Caroline is Writing

a blog by a writer attempting to live the literary good life on the internet
17 min read Permalink

I'm Done With Social Media

Or: why I have a blog now.

I started last year with one clear goal: 2024 was going to be the year that I finally did social media. Regular posting, a content calendar, a strategy, a plan for growth — all of that. And yet I ended the year pretty certain that I never wanted to open those apps again, let alone post my photos and words to them. How?

My main motivation for wanting to conquer my long-held ambivalence about posting was because I had a book coming out in April 2024. I was very anxious about this, in part because A Body Made of Glass was not an obviously easy sell. There are a few reasons for that: it blends several genres in a hard-to-categorise way, it tackles a subject in which I am not a well-known or previously published expert, and it is highly personal. It had also, in quite a modest way, done well according to the nebulous pre-publication benchmarks that authors obsess over. It had attracted a "Big Five" publisher in the US, something I had not had before, received a BBC radio serialisation deal in the UK, and had received some decent early reviews from industry publications in both places. I felt I should be leaving no stone unturned to support the book's success, since I had been gifted opportunities that many other writers would love to have. Chances, too, that I may never have again.

There are very few things that an author can practically do to make a book a success, especially after said book is written, edited and printed. Being a celebrity or personality with a pre-existing audience that adores you definitely helps, but isn't something you can suddenly decide to become four months before your publication date. Catching a particular trend or moment that causes publishers to invest heavily in promotion and booksellers to place large early orders is great too, but once the book is done that's up to them, not you. Giving off that nebulous aura of "I'm about to become a huge literary success" that seems to cling to some people and not others would be good as well, but is also pretty hard to engineer deliberately if that's not your personality or presentation (and it isn't mine).

In that tense, quiet period after the book has been finalised but before anyone can buy or read it, augmenting your personal brand via the regular use of social media feels like the only concrete action you can take. Or at least it did to me, so I threw myself into it. I attended some training sessions on "social media for authors". I asked professional acquaintances with expertise for tips. I learned that Instagram and TikTok were the best platforms to target for bookish followers and that the algorithms of these platforms were, these days, only interested in vertical videos. I compiled lists of videos I could make and started filming mostly-daily updates about my experience as an author with a book coming out soon. I scoured the accounts of other authors who were more successful than me on social media for insights. I posted about every tiny bit of publicity my book got or small win I achieved. I asked people to pre-order in as many ways as I could think of. I delved into the analytics, searching for ways to optimise and improve. I spent a lot of time scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling, hunting for the "one weird trick" that would help me make a success of this.

I quickly began to feel quite uncomfortable. I'm not a natural on camera and I don't have that talent for talking effortlessly and engagingly to a lens when alone in a room that successful social media personalities need. I was forcing it all the time, making myself record multiple takes and doing things again and again until they looked "natural" (a highly unnatural behaviour). My video editing skills are basic, so turning out regular videos took me a long time. Worst of all, though, was the way in which this enterprise began to alter my mindset about the normal stuff of life. I never used to think very hard about what I wore for a casual day of writing at home, or worry about how clean the bathroom mirror was, or obsess over what narrative or story might emerge from my general jumble of accumulated tasks. It shocked me how quickly I started viewing my own life as something to film and share, rather than something to just... live. I've seen this effect described as "the devil had taken my eyes" and I feel that is accurate. Something had taken over my gaze and it wasn't something good. A new and sinister lens had appeared between me and the world. One evening, as I made my husband walk our dog past the same scenic view multiple times so that I could get the best shot of it for a video, I experienced a sudden wave of revulsion for myself and what I was doing. From then on, I began to despise the way this supposedly necessary aspect of modern authorship was intruding on parts of me that I had never meant to be available for public consumption.

Worst of all, perhaps, it didn't even seem to be doing anything. The TikTok and Instagram algorithms were utterly disinterested in what I was posting. Some of my existing followers saw my videos and interacted with them, but the promise that this kind of regular video posting would expose my work to lots of new potential readers was never fulfilled. Instagram's analytics showed that although I had a couple of thousand followers, only a few hundred of them were even seeing what I was posting. On Twitter, where I had nearly ten thousand followers that had mostly been accumulated during my previous work as a political journalist, the figures were even worse. Most of my TikToks barely made it to views in three figures. Clearly, I was doing it wrong. But how?

I couldn't find any answers, although there's a seemingly inexhaustible supply of information out there on this topic. Everyone in this space seemed to publicly agree that "social media was really important for book promotion" and pointed to the viral success of various books on BookTok, but nobody was able to go into more detail about how this was achieved, or if it was even applicable to a non-fiction book by a non-celebrity author. When I tried to explore this world, it seemed to me like the old-fashioned word-of-mouth effect was just being channeled through a new medium. Books mostly weren't gaining momentum on TikTok because their authors were making top notch viral videos, but because readers and bookish influencers were recommending them to each other and posting about their experiences. It was the quality of the book, the canny distribution of advance reading copies and marketing materials by publishers, and the work's ability to speak to a moment that made the difference. I didn't really see how my own social media activities could fit into this ecosystem. People would either find and like the book, or they wouldn't. Did I even need to be there?

Every time I posted, I felt worse. From the outside, my attempts to "do" social media seriously probably looked inconsequential, but they consumed a major portion of my thoughts. What I was doing felt inauthentic and, as the book came out and started getting reviews, like boasting for no reason other than to boast. The choppy nature of the algorithms meant that there was no consistent community on these apps with whom I was sharing my progress through the publishing process and no guarantee even that those were interested would see what I was sharing. When I did in-person events about the book and spoke to readers over the signing table, they would tell me that they had come because they had liked my first book, or enjoyed my current podcast, Shedunnit, or had been a fan of my old one, SRSLY. One person drove several hours to see me at a literary festival because I had put a link to the event in a postscript in my sporadic email newsletter. Nobody I met had been motivated by what I had been doing on social media, even though making those posts had been consuming the vast majority of the time and effort I had to devote to book promotion. This is anecdotal data, for sure, but so much of how the success or otherwise of a book is defined is vibes-based that I felt fine about allowing it to inform me. It only backed up what the social media platforms' analytics had been telling me, anyway.

