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I first discovered Ink through taking part in an Xpresso Reads spotlight blog tour a couple of years ago. I loved the tattoo art cover design, but wasn't sure how much I would enjoy the book's fantasy genre so didn't read more than the excerpt above. When recently trawling my past Literary Flits posts for books for this vegan blog, I realised that Jobie Baldwin is herself vegan and this prompted me to give Ink a try. I'm so glad I did! The story is a fun adventure story where an incongruous band of young peope are brought together to save Earth from Settler aliens who have their own ideas on how the planet should best be saved. Individually selected by ancient Rune Gods, each of our intrepid heroes learns how to meld and focus their powers - except for our narrator, Christian, who just can't seem to stop blowing things up!Ink is a very funny read and I enjoyed spending time in Christian's company as he tries to understand exactly what is going on and the role he is destined to play. I could have done with a bit more in the way of world building as I was intrigued by the overall premise, but still had questions that weren't answered. Perhaps they will be addressed in the sequel, Flak, which I'm looking forward to picking up soon. If you're in the mood for a light-hearted yet violent escapist fantasy, Ink could be well worth a read.

Penguin's 'Green Ideas' series is a new publication of twenty short books each written by an eminent environmental thinker and focusing on different aspects of our planet's environmental crisis. I am grateful to Penguin for sending me review copies of five of these works and, on the strength of what I have read so far, I look forward to completing the set myself.

Robin Wall Kimmerer's contribution to Penguin's Green Ideas series is her essay The Democracy of Species which, as I began to read it, I realised was already familiar to me. It is one of the chapters in her incredible book, Braiding Sweetgrass. If you haven't already read that tome then this little excerpt is an excellent introduction to Kimmerer's ideas and ways of viewing human relationships with the natural world. She focuses on how our language determines our attitude to the world around us, particularly contrasting the callousness of English against the inclusivity of her ancestral Native American language, Potawatomi. She also discusses the idea of the Honorable Harvest, a concept alien to Western thinking, in which one only takes as much as is needed rather than taking everything and then being surprised when nothing is left. In a week when the IPCC report declared Code Red for humanity almost entirely because of our voracious overconsumption of Earth's resources, The Democracy Of Species is a vitally important little book that everyone needs to read and act upon.

Penguin's 'Green Ideas' series is a new publication of twenty short books each written by an eminent environmental thinker and focusing on different aspects of our planet's environmental crisis. I am grateful to Penguin for sending me review copies of five of these works and, on the strength of what I have read so far, I look forward to completing the set myself.

I began with George Monbiot's book, This Can't Be Happening, which is a collection of eleven essays, ten of which were originally published between 2017 and 2019 in The Guardian newspaper and one was a TEDsummit talk. Although I am familiar with Monbiot's name and frequently encounter his words on Twitter, I tend to avoid newspapers as a rule so don't think I've previously read a complete article of his before. I need to change that! Through these essays, Monbiot did reinforce plenty of the ideas I had already learned myself, particularly since my own awakening to veganism, however he also challenged other assumptions I had made particularly around issues such as the devastation wrought by vast monoculture farms.

I recognised echoes of Nesrine Malik's influential work in Monbiot's call for new stories to tell about our culture and its path forward. Without drastic change very, very soon we are unlikely to have a recognisable future at all and I struggle to comprehend why so many people seem content to remain oblivious. Monbiot's thoughts around our pre-adapted blind spots and evolved biases helped to explain the paradox for me. I feel I have a lot to learn from his writings so am delighted to have been given this opportunity to sample a concise collection of his essays. I dearly hope that This Can't Be Happening's inclusion in the Green Ideas series leads to a far wider, actively engaged audience.

