Latest news with #HodderStoughton
Irish Times
20-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
A good spread of food memoirs: from the sanitised to the ‘slutty'
Picky Author : Jimi Famurewa ISBN-13 : 978-1399739542 Publisher : Hodder & Stoughton Guideline Price : £20 The Jackfruit Chronicles Author : Shahnaz Ahsan ISBN-13 : 978-0008683795 Publisher : Harper North Guideline Price : £16.99 Moveable Feasts: Paris in Twenty Meals Author : Chris Newens ISBN-13 : 978-1805224204 Publisher : Profile Books Guideline Price : £18.99 Tart: Misadventures of an Anonymous Chef Author : Slutty Cheff ISBN-13 : 978-1526682697 Publisher : Bloomsbury Guideline Price : £16.99 Care and Feeding Author : Laurie Woolever ISBN-13 : 978-0063327603 Publisher : Ecco Guideline Price : £22 Strong Roots: A Ukrainian Family Story of War, Exile and Hope Author : Olia Hercules ISBN-13 : 978-1526662927 Publisher : Bloomsbury Circus Guideline Price : £20 Early on in Picky, his ode to growing up second-generation British Nigerian and 1990s junk food, restaurant critic Jimi Famurewa unmasks the illusion that is food memoir. 'Working as a food writer,' he writes, 'can have a warping effect on childhood memories ... The past becomes an editable document.' It's provocative but risks spoiling the show. There's masterful writing, as Famurewa rhapsodises about a Twix 'scraped down to a soggy, denuded girder of a shortbread', the 'wincing remnants' of Brannigans crisps. It's refreshing to read an account of a reasonably happy existence – especially when it's of a single-parent son. Picky is also a significant meditation about the 'cultural performance of immigrant life', crucial to understanding the machinations of code-switching that is instinctive to multinational children. He is wonderful at expressing the heightened sensations of childhood, such as the giddiness of travelling to the US as an unaccompanied minor, 'a continent-hopping Paddington Bear of the sky'. His paean to McDonald's enlightened this second-generation immigrant reader why the 'slender, elegant uniformity of McDonald's fries in a pillar-box-red sleeve' held not only me, but my parents, in its sway. Famurewa, whose previous book was the eloquent Settlers, about the British black African experience – is a thoughtful, thorough writer. However, in a memoir the author must be the star, and even though he studied drama at Royal Holloway, Famurewa is reluctant. Out of respect, he never really delves into the people he loves, particularly his mother. Perhaps it's his British reserve coupled with the modesty of a 'Nice Nigerian Boy' but in Famurewa's conscientious refusal to manipulate his story, he and his characters never really take flight. READ MORE Shahnaz Ahsan. Photograph: Tracey Aiston If Famurewa is diffident about showcasing his immigrant family, Shahnaz Ahsan has no qualms about bragging about hers. Her cookbook memoir, The Jackfruit Chronicles, starts with her grandfather Habib, who arrives in Manchester from what is now Bangladesh in 1953 and starts a family that thrives despite Enoch Powell, Thatcher-era racism and post-9/11 anti-Muslim sentiment. British-Bangladeshis such as Habib created what we know as the 'Indian curry house', where one pot of house gravy is tailored into different dishes with proteins, vegetables and spices. Jackfruit's 'Benglish' recipes offer an intriguing glimpse of early immigrant adaptation: cheese and Patak pickle pinwheels, crumpets swapped for the flatbread chitoi pitha. Unfortunately, Ahsan's style is prone to cliched platitudes that emphasise the wonderfulness of a clan for whom 'food is the love language which we share'. 'Thank you,' she writes, 'to Aneesa and all the other aunties who pass on their wisdom both in and out of the kitchen.' Ahsan grew up on Enid Blyton, and Winona Ryder's Little Women, and it shows in her relentlessly heartwarming prose. Her characters lack nuance; her jokes fall flat. There's a touch of preachiness to Ahsan, who as a teenager would hide 'lads' mags' such as Zoo (where Jimi Famuwera once worked) 'in the belief that if we could, somehow, limit the availability of this media, women would actually be regarded with a modicum of respect one day'. In some families there is a refrain: Someone should write about how marvellous we are. The Jackfruit Chronicles is exactly the kind of saga that your grandma would bless. Food writer Olia Hercules , from London, must stand by as the landscape and people of her idyllic Ukrainian childhood are demolished. Her parents' home, built 'to retire in, to grow weathered in, alongside the creased riverbank that stretches below' is occupied by the Russian military. However, as she realises in Strong Roots, the war opens up another past, one whose wounds had been covered over during more halcyon days. 'When I was growing up, I never questioned why we talked about certain things in half-whispers,' she writes. 