Rising Emperors, Hilarious Deviants, and a Cocktail for Making Good Use of Maraschino
Plus: A terrific post-WWII novel
You may have seen that multi-billion-dollar company Meta decided that it was too impatient and too cheap to license authors’ work to train its generative AI, and used a pirate database called LibGen instead, stealing the work of millions of writers, including The Slowest Burn.
The one-word response: F***ERS!
The longer response:
We all knew just what a moral vacuum Meta is, but the blithe callousness of this theft staggers and demoralizes me. What makes it worse: AI can only ever make mediocre art. It can’t innovate, it can’t make leaps beyond what’s already been done. Also, why is AI being given all the fun, joyful, lifegiving stuff to do, and humans are stuck paying taxes and unclogging toilets? Where are the robot servants? Where are the flying cars? I was promised flying cars!
Seriously, I love writing. I love seeing my book in bookstores, and talking to other writers and to readers about all the things we love about romance. And the one bright aspect of Instagram is how it creates a conduit between me and the readers who find my book…though I can only really reach them if I say things that meet the inscrutable demands of the algorithm.
What I really do not love is how devalued the act of creation has become. How algorithms have broken down culture into “content”, a cacaphony of shouted words and gurning faces soundtracked by fifteen seconds’ worth of trending sound, interspersed with endless ads.
Long story short - Meta are twats, social media is a scam, and I am trying very hard to wean myself off Instagram. I’m not quitting it completely, but I’m trying to treat it as just another communication channel, a place to post book news and respond to readers. No scrolling, no flipping through Stories. You can still reach me on there if you tag or DM me, but I might not see it for a few days. And if I look at you blankly IRL when you refer to something you posted, apologies.
Recently I read and loved…
The Lion House by Christopher de Bellaigue
Old-school history writing may not be the most PC thing these days, but I can’t help but love it - it has such a strong sense of narrative, and the best writers are equal to novelists in terms of the rhythm and melody of their language. Yes, academic history with all its meticulous footnotes is vitally important work. But sometimes I just want someone to tell me a story, and the rise of Suleyman the Magnificent in the sixteenth-century Ottoman Empire is one hell of a story. My knowledge of this period was almost all Western European- the beginning of the colonization of the Americas, Henry VIII and his wives, the Reformation. Reading The Lion House felt like standing looking out over a magnificent vista through one of those old school telescopes, but then a hand came along and pushed the telescope a thousand miles southeast, so that the westernmost points were Venice and Tunis, and the amorphous mass called “Eastern Europe” became a much more detailed landscape of sacked towns and pitched battles between the Ottomans and the Holy Roman Empire. Want to simultaneously learn a lot and get lost in an adventure? This is for you.
Small Bomb at Dimperley by Lissa Evans
There are many, many novels set during World War II, but there’s not nearly as many set right after, when the world had shattered and re-arranged itself and the most pressing question was how do we live now? Especially when, as in the case of the vaguely aristocratic Vere-Thissetts living in their disintegrating manor (the Dimperley of the title). there’s no going back to the way life was before. No more flocks of servants, no more automatic deference and noblesse oblige. In answering this question, Evans does impeccable character work, evokes all the damp scruffy grayness of the time, and creates literal spit-take jokes to boot. The short version: this is like an Eva Ibbotson novel with more satire and swearing. I absolutely loved it, and it might be one of my books of 2025.
Rejection by Tony Tulathimutte
A very millennial metaphor: if this were a CD, the case would be plastered with content warnings. This book is FILTHY, in all the senses of that word, utterly horrifying and scatological and hilarious. (Honestly, I can’t remember the last something I consumed something this outrageously funny.) But it’s also a really clever and engrossing dive into the existential problems of being terminally online, and the difference between performing attitudes and identities and simply being a person in the world engaging with other people. It’s incredible, and you should read it as soon as possible. At home. Alone.
I also enjoyed…The Discovery of France by Graham Robb, Let’s Make a Scene by Laura Wood (out July 2025), Lies We Sing to the Sea by Sarah Underwood, Where Have All the Scoundrels Gone by Louisa Darling, Red at the Bone by Jacqueline Woodson
And I mixed…a Havana Special.
In the same way that George Orwell spent quality time thinking about his ideal pub, I sometimes idly consider what makes a great cocktail bar. It’s not necessarily about the menu, or the setting - in London I have had an equally lovely time in the very old school Dukes Bar and the unapologetically avant garde 🔶🟥🔵 (aka A Bar with Shapes for a Name). I think it’s really about the people who work there, and the ethos they create, warm and welcoming and knowledgeable. Luckily for me, I have a truly excellent bar a twenty-minute walk from my house! Satan’s Whiskers is thoroughly unprepossessing on the outside (Street View it to see what I mean) and relaxed and mellow on the inside. The menu changes every day, so each visit is a delightful spin on the roulette wheel of classic cocktails. They’re also super eager to share knowledge, and their Instagram is a great resource for home bartenders looking to try something new.
So, to the Havana Special, which I saw a picture of on their account and had to make ASAP: this is terrific if you love a margarita/daiquiri/gimlet, but want to try something just a little smoother. The almondy maraschino does a surprising amount of good work here, rounding out the sharpest edges of the pineapple and lime and underlining the brown sugar qualities of the rum. It’s still tart and fruity in the best of kind of way, but just that bit more harmonious.
I also enjoyed…an Apricot Negroni, a De La Louisiane, and a Marmalade Hanky Panky at home, an Irish Maid and Bedrock Old Vine Zinfandel at Hawksmoor Spitalfields, and a 50-50 martini with a twist at Café Deco.
And a bonus! I cooked two new-to-me recipes recently that were both fairly quick (especially for the first time making them) and utterly delicious: broccoli rabe-sausage-chickpea pasta from NYT Cooking, and Meera Sodha’s coconut-tofu-green bean curry.