tell you with certainty about this list for 2025 is that every book deserves to be here.

Thirdly, I have made a YouTube video to compliment this post. Where I fail at eloquence I believe I make up for in enthusiasm. You can judge for yourself. (Watch the video here.)

And now, here they are, in no particular order, the Top 10 Best Books I Read in 2025.

The Woman in the Hall by G.B. Stern (1939)

We are starting off strong with a chunky book from the British Library Women Writers collection. Lorna Blake, a professional beggar, solicits money from the select rich by calling on them at home and spinning a story that all but ensures she has money in hand by the time she walks out the door. The rush of swindling promises excitement that is lacking in the rest of Lorna’s life. Like a gambler who cannot kick the habit, Lorna goes out again, and again, dragging one or the other of her daughters, Molly and Jay, with her. Molly soon dreads hearing that they are going out “Visiting”, but Jay develops her own complicated fascination with the task.

I thought I saw where this one way going, but it turns out I didn’t have a clue. I enjoyed reading this one slowly. This is such a rich text for unpicking the complicated relationships between mothers and daughters, and between sisters. But there is also a feeling of foreboding as the net tightens around Lorna, which makes this book a bit of a page-turner. Read it fast or slow, I cannot recommend it enough. (Read my full review of The Woman in the Hall here.)

Spring Begins by Katherine Dunning (1934)

I was completely swept away with Katherine Dunning’s novel, The Spring Begins. Her descriptions of setting are gorgeous. The women in this book are so well described, and you cannot help but feel for each of them. And I think she does a fantastic job of capturing the tension, unease, and vulnerability of being a woman, especially—I assume—a woman in domestic service in the 1930s.

Despite the title, this book is set in the heat of summer. The spring referred to is a figurative one alluding to the awakening of three women. Lottie is a young nurse maid who cares for the two Kellaway girls, and is painfully innocent and fearful of the world of men. Maggie, the Kellaways’ scullery maid, is more knowing of men, but perhaps not as experienced with them as Cook seems to think. The oldest of the three women, Hessie, is a spinster and governess to the two Benson girls at the nearby rectory. When her younger sister gets engaged she faces a crisis. 

I loved seeing Lottie’s love for the children she looks after, Maggie’s strong sense of self, but Hettie, turned out to be the real wonder for me. It took me longer to warm up to her, but the journey she must travel in her awakening takes her the furthest. I won’t spoil how her story progresses, but I will say it is not the only aspect of this book that took me by surprise.

I loved this book. It is not plot-y, but how the narrative alternates between these three women’s perspectives kept me glued to the page. (Read my full review of Spring Begins here.)

London Particular by Christianna Brand (1952)

This is my favourite book the British Library have republished in their Crime Classics collection. London Particular is atmospheric, thrilling, smart, twisty, and provides a good dose of humour to boot.

On a typically foggy November night in 1950s London, a couple are trying to find their way to a dying man, after receiving a strange phone call to a doctor’s surgery urging someone to come quick. They arrive at the house to discover the man has been murdered.

When Rosie’s brother becomes a main suspect, she enlists the help of family friend, Inspector Cockrill, to aid the police in their investigations. Cockie is sharp, smart, dependable, and so very likeable.

In the long, white firelit drawing-room the victim bowed and smiled and reeled off his devoirs before the serious work of the evening should begin; within the radius of one fog-bound mile, were these seven people, one of whom was very shortly going to murder him.

This book kept me guessing through to the very last stunning sentence. 

I highly recommend picking this one up if you like character driven mysteries with intricately woven plots that will keep you reading well past your bed time. (Read my full review of London Particular here.)

The Wheel Spins by Ethel Lina White (1936)

This book is battling it out with London Particular as my favourite book in the British Library Crime Classics collection.

The wheel was still spinning for her.

And since their fates were interlinked it was spinning also for Miss Froy.

Having seen her friends off a couple of days ago, Iris Carr is left to travel home from her European holiday by herself. While waiting at the train station, she collapses in the hot sun. Feeling ill and disoriented, she is bundled into a packed compartment as the train pulls away from the platform. She gets a cold feeling from her fellow travellers, and has the odd impression that they don’t like her. 

Thankfully, a woman, who introduces herself as Miss Froy, befriends Iris and noticing she doesn’t look well, takes her under her wing. Feeling better after a cup of tea, Iris drifts off to sleep.

When Iris awakes Miss Froy is no longer sitting across from her. At first Iris assumes the woman has just stepped out of the compartment, but as time goes on, Iris’s worry builds. Iris questions her fellow passengers about the missing woman, but they all say they don’t know who she is talking about. The suggestion is made that Iris has dreamt the woman up, a side effect of the heatstroke she is recovering from. 

At first, Iris even doubts herself. But the more she thinks of all the details that chatty Miss Froy shared with her, Iris becomes certain that Miss Froy is not simply a figment of her imagination. 

Miss Froy is missing and her fellow passengers must be lying about it. But who would want to harm a middle-aged governess, who herself claims not to have an enemy in the world?

This is a beautifully written book, full of atmosphere, tension, and—a rare thing to find in a mystery thriller—hope.

If the plot sounds at all familiar that’s because this book was adapted for film in 1938 by Alfred Hitchcock under the title The Lady Vanishes. And a very good adaption it is, though much more humorous and lighthearted than the book. (Read my full review The Wheel Spins here.)