'My grandparents' memories were 'mined' and had to be trodden on lightly for a long time.' The irony is that the tales that Hercules gathers – horrifying, hilarious – might have been discarded were it not for the current terror. She's not alone; hordes of Ukrainians, since the war began, have been scrambling to preserve their heritage. However, such stories come with a cost, as Hercules realises when she prods her grandmother Vera for what is ancient and unendurable. '(F)rom out of her stiff body came a stiff voice ... I understood that her stiffness was a barrier, a barrier against the past, perhaps to shield her from things that she might have never discussed before.' There are some overripe moments. (For example: 'A list of occasions when I see my ancestors' smiles' that includes 'my children's eyes'.) However, Hercules knows how to mix lushness with crisp, unyielding fact; what's more, instead of explaining her characters, she describes them. Her grandmother Vera excitedly gets ready for a 'foto sessiya' with a crinoline blouse and 'huge lacquered hair'. 'I need you to be natural, grandma!' Hercules shrieks, and makes her change. The people in Hercules's book have been maturing inside her for a lifetime, gathering richness. They can be stubborn, quick to anger and vain; she conveys the way they talk over each other, and how their punchlines falter. Hercules's people may be strong, but she has also rendered them so vividly so that they will endure. They are blood, breath and bone – shut your eyes and they resound with exuberant cacophony. Slutty Cheff Slutty Cheff , the anonymous author of Tart, is a few years shy of 30. As her name suggests, she's a horny workaholic in an esteemed London restaurant, and bangs many a dish, on and off the line. She's white, socially privileged and loves her parents; she's at the sweet spot in life when things are on the cusp. In short, you'd hate her if she weren't so winningly self-deprecating. Tart is not strict memoir. As Slutty told British Vogue, 'Stories are based on my stories, and stories of my chef friends,' which makes it all the more entertaining, an updated 18th-century picaresque where the rogue hero is a woman 'who will feed your desire, like a Tesco meal deal'. Plus, although Tart has plenty of fat-and-sugar stoked steam, its author knows that the cardinal rule for both culinary and erotic writing is to stay crisp and dry. She observes, 'The other reason why I don't want people to know about my lover is far more important than gender politics: the man I'm sleeping with has a topknot.' There are darker aspects of Tart, like panic attacks and a sleazy co-worker, and Slutty confesses, 'Whenever I lose the sense of who I am or what I do, or I spin into disassociation or fall into a sense of depression I feel scared and worry that I'll never be happy again. There are two things in my life that are a constant reminder that pleasure exists: food and sex.' Anthony Bourdain. Photograph: Alex Welsh/The New York Times The kitchen, touted by many as an artistic vocation, can also be a form of self-medication, its mania an addictive panacea for people too terrified to stop. Laurie Woolever is 22 when Care and Feeding begins. She has a lot in common with Slutty, except instead of present-day London, she lives in 1996 New York. A blond Ivy League graduate who can cook and write, she will become assistant to the two chefs synonymous with that era's culinary machismo – the not-yet #MeToo'ed, evangelist of Italian cuisine Mario Batali, and Kitchen Confidential author Anthony Bourdain. Much as in Tart, what unfolds is a heady rush of alcohol, food, dirty sex and high-calibre work, proving that whoever said drink and drugs were counterproductive was wrong. Except. Let's just say that we hope Slutty doesn't suffer like Woolever in 20 years. This raw, scalding book is about what happens when one's career is ascendant while one's personal life unravels. Some events are spectacularly badly timed; shortly after Woolever gets sober, her husband leaves her and Bourdain kills himself. Woolever is briskly inventive, like when she describes a lamb tongue's salad as 'intriguing because of the truffles and provocative because of the tongue'. She's deadpan about Ferran Adria, pink limousines and a writer who 'had a revolting Humbert Humbert-ish way with wine descriptors ... bottles were 'sexy babies' and 'flirtatious teens'. Still, an attraction of the book is the two outsized men with whom she was affiliated, and on this Woolever delivers, sometimes reconfiguring their signature swaggers in unexpected ways. About Batali (who concluded a written apology about his misconduct with a recipe for cinnamon rolls) she's gentle – he's an erudite, generous monster who's a surprisingly astute observer of her spiralling behaviour. Regarding Bourdain, whose kindness she paints in many lights, Woolever gives him a remarkable send-off. 'He had,' she states, 'made the colossally stupid, but somehow wholly plausible decision to die of a broken heart.' If only she wasn't so excruciatingly hard on herself. Woolever details every embarrassing incident in her life, and reprints her journal extracts and emails with every blemish – they're broken and sloppy, the sort of thing a vainer writer would want permanently erased. However, much of Care and Feeding makes you crave reckless behaviour, such as that 'woozy punch-in-the-face feeling' of a gin-and-tonic at a Sri Lanka bar. You can't forget the brilliant accomplishments – in kitchens and elsewhere – that were fuelled by the admittedly toxic adrenaline of that time. Compare Woolever and Slutty to the more virtuous recollections of Famurewa, Ahsan, and Hercules; consider that there won't be a Batali