Having always been a fan of the weird and unusual, I’ve read a lot about Nessie in my time; but this book is very different in tone from most of those other articles and stories. Neither gee-whiz nor savage, Ronald Binns seems to have begun his pursuit in hope, and in his regretful conclusion he’s just about convinced himself - and me.

There are ten chapters, plus preface and index etc, and these trace the monster (in detailed but readable prose) from its setting through early sightings and theories to surveillance and science. Famous sightings and photographs are examined in detail, and discrepancies in original and amended eye-witness accounts and drawings are shown. Obvious frauds are mentioned, certainly, but apart from these it’s easy to see how editing, retelling and comments taken out of context have so distorted source material that new frauds (often unintended) have sprung up. Some of the best material, in my opinion, is in the photographs, originals and retouchings displayed side-by-side, along with photographs taken by the authors to demonstrate their own theories.

Whether you’re a sceptic, a believer or an open-minded monster buff like me, this book will provide you with a good deal of good-natured food for thought.

I’d never read a Nero Wolfe mystery before, but I was pretty well aware of Wolfe’s salient characteristics through repeated reading of H. Keating’s book on fictional detectives. Despite the title, this isn’t some early attempt at a choose-your-own-adventure type of book, nor a how-to for aspiring writers. It’s a murder mystery which happens to deal with authors and publishers. There are other books dealing with death in literary circles. Isaac Asimov did one, so, more recently, has Jennifer Rowe. This one interested me, though, because the solution to the mystery was directly tied up in literary style. The plot deals with a committee of writers, agents and publishers who hire Wolfe to break a plagiarism racket. As Susan Dunlap remarks in her introduction, the puzzle is all, with the characters (except for Archie and Wolfe themselves) lightly sketched. Since the reader makes no emotional connection with the murderer and/or murderees, it isn’t a book that stays lodged in my memory, but it’s certainly fun; especially for a fan of books of classic detective fiction and stories based in the publishing world.. In his refusal to leave the house except on very rare occasions, Nero Wolfe reminds me of Isaac Asimov’s detective Wendell Urth. I’m pretty sure Wolfe predates Urth, but I happened to encounter the Asimov character first.

There are a great many Nero Wolfe mysteries, and though I enjoyed this one, I probably wouldn’t bother to chase up the others. Although I admired the plot and Stout’s industry, I’m more interested in character-driven novels.

I’ve always wondered at the reasoning that saw Robert Westall’s books published for the children’s book market. Some of his titles are classified as “adults” or “general”, but most come under the junior umbrella. So far as I can see, the only real difference lies in the ages of the protagonists.

Having said this, I’ll add that Westall’s teenagers never seem very “teenaged”. When I began reading The Watch House, I thought, at first, that Anne, the heroine, must be about ten or eleven years old. Later it emerged that she is a teenager. Pat and Timmo, her friends, are slightly older teens, but they come across as young adults. This peculiarity is one shared by K.M. Peyton in her “Flambards” series. Christina, at twelve, is the same person she will be at twenty-five, and it isn’t necessarily a disadvantage to the reader. In this case Anne needed to be young enough to be “dumped” by her mother on her old nanny and also to be the subject of a custody battle, but also old enough to be allowed a certain amount of personal freedom.

The setting is a lifeboatmens’ watch house at Garmouth, and the story concerns an unusual haunting. Anne spends a lot of time in the watch house museum, but as she tries to help by dusting the cluttered exhibits, she becomes aware of scrawled, ill-spelled messages in the dust. “An help”. These seem to be directed at her, and so she begins to investigate. So far, so usual, but alongside this ghost story develops the description of a last push to save the watch house museum from the effects of crumbling cliffs and erosion. Along the way, Anne meets various interesting characters, including Timmo, self-styled eccentric genius, his sometime friend/girlfriend Pat and two tennis-playing priests, Protestant Father Fletcher and Roman Catholic Father da Souza. All these characters play an active part in the ghost story when the initially rather wistful haunting suddenly turns nasty. The explanation for this is one of the most original spins on the ghost story that I’ve ever read. Particularly effective if the exorcism attempt in which the priests, whose rivalry isn’t always as friendly as they might wish, must work together in a fusion of faith and energy.

How Things Work is part of the “Discoveries” series. It is big and bright and appealing, with clear text, diagrams and photographic illustrations. In easy but informative language, it explains the development and workings of such things as computers, video recorders, windmills, solar cells, X-Ray machines, satellite communications, cars and space shuttles. The information contained is ideal for projects and assignments for upper primary and high school, and also for the enquiring general reader. I found one piece of information that has been eluding me for months! As well as diagrams and explanations, there are practical projects to be tried.

I can heartily recommend this book to anyone who is interested in how things work and doesn’t want to search for hours for simple information.