The Christmas Egg by Mary Kelly (1958)

I absolutely loved this book. I read it during the festive season and it was exactly what I wanted to be reading. Snowy, Christmassy, and thrilling! 

A Russian princess who many years ago escaped the Russian Revolution for London is found murdered in her flat. It is rumoured she fled Russia with a chest of jewels, which her grandson had seen recently, but there is no sign of the priceless gems at the scene. What follows is a compelling mystery which escalates to the dramatic climax which takes our detective to the Kentish countryside decked out in snow-covered glory.

Just thinking about the final few chapters of this book makes me want to read it again before the winter is over, and write a proper review for it while I’m at it! 

Over Sea, Under Stone by Susan Cooper (1965)

This is book one in The Dark is Rising Sequence. My friend, Mary, gifted me this book with a beautiful bookmark she had painted and three tea bags, with the suggestion that I spend a lovely day drinking tea and reading this book. One day in late summer, I did just that. 

Great-Uncle Merry meets siblings, Simon, Jane, and Barney at a train station in Cornwall, the land of King Arthur. And King Arthur just so happens to be Barney’s favourite hero. Then he finds a parchment in his uncle’s attic, an old map that will send them on a quest to find a grail. That would be exciting enough. But little do they know, they are caught in a battle between good and evil which has them lost between two worlds.

Set in summer amongst a seaside village with cliffs that plunge into the wild sea hiding caves and crevices for great adventures and intrigue. Wonderfully tense, exciting, and — the essential ingredient when good and evil are battling it out — hope. 

I loved this book so much that I was daunted by the task of trying to articulate my feelings about it. I can’t think about this book without feeling a longing to sit down with it again. Save this one for a summer day and binge it in one sitting.

Pat of Silver Bush by L.M. Montgomery (1933)

Patricia Gardiner is a young girls who lives with her family on their farm, Silver Bush, on Prince Edward Island, Canada. One day is much the same as the next on the farm, until they are not. From starting school and getting a baby sister, to attending her aunt’s wedding, through to Pat’s own first romance, she grows up and manages the changes as best she can but always comes back to her home, Silver Bush, the one place that doesn’t change. Well, not too much anyway. 

I started this book in the third week of September and only just finished it in December. This is a book that made me feel a lot. I wanted to savour it, but I also found myself not wanting to read too much at once. Big feelings are best felt in small doses, I find. I recognise that my strong feelings for this book might not be shared by others. I identified with Pat to a great extent, and at the risk of sounding a bit silly, this book and her character made me feel seen. 

In the end they found a beauty spot … a deep, still, woodland pool out of which the brook flowed, fed by a diamond trickle of water over the stones of a little hill. Around it grew lichened spruces and whispering maples, with little “cradle hills” under them; and just beyond a breezy slope with a few mossy, grass-grown sticks scattered here and there, and a bluebird perched on the point of a picket. It was all so lovely that it hurt. Why, Pat wondered, did lovely things so often hurt?

I think it’s a special book, even when compared to the many other wonderful books Lucy Maud Montgomery has written. But beyond my admiration for Maud’s ability to capture what it is to grow up as a girl who loves home and feels everything deeply, this is just a great book. It is full of nostalgia and longing for childhood, and I don’t think it is a stretch to suggest that Maud explored her own feelings of longing for Prince Edward Island when she was writing this book. There is no big plot, just small moments in a young girl’s life, appreciating nature, happiness, and heartbreak, and sometimes, all of these things at once.

The Eights by Joanna Miller (2025)

Since I stopped using Goodreads, I started keeping a Books Read list. Next to each title I write a short note to myself. Usually, it’s no more than a sentence, sometimes it’s just a few words. Next to this one I wrote, “what’s next for these women???” I would love a follow up book to this one, not because I didn’t think the ending was satisfying, but because I didn’t want to be without these women in my life. 

Joanna Miller’s debut novel was an absolute treat. I found myself trying to spin out the time I got to spend with the four women in this fabulous book. Even so, the time went by much too quickly.

1920 — Oxford University has for the first time in its 1,000-year history admitted female students as full members of the university. In October, at the start of Michaelmas term, four young women move into Corridor Eight of St. Hugh’s College. Beatrice, Dora, Marianne, and Otto couldn’t be more different, but soon the unlikely quartet become the closest of friends. 

Not everyone is happy about women being allowed in the university and from the first day the foursome find themselves facing that opposition head-on.

Outside of living on the same floor at their college, these four would not likely have been attracted to each other. But the combination of living in close proximity, the common goal of getting an Oxford education, and an incident they experience just after meeting, all create the perfect circumstances to make their friendship not just believable, but feel natural and true.

What first attracted me to this book was the time and place in history in which it is set. I felt thoroughly immersed in the world of this well-researched novel. I marvelled at how many rules were imposed on the women students that were required of their male contemporaries, and the references to Winifred Holtby, Vera Brittain, Agatha Christie, and Thomas Hardy gave me a little thrill.

But what makes this book such an endearing one is the friendship that forms between Beatrice, Dora, Marianne, and Otto. I appreciated that they were never in competition with each other. These women are individually such bright lights, but together they shine even brighter.

I want to thank Kathryn (@_the_book_bug_ on Instagram) for bringing this book to my attention. After reading her review I couldn’t get the book out of my head. A day later, I pre-ordered it. (Read my full review of The Eights here.)