autobiography any time soon, and it seems that, at least for now, in the world of food memoir, it will still be the white girls who have the most fun. Chris Newens. Photograph: Sabine Dundure In Moveable Feasts , Chris Newens seeks, in each of Paris's arrondissements, a dish that encapsulates something of the city's soul. Methodical and charming, Newens starts his research the old-fashioned way, by talking to strangers, waylaying Sri Lankan plongeurs on a sleeper train and sniffy haute bourgeoises after church. In the world, Paris is the city most famously defined by its outsiders. As his title suggests, Newens's teenage hero was Ernest Hemingway, and he is caught between the schoolboy fancies that lured him there, and the mercurial, multinational Paris that keeps him. His city hovers between unconventional and stereotype, with diaspora dishes that are also predictably Parisian (bahn-mi in the 13th), croissants and Congolese-style malangwa fish. As a white English man with fluent French, Newens can navigate the homeless in the Bois des Vincennes and a 1993 Saint-Émilion with equanimity. More than Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, Newens recalls another culinary Paris chestnut, George Orwell's Down and Out in Paris and London. Like Orwell, Newens is at his best when he is observing individuals where they work, like the employees at the smoothly functioning colossus of decent-priced dining, Bouillon République. Many memoirs touch on home, that mysterious place where you belong. A Paris expat like Newens, however, decides to settle in a place where he will forever be foreign. It's not a choice all Paris immigrants make. For the Sri Lankan waiter at La Fontaine de Mars or the Peruvian-American student at the Cordon Bleu, there's a yearning for geographical and emotional permanence, to become an indelible part of the city's history. It is our sincere, if somewhat naive, hope that they will.
Daily Mail
09-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
Picky by Jimi Famurewa: One critic's journey from mash and McDonalds to Michelin Stars
Picky by Jimi Famurewa (Hodder & Stoughton £20, 384pp) There are few more formative memories in life than the school dinner you hated. Congealed custard, brown broccoli that rather than resembling a green tree looks closer to a wizened bramble bush, and chicken so dry that the Sahara would seem an oasis. For journalist and food critic Jimi Famurewa, his primary school nemesis was smash... otherwise known as mashed potato. Cold with a 'gloopy mouthfeel', young Famurewa felt strongly that it belonged anywhere but on his plate – preferably in the bin. However, when faced by the dinner lady guarding said bin, Famurewa did what any young child faced with adversity would: wadded the starchy mixture up, shoved it in his pocket and delivered his empty tray to the expectant dinner lady. This is one of the early instances where Famurewa's 'pickiness' shines through. Charming and instantly likeable, he has the uncanny and rare ability to reflect and reminisce without the rose-tinted (and grating) impression so many memoirs have. Growing up in a traditional Nigerian household in south-east London, with a father still in Nigeria, a mother who worked full-time and two brothers, Famurewa learned pretty quickly how to make it on his own. The ingenuity seen in pocketed-potato gate was not a one-time occurrence. During a particularly influential Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle faze, Famurewa became obsessed with their favourite food, pizza. Knowing the tomato and mozzerella holy grail awaited his tastebuds in the freezer, but not knowing how to use the oven, he decided to get the family's toaster involved. The result? Billowing smoke, half blackened, half frozen dough and a surprisingly understanding mother. What stands out in this engaging memoir that spans toddlerdom to adulthood, huge Nigerian family gatherings to bustling Soho streets, is Famurewa's refreshing honesty about his Nigerian heritage. In his picky early years he had little interest in Nigerian cooking beyond the tried-and-true favourites he had enjoyed in Lagos. Instead, McDonalds, KFC and TGI Fridays were the foods he craved. Having grown up in a household that viewed 'independent' restaurants with a decree of caution and the suspicion that they might be scams, the irony of his future career as a food critic is not lost on Famurewa. Yet his love of food shines through in this book. There is a palpable hunger (pardon the pun) within the pages that expresses a love of any cuisine. Whether it is the jealousy felt towards a coworker's 'ghee-simmered onions' or the fact that on a date with his now wife, he made fish and chips from scratch… a far cry from toasted pizza, a real love for food had always been within him. Poignantly, towards the end of his book, Famurewa realises there is a wealth of knowledge to be gleaned from watching his powerhouse of a mother in the kitchen. Knowledge that can be combined, not separated as in youth, with the path his own appetites have taken, 'I am the cultural inheritance that I have been given but I am also what I have given myself.' Life and food are about finding balance: don't force something that doesn't fit and don't be afraid of the pickiness that helps you discover what is right for you.