By the mid point of last year my book had been out for a couple of months and the expectation to market it as much as possible was dying away. My anxiety simmered down to the point where I could assess matters more objectively. This was situation as I saw it: I had put a lot of work time and mental energy into social media because I had been told by lots of trustworthy sources — like people who worked in publishing, fellow authors and my writers' union — that it was the best way to help my book reach as many interested readers as possible. In fact, my posts had reached very few people and contributed very little to the success of the book. Plus, they were very time consuming to make so had eaten up leisure time and my capacity to do other work. There had also been negative side effects in the form of vastly increased screen time and that disagreeable mental habit of seeing my entire existence as potential posts. There was only one possible conclusion: social media was not for me.

More than that, I felt that there was something of an "emperor's new clothes" situation at work. Being a social media star is a skillset completely distinct from being someone who writes books — they may overlap occasionally, but it's not the norm. Yet I suspect that every non-celebrity and midlist author will have felt the pressure at some point to "be more active on social media" because otherwise they aren't "pulling their weight" for their book. I wasn't alone in finding that the effort:reward ratio was entirely out of whack, either. Plenty of peers that I spoke to with online creative businesses were happy to share their experiences of withdrawing partially or fully from social media (for all sorts of reasons including harassment, burnout and parenting) only to find that their sales were largely or even entirely unaffected the next time they had a project to promote. One had closed an account with a following in the six figures and switched to communicating with customers only via an email newsletter, and business was even better than before (likely because all of those subscribed were actually receiving the emails they had signed up for). I began to wonder. Was this all, in fact, nonsense?

The publishing industry is going through a period of great volatility at the moment, for many reasons including but not limited to rising production costs, encroaching celebrity culture, corporate greed and the advent of AI. Traditional publicity opportunities like television/radio interviews and print reviews are becoming less and less effective at getting the word out about books as fewer people tune in. The digital alternatives have, so far, not offered a like for like replacement for the old marketing ecosystem. From my perspective as a traditionally-published, non-celebrity author, it feels like nobody really knows what makes a book sell anymore. I think the persistent advice to authors to "do social media" is, at best, part of a strategy that can be generously described as throwing everything at the proverbial wall in the hope that something, anything, will stick. Being more cynical, I think it might sometimes be a way of keeping authors quiet, of transferring the responsibility for their book's success on to their shoulders and occupying them doing something that feels productive so they don't ask too many awkward questions. It's busy work.

That's all without considering the role of the platforms themselves in this. I spent several months last year feeling grim about the amount of free content I had uploaded to platforms owned by the likes of Meta and Elon Musk. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, TikTok — these are all outlets that purport to capture and manipulate their users' attention, meaning that, as a "creator", if you catch the wave of the algorithm just right you can surf it all the way to a huge following, then fame and fortune. I don't doubt that the select few who make this equation work for them do get well paid for their work once they become successful. Everyone else, though, is just uploading for free so that there is enough stuff on the app to keep users scrolling forever. Infinite scroll means infinite ad inventory. The platforms also invest in promoting the idea that being a "full time creator" is an attainable goal and incentivise their top creators to sell the idea that anyone can achieve their success, if they just start now and work really hard for nothing as long as is necessary. The more I thought about it, the harder it became not to view the so-called creator economy as a blatant pyramid scheme underwritten by some of the worst corporations in the world. The way to succeed is to get in early, then become an aspirational figure to those who come along later.

I'm being deliberately blunt to make my point. If you enjoy watching happy videos of dogs and uploading pictures of your holidays for your friends, I'm delighted for you. If making videos and sharing them online is your hobby, all power to you. As part of a viable creative career, though, where a living wage and sustainable workload is the goal, social media now feels to me like a long con that just hasn't been exposed yet.

I've never been a whole-hearted lover of social media, nor a great adept at it. I only signed up for Facebook at university because it was necessary for being involved in the student newspaper, and then I deleted my account a few years later when I had a scary experience with a stalker. I rejoined when I moved out of London, naively believing it would help me make new local friends, which it did not. I got Twitter when someone on my journalism training course laughed at me because I didn't already have an account and then almost never posted on it, even when the platform was at its dizzying heights of relevance for those in the media. I once went mildly viral for a snarky tweet during a televised election debate and found the experience so horrifying that I never wanted to repeat it. Instagram was better, for a while — my corner of it was mostly friends and dogs and knitting — but then the feed became algorithmic instead of chronological and I almost never saw the things I liked in a sensible order.

Social media was never a wholly cosy or useful place for me, although I was utterly addicted to it for a number of years because "being a journalist" in the 2010s felt synonymous with "being on social media all the time". This idea was so deeply rooted in me that when I worked somewhere with such terrible computers that they couldn't even handle refreshing a Twitter feed, I bought an iPad with my own money so that I could have a device next to me all day that was continually showing the latest posts. At the time, I barely made more than the London Living Wage, rent took three quarters of my monthly pay after tax, and I walked an hour to work every day because I couldn't afford to take the Tube. In those circumstances, buying an expensive tablet just so I never had to be separated from the latest tweets is absurd, even irresponsible. And yet I did it, because I had utterly internalised the idea that social media was the route to writing success. Years later, even knowing what I now knew, it took months to work myself up to quitting and even longer to say out loud what I had done and why.

Once I had made up my mind to mentally uncouple myself from social media, it was shockingly easy to do. I deleted the apps from my phone and changed the passwords to my accounts, recording them somewhere inconvenient so that I could log in via the desktop versions if necessary but it took more than a couple of taps or clicks. A few weeks in, I took stock of what I felt like I was missing and the list was surprisingly short: Taylor Swift content, chats with friends, the occasional funny picture of a dog. I replaced all of these pretty easily: I signed up to a couple of music podcasts and Patreons, made an effort to be more regular about phoning and texting people, and just enjoyed the dogs that I saw out and about in the world. The benefits were just as quick to come. That feeling of seeing the world only as potential future content receded, I started reading more books, and my screen time fell drastically. I felt released from a burden I hadn't noticed I was carrying. I had become so accustomed to the sense of shame at not being better at offering up my life for successful consumption that I only realised how acute that feeling had been now that it was gone. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone very influential in my industry to swoop down and reprimand me for my actions, to declare that I had irrevocably failed at "being a writer". But nothing bad happened. At all. Those apps had become so barren of joy or purpose for me that I didn't miss the experience of being on them, either as a creator or a user, at all.

