Tag Archives: mental health

Meeting old friends again

I’ve been knee-deep in a very sticky first draft for most of this week (second-book syndrome; it has been kicking my backside), so reading time has been limited. Imagine my joy on Thursday evening when I finally got to write the magical words “The End”!

Cover of Olivia Wildenstein's The MasterkeyAfter that stress and strain, I was delighted to relax with Olivia Wildenstein’s The Masterkey. I love Olivia’s writing and was thrilled to find another book in the series. I read The Masterpiecers and The Masterminds a while ago now, and I think The Masterkey, although set chronologically earlier than the others, is a new addition to the world. It’s also utterly fabulous. The Masterkey focuses on Aster, Masterpiecer Ivy’s twin sister. Aster is heartbreakingly lovely and damaged, and Josh is simply a poppet (probably don’t tell him; he might not be flattered).

I’ve mentioned before my perception that everything’s part of a series now, and yes, sometimes that’s annoying, but The Masterkey reminded me that it can be a really good thing. As a reader, when you find a world you enjoy, you want to spend more time there. I know it felt like a real treat to get back with Ivy and Aster again. So now I’ve got the opposite problem of being sad that there isn’t more to read about them – never happy us readers, are we?

G is for … Gorgeous Goldfish

This was recommended to me the significant 12-year-old in my life, and I Рa YA-loving adult Рutterly fell in love with it.


Diverse writing and writing about mental illness is “on trend” right now (a good thing, imo), and The Goldfish Boy deserves all the success it gets. It’s a very convincing account of a boy with OCD. I especially loved (and ached for) the moments when he could see how ridiculous his behaviour was – but that insight wasn’t enough to enable him to stop it. Also fabulous was the way the cast of characters reflected what a very wide range there is within the “normal” label. Difference is all around and nothing to be feared here.

The highest accolade I can ever give a book is when it engages my involuntary emotions – when I laugh or cry or gasp. The Goldfish Boy did so. Matty is heartbreaking, without becoming an object of pity.

This has set the bar high for my next read – check in next week to see what I’ve found for my ‘H’ read.