Irish Times
06-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
Never Flinch by Stephen King: Prolific author in crime thriller mode
Never Flinch Author : Stephen King ISBN-13 : 978-1399744331 Publisher : Hodder & Stoughton Guideline Price : £25 You don't write more than 70 novels without knowing how to follow your muse, and the muse that Stephen King is following is called Holly Gibney. She has now featured in seven novels or novellas for King, and she takes centre stage here again. Since we met her first 11 years ago as a mousy, repressed character in Mr Mercedes , Holly has found her confidence and blossomed into a smart and resourceful private detective. This story kicks off when the Buckeye City police department receives a letter from someone threatening to kill 'thirteen innocents and one guilty' in an act of atonement for the death of an innocent man. Holly is initially drawn into the investigation when the murders start, but then finds herself on the road acting as security for a controversial women's rights activist who is bringing her pro-choice rally from city to city, and has attracted the attention of a stalker with murderous intent. [ How Stephen King unlocks our imagination with every scare Opens in new window ] This is King in crime thriller mode, although elements of supernatural horror do occasionally push their way into Holly stories, where they seem ill at ease. The evil that Holly is chasing in Never Flinch is strictly flesh and blood, yet oddly the story feels less plausible than many of King's flights of fancy. READ MORE The idea that a shrinking violet such as Holly would take on a job as a bodyguard is utterly nonsensical – the character is far too smart and self-aware to put herself in that position – and is one of several elements that feel like parts from a different jigsaw. King takes aim at anti-abortion protests, queries the legal system, and there is a character that may or may not be trans, but is definitely problematic. It's a shame, as there are sections in here that work perfectly – the stalker gradually closing in on his prey could easily have been its own separate story, there are some heart-breaking father-son dynamics, and the murders in the serial killer story are genuinely chilling for how utterly senseless they are. King is simply too good at this not to make it a page turner but ultimately the whole novel seems to add up to slightly less than the sum of its parts.
