June 2025

I had never been with someone who was dying before my mum died, and the one thing I didn’t anticipate was how much sitting and waiting there was. The team in Naas Hospital took amazing care of my family, but there was lots of time that we were sitting with my mum as she slipped away, and weirdly, we all did a lot of reading over those four or five days.

I’m not saying this to be glib. It’s just how I feel. I’ve also found it really helpful to joke a lot about my mum’s death, mainly in the vein of “we have to do what I want. My mum just died??”, but sadly another close friend of mine has gone through another life-changing event very recently, so we’re trying to figure out if mum dying trumps what she’s going through. My mum also had a very evil sense of humour, so it feels weirdly nice to be in that vein with her. I also want to talk about her all the time. It feels nice.

Another thing I wanted to mention in this post was that my boss Dom said he loved reading about a book I didn’t like in May’s post. The truth is that if I’m not enjoying a book, I tend not to finish it! Life’s too short to finish shit books, so that’s why I usually only post positive reviews here. Maybe I’ll start sharing the books I don’t finish. Let’s see!

Also, this is completely random, but how wild was The Observer’s investigation into Raynor Winn?! I literally JUST read Landlines. What a fool I’ve been!

As usual, here’s my list, and my music.

Reservoir Bitches by Dahlia de la Cerda
I read this one for chapter two of my book club, and really enjoyed it. It’s a series of vignettes exploring different perspectives of women living in and around Mexico City. All of the stories have connections to one another, so you build a world while reading, despite it being quite a short book. It’s fun, shocking, and fascinating.

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
My favourite book of all time that I usually re-read once a year or so, but this time I listened to it on audio! Aimee Lou Wood was the narrator, and she did voices and accents. Literal perfection.

Five Little Pigs by Agatha Christie
This was the main book I read in hospital, and what a lark! I had never read any Agatha Christie before, which seems wild, but Poirot seems way more up my street than Marple. This is the story about a woman who was convicted of the murder of her artist husband, and whose daughter visits Poirot twenty years later to search for the truth. Yes, its formulaic, but it’s very fun.

Name by Constance Debre
This is the final book I read in Constance Debre’s series, and it’s the one that feels the most political. Weird timing, but it deals with the author grappling with her famous name after the death of her father, and rejecting all kinds of inheritance and family connections. I know so many people don’t like her, and find her too extreme, but I’ve always enjoyed her singular view. Having said that, this is probably my least favourite of the series as it felt like more of a political polemic than a personal experience, and I definitely favour the latter.

Gone to the Forest by Katie Kitamura
Tied with Catherine Lacey for the position of Bridget’s favourite contemporary author, this one from Katie Kitamura is a blistering critique of colonialism. It’s set on a settler farm in an unnamed country (it was giving Zimbabwe/South Africa vibes, but who knows), and explores the familial dynamics of a father and son who don’t know how to communicate with each other as native rebellions and land reclamations take place around them. It’s shocking, vital and unforgettable. She is truly an incredible storyteller. Someone in Merseyside needs to get her here asap.

The Mobius Book by Catherine Lacey
Reading Catherine Lacey and Katie Kitamura in one month?! What a treat! This is a really unique book, split into two. One half is fiction, the other is memoir, but they’re supposed to blend into each other like the titular mobius strip. I inhaled this in two sittings, reading the fiction first, then the memoir. It’s a phenomenal book, and I don’t want to talk too much about it for fear of ruining it. Just buy and read it now, then text me so we can discuss it.

Open Up by Thomas Morris
This one has a funny story attached to it. I was in Dublin city centre, trying to get tights or some other random shit for my mum’s funeral. While walking down Dawson Street, I saw a man with a West Kirby Bookshop tote bag. What the fuck?! I turned to my friend and expressed my shock, and she said I had to go ask him where he got it. When I did, he (quite rightly) replied “well, where do you think I got it?” Turns out, he was the author Thomas Morris, who had been to an event at the shop that I hadn’t been able to make, and I had a signed copy of his book at my flat! This was my push to read it once I got back to Liverpool, and it was such a treat. I’ve long thought there hasn’t been enough written about the emotional interior lives of men, and this fills that gap perfectly. A series of short stories exploring different themes of masculinity, it’s moving, truthful, and very Welsh. The highlight for me was (unbelievably) a story about seahorses, who, if you don’t know, are the ones to carry and birth their offspring. Thomas, thank you for such a beautiful book, and thank you for dealing with me so graciously in what I can only call grief-induced mania.