Love Divine by Ysenda Maxtone Graham (2025)

This book begins on a blustery day in early January in the village of Lamley Green. People are just waking up, making hot cuppas, and opening the curtains. But the curtains at 12 Holly Grove remain closed as letters of condolence are pushed through the letterbox.

Lucy Fanthrope, whose husband Nick, respected lawyer and dependable member of the church choir, died unexpectedly on New Year’s Day. The letters are variable in nature, some touching, some funny, in many the writers come across as shockingly self-involved.

We are privy to many perspectives across the wide range of characters who live in this village. Everyone is connected in this small community both to each other and through the parish church, St Luke’s, which is currently without a resident rector and suffering through a long interregnum. 

There’s Carol, who volunteers to do the church coffee service. Vicki and Eliot who are facing the uphill battle of running a B&B. New to the village, Chantelle will stop at nothing to get her daughter into the oversubscribed church school. And then there is my personal favourite, Hugh. Newly retired schoolmaster, who lives with his dog Odo, and has every piece of his clothing on a numbered rotation.

The characters in this book are either facing loss or are going through a phase of transition in their lives. Maxtone Graham does a wonderful job of capturing how as one is facing supreme sadness and loss, life is dotted with moments of beauty and joy. 

I shed more than a couple of tears while reading this book, but I mostly giggled, smiled, smirked, and nodded along to the ridiculous, funny, endearing, relatable bits in this glorious book. I wholeheartedly loved it. Set over the course of year, starting in January, this would be a great book to pick up right now. (Read my full review of Love Divine here.)

If you’ve made it this far, you deserve a metal. Instead, let me tell you about the best book I read in 2025...

Crooked Cross by Sally Carson (1934)

I read Sally Carson’s Crooked Cross back in April, when it was first republished by Persephone Books. Even then I knew it was going to be among my top ten this year, and I was all but certain it would be in the number one slot. It’s just that kind of book.

It is a powerful account of the rise of Nazism in Germany and how it affects one family in a small Bavarian market town in the mountains south of Munich. It begins at Christmas 1932. The Klugers are happy and looking forward to the future with optimism for the first time in years. The younger son has joined the Nazi Party and the elder son who has been unable to find work soon joins up too. The daughter Lexa, is engaged to Moritz Weissmann, a surgeon with a bright future. Moritz and his father, celebrate Christmas with the Klugers and the two families already feel joined. In the new year, Hitler is elected Chancellor, and everything changes. 

Moritz loses his job at the hospital because he is Jewish, and he is unable to find another. With no money coming in, Moritz and his father are forced to move to a one-room flat. Soon Lexa’s brothers, Erich and Helmy, are telling Lexa that surely she must see that she has to give Moritz up because he is a Jew. 

All her muddled ideas and thoughts, her worries and anxieties for Moritz had a reason, a point, an ending now. This was her loyalty; this was where she had to act. This was her moment, the moment for which she must have been waiting.

This book is powerful. It’s moving. It’s devastating. Hard to believe it was published in 1934, just a year after some of the events in the novel take place, and without the hindsight of what was going to happen in Germany. This is not a cosy book, but it is so important. Everyone should read this book. (Read my full review of Crooked Cross here.)

Final thoughts

In general, I read a lot of books that are either out of print or have recently been republished, so I’m not surprised this is evident in this list. But what I was surprised about is that half the books on this list were originally published in the 1930s. And a quarter of the books I read this year were from this decade. The only decade that was close to that were the 2020s, with 22 per cent, and almost half of those books were published in 2025. I have never before tracked the publication years of the books I’ve been reading. I started thinking about it when I heard Simon Thomas from the Tea or Books? podcast talking about his Century of Books challenge. 

Like I said at the start of this post, I read so many wonderful books this year that it was very difficult to narrow the list down to just 10. I am not a decisive person and I hate having to pick favourites, because it is so definite. To state the obvious, once you pick a favourite book or top 10, you are leaving out any number of wonderful books that you may have read over the course of the year. It feels a bit harsh. Frankly, it feels mercenary to me. But I strive to champion the very best books, always, which is why I feel it is necessary to put myself through this decision making torture.

I would love to know if there are any reading stats that you like to track, or have decided to start tracking in 2026. And what was the best book you read in 2025? Or best books? I, of all people, can understand if you cannot pick just one.

Some of the books in this post were sent to me by publishers, but as always, all opinions on these books are my own. Thank you British Library Publishing and Slightly Foxed for being so generous to me in 2025.

***If you got something out of this post, please consider subscribing to my blog. You can find the email sign up on the right hand side at the top of this page (on desktop version only), or click on the link here. You will receive a confirmation email in your inbox (or possibly your junk folder). Once you click to confirm your email address you will receive an email notification whenever a new blog post goes up. And, of course, you can unsubscribe at any time. Feel free to email me if you have any trouble subscribing, or if you just want to chat about books. I would love to hear from you! Whether you subscribe or not, I’m thankful you are here.***

Jane Austen at Home by Lucy Worsley

It’s been a while since I posted here, to state the obvious. I was unexpectedly diverted by other things in December, but chiefly with creating videos for Vlogmas over on my YouTube channel. It was very fun making so many videos in such a short amount of time. It was also quite time consuming. Now that I’ve had a rest over the holidays, and eased up on my YouTube posting schedule — I’ll just be posting one to two videos per week from here on out — I can get back to working on these longer form reviews, which I have missed doing.

