Davey’s face darkens and he grabs the figure from the tablecloth and throws it into the fire where it immediately begins to smoulder. ‘Cannon fodder,’ he says in a conversational tone. ‘Cannon fodder, little Osian’

Dead Man's Embers

Mari Strachan

‘I am damned,’ thinks Bunny Munro in a sudden moment of self-awareness reserved for those who are soon to die

The Death of Bunny Munro

Nick Cave

I thought I could write my way out of this, but I’m just writing my way further in


Rick Gekoski

Most of the time she thinks that she can work it out for herself in the end. The end is nigh but she’ll keep on trying. It’s not too late

The Dark Flood Rises

Margaret Drabble

What can the mind really do? How does it work, and why?


Jo Marchant

If we want a freer society, we must try to live as if we are already free. A commitment to empathy, truth and freedom needs to be the starting point

Creating Freedom

Raoul Martinez

All stories begin before they start and never, ever finish

The Crane Wife

Patrick Ness

At some point, everyone will be deceived. Everyone will fall victim to a confidence artist of one stripe or another. Everyone will fall for it. The real question is why

The Confidence Game

Maria Konnikova

This was the terrifying mystery, why creatures he loved should kill one another. He had been told that all over the world in the war now being fought men, women and children were being slaughtered in thousands; cities were being burnt down

The Cone-Gatherers

Robin Jenkins

Girls and dogs… undoubtedly two of mankind’s greatest mysteries

The Complete Peanuts 1999-2000

Charles M. Schulz

Darkness had completely descended onto the landscape and I stood up and stretched my arms above my head and I wondered what it would be like if it were a perfect world. Only god knows. And he is dead

Close to the Knives

David Wojnarowicz

Jazz was about making your own sound, finding a way to be different from everybody else, never playing the same thing two nights running

But Beautiful

Geoff Dyer

A couple may claim to be bonded by love, but we boatmen may see instead resentment, anger, even hatred. Or a great barrenness. Sometimes a fear of loneliness and nothing more

The Buried Giant

Kazuo Ishiguro

Dear Santa Claus, You can’t bluff me. I know that you are wishy washy. I know that you will bring me presents whether I’m good or whether I’m bad

The Bumper Book of Peanuts

Charles M. Schulz

Bright Young Things wanted for big project

Bright Young Things

Scarlett Thomas

We’re at an unprecedented moment in history, one in which brain science and technology are co-evolving. What happens at this intersection is poised to change who we are

The Brain

David Eagleman

The world changes too fast. You take your eyes off something that's always been there, and the next minute it's just a memory

The Book of Strange New Things

Michel Faber

The idea of Bulger as informant seemed preposterous.But the notion nagged, an irresistible itch that stayed close to the surface. What if it were really true?

Black Mass

Dick Lehr & Gerard O'Neill

This is more important than Hitler, this is about my book. It won't shake the world, it won't kill a soul, it won't fire a gun, ah, but you'll remember the book. The story of Vera Rivken, a slice out of life

Ask The Dust

John Fante

I went searching for the white light I’d found on the mountain in Norway, and spent five years chasing it, like Alice chasing the White Rabbit

The Art of Losing Control

Jules Evans

True security lies in the unrestrained embrace of insecurity - in the recognition that we never really stand on solid ground, and never can

The Antidote

Oliver Burkeman

These things you treasure, how often they're somebody else's trash


Emma Jane Unsworth

I was learning that I could have what I wanted if it was in words, pictures or songs, which are the only dependable forms of magic.

A Life In Pictures

Alasdair Gray

A river passing through a landscape catches the world and gives it back redoubled: a shifting, glinting world more mysterious than the one we customarily inhabit. Rivers run through our civilisations like strings through beads

To the River

Olivia Laing