The Spy Who Came in from the Cold
by John Le Carré
Not just a spy novel; this is the spy novel. Forget what you might expect from the genre—there is no fanciful action, no exoticised backdrops, no juvenile romanticism of danger, no sex appeal. It is not only gritty in the manner later imitated by Daniel Craig’s Bond films, but decidedly austere and bleak, rendering the espionage tactics employed on both sides of the Iron Curtain morally ambiguous. It eschews redemptive or triumphal arcs in favour of tragedy. But the thrumming, twisting plot makes for some of the most compulsive reading in modern literature. There’s no better time to pick up a copy, as a theatrical adaption is heading to London’s West End in November after a well-reviewed run at Chichester Festival last year.
Ben Clark, head of digital audience
Snow Country
by Yasunari Kawabata
English translations of modern Japanese novels are having a moment, but this classic from the 1930s has it all—existential angst, mysteries left hanging, a brilliant-white setting. It tells the story of Shimamura, a sophisticated Tokyoite who takes long trips to the mountains to search for the simplicity of a lost past. While there, he enters into a temporary relationship with Komako, a novice geisha whom he regards with fascination and—possibly—love. Ultimately, however, Snow Country is about the futility of trying to escape the real world, with its harsh joys and sorrows. In 1972, a few years after receiving the Nobel prize, Kawabata revised his novel, paring it down to just a few pages and giving it the name Gleanings from Snow Country. Three months later, he killed himself.
Clive Cowdery, owner & publisher
The Summer Book
by Tove Jansson
Tove Jansson is best known for the Moomins, but the Finnish author wrote for adults too. In The Summer Book (supposedly her favourite of the novels she wrote) Jansson tells a story that is more about place, nature and the relationship of a grandmother and her six-year-old granddaughter, Sophia, than it is about plot. On a small island in the gulf of Finland, the pair spend the summer. We see the world through the eyes of the child and the grownup. We see how they see each other—their quietly joyful, thoughtful companionship: “‘When are you going to die?’ the child asked. And Grandmother answered, ‘Soon. But that is not the least concern of yours.’”
Alona Ferber, senior editor
Bel Canto
by Ann Patchett
One of the best stories I’ve read in the past year is Ann Patchett’s Bel Canto. First published in 2001, it opens with a song: an opera star is performing at a birthday party for a Japanese businessman held by the vice president of a Latin American country. Rebels appear out of the air conditioning vents and take the partygoers hostage, hoping to find among them the president himself and to force concessions for their cause. But he’s at home, watching his favourite soap. A stalemate ensues. Outside the house, life goes on, and a season passes. Inside, time is suspended, and through chess games and midnight rendezvous and operatic recitals, the lives of the rebels, the opera singer, the businessman and, importantly, his translator, become completely and forever linked. It’s a beautiful and improbable story which—like many operas—asks you to suspend your disbelief and just enjoy the romance of it all.
Ellen Halliday, deputy editor
Destroyer of Worlds: The Deep History of the Nuclear Age: 1895-1965
by Frank Close
Frank Close’s Destroyer of Worlds begins, in a flash-forwarding prelude, with the famous Trinity test of the first atomic bomb. It ends, more or less, with the detonation of the true destroyers of worlds, the thermonuclear H-bombs that made Trinity look like a Roman candle. In between is the entire history of nuclear science—and a growing sense of tragedy. Starting with Henri Becquerel’s discovery of radioactivity, in the late 19th century, and continuing with the work of researchers such as Marie Curie, Ernest Rutherford, Lise Meitner and Enrico Fermi, Close’s is a magisterial account of an exciting—and often courageous—area of scientific endeavour. Newly discovered subatomic particles are flung at atoms to help discover even more subatomic particles, and with them a new world of near-boundless energy and potential. Except we—and, increasingly, the scientists involved—know precisely where all this brilliant work is leading. To cataclysm.