By the end of the year, packaging chunks of myself to share on questionable corporate platforms for strangers to watch and judge felt like a really weird thing to do. I talked about it in therapy and imagined trying to explain this practice to my eleven-year-old self who had really wanted to spend her life writing stories. The more time that passes, the odder it feels that I spent a decade and a half of my life believing that social media was a vital part of being a writer. Others may have different experiences, but because I was never a consummate poster I never received work opportunities or made friends or found a partner through these apps. Maybe if I had, I would feel like there had been more of a fair exchange. I just allowed them to occupy a large chunk of my brain for nothing.

Where does this leave me? I ended 2024 absolutely sure that social media was not for me, a complete reversal of my position at the start of the year. I'm not moving to the woods and throwing my phone in the bin, though. Beyond the reassuringly steady drip of Taylor Swift videos, there was one overarching benefit to being active on social media as a writer that I want to retain, and that is having a way to be in touch with those who are interested in my work. I've spent most of 2025 so far working out what that might look like. I still like the internet and what it can do for us — quite honestly, I don't think I would have a job at all without it — but I want to use it on my terms and in a way that feels good for me rather than harmful. If that means that my potential audience is much smaller, so be it. After much reflection during, I have come to realise that I'd rather talk to a small number of people and be happy doing it than try to reach a huge audience but be miserable.

I started small, making the change for my podcast. I did a "farewell" post on the show's accounts and replaced them with an enhanced email newsletter. I expected some pushback and braced myself for a dip in listenership, which I decided that I was willing to accept as the price I paid for independence and greater peace of mind. Neither materialised. I received lots of supportive messages from people with their own growing reservations about social media. The podcast's newsletter now has more active subscribers than we ever had followers. There has been no discernible fall in audience, vindicating my suspicions that our posts hadn't really been doing anything to direct people away from the apps and towards the podcast anyway. Best of all, I'm enjoying writing to the podcast's listeners every week. I am no longer guiltily pushing the "do podcast social media" tasks to the bottom of my to do list all the time.

Taking this step for the podcast first has allowed me to come to some decisions about my personal internet presence, too. I have realised that I only want to post on a platform where I have control, with no algorithms or anything else coming between me and the people who want to see what I'm doing. I'm a writer and I think in paragraphs and chapters, not in videos or captions. I think it's about time I played to my strengths, rather than trying to fit myself into a format that I've never found to be comfortable. So, I decided to add a blog to my website and that will now be my home on the internet[1]. I gave it a tagline that hopefully reflects this new stage of my online life: "A blog by a writer attempting to live the literary good life on the internet". Because that's what I'm trying to do now. The quality of the life now is more important than any potential reward in the future.

Although the blog will be the main home for all my stuff (you can follow it via RSS and I think you should, because RSS is possibly the best and purest tech we still have) I'll still be sending some posts out as newsletters too. Personal essays where I think out loud (like this one), my Thursday links round up, reading reflections, and a new series I'm about to start titled "Caroline Writes a Novel" (!). Because lots of people have been in touch to say they miss the photos of my dog I used to post on Instagram, there will be a sporadic "photo diary" mail out too where Morris will feature heavily. If you'd like to receive those you can sign up here, or if you already subscribe you can use this menu to adjust which types of posts you receive. I have no plans at the moment to put up a paywall or make extra premium content, but I do have the subscription feature turned on so if anyone really wants to make a financial contribution, they can. I must stress that you won't receive any extra material or benefits if you do so. For now, this is a Medici-style "patron of the arts" situation. Everything is free for everyone, supported by those who have the means and desire to do so. I also want to stress that I absolutely do not need your contributions for basic necessities or survival — this is just a way for those who can to support work that they like if they so choose. There's also an option for a one-off tip if you feel inclined to give one. You should feel no pressure or obligation to do so, though. If you're more into a "extra content for a fee" model, then you might want to consider joining the paid membership element of my podcast.

If all of this — a non-famous writer with a podcast deciding she's replacing Instagram with blogging — feels too inconsequential to write 4,500 words about, then you're not alone. I think so too, but I also couldn't not write this. In fact, I've been tapping away at a draft of this post for months, trying to get my feelings about it straight. I might be well on the way to breaking the habit of reflexively viewing the world around me as possible nuggets of content, but even after the somewhat bruising experience of putting out two autobiographical books, I still think best with my fingers on a keyboard and a publication date in mind. In this instance, I do feel like I'm answering a question nobody has asked, though. I think quite regularly about the, at the time very funny, ebook that Grace Dent published in 2011 titled How to Leave Twitter: My Time as Queen of the Universe and Why This Must Stop, in which she lampooned her own social media addiction and the absurd phenomenon of too-online people with tiny followings grandiloquently announcing that they wouldn't be online for the next three hours. What is this, if not that? It feels fitting, though, to mark the end of this chapter in a needlessly performative way. Even though I was terrible at posting, I did spend fifteen years watching human behaviour evolve on these platforms. It was bound to rub off on me a bit.

I still don't know if I will delete my old social media accounts. I want to, because it feels more final that way, more like a definitive statement about who I am now and what I am doing. Maybe that's why I shouldn't, though. That was a version of me too, the one who agonised over every angle and caption, who couldn't see the light hitting the water just so without imagining Instagram's square frame around it, who believed that all her dreams would come true if she could just crack Meta's code. She was trying her best, just like I am now. She can live on as a ghost in that machine for now, a bodiless reminder of an existence I never really had.


  1. For those who might be wondering why I'm not starting a Substack, it's because I don't like Substack as a company or the direction their platform seems to be headed in (I was there for Facebook's "pivot to video" and I remember who it screwed over). I'm using Ghost, a non-profit website and newsletter platform, and I'm very happy with it. I'd highly recommend it. ↩︎

Filed under: Blog, Personal Essays
2 min read Permalink

When Done Cheaply, The Paint Comes Off On Your Hands

Thirteen things this Thursday that I have read, watched, listened to or otherwise found noteworthy.

The most popular link last time was the body that is done keeping score, with nolearnings.com second.