One of the books I started the year off with is Lucy Worsley’s wonderful, Jane Austen at Home (2017). I don’t read very much non-fiction. Novels are the books I predominantly gravitate towards. I also happen to be quite a slow reader, so I often don’t pick up chunkier books even if they are on topics I’m interested in because of how long they will take me to finish. But one of my resolutions this year is to not let little things like page count discourage me from reading a book I’m interested in. I’m looking for quality over quantity in my reading this year. And that’s quality of reading experience, not necessarily the quality of the book. The two may not always coincide. 

Anyway, I am so happy I finally picked this one up. Lucy Worsley’s writing is conversational without being too simplistic, and reading this book was an absolute joy. I learned so much about Jane Austen, the spaces she inhabited, as well as odd little tidbits about the time in which she lived. 

As so often happens when I read non-fiction, it is these odd bits that got my attention and that I am still thinking about when I am washing the dishes, getting my dog bundled up for a cold walk, or doing any of the other daily tasks that make me thankful I am a reader so I have something to think about other than my life or the state of the world. Here is one such morsel of information that made me stop in my tracks when I came across it.

Recent scholarship, however, has emphasised that Georgian ‘accomplishments’ weren’t just for the ladies. Jane’s brother Frank was obsessed, as were many Georgian gentlemen, with turning out small wooden items on a lathe: he ‘is so delighted with the employment, that he is at it all day long’. And Jane herself would in later life treasure the gift of a footstool embroidered by a nephew. […] The fact was that young men of the leisured classes needed hobbies simply to pass the time. (57)

The part about the embroidery, while interesting is not what grabbed my attention. Embroidery is not a messy hobby. It can be done inside while socialising with family or guests. Woodworking is another thing entirely. Somehow, I cannot picture Mr. Darcy engaged in woodworking. Edward Ferrars is more easy to imagine in this scene, I grant you, but what would he be wearing? And where, pray, would he be working? It’s certainly not something that could be done in the drawing room. A lathe would leave quite the mess of shavings. Would there be a room in the house designated for woodworking, as there might be a room reserved for sewing? Again, I cannot picture a gentleman choosing to work on a hobby that required him to be in a draughty and uncomfortable barn or other outbuilding. There are just so many questions. 

And I’m still thinking about the footwear situation. When Jane and her family were living in Steventon, Hampshire, the weather would greatly restrict her mobility. A freeze would have made the ground solid enough to walk on, providing Jane with increased independence in winter (125). This is something that had not occurred to me. I would have thought the winter would have been the most uncomfortable time to be walking about in the countryside, and I imagine it would be when temperatures were above freezing and the lanes and fields would be muddy. I found this next part quite interesting, because it seemed to contradict the information I learned from Hilary Davidson about men and women wearing more rugged footwear with a proper sole to dances, and carrying their dancing slippers along to be changed into upon arrival.*

Nice young ladies generally wore useless footwear, and even Lizzy Bennet’s travelling shoes were not suitable ’to encounter the remains of a white frost’. (125)

Initially, I thought this ran contrary to my previous knowledge, but it has since occurred to me that Worsley is speaking specifically about the suitability of ladies footwear for walking in the countryside. One can well imagine that the same pair of shoes or light boots one might show up to a dance in that would only be required to get from the carriage to the door would not be suitable for traipsing down country lanes or across country. The passage continues…

Jane was usually sensibly shod, saying of her shoes, that ‘at any rate they shall all have flat heels’. She and Cassandra were sometimes seen in the lanes of Steventon wearing pattens, wooden clogs or overshoes held on over normal shoes by an iron ring. (125)

Worsley describes pattens as “ungainly”. Wooden overshoes held on by an iron ring that “chimed out loudly against the hard ground”? I would hazard a guess that they were unsightly too. Good for Jane and Cassandra for having more sense than fashion. I would love to say that I would be just as practical in their place, but a neighbour once said I had “more fashion than sense”, which was a little too on the nose.

Jane and her sister Cassandra were away from home, and each other, quite often which has provided a lot of information about Jane that we would not otherwise have. Jane returned to Steventon from one such visit to find that in her absence her father had decided the family would move to Bath. The wheels were already in motion, providing Jane with no say in the matter. Move to Bath they did, and Jane had to leave most of her books behind, which, when I read that part my heart broke for her. Having to leave the countryside she loved for a city she didn’t know is bad enough, but not being able to bring your cherished book collection along is unimaginable. Of course, there were lending libraries and other such places in Bath that Jane could make use of, but it is certainly not the same as having your own books that you can read and reread whenever you like. Now the really shocking bit, that actually made me gasp, is that the family showed up in Bath with their belongings and then started looking for a place to rent. What what what? I feel anxious just thinking about that. I can only imagine what Jane must have felt. Daunted, I expect.

There were so many interesting parts in this book and as I was borrowing the book from the library I could not just mark the passages to return to them later. Instead, I ended up writing down page numbers and making vague notes to myself. Page 214 — swimming, 216 — mysterious gentleman at seaside, 224-25 — Jane breaking engagement to Harris Biggs-Wither next day! don’t blame her, that name!, 255 — Henry sounds like Mrs John Dashwood — how could he not have recognised himself in that character?! The list in my reading journal goes on and on like this for an additional four pages.