Peter Hoskin, books & culture editor
As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow
by Zoulfa Katouh
“Every lemon will bring forth a child, and the lemons will never die out.” This Arabic couplet by Syrian poet Nizar Qabbani adorned anti-Assad banners during the civil war. Set in besieged Homs, the bleeding heart of the Syrian revolution, Zoulfa Katouh’s debut novel follows Salama, a young student working in a hospital witnessing the worst atrocities of the Assad regime (it’s hard not to think of the bombing of Gaza’s hospitals today), caught between the choice about whether to stay or to brave the sea. But if you don’t think a war story is summer reading, think again. This is a novel about finding love and hope in dark times—the courage of healthcare workers, the dream of hot, syrupy knafeh, lemon trees that persist despite the odds—as well as the fears that transcend borders. Now, after Assad’s fall, revisiting the book with hope for Syria’s future, Lemon Trees is a bittersweet read that is worth picking up.
Imaan Irfan, editorial assisstant
Warlock
by Oakley Hall
The citizens’ committee of Warlock, a small mining town at the western frontier of the US, has had enough of bandits coming in and scaring off their deputy sheriffs. Long ignored by the county seat in distant Bright’s City, they decide to take matters into their own hands and get a gun-for-hire to keep them safe. What follows is perhaps a classical western story, with plenty of ruminations on the nature of heroism, human endurance and civilisation. But it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that it’s just as much a political thriller, too, about where true power lies and the agency people have to express it. A lot to fit in, even within some 500 pages, but don’t be put off: this is one of those rare big books that justify every single word.
David McAllister, production & associate editor
Dragon Day
by Bob Proehl
I’m a 51-year-old mum of two teens, and my usual reading diet is made up of thrillers, murders and the occasional saucy twist when the mood strikes. Fantasy? Dragons? Not typically my gig. But Dragon Day caught me totally off guard—in the best way. Told through the audio diary of journalist Neve Pride, this gripping tale drops us into a world reeling from the sudden appearance of dragons. Think World War Z with wings and fire. The emotional pull of a mother searching for her missing son while navigating a shattered world with her daughter hooked me far more than I expected. This isn’t just a fantasy story—it’s a survival narrative, a family drama and a cleverly constructed oral history all rolled into one. Even if you usually avoid dragons like I do, give this one a go. It’s short, punchy, and unexpectedly moving.
Wendy Miller, head of partnerships & advertising
When you want a break from reading on the sun lounger, get your headphones on and spend some time with Adam Buxton. The comedian and writer has been chatting to guests on his podcast for about 10 years now. His conversations seem more intimate and honest than others in the genre, and even the adverts are entertaining as Adam writes and sings all the jingles. With such a huge back catalogue, there are too many episodes to steer you to—from Buxton’s chats with Billy Connolly, Tim Key, David Sedaris, Caitlin Moran... But for a starting-off point, I would highly recommend listening to the six episodes Adam has so far recorded over the years with comedian and actor Natasia Demetriou. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll keep going back for more.
Mike Turner, creative director
The Wizard of the Kremlin
by Giuliano da Empoli
This is superior departure-lounge fare, a pacey, 21st-century Under Western Eyes that gives a compelling account of post-Soviet Russia, from Yeltsin-era bedlam to the rise of the oligarchs and Vladimir Putin. Like Conrad’s masterpiece, it has a neat framing narrative—a student encounters Vadim Baranov, a former TV producer and spin doctor, at the latter’s ancestral home. As Baranov—based on Vladislav Surkov, Putin’s former adviser—recounts his life, da Empoli examines the depredations of our post-truth age, and the Russian political soul. While that may not sound escapist, it is compelling and strangely comforting. For while this is a Russia of malign actors, boundless cynicism and brutal realpolitik, the protagonists are rational and comprehensible—unlike certain, more tangerine-hued world leaders—and there is even a sliver of redemption for the main protagonist.
Peter Williams, managing editor
Get more reading recommendations from our:
