a well-structured and well laid out textbook. Reliefs and credits are explained really well. Sections on CAT and CGT are particularly strong. 

While 'Cultish' by Amanda Montell is more of an accessible overview of cults and than a deep dive into their language, I still found it engaging. The first half, covering groups like Scientology, Heaven’s Gate, and Jonestown, was the strongest. I also liked the parallels Montell drew between the language use of Jim Jones and Donald Trump. The section on MLMs dragged a bit, but the links between mass marketing, corporate America, and the Protestant Reformation were interesting. 

the main characters were just too damn insufferable!

Suzanne Collins seemingly only adds to this series when she has something meaningful to say about our world today. Given how the media has wielded the power to manipulate narratives and create propaganda in recent years, this book felt especially timely. It really highlighted the importance of maintaining a critical eye—questioning what we’re shown, recognising who controls the narrative, and understanding how easily truth can be distorted by a ruling class intent on hiding their incompetence.

I thought it was brilliantly done. As someone who loved The Hunger Games series as a young teenager, I now realise that much of its deeper message probably went over my head at the time. This book revisited those themes but with greater nuance, which I appreciated as an adult. It felt more mature.

One thing that really struck me this time was just how young the tributes are and how truly tragic and brutal the whole concept of the Hunger Games is. At 12 or 13 years old, I don’t think I fully grasped the horror of it—the sheer injustice of children being forced to fight to the death for entertainment. That hit much harder now.

Haymitch’s story was heartbreaking, and the inclusion of other tributes as mentors and side characters added new dimensions to their roles in the original series. It was great to revisit the world of Panem. This book contributed significantly to the world-building, particularly in expanding the lore of District 12, the fleshing out the stories of characters we already know and the introduction of those we didn't (Maysilee Donner, you queen!). 

In addition to all that, Sunrise on The Reaping also highlighted just how long it takes for a revolution to take root. Katniss may have been the spark, but the groundwork had been laid for decades before she held up those berries.

Laurence Leamer’s Capote’s Women is a really well written but ultimately surface level look at Truman Capote and the high-society women that he both idolised and betrayed.

Having enjoyed Leamer’s deeply researched Kennedy biographies, I expected a similar depth, but the shorter length of this book left little room for real character exploration. While you get some insight into Capote’s background, addictions, and personal struggles, the women themselves feel more like a list of marriages, affairs and divorces than fully realised figures. This made it hard to connect with them or feel much sympathy after Capote’s infamous betrayal. An interesting read, but lacking the depth I had hoped for.

Although I never studied The Great Gatsby in school, I first read it in secondary school. Revisiting it now at 23, I found that it resonated with me much more this time around. I had always admired its beautiful prose, but this time, my understanding of its historical context—the opulence and vapid excess of the Jazz Age, the desperation for success, the rigid class structures, the role of women in 1930s society, and the futility of the American Dream—made the novel even more compelling.

Gatsby’s relentless pursuit of Daisy (and all she represents) mirrors Fitzgerald’s own longing for success and validation, both consumed by an unattainable ideal. The novel lays bare the emptiness of extreme wealth, showing how those born into privilege, like Tom and Daisy, coast through life without consequence, while Gatsby—self-made yet forever an outsider—meets a tragic end. And yet, despite Gatsby’s delusions, Nick tells him, "You’re worth the whole damn bunch put together." Fitzgerald may expose how the game is rigged, but he still clings to the idea that the dream, however flawed, is worth chasing. Why? Because he has no choice but to do so. Fitzgerald was chasing the same things himself! Brilliant stuff.