I left Jane Austen at Home feeling both satisfied and full of a longing to know more about this fascinating woman whose books I’ve been reading since I was in my early teens. Now that a little over a week has passed since I finished this book, I feel this book may have raised more questions for me than it answered. Perhaps, that is the sign of a good work of non-fiction — one that keeps the reader interested in its subject to not only want to read to the end, but to keep on reading in the subject after the book is done. 

My wishlist is now stocked with books I really must read immediately — as if it wasn’t already. But now I have a list solely dedicated to Austen-related books, both fiction and non-fiction. I’ve already started reading Miss Austen by Gill Hornby, and I’m excited to get stuck into this series. I read Godmersham Park when it first came out, but I don’t think I knew enough about Austen or her family at the time to fully appreciate that book.

If you are reading this and have any recommendations for Austen-related books or books on the Georgian period, please do comment down below, or drop me a line.

*I have not read any of Hilary Davidson’s books, yet. She talks about footwear in this interview with Izzy Meakin on the What the Austen podcast.

***If you got something out of this post, please consider subscribing to my blog. You can find the email sign up on the right hand side at the top of this page (on desktop version only), or click on the link here. You will receive a confirmation email in your inbox (or possibly your junk folder). Once you click to confirm your email address you will receive an email notification whenever a new blog post goes up. And, of course, you can unsubscribe at any time. Feel free to email me if you have any trouble subscribing, or if you just want to chat about books. I would love to hear from you! Whether you subscribe or not, I’m thankful you are here.***

Murder in the Falling Snow: Ten Classic Crime Stories edited by Cecily Gayford

We had our first snowfall of the season a couple of weeks ago and I felt the urge to read something wintry to mark the occasion. Murder in the Falling Snow: Ten Classic Crime Stories seemed like the perfect choice. It wasn’t a bad choice. But if I said every story lived up to its theme of murder in falling snow, I would be lying. Four of these stories contain a reference to snow. Four out of ten stories! However, we shouldn’t be too hasty in our judgment. This is a collection of stories by a number of well-know Golden Age mystery writers, such as, Dorothy L. Sayers, Gladys Mitchel, R. Austin Freeman, and Arthur Conan Doyle. I mean, can you go too far wrong with that kind of line up?

“Haunted House” by Gladys Mitchell

In the first story, a couple move into a house that the landlord claims is haunted. Things are fairly uneventful there until they have a party. A snowstorm strikes as the guests are leaving. Most of them get away, but by the time the last person is ready to leave, the drifts are too high. It just so happens that the last guest is the landlord. The husband suggests he stay the night, and take the couple’s bedroom, while they sleep downstairs. Let’s just say not everyone wakes up in the morning! This one was short but atmospheric.

“Sleuths on the Scent” by Dorothy L. Sayers

A group of people hole up in a roadside pub in a snowstorm. While listening to the radio for the weather report, they hear a special bulletin about Gerald Beeton who is wanted in connection with the murder of a woman named Alice Stewart. He is described as “thirty-five, medium height, medium, build, fair hair, small moustache, grey or blue eyes, full face, fresh colour” and driving a Morris car (15). Well, this describes just about fifty percent of the men in England, and so I think we know exactly where this is going. But this one was funny and engaging nonetheless. And there is snow, so it’s a win-win!

“Mr Pointing’s Alibi” by R. Austin Freeman

Reverend Charles Meade calls on a medical professional for help regarding some threats his fiancée, a woman of independent means, Miss Millicent Fawcett, has received. When she is found dead in suspicious circumstances, our medical professional and detective, see the subtle clues that show it can only be foul play. R. Austin Freeman wrote, Mr. Pottermack’s Oversight, the first British Library Crime Classic that I was lucky enough to receive from the British Library, and the intricate way in which the mystery is solved in that book reminded me of this short story of his.

No mention of snow in this one, but we do get an atmospheric description of a November night around the Inns of Court and the welcoming room the characters have left behind.

I would much sooner have sat by the fire with a book than turn out into the murk of a November night. But I felt it necessary, especially as Thorndyke had evidently made up his mind. Accordingly I made a virtue of necessity; and a couple of minutes later we had exchanged the cosy room for the chilly darkness of Inner Temple Lane, up which the gratified parson was speeding ahead to capture a taxi. At the top of the Lane we perceived him giving elaborate instructions to a taxi driver as he held the door of the cab open; and Thorndyke, having carefully disposed of his research-case — which, to my secret amusement, he had caught up, from mere force of habit, as we started — took his seat, and Meade and I followed. (28)

I can perfectly imagine the chilly, damp London night described above and how it contrasts with the safety and warmth our narrator has left behind. I appreciate Freeman’s descriptions and ability to set a scene and in my limited experience with this author I have found his spinning out of the solving of the mystery is both smart and satisfying.

“Meeting in the Snow” by Julian Symons

Short, and not at all sweet. A wealthy man is found shot to death in his home by an unknown assailant. The suspects? His three dependents. What I didn’t love about this one was the comments about Geoffrey Landon being “ladylike” and “not liking to get his feet wet”. I would like to know if anyone actually does like to get wet feet when they are wearing shoes and socks? Of course, we can forgive Symons the distasteful description of one of his characters, because these were different times. However, I do find that when I come across this sort of thing it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, which undoubtedly will affect my over enjoyment of the piece. 

What I did love about this one was the scene setting at the beginning.

