PRINCESS RAINE IS A BRIGHT KID—a very bright kid. And that’s her problem. No one likes smart kids, especially when they’re unaware of the effect they have on other people. Even her Dad (that’s the king) finds her too much. To make things worse, she has two funny, silly, younger brothers—twins—both as dumb as a bar of soap—whom everyone loves. It’s not fair.So when the kingdom of Rainland is threatened by a massive and abnormal heatwave, the reason has to be a natural phenomenon, like global warming—right? It couldn’t be the arrival of some magical, mythical, firebreathing monster. Could it?The king wants Raine to go and investigate but she refuses; let him send his younger son, if he’s so sure there’s a monster: it’s always the youngest who slays the dragon in fairytales. And then something totally unexpected happens to her and everything changes. But how? Read on.

CHRIS HILTON WENT TO HAVANA in the early 2000s to escape the drudgery of everyday life in England—and, boy, did he escape it. Suddenly he found himself mixed up with a variety of gangland chancers, some Cuban, one British, all living on the edge of legality.There was always a risk of their moneymaking schemes getting rumbled by the police but that’s what made it so compelling: the chance, the risk. Office life this wasn’t. And then there was Jamilia—a refugee from rural poverty, who’d come to the big city as a teenager, and been rescued from the streets by an unnerving family of small-time criminals.“A little crazy is good,” Jamilia tells Chris— and a little crazy they become, living hard, loving hard and downing a deal of Cuban rum.But how long can craziness last? And what happens when good fortune turns to bad?

In wartime Ireland, an Englishman and a German each need the other to betray his country. And if the nationalist firebrands get their way, they may have to fight to the death. But hang on! —Just a few months ago, Flight Lieutenant Oliver Carmichael and Baron Julius von Stulpnagel were living together in Berlin, trying to sell forged paintings. So what are they doing in rundown Ballingore, and how will ex-convent-girl Mary Collins and her devoted red-headed sidekick Niamh Slattery play into their hands? In this hilarious Irish farce, K.J. Kelly brilliantly recreates the slapstick flavour of an Ealing Studios comedy.

At the end of his last adventure (Belle Nash and the Bath Soufflé), Belle Nash was banished for four years to the island of Grenada. It is now 1835, and Belle has returned to Bath, glad to be back but pained by the absence of his most recent Caribbean love. His heartache leads to confusions when he meets Pablo Fanque, the Black equestrian acrobat from Norfolk who longs to set up his own circus. As a well-loved figure in Bath, Belle uses his influence to try and help, but has to run the gauntlet of Lord Servitude, the most hated man in England and a die-hard supporter of slavery. As ever, William Keeling's whimsical tale brings Belle, his gay hero, into a situation where comedy does not obscure stark moral issues to do with prejudice and bigotry that are as alive today as they were in Regency times.

A collection of 12 short stories, mostly focused on the distinct character of life in Lagos - the commercial capital of Nigeria. In writing this book, the author says he has tried to teleport the reader to Lagos, to experience what an average Nigerian in the south of the country does to keep his or her dreams, hopes and aspirations alive. He also shows the tensions that exist between the generations, between the sexes and between different social classes and ethnicities. The book shows why every Lagosian is expected to live by the popular local saying, "Shine Your Eyes", referring to the need to keep vigilant. Two stories are dedicated to the very different plight of people living in northern Nigeria. Northern Nigerians are mostly Hausa and Muslim; those in the south are mostly Christian and Yoruba or Igbo. Lagos is a land of opportunity and Lagosians are one of the most successful people in the world by virtue of their perseverance. As the author says (in Pidgin), “I dey live and work for Lagos and I love am - as I hope say you go see.”

The Kassims are a traditional Indian Muslim family, living in Southern Rhodesia in the 1950s and 60s, where they enjoy a wealth of new opportunities but are held down by white racism and are torn apart by their own changing values. Kulsum wants her daughters to have an education that will expand their horizons; Razaak fears that education will make the girls unmarriageable within the Khumbar caste. Feeling sidelined by Kulsum’s modernity and her other achievements, Razaak defers to his father and sends their daughters to a less sophisticated branch of the family over 1000 miles away in rural Uganda. How should Kulsum respond? In this affectionate picture of a little-documented African cultural milieu, first-time author Fatima Kara digs into her own memories of life as a Gujarati in Bulawayo, conjuring up the brilliant colours, mouth-watering foods and exotic plant life of a region she remains devoted to and wants us to love as she does. The Train House on Lobengula Street is Part One of an entrancing two-part story.

Winner of The Sunday Times CNA Literary Awards. Shortlisted for the Walter Scott Prize Torn from his parents and tribe as a boy in the 1870s, Stephen Mzamane is picked by the Anglican church to train at the Missionary College in Canterbury to be a rural preacher in Southern Africa’s Cape Colony. He is a brilliant success but troubles stalk him: his unresolved relationship with his family and people, the condescension of church leaders towards their own native pastors, and That Woman—seen once in a photograph and never forgotten. And now he has to find his mother and take her a message that will break her heart. In this raw and compelling story, Marguerite Poland employs her considerable experience as a writer and specialist in South African languages to recreate the polarised, duplicitous world of Victorian colonialism and its betrayal of the very people it claimed to be enlightening.

The terrifying fact is this: Huntington’s disease leads to physical and mental deterioration. There is no cure. It is handed down genetically, with a 1:2 chance of inheritance that cannot be determined until the disease shows itself, often not until the sufferer is in their 40s. Many do not know they have the gene or are at risk of passing it on. Those who do know, because a parent has suffered from it, may wait a lifetime before finding out whether they are safe or not. The prospects are horrific. After his first marriage failed, Brian Verity had a breakdown and married the woman who nursed him back to health. Within a few years, she began showing the signs of Huntington’s that he had seen in other members of her family and that he had a morbid fear of. Having fallen in love with her in hospital, he now found himself repelled, fearful of his own psychological fragility and inability to cope and yet committed to protecting her from the terrible distress that lay in wait. In his view, assisted dying was her only option. Was he right? Stephen Games, who edited this book, was in contact with Brian Verity in the year before he died, and is available to talk about the raw issues raised by the author and about the wider context of the book.

Romania allied itself with the Nazis in the Second World War to protect itself from the Soviet Union and to promote its own brand of fascist nationalism. When George Tomaziu, who had spent the 1930s preparing for a career as an artist, was invited to spy for Britain, he agreed because Britain then represented the only possible bulwark against Nazism. He went on to monitor German troop movements through Romania towards the Russian front, observing, on one occasion, the mass-killing of Jews in the small Ukrainian town of Brailov. He knew he might be arrested, tortured and killed by Romania’s rightwing regime but thought that if he survived, his contribution to the war effort would be recognised. It wasn’t. After Romania turned Communist, he was sent back to prison in 1950 and kept him there for 13 years. Following his release, the British helped him get out of Romania and he settled in Paris. This is his memoir.

When a soufflé fails to rise, friends try to find out why and uncover a web of corruption that spreads throughout Bath's legal system. Set in the early 1830s, this comic gay historical novel exposes the bigotry of the times but also introduces a new literary and moral hero—Belle Nash, city councillor and bachelor. About time!

For those of advanced tastes, the Modern Movement was a welcome corrective to the debased aesthetics of the commercial world. The products of light industry were as untutored in the 1920s and 30s as massed housing and both took scant interest in the idealist thinking that sought to harness architecture and design to social progress. Robert Best, one of Britain’s leading industrialists in this period, shared the goal of better mass education but was troubled by Modernism’s promoters, for reasons that they found hard to understand. If the few knew better than the many, and had an obligation to elevate them whether they liked it or not, where did this leave the democratic principles that our liberal society prided itself on? Best felt that the campaign to popularise Functionalist design took propaganda into territory that had uncomfortable political overtones. In this extraordinary memoir, written in the early 1950s but never previously published, Best explored his concern about the sense of noblesse oblige that lay behind such bodies as the Council of Industrial Design, set up in 1944 ostensibly to raise the saleability and quality of British manufacturing but also, in his view, to brainwash the public into denying what it liked in favour of more cultivated but untested alternatives.