This is a biography of Jane Austen, but in form and even in content it goes a long way beyond most of its kind. There are four parts, and 14 chapters, and these build a fascinating picture of Jane Austen, her family and her times. David Nokes has chosen to go right back to the best sources of material, Jane’s own letters, unbiased parish records and the like. He has treated the reminiscences of her family and friends with considerable caution and some cynicism, observing that Jane’s family seemed to be at pains to present her in a saintly light. Sometimes, he quotes published comment by a relative alongside comment from Jane herself, underlining the falseness of the picture that has been first encouraged and then allowed to continue.

In some cases, Nokes mentions incidents which could be interpreted in different ways, and tracks down obscure comments from Jane that seem to show some of her ironical pronouncements or actions were taken at face value by people who should (and probably did) know better. For example, much was made by her brothers of the fact that her favourite reading matter was a long and moralising novel in several volumes. It seems obvious that Jane did indeed love this saga, simply because it gave her such a rich target for parody and lampooning!

So, the saintly little Jane, beaming goodwill at all the world, didn’t exist. In her place, Nokes gives the reader a much more interesting person, a woman who was witty, imaginative, and sociable, devoted to her sister and a few others, but who could sometimes be cruel to those she thought of as her inferiors by birth or intelligence. Since most of these cruelties took place in comment in private letters to her sister Cassandra, it is doubtful that her victims ever knew about them.

This streak of callousness seems to have run through the family, for an uncle and one of her own brothers were afflicted with some kind of mental retardation. Once it became clear that these two would never be “normal”, they were farmed out and virtually (except for payment of their board) forgotten by their family.

The biography is treated very much like a novel, beginning in India with Jane Austen’s uncle writing to his wife and supposed daughter in England. One by one, the family members are introduced, and, in a very novel-like fashion, followed through the ins and outs of their relationships and actions.

There are photographs and sketches of some of the characters (all contemporary) and a very detailed index. One thing which is missing, and which I felt was badly needed, was a family tree. The Austens and their relatives formed a bewilderingly large family, and the habit of naming succeeding generations after their ancestors makes it difficult to remember who is who. There are two women called “Philadelphia”, one is Jane’s father’s sister, the other some kind of cousin. She is named “Phylly Walter” but I would have to go back through several pages to find out exactly who she was. There are two “Cassandras”, Jane’s mother and sister, and at least two “Janes”, Jane herself and her aunt (?) Jane Leigh-Perrot. Then there were the George Austens- some Jameses and Edwards, a brother who changed his name to “James Austen-Leigh” after he was adopted by wealthy relatives, and the relative who became “Mr Leigh-Perrot”, presumably to enable him to inherit property or money. There was a “Betsy”, daughter of Philadephia, who was later known as “Eliza”. Her godfather was actually her father, and she married a French count who died in the Terror. She then kept company with two of Jane’s brothers, James and Henry. Oh, and one of the Austen boys was known as “Fly”. Was he really Frank or Edward?

Struggling with all these people meant I looked longingly through the book - three times - hoping for a family tree. When I re-read this biography, which I surely will, I shall create one myself, adding to it as I read, so take warning; have a pen and paper close by when you embark.

Altogether, a fascinating, enlightening, confusing read, and one which should delight any Austen fan not too firmly wedded to the myth of Saint Jane. Details on the novels and their genesis and progress were very welcome.

This is another Robert Westall novel, and this time the age of the protagonist is established almost immediately. It is Lucy’s last day of school, and, at just eighteen, she is sad to say goodbye to one of her teachers, Mr Betts. This attachment is important later in the novel, for when Lucy gets home, her widowed father presents her with a briefcase full of money and tells her to vanish. He works in a governmental department and claims to have discovered significant discrepancies in statistics. He is about to blow the whistle and doesn’t want Lucy involved.

Scarcely believing it, Lucy must go and make a new life and a new identity for herself, but then two packages arrive. The danger is real, and before the end of the novel Lucy and her father are almost killed. Lucy, a self-confessed “mouse” must try to make herself over into a twenty-something businesswoman. The details of how she achieves this give an original spin on the “witness-protection” and “new identity” theme.

I have just three quibbles; it seems suspiciously easy for Lucy to open bank accounts in a false name (maybe it is easier in the UK?) and at one point she seems to make a decision on very shaky reasoning. The third quibble is entirely subjective; I find it difficult to accept that an eighteen year old would call (and refer to her father and deceased mother as “Daddy” and “Mummy”.

Nevertheless, this, like all Westall’s books, is fast-moving and involving, and full of incidental information about the antique business.... and that’s a thought! If dealers really buy stock for their shops from one another, is it any wonder antiques are expensive?