The snow fell thick and sudden out of a sky that looked like lead. A furious gale sprung from nowhere drove the snowflakes against the windscreen of Francis Quarles’s new car. He was gratified to observe that the defroster defrosted, but even so it was not easy to see his way in this world of whirling white. He took a wrong turn, stopped, reversed, and stopped again to look at his map and at his watch. It was now four o’clock and snow had been falling for only an hour, but the road and the surrounding fields were already quite thick. (58)

Snow falling is what I am here for, and, in that regard, this story gave me the goods.

“The Chopham Affair” by Edgar Wallace

Snow was falling now, real snow. It came down in small particles, falling so thickly that it seemed that a fog lay on the land. (81)

Two men are found on the night of 24 December shot dead in the snow. One is discovered to be in the business of blackmailing women, and the other has stood on trial for murder. Both men have elaborate matching guns in hand. And coincidently, the man who was on trial for murder is known by the barrister who reports to the scene. And any diligent reader of mysteries or watcher of tv dramas knows to be wary of coincidence when you’re dealing with murder. 

Even the dreariest suburb has its West End, and here were villas standing on their own acres — very sedate villas, with porches and porch lamps in wrought-iron and oddly coloured glass, and shaven lawns, and rose gardens swathed in matting, and no two villas were alike. At the far end he saw a red light, and his heart leapt with joy. Christmas — it was to be Christmas after all, with good food and lashings of drink and other manifestations of happiness and comfort peculiarly attractive to Joe Stackett.

It looked like a car worth knocking off, even in the darkness. (76)

I love how the author subverts our expectations by painting this idyllic Christmas scene, and making us think that Joe Stackett is full of the Christmas spirit, only to reveal him to be an entirely different person with the next sentence. The scene continues further along.

All the houses were occupied. Bright lights illuminated the casement cloth which covered the windows. He heard the sound of revelry and two gramophones playing dance tunes. But his eyes always came back to the polished limousine at the door of the end house. There was no light there. It was completely dark, from the gabled attic to the ground floor. (76-77)

And with that we know we are dealing with the most bad of baddies, one who would pinch a car on Christmas Eve. 

“The Adventure of Abbey Grange” by Arthur Conan Doyle

In this one, we are treated to frost, but no snow. As Conan Doyle’s works are in the public domain in Canada, and I expect most elsewhere too, I’m going to splash out and share a good chunk from opening of this one, because it is just that good. 

It was on a bitterly cold and frosty morning, towards the end of the winter of ’97, that I was awakened by a tugging at my shoulder. It was Holmes. The candle in his hand shone upon his eager, stooping face, and told me at a glance that something was amiss.

‘Come, Watson, come!’ he cried. ‘The game is afoot. Not a word! Into your clothes and come!’

Ten minutes later we were both in a cab, and rattling through the silent streets on our way to Charing Cross Station. The first faint winter’s dawn was beginning to appear, and we could dimly see the occasional figure of an early workman as he passed us, blurred and indistinct in the opalescent London reek. Holmes nestled in silence into his heavy coat, and I was glad to do the same, for the air was most bitter, and neither of us had broken our fast.

It was not until we had consumed some hot tea at the station and taken our places in the Kentish train that we were sufficiently thawed, he to speak and I to listen. (83-84)

Sherlock receives a letter requesting his assistance from Inspector Stanley Hopkins. As Hopkins has called on Sherlock seven times in the past, and as Sherlock explains to Watson, “on each occasion his summons has been entirely justified”, which is code for ‘in each case I have been sufficiently diverted to justify the trouble’ (84). And this occasion is no different. One of the riches men in Kent, Sir Eustace Bracknell, has been brutally murdered in his home during a home invasion by a gang of three men. Meanwhile, his wife was gaged and tied to a chair. She was rescued by her loyal maid and both women provide testimony to the crime. 

In the past, I have found Conan Doyle’s storytelling to be a bit tedious. My attention wavers just when I’m meant to be glued to the page. There is something about his writing that does not always hit the mark for me. I’m not quite sure what it is. Perhaps, his writing is just a bit self-indulgent? But I really enjoyed this story. It was atmospheric, and had the right level of Holmes being a smarty pants and Watson following him around like a loyal, but slightly dim sighted dog. This one left me wanting to re-watch the Sherlock TV series, which for some reason I always think of as a program best suited for winter and Christmas viewing.

“The Mystery of Felwyn Tunnel” by L.T. Meade & Robert Eustace

A gentleman detective is asked by the chairman of a railway company to help solve the death of one of their signal men. I really enjoy mysteries set in and around trains, and this one was great. However, I couldn’t see where the “murder in the falling snow” theme came in. There was no mention of snow. I don’t think there was any mention of the weather, just the date, late October 1893. I’m willing to be corrected, though. I was interrupted numerous times while reading this story and could very well have missed it. What I did not miss was the spooky feeling of waiting in the signal box with these two men, while attempt to fight off irresistible exhaustion. Don’t fall asleep! I urged them. Well, you’ll have to read it to find out what happens. But this was a real goodie as far as the mystery goes, even if it did fail on the snow front. 

“The Reprisal” by Michael Innes

After a house party in which a game that required having the lights off, Cellini’s salt cellar goes missing from a table. Small, pocketable, and worth a fortune, the insurance company has been notified and the police called in to investigate. With a bit of detecting Appleby finds out that Lord Funtington already has a number one suspect, a favourite among his wife’s guests. No snow in this one either. Good little Manor House mystery, though.

