Alie Ward interviews experts in various subjects - anything you can put an "-ology" to! Her enthusiasm shines through, and her clear-eyed description of the inequalities that plague many areas of academia keeps it from becoming cheesy or forced. The theme naturally slants toward STEM subjects but some of the standouts include harder-to-define subjects - "Agnotology" particularly appears to have been popular.

Content note: physical and sexual violence Kirigoe Mima is a retiring pop idol headed for the greener grass of acting, but she is plagued by a stalker and terrifying visions. Layers of reality intersect - playing on the old trope of an actor losing sight of what's real and what's fiction. Perfect Blue takes a perspective of psychosis which robs the person of agency. Its simplistic treatment of serious mental illness does a disservice to people actually living with it. It has also... aged. Home fax machines and that new-fangled thing called the internet! And then there's the treatment of women characters (dismal) and racial stereotypes (alarming). The violence reminded me of a Ryu Murakami novel: gratuitous, graphic and plentiful. Blood as colour accent. Like a Bryan Fuller production, but all bright pastel colours. This was one long stretch I could have done without, to be honest.

While recovering from life changing physical and mental injury, Millicent Roper is offered a job at the Arcadia Project, a sort of law enforcement agency. Except the Project’s jurisdiction goes far beyond the human realm: it polices the fey realm as well. Borderline keeps the pace punchy, but what made it really interesting was the fact that the way Millie sees the world is coloured by her personality disorder, making her a slightly unreliable narrator. Yet she’s not the only one: most of the other characters starring in Borderline are unreliable narrators for various other reasons, from plain unwillingness to show emotion, to vested interests. This asymmetrical distribution of information keeps things forever off-kilter and allows for many, many twists. Millie’s narration is also punctuated with factual statements about herself - almost as a monologue - but this is often attributed to conscious work done with her therapist. It reads less as an excuse to dump information on the reader and more as the careful work of a diligent student, using the tools she is given to preserve her mental health - something not often seen in the fantasy genre, especially with a protagonist whose circumstances wouldn’t be out of place in a noir mystery as well. Although there are mystery elements in Borderline, this is a snappy fantasy novel. Characters are often acerbic toward each other, and Baker pulls no punches in putting her characters in danger. Borderline is an action-filled urban fantasy with an unusual protagonist, well worth reading especially for fans of the genre. If you enjoyed this, you’ll probably like the Rivers of London series by Ben Aaronovitch, starting with Rivers of London.

The House of Sleep revolves around four adults who knew each other in college, each with their own troubled relationship with sleep. Sarah’s narcolepsy has come at great personal cost; Robert has found himself chasing after . Gregory Dudden’s sleep clinic belies his obsession with sleep as a disease to be eradicated; Terry has switched from sleeping fourteen hours a day to an almost sleepless existence. The House of Sleep captures a peculiar intersection between sleep and self, especially when dreams and reality aren’t quite as clear-cut as they should be. The timelines of the various characters intersect satisfyingly. Rather like Ruth Rendell or Donna Tartt, The House of Sleep involves a lot of reflection on human relationships. Though the subject matter seems heavy, The House of Sleep is lightened with occasional moments of snark, especially around the characters who take themselves too seriously - especially around the men who are so absurdly self-absorbed they barely see what they look like to everyone else. This saved it from devolving completely into melodrama. Two things for readers to be aware of: the resolution of one of the storylines, involving a transgender character, is an absolute cliché - perhaps sadly representative of writing trends during the late 90s? Also, there are descriptions of sex - not necessarily graphic nor violent per se, but hard to avoid, and not always loving. The House of Sleep is a exploration into sleep and the mind - a book in which long-lost loves and long-held obsessions do not find rest.

A rotating cast of white British men act as the “helicoptered-in” detective inspector working with a tiny team of local sergeants and constables. Each DI starts their run of episodes literally flying in, most often from London, and often struggle with culture shock, to comedic effect. Despite the fairly frequent cast changes, the stories emphasise camaraderie and community. Instead of turning to focus on how close-knit communities close around their own, community in Death in Paradise is much more inclusive. Even if this is a stereotype about friendly tropical islands, the themes of taking care of each other and accepting each other's foibles are pretty comforting to watch. Each episode is incredibly formulaic. Plenty of locked room mysteries here, only slightly bumbling detective work and a round-up at the end. Comfort watching set on a beautiful Caribbean island.