All Things was recommended to me as a Veganuary read by Andreea at Cheeky Lines because its central character, the wonderful Reverend Alma Lee, is vegan. I loved Rev. Alma! Part Latina and part Chinese, she grew up in the San Francisco Mission district where she now ministers so understands its people and their foibles. Alma was only fairly recently appointed to St Giles, a struggling Church, but her scatterbrained blend of prayer meetings and pastoral care is making St Giles popular again with worshippers of all genders and sexualities. She is surrounded by a good supporting cast of distinctive characters that I look forward to getting to know better in future books. I don't tend to read Christian fiction so was a little wary of this aspect of All Things. However, although Alma is a preacher herself, she doesn't actually preach to her readers. This novel is crime fiction that happens to be set around a church, rather than religious fiction that happens to include a crime. I'm giving extra points for the Vicar Of Dibley mention too!

I liked the way Belldene takes Alma, and us, through the investigation of Cindy's murder. I won't go into details so as not to inadvertently give anything away! The sparring between Alma and her Detective ex-boyfriend is great fun to read and, don't worry, they Don't head into love triangle territory! I was disappointed by proofreading errors abruptly dragging me out of the story. I can excuse a couple, especially in indie books, but there are several nonsensical sentences and an odd timeline moment too. A shame although I wouldn't let that put me off reading further Rev. Alma Lee mysteries when they are published.

For me, this blast of a book had to be read in one session! I just couldn't put it down until I found out what was going to happen to Callum and his family. Karl Drinkwater starts by creating an eerily disturbing evening scene with oppressive heat and strange looming clouds that foretell disaster, but I had no idea which direction this novella would take. Once Callum awakes, in the middle of the night, the story's pace rapidly accelerates and I didn't feel I had time to draw breath until the final page. Callum certainly didn't either! There's a deftly portrayed mix of grim carnage and sharp scares, centred on believable characters desperately trying to escape with their lives. I loved how I could envisage and understand each family member from their briefly sketched portraits. This plausibility, together with Harvest Festival's unusual rural Welsh setting kept me gripped throughout, albeit sometimes reading through my fingers during the most gruesome scenes!

I found it difficult to believe that Dreaming In Color is a debut novel as Uvile Ximba's prose is so captivating. I loved reading Langa's story uncovering the layers of discrimination she is subjected to as a black lesbian in South Africa. The novel is set at the time in her life when Langa is discovering her true self so it is very much a coming of age tale in which, through Langa's eyes, we see how the society around her is constructed to suppress her on all three counts of her gender, race and sexual orientation.

In a way, reading Dreaming In Color did feel like following a dream in itself. Separate episodes sometimes link to each other, or might diverge abruptly, and a couple of times I did go back to reread chapters, unsure if I was understanding Ximba's meaning correctly. I felt that the book could be enjoyed either simply by allowing myself to be carried along by the prose, trusting that everything would become apparent in time (it does!), or I could pause frequently to ponder and deeply understand each moment. Both approaches made for a satisfying read and I found myself considering aspects of Langa's experience that it had not occurred to me to question before. Even something as apparently simple as wearing a school uniform can be shaming and problematic when that uniform was not designed with all body shapes in mind.

After reading Dreaming In color, I did look up the #RUReferenceList campaign to find out more about it although the gist comes through clearly in the novel. This novel could be triggering for sexual assault although there are no graphic scenes. This was such a thought-provoking novel for me to read and I loved how Ximba addresses so many important issues within her storytelling.

I loved reading We Need New Stories! This is a book which reflects exactly how I feel about the way in which ideas such as political correctness and free speech are being corrupted and manipulated away from their original meanings, and Nesrine Malik encapsulates her investigations and arguments in such a way that I can point directly to We Need New Stories and say 'read this' and 'this is what I want to say'. I no longer have to feel isolated as I try to wrangle my thoughts into coherence! Instead I am inspired to feel part of the journey towards a fairer society which doesn't put only straight white male identity at its centre.

Malik looks back through history to illustrate how movements towards greater equality have historically been dismissed and subdued through the use of the same tired arguments. Surely X isn't needed because the situation is already so much better than it used to be or so much better than somewhere else? Isn't X going to be a step too far? Having read Malik's revelations of these phrases being repeatedly rolled out over the past century and beyond, I giggled to spot a 'taking feminism too far' clickbait headline on Twitter the very same afternoon. Her clear explanations of how we are manipulated into submitting to the old status quo have allowed me to now easily recognise this all around me. It's so endemic to as to have become almost invisible, but a simple awareness of the machinery not only renders it obvious, but also somewhat ludicrous.