  1. A collection of Bulgarian proverbs. I especially liked "forests have eyes, meadows ears".
  2. For anyone currently in the business of publishing books or just curious about how that all works, I recommend Phoebe Morgan's newsletter the Honest Editor. She's a commercial fiction editor at Hodder in the UK and her posts aim to demystify a process that has always seemed to me to be very keen on making itself as mysterious as possible. This piece on how pricing, discounting and retailer promotions work is a good sample of what she does. I wish this had existed when I got into book writing in 2018!
  3. For the Beth from Little Women fans: why we don't fear scarlet fever anymore. (Because of antibiotics, essentially.)
The cholitas in action, photographed by Todd Anthony
The cholitas in action, photographed by Todd Anthony toddantony.com
  1. The Cholitas Escaladoras are a collective of Aymara indigenous women in Bolivia who like to climb mountains — a pastime customarily enjoyed only by their fathers, brothers and sons. They also like to do it wearing their pollera skirts and using their homemade shawls to carry their equipment. More about then from UNESCO.
  2. A This American Life episode from 2003 in which they told 20 stories in 60 minutes. I really liked Act XIV: "Call in Colonel Mustard For Questioning". It's about hot dogs.
  3. A polemic about the "plague" of sprayed edges on books. This technique of painting the side of a text block to match the cover is one of a handful that publishers use to flog readers "special" editions of really popular titles (read: whatever BookTok is currently obsessed with and/or books by Rebecca Yarros). It used to be just select fantasy titles, but now it's spreading everywhere. And when done cheaply, the paint comes off on your hands. Other visual markers of enormous success like this include foiled covers, shiny covers, French flaps, deckled edges and custom endpapers. If you don't know what any of these things are, I suggest that you keep it that way.
  1. A cheering success story from an artist who got really invested in making sure the US government put its "Pomological Watercolor Collection" — an archive of over 7,000 pictures of fruits and other biological specimens created between the 1880s and 1940s — in the public domain.
  2. Play Timdle, a daily timeline-based history quiz.
  3. This visual history of the Latin alphabet is fun to click around in. I really can't think why we didn't stick with Gothic cursive.
  4. A very confusing but potentially useful archive of thousands of live, free-to-air TV channels from around the world. Do you want to watch a feed of just "Classic Mr Bean" or a news show from Nicaragua or just roll the dice and see literally anything? This is how you do that.
  5. Extract from a book titled Potter Stinks: Gender and Species in J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter Series about the way the books blend ideas of magic, technology, consumerism and automation.
  6. The Missing 11th of the Month.
  7. A seasonally appropriate story from 1929: "The Heat Wave: A Strange Story of Ancient Rome and Modern New York".

Filed under: Blog
8 min read Permalink

Rooney, Regency, Raffles: What I Read in March 2025

I've been working hard on breaking my phone addiction since last summer and March was when I finally felt something shift. I stopped wanting to look at my phone and almost all of the time I used to spend on it now went to reading books. I began to get through them at a much faster rate — I read 14 books this month — and for a while documenting/photographing what I was reading felt like a chore that was only slowing me down, hence the gap in my monthly reading updates. Then the longer I avoided catching up, the bigger the task became. Even now, the hassle involved in having to go back and take pictures of books stopped me doing this for ages. But I have missed the replies and the recommendations from readers, so I'm restarting now. Perhaps I'll be sharing these in a timely fashion again by the time the year draws to a close!


Intermezzo by Sally Rooney

This is the first and only Sally Rooney book I have ever read. I haven't even watched any of the TV adaptations. I don't have a good reason for having avoided her work in the past, other than perhaps a general wariness about anything extremely popular that is probably left over from my teenage years as an obnoxiously hardcore "I liked them before they were famous" music fan. I was stupid to hold out on Rooney for so long, if Intermezzo is anything to go by. Although it took me about fifty pages to get back into the knack of reading literary fiction like this that has a more stream-of-consciousness type of interiority to it, once I was in the swing of it I devoured this book. I cried several times before I was finished. The chess-playing character Ivan, with his carefully baffled inner monologue, especially appealed to me.


Cards on the Table by Agatha Christie

It was such a pleasure to revisit this Christie novel from 1936, in which she embarks on the kind of formal experiment within the established structure of the puzzle-whodunnit that Anthony Berkeley and others had executed in the decade. An eccentric host invites four people he suspects of having got away with murder and four detectives to his house for dinner and cards. By the end of the night, he is dead, stabbed by one of his guests. Who did it? The personalities at the party, as revealed by their bridge playing, is vital to the solution of the case.


Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones

Although I loved some of Diana Wynne Jones' Chrestomanci series as a child (especially The Lives of Christopher Chant) for some reason I never crossed paths with Howl and Sophie. This has now been corrected courtesy of a copy I came across on the library returns trolley. I found this tale of a castle trundling around a magical land that is sometimes also Wales very charming and reading it did me a lot of good in the midst of a bad week.


The Unfinished Clue by Georgette Heyer

Returning readers may remember that I am gradually making my way through all of Heyer's detective fiction in order to eventually make an episode of Shedunnit about it. I'm having to keep careful notes because they are all starting to merge together somewhat, but I did generally get on well with this one about an extremely unlikeable man who is clubbed to death while partway through writing a note that would have incriminated his murderer. Because he's so horrible, everyone else in the book has a motive, from his oppressed wife to his flashy nephew. As always, it is Heyer's touch with dialogue and character that makes this worth reading. I especially liked the scene in this one where the surviving guests at the house party discuss the niceties of different card games and whether it would be disrespectful to play now that their host has been murdered. They decide that bridge is acceptable, as long as it isn't played for money. As one says: "It's not as though we were proposing to play poker."


In Muffled Night by Dorothy Erskine Muir

Read as research for the podcast episode I published in April about Dorothy Erskine Muir, which goes into much more detail on what I think about this writer and her fiction. This clever and morally alert detective novel is based on a real-life case from 1862, but moved to 1930s London. One of my favourite things about it was the description of the house where the murder takes place, which has been held in stasis in its mid-Victorian splendour. For instance:

"It was rather a dark room. The heavy sash windows had their lower frames filled with squares of coloured glass. The buff blinds were neatly drawn down about a foot. Even such light as could enter through the restricted space thus left, had first to filter through deep cream lace curtains, hanging from the top of the high windows in billowing folds to the floor. Completing this stout resistance against the sunlight were long thick curtains in a sort of rep material and of a deep-red tone, with vast red ropes catching in their swelling waists."

The Game of Hearts by Felicity Day

This breezy non-fiction book is subtitled "The Lives and Loves of Regency Women", which is an accurate summation of its contents. It follows the romantic fortunes of several real-life women who made marriages in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century. Although it's a little tricky to keep all the Sarahs and Harriets straight (aristocrats of this period seem to have loved using the same three names for all children) it's well written and provides a useful corrective to some of the wilder tropes of Regency-set fiction.


