Alexander Larman

For those disappointed by the humorless and deeply earnest treatment of the contemporary campus experience in the 2020 TV adaptation of Sally Rooney’s Normal People, the new Netflix series The Chair will be a welcome tonic. Over its punchy six half-hour episodes, the show, co-created by the actress Amanda Peet and produced by her husband David Benioff, deals with the iniquities of contemporary university life. Its setting is Pembroke, a fictitious minor Ivy League campus somewhere in New England. The action is mainly seen from the perspective of the English department chair Ji-Yoon Kim, a Korean-American academic who fears that her promotion has been brought about through ‘diversity issues’, rather than merit.

There are few aesthetic and literary pleasures that compare to browsing in a second-hand bookshop. While it is more or less a given what books will be found in a new bookshop, one of the chief joys of going second hand is that it’s entirely unpredictable what you'll emerge with. Sometimes, the browser will leave empty-handed, but more often than not – and I speak from personal experience here – ‘a quick look’ will turn into the purchase of a dozen interesting volumes and a solid half an hour’s perusal. Yet the industry, once so much part of every town and city, has been existentially threatened by the growth of the charity bookshop trade over the past two decades, not least the Oxfam bookshops.

Last year, the apparently definitive biography of Harry and Meghan, Finding Freedom by Omid Scobie and Carolyn Durand, was published, and immediately became a bestseller, despite Harry and Meghan only having reached the tender ages of 36 and 39. It seemed inevitable that as soon as the biography had hit the shelves, it would be superseded by events. Sure enough, in the light of the Oprah interview, Scobie and Durand have updated the book for its paperback publication. A news report suggested that extra chapters will cover ‘their interview with Oprah Winfrey, allegations against Meghan over the bullying of royal staff, which she denies, and Prince Philip’s death.

As lockdown shows early signs of (finally) coming to an end, there is the likelihood that, once again, early morning trains will be full of bright-eyed and bushy-tailed commuters, keen to leave their ‘home offices’ in favour of being around people who they are neither married to nor responsible for. And this means, one hopes, that they will be choosing appropriate books for the hour or so’s journey into work. While there is a time and place for a 600-page behemoth, there is also something deeply rewarding (and, let us be quite frank, relieving) about a shorter title; not only is it considerably easier to fit inside a briefcase, handbag or satchel, but many great writers produced some of their finest work in less than 200 pages.

There is something intrinsic to the British novel-writing tradition of a good espionage story. From its beginnings in the early twentieth century with Rudyard Kipling and Erskine Childers through to the thoroughly contemporary likes of Mick Herron and Charles Cumming, there is apparently no shortage of gripping, witty and brilliantly executed spy tales, all of which continue to fascinate us with their combination of cloak-and-dagger mystery, larger-than-life protagonists and antagonists and twist-laden storylines. Everyone, of course, thinks of James Bond when it comes to spy stories, and it would be churlish to omit his adventures from a selection like this. But there are many more distinctly unglamorous spooks and joes whose tales are worth a read.

The days are short, the nights are dark and the temperature is freezing. Oh, and in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re in an indefinite lockdown that shows no discernible signs of coming to an end. With most other pursuits thus denied to us, now is the perfect time to immerse yourself in a good book. But sometimes, the improving but ‘difficult’ literary novel or the tense crime thriller isn’t entirely what you want. Instead, here are seven recommendations for a purely entertaining read. Most, if not quite all, are laugh-out-loud funny, but there are quieter and sadder moments along the way, too, just like in life.

At the moment, there are two costume dramas that everyone is watching, namely Bridgerton and The Great. If you’re a fan of the former, then you’re in good company; it seems to be the Netflix streaming show du jour and millions are enjoying its soap operatic storylines. However, The Great is the real thing, if you’re after laugh-out-loud outrageousness. It comes complete with a scene-stealing, career-best performance from Nicholas Hoult as the vile, hilarious Peter III, Emperor of Russia (not ‘The Great’, as he is constantly reminded, to his chagrin) and with an equally enjoyable Elle Fanning as a young, scheming Catherine (who really is the Great), and a fine array of supporting actors giving various degrees of incompetence, scheming or nastiness.