“The Sign of the Broken Sword” by G.K. Chesterton

Father Brown and his friend Flambeau traipse across the wintry countryside to visit a monument in a churchyard to Sir General Arthur St. Clare, while the priest explains his theory of what really happened in the events surrounding the hero’s death. There are som beautiful descriptions of the landscape in this one, but I found my attention waining in parts. The description of a battle that occurred before St. Clare’s death bored me.

The thousand arms of the forest were grey, and its million fingers silver. In a sky of dark green-blue-like slate the stars were bleak and brilliant like splintered ice. All that thickly wooded and sparsely tenanted countryside was stiff with a bitter and brittle frost. […] It was a queer night for anyone to explore a churchyard. But, on the other hand, perhaps it was worth exploring. (147)

This is not a bad way to start a story. In fact, I was quite excited by the beginning, even though no mention of snow ever does occur. At 23 pages, this is not an overly long story,  but I felt the end could have come sooner and it would have made for a more compelling story. 

“Off the Tiles” by Ianthe Jerrold

On a November evening in London, the police are called by a woman who says her next-door neighbour has fallen from the roof of her house to the pavement below, and died. Inspector James Quy and PC Baker, report to the scene. This one was just satisfying enough. I liked the setting and the premise, a woman walking the parapet between two terraced houses falls to her death. Did she fall, or was she pushed? But again, no snow. In a collection called Murder in the Falling Snow one would expect every one of them to have at least a mention of snow However, if that cannot be managed, the first and the last stories should be thick with the stuff. 

In a collection with 10 mystery stories which are supposed to share the common theme “falling snow”, it seems remiss to only have four of the 10 with a mention of snow. In the other six a couple mention frost, but not snow. They should have simply chosen another title for the collection. I would have preferred the unimaginative, Murder in Winter, because at least it would not have been misleading. Because the thing is, the collection is pretty good. The Chesterton was the only one that truly lost my attention. And even this one might have faired better with me if I had read it at another time, when I was less tired or distracted.

I think I’ve been spoiled with the British Library’s collections as they always have great introductions, and they include a bit about each author and the publishing history of the story you are about to read. Murder in the Falling Snow, did not have an introduction or any information on the authors, and no indication of the year any of the stories were originally published, with the exception of Julian Symons “Meeting in the Snow” (1960) and that’s because the copyright information was listed in the credits on the last page. 

My overall thought is that this was a good collection, not a great one, based on the stories themselves. But if we are judging this book on whether or not each story meets the theme, I’m afraid it does not get a passing grade from me. And at 182 pages, it is short when compared to other collections of a similar price point. 

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Love Divine by Ysenda Maxtone Graham

I cannot express how excited I was when Slightly Foxed reached out to ask me if I would be interested in receiving a review copy of Ysenda Maxtone Graham’s book, Love Divine. I have to admit, I didn’t believe I was actually going to receive a copy until it arrived in my post box. “Jubilant” barely begins to describe the feeling. Expectations were high, and I am pleased to say that from the presentation of the book as an object to the supplementary material—hello, beautiful catalogue in which I have circled multiple books and then handed to my husband for future gift ideas—to the story itself, this book has exceeded expectations across the board. 

I have been wanting to get my hands on a Slightly Foxed book for a while now. Maxtone Graham’s book, Terms & Conditions: Life in Girls’ Boarding Schools 1939-1979, has been at the top of that list. I browse their website frequently, check the exchange from GBP to CAD to see how much of my annual book budget it would cost to get myself the subscription to their quarterly that comes with a book, and wonder if I dare suggest it as my next birthday or wedding anniversary gift. I have signed up to their email newsletter, I listen to their podcast, and I have told myself their books cannot possibly be as beautiful in person as they are in photos. Their books do photograph well, but then high quality products do tend to look just as great in photos as they do in real life. And can I just say, the book I received is the highest quality new hardcover that I have come across in years. I love the feel of the fabric covered boards in my hands, the grey endpapers beautifully complement the red cover, and the silk ribbon marker, also in grey, was a most pleasant surprise. Oh, and the pages instead of being stark white are… slightly foxed! Goodbye, eyestrain! 

But all of this is surface, and while high quality packaging is very welcome, it is just that, packaging. Even the most beautiful book in the world is worthless, in my mind, if the text itself does not hold up. I didn’t know what safe hands I was in with this author, but by the end of the first page, my mind was put to rest. 

I’m a big fan of how this book is set up. It is almost a hybrid between a novel and a play, which explains why it is marketed as a novella when it is 272 pages long. The dialogue is set up as it is in a play, with character attribution at the start of the line, followed by the dialogue. As someone who enjoys reading plays just as much as I enjoy watching them being performed (sometimes more so!), I absolutely loved this. We are also provided with a descriptive setting at the start of a scene. The book begins…

8.05 a.m. A blustery day dawns in Lamley Green, with plenty of rain in the forecast. In Holly Grove, a street of Georgian houses just off the green, curtains and shutters are being opened by sleepy residents in their dressing-gowns, some yawning, some frowning. In its basement kitchens, kettle switches are being flicked and capsules slotted into coffee machines. A dog barks. At No. 14, someone starts drilling loudly into a wall.