Raffles: The Amateur Cracksman by E.W. Hornung

I picked this up for first time in years because the Green Penguin Penguin Book Club series within Shedunnit reached this title. My full thoughts are available in that episode, but I'll summarise here by saying that I enjoyed the silliness of the stories and was surprised by the queer-coded closeness of the Bunny-Raffles thieving duo. The introduction by Nicholas Daly to the new Oxford edition is good on this.


The Murder Game by Tom Hindle

I'm trying to make sure that I'm a bit more aware of what is happening crime fiction today, rather than burying myself entirely in the interwar period. So far, this has mostly meant picking up recent bestsellers when I see them in a library. This was one such acquisition, and I did not like it. The blurb on the front compared it to Agatha Christie but there was not much likeness that I could see. At the time that I'm writing this, I've just read a much better-constructed and better-written "people marooned in a lonely place play a murder game" story, so I look forward to recommending that to you in a future update.


The Murder at the Vicarage by Agatha Christie

When it comes to the current vogue for declaring every other writer "the new heir to Christie", I generally find it's better just to read the real thing. This was the Shedunnit Book Club reading choice for April and I had a wonderful time revisiting it. This is the first full-length Miss Marple novel, and although she isn't in action on the page as much as you might expect, it's still a brilliant book. Christie said later that she felt that the plot was a bit cluttered, which I agree with, but the central premise is excellent (so good, in fact, that she used it several more times throughout her career!).


Death in the Stocks by Georgette Heyer

My Year of Heyer continued with this effort from 1935. It has an arresting opening — a police constable on his beat discovers a corpse in evening dress arranged in the stocks on the village green — and continues into a reasonably competent inheritance mystery. As already stated, one doesn't read Heyer for the puzzle but for the characters and dialogue. This one was well stocked (ha!) in this regard, with a dog-breeding, fast-talking spinster and her artist brother, alongside a calmer, more urbane cousin who assists with the investigation. The latter then recurs in Heyer's next detective novel, demonstrating I think that she was beginning to make her Scotland Yard duo of Hannasyde and Hemingway more three dimensional.


A Lady's Guide to Fortune-Hunting by Sophie Irwin

A silly-but-fun contemporary Regency-set romance that I read as a palate cleanser between all of the crime fiction. Actually less silly than other recent examples I have sampled from this genre (the popularity of the Bridgerton TV series has a lot to answer for). In this one, an impoverished debutante has 12 weeks to marry a fortune before her family is made homeless. She sets about her social climbing in the most determined possible way and there is some actual 1818 period detail involved in how she does it. As long as you are immured to the anachronisms and implausible plot points that are de rigeur in this specific sub genre, this is a cheerful and easy read.


Five to Five by Dorothy Erskine Muir

As above — read for a podcast episode about the author. Once again, this novel is based on a real-life crime (the case of Oscar Slater) and the interplay between fact and fiction is interesting. Erskine Muir's style is also unadorned and pleasant to read, if not especially striking. The title is a good indication that this is a more tightly plotted, alibi driven puzzle. An elderly man brutally murdered in his flat in a way that is hard to reconcile with the evidence of his neighbours below and opposite. I liked the emphasis that the author placed on the seriousness of the crime but I thought this a little less successful than In Muffled Night.


One Last Summer by Kate Spencer

Another romance novel as palate cleanser, this time of the "childhood friends reunite as grown ups" type (see also, Happy Place by Emily Henry). It's set at a New England sleepaway camp, which I have obviously never experienced but have a soft spot for thanks to the two Parent Trap films, which my sister and I watched obsessively as children. Unfortunately I didn't get on so well with this novel, mostly due to what felt like thin characterisation for the protagonist Clara. I like the idea of portraying burnout and recovery in fiction, but the work and office clichés that abound in this book didn't feel like the way to do it. Still, my parasocial attachment to this author is strong because I have listened to years of her on a podcast, so I'll keep reading her books!


In Memory of Charles by Dorothy Erskine Muir

The last in Erskine Muir's trio of detective novels, which was published in 1941 after a gap of seven years from Five to Five. It's much less of a whodunnit and more of an unsettling thriller in the manner of The Franchise Affair, which is a book I greatly admire and also one based on a real life crime. The case that inspired In Memory of Charles is unfortunately unknown to us — researchers have so far not been able to identify it — so there is not the same fact vs fiction dynamic in reading this book as there is for the previous two. The tension and unpleasantness that builds up to the death (murder?) of a horrible domineering rich man on some land he was trying to steal from a nearby village is well done. Erskine Muir wrote no more crime fiction after this, which is a shame, because I would have been interested to see what she would have done if she had gone further down this path away from the puzzle whodunnit of the interwar years.


That was, belatedly, my reading for March: fourteen books, bringing me up to 34 for the year so far and a little ahead of the pace needed to hit 120 in 2025. And despite the dominance of crime fiction read for the podcast here, I did just about manage to cling on to my goal of reading more literary fiction and non-fiction this year, via Intermezzo and The Game of Hearts. I'm also very pleased to have finally read Howl's Moving Castle, which is clearly a children's classic that deserves all of the accolades it has ever received and more.

If you would like to follow along in real time, you can see what I'm reading at any given moment on the Storygraph. I just use that as a tracker, though, I don't publish any reviews there.

Links to Blackwell's are affiliate links, meaning that I receive a small commission when you purchase a book there (the price remains the same for you). Blackwell’s is a UK bookseller that (I believe) ships internationally at no extra charge.

Filed under: Blog, Reading
2 min read Permalink

The Logical Endpoint Of That Trajectory Is Not Good

Thirteen things this Thursday that I have read, watched, listened to or otherwise found noteworthy.

The most popular link last time was Morgan Housel's list of very bad advice, with this piece about the intergenerational dynamics of being childfree second.


