2026-08-30 15:27:56
Air France Flight 006 lands in America in March. The exact same plane lands again in June — same pilot, same crew, same passengers. The military calls in a bunch of scientists to try and figure out what is going on. Given the time difference, all the passengers have doubles, all the crew have doubles. The March landers have three months of unique experiences.
It questions the very nature of what it means to be an individual — deeply philosophical, very heavy. Content warnings for death, suicide, child abuse, and religiously motivated murders.
It's an extremely literary book, by a well-read author and/or talented researcher. But as wild as the story gets, as fanciful the prose, it always felt believable. A big shout out to the translator for keeping some je ne sais quoi that meant, despite being in English, it read very French.
The delivery — the narration — feels unusual to me. It's like an observer describing scenes to the reader, not a traditional third-person point of view. It came across a little bit like “meet Stan” from the Eminem video, and might be a clue to the solution. But, then again, I am not too proud to admit: I did not understand the ending.
Heavy, deep, inconclusive. Really well written but a more challenging read than I'm used to.
2026-08-24 05:10:27
Back home visiting family and stopped in for a pub lunch at a random pub that turned out to be the one I'd go drinking in at college about 30 years ago. Which was a bit odd!
Spent the rest of the time eating chips and ice cream on the beach lamenting the broken optical zoom on my Coolpix because it got sand in it. Still, it's an excuse to buy the Kodak C1 from my wishlist 😂
Sorry to all my colleagues and clients but I have not missed work in the slightest. Barely thought about it, in all honesty. I know I'm going back in to a busy week of data analysis and external staff training which is going to be hard going but, for now, I can sip this pint of San Miguel while I read in the last of the sunshine and dream this will be all my tomorrows…
2026-08-17 16:11:15
Thanks to Ruben for surfacing this lovely post, and for his own thoughtful addition.
Sylvia's journey from church upbringing to "nature as spirituality" mirrors my own path somewhat.
I think I've always been an atheist; I never really believed in the teachings of the Catholic Church, even as a young child. Too inquisitive and stubborn and faced with too little evidence meant "blind faith" was off the table. Apologies to God, if you're real, for the lies I told during my confirmation.
Anyway, without the threat of Hell or the promise of Heaven, I am free to pursue a good life in my own image; with, arguably, more "Christian" values than a lot of Christians.
I believe everyone and everything should be treated equally and humans aren't top of any pyramid entitled to exploit the world because of our special relationship with the Almighty.
It's reductionist to look at all the great wonders of our world, nod, and go "yep, beardy white guy made this in a week" with utter conviction.
I write about nature a lot in my Weeknotes because it genuinely moves me.
I grew up by the sea and adore water; swimming, paddling, walking in rain, boating. I'm in awe of the usual malarkey: sunsets, birdsong, rainbows.
But, like Sylvia, the majesty of huge trees touches me. I love hearing hedgerows teeming with life, feeling bats flit past my face in the twilight, and finding beautiful beetles in flowerpots.
I don't really consider myself a "spiritual" person; the word conjures images of crystals and yoga and incense. I'm not knocking that, it's just not me.
I think gratitude is very important and write 3 Good Things that happen every day. I also believe we are never finished and constant self improvement should be a perennial state of being.
While I don't meditate or pray to a higher power, I do take time to be in nature as it's both grounding and uplifting.
2026-08-17 01:56:17
Along with basically everyone, I watched the eclipse using the traditional "colander and a sheet of paper" method. I took a few horrific snaps with one of my cameras but, without a solar filter, they were rubbish.
It was strange because it didn't feel like a sunset despite being basically at sunset. Instead of the usual smooth gradient of light loss, it felt "stepped" — like the amount of light clicked down as if multiple light-switches were flicked off one after the other.
The silence of the birds was eerie.
We brought in a new member of the team this week. Having picked up a project to build an interactive patient simulation tool for an upcoming Congress, we find ourselves in need of someone to do the actual development.
I'm a little sad I don't get to do it but a new dev frees me up to work on a large-scale data analysis piece alongside the technical architecture of a medical education platform.
In the big political news this week, Toad of Toad Hall went toe-to-toe with an actual bin. Sadly for the dwindling institution that is British politics, the joke candidate won.
Typing has a way of speeding me up to the speed of my anxiety
Kobus de Wit on handwritten journalling
2026-08-15 13:31:30
Usually, historically, The Five is never ranked: it's just five things in the order I think of them. But this one definitely is ranked. Maybe I need a new posty type…
Here are my top 5 Irish teas and I will not be taking questions.
Hard agree? Violently disagree? Feel the urge to tell me about a brand I've forgotten? Get in touch by email, hit me up on the Socials™, or elsewhere online. I shared this on my Fedia feed for you to comment on or you could write a tea ranking/rebuttal/reply on your own blog and send me the link — I would love to read it!
2026-08-11 04:25:28
Luring me in with a kooky redhead in a bookshop is, once again, a sneaky lawyer's trick that I'm ashamed to say worked again! Shame on me, etc.
Magic is real, there are objects imbued with magic that allow the holder to conjure the unbelievable; the so-called Unknowable Objects.
They have been hidden from the world for generations by a Society consisting of four unlikely people who meet biannually in a basement like a really naff bookclub or 12-step programme.
Nothing has happened for years until, one day, they learn of the existence of a new object and must obtain it for their collection lest it fall into the wrong hands…
Gareth Brown clearly has a style: a yen for bookshops; he runs a nice line in quirky, learned female protagonists who aren't your typical leading lady; and particularly nasty villains.
That was evident in his debut, "The Book of Doors" (Review), and it's evident again in this follow-up novel, his self-proclaimed "difficult second book". I love the way he weaves absolute horror and despair into a cosy, fantastical universe.
In a masterful show of restraint, Brown centers this book in the same universe as his debut without massive overlap. There is an Easter egg part way through, and a little fan service at the end of the book. But largely, the two could be read as standalone books. In fact, they could be read in either order, which for a debut and a second book is quite impressive.
There's a through-thread of dealing with different kinds of relationships: Magda and her mother, estranged members of the Society, Magda and her surrogate father, a burgeoning romance, betrayals, and dealing with the fact that you are not responsible for the failings of your ancestors. All you can do is try to be better in this generation. Or something — I'm not a philosopher.
There are some genuinely complex ideas in this book. Brown neatly and plausibly deals with the problem of how to identify the unknowable objects, for example, as they are immensely powerful but boringly mundane; a pen, a knife, a chess piece.
His prose isn't flowery by any stretch, but it manages to drive the plot forward at pace without feeling utilitarian. He hits a level of description that's quite tightly evocative.
There were a few reveals that I found quite breathtaking and some reveals I had an inkling were about to happen but didn't detract from my enjoyment of the book when they eventually landed.
If you wanted to dig for a negative, it might be "a bit samey" — but, I'd argue, working in a niche isn't a crime; plenty of authors have made a comfortable living doing just that, some have even made art.
All in all, I feel like it sits at the improbable Venn diagram intersection of "TJ Klune's warm and cosy" and Clive Barker's "unrepentantly bleak".