To have everyone's sense of their own identity negated by a fictional idea of what we all 'should' aspire to is, when I really think about it, a very strange state of affairs. Especially when the main attributes for power such as the 'right' gender, skin colour or sexuality can't be put on at will so most people will find themselves excluded. We Need New Stories showed me another way to view my society and is a great complement to other books I have recently read including How To Lose A Country by Ece Temelkuran and Les Parisiennes by Anne Sebba. Right now does feel like the right time for another great social advance and I feel that telling new identity stories has to be at the centre of the movement in order for it to succeed.

Lost Feast is an engaging exploration of our destructive relationships with our favourite foods. Looking back to the Romans and beyond, Newman tries to understand why, as a species, we seem so dedicated to driving what we love to extinction - and how, perhaps, we might be able to stem this trend before we literally have nothing left to eat. Newman looks at historically popular foods from mammoths to passenger pigeons, silphium to pears, and also clearly demonstrates how the imminent loss of pollinators such as bees will be catastrophic for human diets. Monoculture farming has resulted in widespread availability of cheap calories, but with such restricted choice that if our increasingly poisoned environment could no longer support, say, wheat or maize corn or soy, people en masse could well be one of the next species on the endangered list. It sounds like science fiction, but simply looking back over the past few decades, let alone centuries, shows a trend which should have a lot more of us very worried.

I am lucky to have been in France whilst reading Lost Feast so able to indulge in a spot of terroir cuisine that would have been considerably more difficult in the UK. We foraged enough hazelnuts and walnuts from nearby wild trees for a good nut roast, and a neighbour gifted us home-grown pears for poaching in spiced red wine. The French are still keen on preserving local food varieties and on the whole will pay enough to ensure growers and farmers receive a living wage. As a result I notice a much wider choice of produce available even in national supermarket chains. By contrast UK supermarkets might have thirty similar-yet-different processed pasta sauces, but only three varieties of apples, mostly flown from the other side of the world and tasteless.

I appreciated Newman's focus on not only our ever decreasing choices, but also the poor quality of mass-grown fruit and vegetables and factory-farmed meat compared to their properly nurtured counterparts. We have so quickly become accustomed to subsidised, bland food that I see people horrified at the true price of real ingredients. I remember just thirty years ago a roast chicken was an expensive treat to be savoured maybe once a month. Now I could afford to eat mass-produced chicken for every dinner if I wanted to, but I would say it's over a decade since 'savour' was the appropriate verb!

Lost Feast isn't just a disaster story though. Newman looks to the future of food by trying out laboratory-grown meat and plant-based meat alternatives, and by visiting people who are returning to traditional ways of food production. She shows how each of us really can make a difference through our purchasing choices - and it's not through trying eat a whole turducken! Lost Feast was a fascinating book for me to read. As someone who is already concerned about where my food comes from, I already had an awareness of the current issues, but not how they fit into the historical record. I loved the idea of the Extinction Dinners as a means to demonstrate Newman's research and ideas. Lost Feast is a timely book, especially for foodies such as myself.

I'm really enjoying getting caught up in Whitney Metz's Black Magick series as can be seen by my having rushed to buy a copy of this newest installment, Legends And Lies, on its publication day back in October last year. Admittedly it did then take me a few months to actually read it - oops! Black Magick is a series that really does need to be read in order so, if you've not yet started this series and you don't want any inadvertent spoilers from my review, I suggest clicking away to the first book, Sigils And Secrets, now.

The tension ratchets up significantly throughout Legends And Lies so, although the novel does have a 'middle of series' feel to it, I was still glued to its pages. I appreciated Metz's skill in interspersing present day action with Ben's memories of his relationship with Carrie before she disappeared. The diversions allowed me to understand these characters in greater depth, but didn't slow the narrative pace or ever feel like extraneous padding. I was a little disappointed that Carrie only had a minor role to play this time, but I loved spending time with Grandma Denning who is a brilliant creation and I think Julie will become a compelling character too. I'm intrigued by the idea of new beginnings being just as valid no matter what has gone before. Ben and Julie have a degree of mirroring in this aspect so it will be interesting to see how their companionship develops.