At No. 12, the curtains remain firmly closed. Throughout the morning, the following letters will be dropped through its letterbox. (11)

What follows are a number of letters of condolence to Lucy Fanthrope, whose husband Nick, respected lawyer and dependable member of the church choir, died unexpectedly on New Year’s Day. The letters are variable in nature, some touching, some funny, in many the writers come across as shockingly self-involved. What became quickly apparent to me is that Maxtone Graham has a wonderful sense of humour, and she has put it to good use in this book. I also realised that this was not going to be simply a sad book about a woman dealing with the death of her husband. 

We are privy to many perspectives across the wide range of characters who live in the village of Lamley Green nestled on the edge of London. Everyone is connected in this small community both to each other and through the parish church, St Luke’s, which is currently without a resident rector and suffering through a long interregnum. I thought I knew a bit about the Church of England as I predominantly read British writers, and books published in the UK. I mean, I knew the title, Love Divine, was a reference to the 1747 hymn by Charles Wesley, “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling”. I even know some of the words. But I had no idea that when a rector leaves his post a span of time must go by before the spot can be filled. Prepare yourself for many variable sermons to come over the year this book covers.

I would say the sermons were my favourite part, if it wasn’t for the fact that this is a book which is chock full of favourite parts. As someone who grew up in a family whose life revolved around the church, I found particular joy in all the little details of parish life. The satirical bent of this book had me giggling at times, and nodding my head at others. I don’t think it matters what denomination you are, you will recognise many of the characters in this book. That is by no means to say that these characters run the risk of becoming simply caricatures. No, these are fully fleshed people, in which even those we might think we know well provide us with a few surprises—Elena, I’m looking at you!—just like the people close to us will surprise us from time to time. I should add, I don’t think you need to have a religious background to appreciate this book. If you enjoy books centred around village life, then this one is for you.

I could quote Love Divine to you all day. There are so many funny moments, and a few that made me cry too. But I’m going to limit myself to one of each. First the one that made me laugh. 

And that sermon! On Easter Day, of all days, to start lecturing us about how to lower our carbon footprint! How dare he? I’m going keep all the lights on and light the woodburner this afternoon, just to spite him. (72)

This comes from Elizabeth, a woman whose constant class consciousness (read: snobbishness) I found to be repellent, but in this moment I have to say I could relate!

Now, for a sad passage.

6.35 a.m. Lucy wakes up, and remembers she mentioned to Carol that she would go to church today. She decides to keep her word and give it another go, although it’s the last thing she feels like.

With a sigh of misery, because Nick is still not back, and will never come back, even if she does ever get to the bottom of what on earth he was doing on the evening of 21st December, she gets up, puts on a dark navy dress and tramps off to St Luke’s. (110)

Something about the line, “With a sigh of misery, because Nick is still not back, and will never come back” struck me. I could feel the weight of Lucy’s loss like a pressure on my chest. Because sometimes, just for a moment, we forget why people aren’t there. And as if the death of her husband isn’t enough to deal with, not long after his death, Lucy is confronted with something that makes her suspect Nick was having an affair.

This book has a wide cast of characters. There’s Carol, who volunteers to do the church coffee service, lives alone, and works in a doctors’ surgery. Vicki and Eliot who are facing the uphill battle of making money by turning their home into a B&B. Chantelle, who is new to the village, and will stop at nothing to get her Jazzy into the oversubscribed church school. And then there is my personal favourite, Hugh. Newly retired schoolmaster, who lives with his dog Odo, and has every piece of his clothing on a numbered rotation. Hugh talks to Odo as I do with my Clark, as though he is a human companion, understanding every word. One part in Hugh’s storyline broke my heart. I won’t provide context as I don’t want to spoil any of the plot, except to say that this is spoken to his dog, Odo.

I see now, I really do, that I was only ever a minor character in her life. It was as true then as it is now. And perhaps we were never really suited, were we? (126)

And now, I’ve provided you with three passages, instead of my promised two, so I will cut myself off there.

A number of characters in this book are either facing loss or are going through a phase of transition in their lives. Maxtone Graham does a wonderful job of capturing how as one is facing supreme sadness and loss, life is dotted with moments of beauty and joy. Even the saddest moments in life are not exclusively that. Life and human emotion is more complex. I shed more than a couple of tears while reading this book, but I mostly giggled, smiled, smirked, and nodded along to the ridiculous, funny, endearing, relatable bits in this glorious book. I wholeheartedly loved it.

This one is right up there among my favourite books of the year. And it is one I will be returning to again, before too long.

Now, I really must go have another browse of the Slightly Foxed catalogue. I do believe a little treat is in order.

Love Divine by Ysenda Maxtone Graham, comes out today 1 November 2025 and is available through the Slightly Foxed website.

Thank you Slightly Foxed for kindly sending me a copy of Love Divine for review. I am still pinching myself. As always, all opinions on the book are my own.

***If you got something out of this post, please consider subscribing to my blog. You can find the email sign up on the right hand side at the top of this page (on desktop version only), or click on the link here. You will receive a confirmation email in your inbox (or possibly your junk folder). Once you click to confirm your email address you will receive an email notification whenever a new blog post goes up. And, of course, you can unsubscribe at any time. Feel free to email me if you have any trouble subscribing, or if you just want to chat about books. I would love to hear from you! Whether you subscribe or not, I’m thankful you are here.***