  1. I love it when people do serious and considered criticism of genre fiction. This piece asking "Can Emily Henry Write Her Way Out of the Box BookTok Built?" is an insightful look at how one of romance's biggest players is wrestling with her success.
  2. I don't listen to ye olde prestige podcasts very much any more, but I have been dipping into Radiolab's "Week of Sharks" and found it quite fun: a week of 20ish minute daily episodes, each about... sharks.
  3. I Am Your Body and I Am Done Keeping Score.
Eudimorphodon ranzii fossil from Bergamo. Wikimedia, CC BY-SA
Eudimorphodon ranzii fossil from Bergamo in 1973 is one of many pterosaur discoveries from southern Europe. Wikimedia, CC BY-SA
  1. Despite knowing basically nothing about the field, I like reading about dinosaur discoveries very much. They have just worked out how pterosaurs learned to fly, extremely cool.
  2. A helpful website: nolearnings.com.
  3. Substack is well on its way to becoming an "Everything App". The logical endpoint of that trajectory is not good, according to Ana Marie Cox.
  4. First, they turned Greek myths into romantasy potboilers. Next, it's stories from the Old Testament.
  5. Notes on a month spent having a bad time in Florence:
I did not enjoy my time in Florence, and I believe it to be a city uniquely hostile to my temperament, disposition, and mode of life. Florence is a pat of dried clay, webbed with thin, uneven cracks. The city is next to impossible to traverse. Every aspect of living is carried out under a punishing, direct light from which there is no escape. I now understand why Dante found it so easy to think so vividly and elaborately of Hell.
  1. A very long but good scroll: The Best Stunts of All Time.
  2. I was simultaneously amused and infuriated by Paul Krugman's responses to the Embedded "My Internet" questionnaire. Asked about TikTok, Tumblr, Pinterest, etc, he replied with some version of "Zero idea. Not my department, thank God." Must be nice to just opt out of vast swathes of the web and still "get 350-450K readers for almost every post"!
Belarusian National Technical University, Minsk, Byelorussia, 1983. Architects: I. Yesman and V. Anikin.
  1. Incredible photos of Socialist Modernism.
  2. From this short piece about creators and platforms I learned the magnificent phrase "ventilated prose", which describes the way in which lots of writers on Substack (and elsewhere, to an extent), now put a return after every sentence, as if allergic to paragraphs. It's unreadable and is, to me, the online equivalent of someone making the margins really big to "stretch" their coursework to three pages. Ted Gioia is one of many terrible offenders in this regard.
  3. On paranoia, digital hypervigilance and the online life.

Filed under: Blog, Links
2 min read Permalink

We're On The Way To Mordor But We Have A Synthesiser

Thirteen things this Thursday that I have read, watched, listened to or otherwise found noteworthy.

The most popular link last time was this exploration of Brad Pitt's public persona, with this scary conversation with ChatGPT second.


  1. A list of very bad advice. I'm especially drawn to this one: "Assume that all your success is due to hard work and all your failure is due to bad luck."
  2. I do not often feel the urge to read contemporary French fiction in translation. That is simply not who I am. But this review has made me curious to try this fast food-based novel, On the Clock by Claire Baglin.
  3. Someone with ADHD and a can-do attitude decided to hack a receipt printer to make completing a task just that extra bit more satisfying.
Phenomenons - Ryo Minemizu - Photography
Larval fish and invertebrates larvae that appear in the sea at night. The figure was created by wisdom and skill far beyond our imagination and it’s shining like a jewel.
  1. Let's look at some extremely detailed pictures of strange underwater creatures.
  2. If you feel like your news sources aren't giving you a full picture of all the awful things that are happening around the world right now, then I recommend perusing Wikipedia's "list of ongoing armed conflicts".
  3. An illustrated talk on how to reclaim the joy of "the good internet". It involves making something weird and not caring what other people think of you.
  1. You are right to be a little afraid of seagulls. There's one in San Francisco that has learned how to hitch rides to a food source (aka a rubbish dump).
  2. I was all in as soon as I read the headline of this piece: "commence project 'yeet broadband'?". It's a fully-costed plan for living without a broadband connection, which it turns out makes sense both from a financial standpoint and from a "making being online all the time slightly less convenient" standpoint.
  3. A wonderful essay on what a woman needs to write, encompassing Woolf, Austen and more:
"A woman writer needs money, she needs quiet, she needs solitude, the liberty to ignore the intolerable noise of company to better attend the society inside her head. She needs to give herself permission to run about with her hair uncombed, to wander all day in pajamas, to ignore the unmade bed, the dishes in the sink, the unanswered emails, the annoying, buzzing phone. She needs the luxury to think of her own needs because since birth she has been trained to deny she has any. She needs to become Coatlicue, the Aztec goddess of creation and destruction, a monster so terrible the conquistadores were forced to rebury her after they had unearthed her."
  1. You'll have to pry the semicolons from my cold, dead hands.
  2. A multi-generational perspective on the childfree life.
  3. What does a creative life really look like, beyond the fixed narratives of "late bloomer" or "young prodigy" that we tell ourselves?
  4. A heart-warming story of two lost "Dungeon Synth" albums. They're great to listen to while working — imagine something like "we're on the way to Mordor but we have a Korg X5D synthesiser".

Filed under: Links, Blog
2 min read Permalink

People Don't Even Know About The Private Jet Incident

Thirteen things this Thursday that I have read, watched, listened to or otherwise found noteworthy.

The most popular link last time was this essay about LinkedIn, with these interviews with people who take online privacy very seriously a close second.


  1. The illusion of consent on the internet. No, I did not "agree" to your cookies.
  2. The snack of the summer = putting delicious savoury stuff between two sheets of nori. I cannot endorse the use of an American “cheese product” as advocated here, but I've enjoyed versions with plant-based cheese or seasoned yoghurt.
  3. I really liked this observation from a first person piece about being ghosted at the age of 54:
"While I was not prepared for these precocious, worldly students , I loved teaching short stories, because it’s how we live our lives: one story stacked on another, then another, some running in parallel. Everything all at once. In some stories, you might be the protagonist – in others, just a supporting role. But in all of them, we intertwine with people living in stories of their own."
  1. A good read on why Brad Pitt's personal life doesn't seem to have caught up with his cultural reputation (yet?). "It's like most people don't even know about the private jet incident that required the FBI's involvement."
  1. New dodie video!
  2. Sometimes connections occur in one's content consumption that feel spookily serendipitous. We just watched this Rolex-sponsored documentary from 2011 about 125 years of Wimbledon. The following day, I was catching up on one of my favourite Taylor Swift adjacent podcasts, On the Bleachers, and heard the hosts discussing the relationship that Rolex has to tennis. Their chat was prompted by this very interesting article: "How Rolex Paved the Way for Luxury’s Love Affair With Tennis."
  3. An interesting list of Pride and Prejudice adjacent books — continuations, reimaginings, etc. I am pretty obsessed with trying to read every single Austen follow-on that exists, and I found two here that I had never heard of before.
  4. Screenshots from a conversation with ChatGPT that will make you want to throw every device you own out of the window.
  5. On the difference between being "useful" at work and being "valued":
"I had become the go-to person for making things run smoothly, for fixing urgent problems, for delivering. But every time I pushed toward more strategic and ambitious directions, there was a lot of can-kicking and “let’s think about it” that went nowhere. I was incredibly useful to the organization, but not necessarily valued."
  1. The romance and meaning of compass directions.
  2. Sometimes, you just need to take pictures of the horizon to feel OK.
  3. Via Reo Eveleth's excellent monthly roundup, I came across this lecture about Edmonia Lewis, a 19c American sculptor of Black and Native American origin who lived a fascinating life and created some wonderful work.
  1. Music theory + data analysis = this piece on chord progressions.

