At the Mountains of Madness
by H. P. Lovecraft (Arkham House, 1936); audiobook read by Edward Hermann (Blackstone, 2013)
Sometimes the best horror stems from meticulous attention to detail in a real-world setting. Other times not. Lovecraft’s first-person narrator bemires himself in minutiae and in talking up the unspeakableness of what he is perennially about to relate. More soporific than horrific.
Five Children and It
by E. Nesbit (T. Fisher Unwin, 1902); audiobook read by Johanna Ward (Blackstone, 1994)
An endearing piece of children’s fiction from the turn of the 20th century, elegantly written yet still accessible (although society, of course, has changed considerably and the children’s monumental sense of entitlement is hard to stomach). Be careful what you wish for…
Tintin: Land of Black Gold
by Hergé (Methuen, 1972)
Land of Black Gold had a troubled creation (which ultimately shows), interrupted by the German invasion of Belgium in 1940, completed six years later and then revised twice more, ultimately being shoehorned—without a commensurate joie de vivre—into the Calculus years.
Around the World in Eighty Days
by Jules Verne (Pierre-Jules Hetzel, 1873); audiobook read by David Colacci (Brilliance, 1994)
The narrative is patchy—some sections are filler, more stultifying travelogue than adventure—yet overall there emerges a genuine build-up of tension, culminating in a splendid denouement (albeit that Verne takes up Phileas Fogg’s woodenness and has a cringeworthy stab at romance).
Star Quest: Spacejack!
by Terrance Dicks (W. H. Allen, 1978)
Drawing on the SF zeitgeist of the late 1970s, Dicks managed to channel Doctor Who, Star Wars, and even Planet of the Apes in this slim Middle Grade adventure. An easy, fast-paced read with decent characterisation and several positive (if overt) morals.
Cry of the Cat
by Emily Rodda and Mary Forrest (Ashton Scholastic, 1995); audiobook read by Rebecca Macauley (Bolinda, 2006)
Although the Teen Power kids argue amongst themselves and display a refreshingly real-world dynamic, the mystery itself is spoiled somewhat by their dubious decision-making and an authorial recourse to the worst kind of tropey plot twist. The audiobook reading is nicely Australian.
Rocky & Bullwinkle: Vacational Therapy
by Jack Mendelsohn, Dave Berg et al; art by Fred Fredericks, Jerry Robinson & Mel Crawford (IDW, 2014) [Collecting Gold Key’s ‘Bullwinkle’ comics, #5-8, September 1972 – July 1973]
Beholden to an older style, this collection of 1970s Rocky and Bullwinkle comic strips seems visually tired, and increasingly loses its way narratively (degenerating into pun-infested nonsense). It also weighs somewhat heavily towards the also-rans (Dudley Do-Right, Fractured Fairy Tales, et cetera).
Agaton Sax and the Diamond Thieves
by Nils-Olof Franzén; ill. Quentin Blake; trans. Evelyn Ramsden (Andre Deutsch, 1965)
The fourth book in Franzén’s detective series but the first in English translation. Agaton Sax retains his customary self-assurance, yet the story in this instance seems a little extemporised and so he ends up in pursuit rather than mastery of the plot.
With a Strange Device
by Eric Frank Russell (Dobson, 1964)
Where Russell was renowned for humorous SF, this novel seems more in keeping with Cold War espionage stories (or within Russell’s spectrum, his early Fortean noir outings Sinister Barrier and Dreadful Sanctuary), and maintains its intrigue even upon second or third reading.
Three Men in a Boat
by Jerome K. Jerome (J. W. Arrowsmith, 1889); audiobook read by Sir Timothy Ackroyd (Lark, 2013)
A tongue-in-cheek travelogue of a Thames boating holiday, serving also as a framing device for comic reminiscences. At turns poetic, droll and fervent, this 19th-century novel holds up well (particularly in audiobook form) and has been echoed tonally by many later writers.