Yahoo
01-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Stephen King, the king of horror, is back with another gem...5 new books to read
Fiction The Retirement Plan by Sue Hincenbergs is published by Sphere in hardback, priced £18.99 (ebook £7.99). Available June 3 If crazy, switcheroo mysteries with a dark comic edge are your thing, then The Retirement Plan is the summer read for you. Sue Hincenbergs' story of disappointment, grief, deceit, murder and casinos is based around the friendship of a group of women. After the death of one of their husbands in a freak accident (or was it a hitman catching up with him for past misdeeds?), his widow is left a million-dollar life insurance payout, sparking a Golden Girls' retirement dream for the other wives. But cleverly, this isn't just their tale. The husbands also have a retirement plan, and a suspicion that someone is about to find out about it. The three remaining husbands reach out to their barber to help 'fix' the problem. A triumphant crime caper that is funny and exciting. 9/10 Review by Rachel Howdle Never Flinch by Stephen King is published in hardback by Hodder & Stoughton, priced £25. Available now A brutal murderer seeks revenge for a wrongly convicted man, taunting police with a letter threatening to kill '13 innocents and one guilty.' Meanwhile, outspoken feminist activist Kate McKay launches a lecture tour, packing venues with her noisy fans, angry opponents and unwittingly, a stalker intent on killing her. Two dramatic storylines in one book by award-winning, master-crime writer Stephen King, Never Flinch is a double treat for his army of fans. Detective Izzy Jaynes leads the hunt for the letter writer, made urgent when the promised killings start. She asks for help from her friend, private investigator Holly Gibney, who is suddenly hired by McKay to be her bodyguard amid increasing threats to her safety. The hunt for the killer and the stalker merge into one as time runs out to avert a bloodbath. King says it was a difficult book to write as he had surgery on his hip, revealing it went through multiple rewrites and three title changes after his wife told him he could "do better." The author of more than 70 books proves yet again he doesn't flinch from writing best-sellers. 9/10 Review by Alan Jones Atmosphere by Taylor Jenkins Reid. Photo: Hutchinson Heinemann/PAAtmosphere by Taylor Jenkins Reid is published in hardback by Hutchinson Heinemann, priced £20 (ebook £10.99). Available June 3 Taylor Jenkins Reid - author of The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo - is back with Atmosphere. Set amid the 1980s space shuttle programme, it explores female empowerment, space and science, queer love and everything in between. From the beginning of the emotional rollercoaster that the novel takes you on, Jenkins Reid hits at every heart string imaginable. Astronomy professor Joan Goodwin leaps at a chance to work for NASA, embarking on a celestial and scientific dream that brings her into the orbit of fellow astronaut candidate Vanessa Ford. Atmosphere jumps from past to present, examining NASA culture, and readers are also given a great view of the kind of training needed to be part of the Space Shuttle program. Moving, pacey and a read that will stick with you. 8/10 Review by Sara Keenan Year of the Rat: Undercover in the British Far Right by Harry Shukman is published in hardback by Chatto & Windus, priced £20 (ebook £10.99). Available now Year of the Rat: Undercover in the British Far Right by Harry Shukman. Photo: Chatto & Windus/PA Harry Shukman's brave delve into the dark recesses of Britain's Far Right feels especially timely. He spent a year undercover, infiltrating a series of extremist groups in the hope of understanding - and exposing - their dreams and ambitions. That Shukman's book provides few surprises is less a slight on his quest than an admission of the extent to which the ideas he encounters have been allowed to infiltrate the mainstream. The people Shukman meets are not, for the most part, big-booted skinheads swathed in Nazi tattoos, or white-hooded American backwoodsmen. They are normal people - men, mostly - who espouse their beliefs in pubs and clubs, or on specially-arranged camping trips. Some members of the lower-ranked orders appear so gullible as to inspire a tinge of sympathy. But such moments of light relief - there's an excruciatingly funny incident involving a notorious football hooligan being caught short - don't mask the real power and threat posed by extremist groups. The strength of Year of the Rat is not so much the tales of low-level loudmouths, but the inferences to the shady puppet-masters who continue to shape world politics for the worse. 6/10 Review by Mark Staniforth Audre & Bash Are Just Friends by Tia Williams is published in paperback by Quercus priced £9.95 (ebook £4.99). Available now A super-summery YA rom com, Audre & Bash Are Just Friends is a spin-off from US writer Tia Williams' page-turner of an adult romance, Seven Days In June. Audre is the highly-motivated, thoroughly ambitious, incredibly well-behaved daughter of best-selling erotica novelist Eva Mercy (the heroine of Seven Days), and it's the last day of school when Audre's summer plans disintegrate. Audre & Dash Are Just Friends by Tia Williams. Photo: Quercus/PA Sick of her mum doting on her new baby sister and sleeping on the sofa while their apartment gets a remodel, Audre decides to hire a 'fun-consultant' to help her let loose a bit and give her material for a project that could help her get into college - enter new kid, Croc-wearer and expert partier, Bash. While the trajectory of this pair's relationship is to be expected (yes, sparks do fly), Williams' characters are suffused with anxieties and family angst that feel wholly real. A flirty, entertaining read that should hit a nerve with lots of teens. 8/10 Review by Ella Walker 1. The Knight and the Moth by Rachel Gillig 2. By Your Side by Ruth Jones 3. Nightshade by Michael Connelly 4. Silver Elite by Dani Francis 5. The Devils by Joe Abercrombie 6. This House of Burning Bones by Stuart MacBride 7. The Cardinal by Alison Weir 8. Tyrant:The Nero Trilogy by Conn Iggulden 9. Vianne by Joanne Harris 10 The Emperor of Gladness by Ocean Vuong (Compiled by Waterstones)
Daily Mail
09-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
Sipping afternoon cocktails at festivals, dinner with your literary heroes (and even a special swirly signature for book signings): What it's REALLY like to write a bestseller
One cool, rainy evening in June last year, I walked out of the Scottish Daily Mail newsroom for the very last time to the deafening sound of my colleagues banging on their desks. They weren't trying to hurry me out the door (or so I was later assured) but taking part in an old newspaper tradition which originated in the printing presses. A staff member, usually retiring, is 'banged out' as a mark of respect from their colleagues. I was hugely moved, and a little surprised. I wasn't retiring, after all, but leaving my job on a wing, a prayer, and a book deal with Hodder & Stoughton to write fiction. As the door swung shut on my 27-year career - and on my brilliant, supportive colleagues - I had a moment of sheer terror. What on earth did I think I was doing? Almost one year on, it's a question I've just about managed to answer. After nearly three decades as 'Emma Cowing, journalist', I am now 'Emma Cowing, novelist.' My debut novel, The Show Woman, was published 1 May, and in the time since I left the Mail I have completed my second novel, The Pleasure Palace, due for publication in Spring 2026. Where once I spent my days interviewing politicians and celebrities, attending daily news conference and penning columns for this newspaper, now I spend it at home at my desk, conjuring up fictional worlds. I write historical fiction (both books are set in the Edwardian era), which means that I am no longer immersed in the daily news agenda, alert to every breaking story, but instead spend hours flicking through the British Newspaper archive and old dusty tomes, researching days and lives gone by. And yes, every so often I get dressed up to attend glitzy publishing dinners with some of my favourite authors, but more on that later. So how did I end up forsaking a long career in the fast-paced world of daily newspapers for the life of a novelist? It all started back in the autumn of 2021 when my Mum and I were going through an old box of chocolates filled with family photographs, and one caught my eye. The woman in the sepia-toned image was wearing hoop earrings, an embroidered waistcoat and roped around her head, a headdress made of coins. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before. 'Who is that?' I asked my Mum. 'Ah,' she replied. 'That's your great aunt Violet.' A trapeze artist and bareback horse rider who had performed with the famous Pinder's Circus when she was just 15 years old, Violet was the daughter of Scottish showpeople who lived in caravans and spent their winters at showgrounds in Glasgow. Talking to my Mum, who remembered the old family stories, I learnt that my great grandparents had run a travelling theatre that had criss-crossed the old fairground routes of Scotland between the 1880s and the 1910s, their seven children in tow. Fascinated, I started going through official documents on the Scotland People's website, rooting amongst birth, death and marriage certificates as well as Census records for clues to this intriguing and all but forgotten way of life. One soon emerged. When it came to the women in my family, under profession, they were nearly all described as 'showwoman.' It was a word I did not recognise. We all know what a showman is, and, of course, a showgirl. But a show woman? I did more research, learning that for the era, show women had a surprising amount of control over their lives. They ran shows, handled money and took over the rides if their husbands or fathers died, keeping the show, quite literally, on the road. A story started forming in my mind of four unusual women who come together in Edwardian Scotland to form the first all-female circus act. I tinkered with it for about 18 months on days off and weekends (like so many journalists, I had always wanted to write a book but rarely had the time to do so) until my hand was forced. I entered the first 5,000 words in a writing competition called The Cheshire Novel Prize, found myself longlisted, and was told I had two months to turn in the full manuscript if I made the shortlist. Only one problem: I didn't have a full manuscript. In fact I had less than 20,000 words. But I also had what I'd needed all along: a deadline. I bashed out the full book in eight weeks, was shortlisted, then longlisted for two other writing awards, all of which led me to my literary agent and, just six months later, a two-book deal with Hodder & Stoughton. It was the proverbial whirlwind, but one that also led me to a crossroads. I'd been a journalist since I was 19 and loved (almost) every moment of it. But writing a novel was something I'd wanted to do since I was a child, the idea of making it my job the stuff of fantasy. Now, here was my chance. At 46 years old, I could start a brand new career. Exciting, yes. A terrifying leap of faith, almost certainly. I've been lucky enough to have a fantastic publisher in Hodder & Stoughton and had more than a few 'pinch me' moments over the past year. Being ranked amongst Stylist's top ten debut novels by women for 2025. Getting a glowing review in Woman's Weekly (Woman's Weekly! My granny would have been thrilled). Some of my favourite authors, including Clare Leslie Hall, whose Broken Country has now spent two months on the New York Times bestseller list and was a Reese Witherspoon Bookclub pick for March, and bestselling author Jenny Colgan, who not so long ago I interviewed for this very paper, writing stunning endorsements for The Show Woman. Seeing my novel named on the Waterstones website under 'our best new fiction' alongside new work by authors such as John Boyne and Edward St Aubyn. Being reviewed in a newspaper I used to work for in glowing terms, by a reviewer I have long admired, their only criticism to ask why it had taken me so long to turn novelist. Why indeed? Then there was the day my publisher sent me the trailer (yes, books have trailers now) to The Show Woman, looking more like a Hollywood production than something I wrote at my kitchen table. Being listed alongside some of Hodder's more well-known authors including a certain Stephen King. Being involved in discussions over cover design and marketing and publicity (publishing a book is definitely a team effort, something I'd had no idea of until I was in the thick of it). Because you can't sign your book the same way you sign official documents for security reasons I even had to create an author signature, which made me feel giddily childish as I tried out my new swirly autograph ready for book signings. There's been a bit of glamour, too. Bookseller dinners with authors I adore, including one with the twice Booker-listed David Mitchell, author of Cloud Atlas, who was incredibly kind and encouraging, and a certain A-list TV presenter and author who gave me a huge hug and wished me all the luck in the world. I've discovered the world of book festivals and had a magical few days at Cheltenham Literature Festival last autumn meeting fellow 2025 debuts and drinking afternoon martinis, before making my own book festival debut last November in the beautiful town of Tring in Hertfordshire. I'm appearing at Wimbledon Book Festival later this year and am currently on a mini-book tour of the UK with dates in Manchester, Northumberland and Ayrshire in the diary. I've spent more time in bookshops over the past year than I have in my entire life, sheer bliss for a bookworm like me. Then there was my book launch, held at Waterstones Glasgow Sauchiehall Street, where friends, family and members of the public came along to drink wine and hear me talk about my book. Amongst them was my primary 2 school teacher, who gave me a hug, and told me how proud she was. Yes, I did cry. The honest truth though, is that I'm not sure I could have done any of it without those 27 years in newspapers. There are so many things I learnt in journalism that I have carried into novel writing. I'm still good at hitting deadlines, and write exceptionally fast. A lot of novelists talk about needing the muse to visit and creating the perfect environment before they can write a word - scented candles, complete silence, a week-long writing retreat in a cottage in the Cotswolds with roses round the door – but as someone who has filed stories from cars, cafes and frontline combat zones I can write pretty much anywhere, any time. Most importantly I treat novel writing like a job because, well, it is my job. I'm at my desk by 9.30am most mornings. I take an hour or so for lunch and finish up around 6.30pm. I write every day. So what do I miss about my old job? Well, fluffy as he is, the cat is not quite as good a conversationalist as my former colleagues. I miss being plugged into what's happening in the world in a way that I realise now is unique to newsrooms. The world has changed hugely in the year I've been away from the job. There's a Labour government at Westminster, Trump is back in the White House, and Alex Salmond is no longer with us. Stories I would once have immersed myself in have instead unfolded gently on the background as I doggedly research Edwardian era quirks such as the correct length of the grass on a croquet lawn (four inches) and how people in 1908 would drink their Pimm's (with ice and lemonade). But there are additional benefits too that, after 27 years of a full-on career in the newsroom, I can't deny I enjoy. There's no morning commute, eye constantly on the clock, wondering what the traffic's going to be like and if I'll get a decent parking space. In fact one of my favourite things about my new life is waking up early, making myself a cup of tea and reading for an hour. They say all the greatest writers are big readers, so I can almost convince myself it's work. But so far, the most magical moments have come from readers. Ones who have contacted me to tell me how much they loved the book, or that it made them cry, or laugh, reminded them of their own family history, or prompted them to research their own. And in that way, it's still a little like working for the Mail. When I was on this paper one of my favourite parts of the job was hearing from readers. Many had thoughts about my column, some wanted to know my opinions on certain subjects. Some even agreed with me. Because when it comes down to it, that's the most important part about writing, whether it's for a newspaper, or a novel: the readers. The Show Woman by Emma Cowing, published by Hodder & Stoughton, £16.99.