Filed under: Links, Blog
2 min read Permalink

The Soundtrack To All Of My Emotional Solo Bus Journeys

Thirteen things this Thursday that I have read, watched, listened to or otherwise found noteworthy.

The most popular link last week was Will Storr's take on the "Substack Style", with oneminutepark.tv coming second.


  1. Interviews with people who take their online privacy extremely seriously. I've always known in theory that we trade convenience for privacy, but reading about people who care enough to seek out the inconvenient route really got me to grasp it on a practical level.
  2. Not unrelated: a compendium of the many, many articles that have been written over the past few years about how the internet "used to be fun".
  3. It's my blog/newsletter and I'll conduct a one-side argument with a Guardian architecture writer if I want to. No, this is not the most beautiful sewage treatment plant. This is. (Astute readers of The Way to the Sea will already know the correct answer without clicking.)
Illustration by Anna Li for The Pudding
  1. The Pudding really is doing some of the most interesting data journalism and visualisation at the moment. This piece feels like a combination of a graphic novel and a phD thesis about how often Asian actors are inaccurately cast in American media (Chinese people playing Korean characters, and so forth).
  2. The band Arcade Fire provided the soundtrack to all of my emotional solo bus journeys between 2005 and 2011. But, like the writer of this well-observed piece about cancellation and music fandom, I had found that the quality of their records had fallen so far that by the time sexual misconduct allegations about Win Butler surfaced in 2022, I barely noticed. It's not very comfortable to think about, but the scale of the backlash against an artist can have something to do with how good their work is currently considered to be.
  3. Short fiction: "How to live well on a $100,000 advance" by Naomi Kanakia.
The Merlin fragment in its box. Image: Cambridge University Library
  1. Cambridge have found lost bit of the Arthur-Merlin story.
  2. I really enjoy getting glimpses of other publishing industries beyond the Anglophone world that I inhabit. This round-up of interesting new books being published in China scratched that itch.
  1. Just a man about town, in his wearable fire escape.
  2. A self-described "failed" comedian ponders why his comedy career didn't work out and concludes that it was because he didn't put in the time and energy to become friends with other comedians.
  3. LinkedIn Is So Embarrassing.
  1. An absorbing 90-minute documentary about Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, the writer and psychiatrist who developed the "five stages of grief" model.
  2. The birth stories of seventeenth century women.

Filed under: Blog, Links
2 min read Permalink

Trying To Achieve Peak Cultural Saturation

Thirteen things this Thursday that I have read, watched, listened to or otherwise found noteworthy.

The most popular link last week was the Useless Web, with Mary H.K. Choi on quitting therapy second.


  1. Two doctors discuss the big "secret" that those in their field keep from their patients: medicine is a lot more uncertain than our cultural norms would have us believe. I wrote about the conflicting ideas and feelings this prompts in A Body Made of Glass and I'm still thinking about it. It's much harder to get your head round the idea that your doctor is using the best science so far rather than the best science ever, full stop.
  2. My old Hot Pod colleague Nick Quah has an intriguing piece out about the "New Media Circuit". If you're a celebrity with a film to promote, it's no longer enough to be interviewed by Terry Gross or the New York Times. You have to do Hot Ones, be charming while holding puppies, wear a neck chain on Theo Von — or whatever will be the zeitgeisty thing at the point when you are trying to achieve peak cultural saturation.
  3. Would you like to watch a minute of footage from a random park somewhere in the world? Of course you would.
  1. Why Is Everybody Knitting Chickens? Because they're great, of course!
  2. My mother worked in adult further education when I was growing up and it makes me furious every time I think about how that system has been needlessly hollowed out in the UK over the past two decades. However, people and communities find a way: this is a lovely two part piece on running evening classes with your friends — not for profit or some other tangible end goal, but just because you like to learn stuff together.
  3. Yes, I am still listening to the Phantom Thread soundtrack very often and thus this piece about Paris Fashion Week in 1947 was very appealing to me.
  4. This week in ancient continental dynasties: the Hohenzollerns have finally agreed to hand over all the priceless stuff they own to the German state. Very soon ordinary folk will be able to gaze upon artefacts including "Lucas Cranach the Elder’s portrait of Elector Joachim I of Brandenburg, Baroque ivory furniture created for Elector Frederick William and a dinner service that belonged to Frederick the Great". The descendants of the erstwhile Kings of Prussia "retain ownership of seven tobacco boxes and a number of other items on a so-called 'C-List'", though, so everybody wins.
  1. This is the best lofi stream on the internet — librarians scanning microfiche + beats.
  2. The Secret Diary of a Video Game Horse.
  3. Will Storr has nailed why so much "popular" writing on Substack a) follows the same format b) makes me feel queasy. It's AI!
  1. Beautiful perfume bottle blueprints.
  2. Facebook's main legacy is... "a long list of indelible birthdays".
  3. This is a funny-sad bit of memoir about how to "make a living" as a writer. The author does a daily "horse news" newsletter at 6am every day an American race track conglomerate and one summer wrote 70,000 words of "choose your own adventure" erotica for an app. This makes my brief turn reviewing burlesque acts for a communist newspaper seem tame.