The Black Magick series obviously includes a lot of supernatural content and I'm impressed by how naturally this supernatural world is portrayed with the series' reality. Events and the characters' behaviours always feel utterly plausible and the liminal settings mean that I can never predict where Metz's imagination might next take her readers. Universal human problems give this series its roots and its magick allows it to fly! A satisfying series to lose oneself in through grey wintry days.

It's been five months since I read the first book in Whitney Metz's Black Magick series, Sigils And Secrets. Myths And Music takes up from where that novel left off and I soon found myself immersed in its dark fantasy world again, clearly remembering the events that led Carrie and Ben to their present predicaments and enjoying their continuing adventure.

I appreciated how Metz portrays Ben's increasing knowledge of the magickal world around him and how he struggles to square this with his previous understanding of reality. On one hand he is physically experiencing the effects of charms, amulets and intense connections with the natural world, but on the rare occasions he has a moment to reflect, it is obvious he cannot quite rationalise what is happening. Ben's growing self-belief and acceptance of his new-found skills provides a convincing story arc throughout Myths And Music and I felt this gave a good depth to his character.

Metz also deftly incorporates animal welfare subplots into her narrative - Henny Penny's changing fate being a perfect example of this. These scenarios worked well along the magickal ideas Ben explores and they often provided real moments of horror to Myths And Music too. Contrasting the darkest of human behaviours with the demonic realm was an inspired touch and I think it gives Metz's writing a memorably unique slant.

I'm pleased to have discovered Sigils and Secrets, the first novel in Whitney Metz' 'Black Magick' fantasy series, and thoroughly enjoyed following Ben on his quest to discover how his impetuous girlfriend, Carrie, disappeared and, most importantly, whether he will be able to rescue her. Ben is an endearing reluctant hero who, it seemed to me, had been out of his comfort zone ever since he met Carrie. We discover through flashback scenes how their relationship started and blossomed, and this is a lovely opposites-attract romance which I felt added a convincing depth to the characters. I really liked how Metz paces her story so I was always eager to keep turning the pages, but never felt rushed. The mysticism is cleverly dripfed so, as readers, we gain understanding at more or less the same rate as Ben does, but sometimes we learn directly from him and at other times insights occurred to me just before he caught up. Ben's naive existence on the edges of a world he doesn't understand makes him someone with whom I could easily empathise. I liked that the supporting characters also came across as fully-formed people and I am incredibly envious of Jacob Weston's home! Debbie's input is also very nicely done and I appreciated the Japanese-style circle that her scene brought to the novel. Sigils And Secrets is the first of the series and, while it has a satisfying story arc and doesn't end on an exasperating cliff hanger, I was left very much in the middle of the adventure so I am keen to pick up its sequel soon.

Actores is the first volume of a series about a future world in which animals and humans live side by side as equals. I chose to read it for its vegan message and vegan author, and also to practice my French language skills. Actores is intended for children aged 8 years and above, however its vocabulary and prose complexity was just about on the limit of my French knowledge so it was a satisfying story to read - challenging, but not insurmountably so. I enjoyed discovering the world as Gonzàlez imagines it and could envisage the town at the base of its two hills. I did sometimes struggle with understanding exactly where the story was headed, but this could be due to my inexpert language comprehension. Actores starts slowly, but once it gets into gear the story was quite exciting and I liked the intrigue of the dream sequences at the start of each chapter. I developed an idea of what these might be about and, as it turned out, I wasn't too far from the truth. I don't know that I will rush into the second book in the series, Fleur-salée, but I have it bookmarked for future reading.

The Love Genes is the third novel in Eleni Cay's 'Seven Kinds of Love' series and, true to form, I haven't yet read the first two books. However, other than a couple of moments where significant previous events were referenced, I didn't feel at a disadvantage for starting with book three. In fact I enjoyed the read so much, I have already added The Love Genes' prequels to my wishlist.

Appropriately for a book about love, I myself loved Cay's portrayal of a woman attempting to make a new life for herself in a country with a subtly different culture to her own. It is the small details that are most unexpected and I was impressed with how Cay puts them across. Katie's developing friendships allowed me to really understand her immersion into Swedish culture. I chuckled at moments like the expectation that understanding Swedish would also 'automatically' allow her to understand the other Scandinavian languages. Things are often very different when viewed from outside a particular culture!

While I didn't particularly warm to Katie, I was intrigued by her choices and motivations, especially when it came to her prospective romance. Could she genuinely not recognise the red flags surrounding Erik? Or was she so determined that this relationship be successful that she didn't even see them?

I thought that The Love Genes gives a realistic and thoughtful depiction of Katie's experiences. This novel is a love story in a way, but it's a dark descent rather than a romantic tale, and its noir atmosphere had me gripped. Eleni Cay is definitely an author I will be looking out for in the future, once I've caught up with the present of course.

I remember seeing Look Who's Back's distinctive cover art everywhere on its publication a few years ago so deliberately avoided reading the book then as I didn't want to go into it on a wave of hype and then feel let down by the reality. As it turned out, while I was entertained by Look Who's Back, I was still a bit disappointed by this novel.

On a positive note, Timur Vermes starts out with a great premise and the early chapters, in which a newly resurrected Hitler is trying to recognise 1940s Berlin in its present day counterpart, are deftly portrayed. There's plenty of insightful social commentary too with amusing moments from time to time, however overall I thought that Look Who's Back never quite lived up to its potential. I didn't feel the writing lived up to all the quoted claims of total hilarity either. I sometimes wondered if I was even reading the same book as those reviewers.

The central joke of Hitler trying to navigate the modern world, with all his misunderstandings and misinterpretations, is initially funny, but for me it soon got tired and I didn't feel there was enough of an underlying narrative to then prevent the book's energy from flagging. It is a shame as I thought the basic idea was inspired. Look Who's Back agreeably passed a couple of days for me, but I expected a more profound reading experience and for Look Who's Back to actually reach a strong conclusion. Instead it dwindled and then petered out without me really understanding what I was supposed to take away from this novel.

I have had my copy of The Eighth Life awaiting reading for some three years now, having been excited at the thought of my first Georgian-authored novel when I was first accepted to read it, but then seriously intimidated by just how long it is when I downloaded the file. I generally don't get on well with huge books, however The Eighth Life proved to be an exception which - once I actually got around to starting it - kept my interest fully engaged throughout. The storyline takes in the lives of several generations of the same family, effectively recounting a century of Georgian history at the same time. It is divided into sections, each focusing on one member of the family (and, no, the eighth section is not missing from the kindle edition as some other reviewers have complained. That final life just hasn't happened yet!). These sections are each pretty much a self contained story in their own right, albeit one which does obviously have strong links to the others, so the device allowed me to read The Eighth Life almost as though it were a series.

I loved how Nino Haratischwili depicts the changing political and sociological situations as the century progresses. I happened, at the same time as reading this book, to also be watching the Adam Curtis TraumaZone documentary about the collapse of the USSR and the two complemented each other very well, each allowing me deeper insights into what was happening in reality and in fiction at the time. Haratischwili has such an amazing understanding of each of her characters. They were all such real people to me, all with their own vivid personalities. I had wondered if the intensity might slip as the novel progressed, but I found myself just as compelled to keep reading during the early chapters as during the final ones. The Eighth Life isn't a happy epic by any means. The family often do seem cursed though whether that is indeed the fault of the hot chocolate I couldn't say, and I also don't think they had worse than other families in similar circumstances. I was particularly intrigued by how cleverly Haratischwili evoked the circular repetitions of life over the century - the circle of life itself, but also the ebb and flow of armies as wars are fought over this small country.

I am glad that I did keep The Eighth Life tucked away rather than giving up on it before I had even started, and having now read it I would happily recommend it to fans of Eastern European literature, family sagas, and, of course, readers who fully appreciate big books!