Filed under: Blog, Links
2 min read Permalink

I Can't Escape The Feeling That We're All Just Working For Free

Thirteen things this Thursday that I have read, watched, listened to or otherwise found noteworthy.

The most popular link last week was this Tokyo hotel, with Cal Newport's thoughts on internet joy second.


  1. Extremely spectacular and incredibly sylvan: essentially a five-star review of Switzerland.
  2. "I feel neither younger nor older than 94, but 94 now feels younger than I’d expected." An interview with 94-year-old author Judith Viorst.
  3. I loved the new Lorde single and am eagerly anticipating the album. But I'm also so interested in how she is belatedly embracing "the new pop star marketing machine". This is an astute analysis, but I think the writer is a little harsh on Lorde for simply wanting to try hard to have her work appreciated.
  1. Via Web Curios, I enjoyed this song "idk i just work here" and its video — a sad-but-funny satire of every terrible minimum wage job you ever had.
  2. Did you know that cabbage was only introduced to Japan in the 18C? Learn this, alongside many other similar facts, in this brief history of cabbage.
  3. If you were also a "there's someone under the bed" child, I hope you find this vindicating as well as incredibly terrifying and creepy. You're not silly for checking!!
  1. 13 Animals made from 13 circles by Dori the Giant.
  2. This is a fantastic but sobering read from Carla Lalli Music on what it takes — financially and emotionally — to maintain a successful presence on YouTube. You might remember Carla from the pre-2020 Bon Appetit channel, and after that all fell apart she struck out own her own. Over three years of producing weekly videos on the platform, she spent $14,000 a month on production costs, not including her own time. And even though she racked up 18 million views and over 230,000 subscribers, the ad money YouTube paid her never came close to covering her costs. She sometimes fell short in a month by as much as $10,000. Which meant a choice between taking whatever sponsors she could to try and break even, or reducing her production costs. Make it an ad or make it worse, or both. I would like to write more about this mad dichotomy at a future point, but for now I'll just say that I can't escape the feeling that we're all just working for free for these corporations, even when it looks from the outside like we're individually successful. Plenty of people would love to have the numbers Carla pulled in and yet... she couldn't afford to keep doing it.
  3. Mary H.K. Choi on quitting therapy.
  1. An incredible online gallery of artists' calling cards.
  2. Something new to feel depressed and furious about: what's happening to the deep ocean.
  3. Shall we conjugate some nouns?
"I tear the hair; I tore the whore; I have torn the horn.
I see the sea; I saw the saw; I have seen the scene.
I draw the law; I drew the loo; I have drawn the lawn.
I throw the bow; I threw the boo; I have thrown the bone."
  1. The Useless Web is never not a good click.
Filed under: Blog, Links
3 min read Permalink

This Is For The Hardcore Procrastinators Only

Thirteen things this Thursday that I have read, watched, listened to or otherwise found noteworthy enough to share with you.

  1. There were a lot of The Great Gatsby takes around for the centenary of its original publication, but none of them caught my interest as much as this one by Wesley Lowery. It posits the theory that the character of Jay Gatsby is subtly written as a Black or mixed race man working hard on "passing" as white so as to "outmanoeuvre the racial order of the era". I'm by no means an expert on Fitzgerald, but I found this analysis both interesting and persuasive.
  2. Cal Newport on rediscovering joy on the internet by frequenting nice websites dedicated to things you are interested in rather than attempting to make sense of vast social media networks.
  1. This twentieth anniversary performance of "Hips Don't Lie" by Shakira and Wyclef Jean was both baffling and life affirming. It prompted so many questions for me. Does Shakira keep laughing because she can't believe this is her most culturally lasting song (in the English-speaking world)? Why is Wyclef wearing a utility vest and an upside down flower as a hat like a Cicely Mary Barker flower fairy? And why is she dancing in a sandpit that has been constructed on a television soundstage?
  2. Ed Simon makes a good case for why we should do close readings of bad poetry.
  3. I love reading about the DIY projects of people with practical skills and the will to use them. This one by Andrew Childs is a great entry in this genre. Andrew's son has type 1 diabetes and having a smartwatch that displayed his CGM data would greatly simplify the task of managing his levels while at school. But giving a nine-year-old an Apple Watch seemed like a bad idea (and the Apple Watch is apparently not that good as a diabetes tool anyway). So Andrew designed and built a custom kid-with-diabetes smartwatch instead.
  4. Would you like to play solitaire (or minesweeper or sudoku or 2048) at work inside a spreadsheet so it looks at a casual glance like you are diligently doing data entry? Well, now you can.
A close up of Dorothy L. Sayer's handwriting.
Photo: Alan Jacobs at blog.ayjay.org
  1. Reflections on the handwriting of various famous writers, including C.S. Lewis and Dorothy L. Sayers (see above), and what it could reveal about their moods. "One thing seems quite clear to me: the loose, flowing hand is associated not just with hurry but also with happiness."
  2. This looks like an intriguing zine that combines a puzzle element with a commentary on art in the age of AI.
  3. One of my (many!) unfulfilled project ideas is a hyperlocal newsletter just serving the few streets around my house. I will never actually do this but it's fun to think about the "fox spotting" column it would contain. I did really enjoy reading this profile of 88-year-old Lucy Lippard, though, who has been running a news-sheet for her village of 250 people in New Mexico since the 1990s.
  1. Sometimes it's nice just to look at some pictures of owls in towels.
  2. This is for the hardcore procrastinators only: the Dangerous writing app. If you stop typing for more than ten seconds (or the interval of your choice) it irrevocably deletes everything you have written. It's probably a good way to train yourself not to check your email or look at the news at the end of every sentence!
  3. Is Anna Wintour anything like the Miranda Priestley character in The Devil Wears Prada? In some ways, yes, in others no, this former Vogue editor says. For one thing, she doesn't wear Prada:
You’d think somebody with Anna’s personality would have been attracted to the severe monochromatic blacks and navy favored by Miuccia Prada in the early 2000’s but, in fact, she preferred soft pastels and busy patterns of pink and pistachio. The first time I attended a party in her house, I was shocked by the cheerful yellow walls and drapes bursting with cabbage rose blooms. It all seemed so utterly un-Anna but, then again, as I learned from her, that’s what fashion is, a readily accessible tool that allows you to remake the actual self into a preferred version.
  1. If I ever get to Tokyo (unlikely, for both financial and environmental reasons) I think I might like to stay in this hotel.

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