Unable to cope with his English girlfriend’s death, Michael Roberts finds himself thinking back to another time and another place when he was in love for the first time. But that was when he was as a schoolboy in Belfast, at the start of The Troubles in the late 1960s, and in a culture dominated by divides that weren’t just sectarian. To his surprise and increasing torment, his memories— long buried—prove elusive, so that struggling to remember what happened and why he had suppressed it becomes more and more of an obsession. Frances Creighton: Found and Lost is a deeply felt first novel that conveys the pain of late adolescence in a community where school and religion add more layers of cruelty to the under- lying instability of daily life and Northern Irish politics.

All roads lead to the Celestial City and when schoolmaster Po Cheng drinks too much and falls into a dream, he finds himself on just such a road. Assisted by teaching colleague Miss Ling, Po Cheng reaches the imperial capital, rising up through the giddy ranks of the Chinese civil service to become Prime Minister. Good fortune appears endless, not least when Miss Ling reappears as an artist’s model who has changed her name to Precious Pearl so she can pose in the Forest of Brushes Academy of Art without her parents finding out. But what Heaven—and alcohol—hand out, they can also claw back. Trouble is brewing inside and outside the city walls, and Po Cheng’s eminence means he must now take the rap and face consequences inevitable from the start. Mustard Seed Itinerary is a brilliant first novel by an important new voice, bringing to the formal conventions of traditional Chinese literature the wry humour of Carrollian satire. As Mullen says, ‘In Daoism and Buddhism, dream journeys serve as voyages of discovery from which only a blockhead would return none the wiser. And Po Cheng is no blockhead.’

In France, Mattie feels 20 again. In Poland, Magda revisits her impoverished family. In Uzbekistan, Diana lets a fellow tourist kiss her. In Germany, Lynn loses her luggage on the Düsseldorf train. The Hopeful Traveller is a collection of short stories about—and told by—single women who have put the past behind them but are still looking for their anchor in the present. It includes bitter-sweet accounts of the freedoms of postwar life, of foreign travel, of the rekindling of old friendships and of the search for new ones. The stories speak of cosmopolitan, self-confident, well-heeled characters, in an era just before the birth of feminism, conventional in their expectations of men, always just a step away from displacement and alienation. Set variously in Paris, Kalisz, Samarkand, Hong Kong, Melbourne, Erfurt, Singapore and London, these stories, from a much-admired veteran writer, offer a teasing mix of realism and fantasy, wish-fulfilment and regret. Some of these stories have appeared in translation in overseas annuals and collections.

The intelligence and passion that brought independence to colonial countries in Eastern and Southern Africa was greeted with enthusiasm by many progressive Whites. Michael Holman was one of them. A Rhodesian student activist whose support for black independence frightened his own minority white government, he was inspired by the black unionists and political leaders he interviewed, and whose message he took to Western readers, notably through the London Financial Times. But as the years passed, their early ideals became increasingly corrupted, internally and by what Holman still sees as the misguided policies of outside donors. Now brought together into a single volume, Holman’s 50 years of reporting vividly conveys the hopes and disappointments of the post-colonial era.

The Jarawa, one of the oldest tribes of human beings in the world, may go extinct because of a road that runs through pristine forests in the Indian-administered Andaman Islands, in the Bay of Bengal, and no one seems to care. Tourists take the road each day to try and get selfies with the tribespeople, who came from what is now Botswana over 60,000 years ago. Once proud of their independence, the Jarawa are now tempted with biscuits and trinkets, as if they were exotic animals in a human safari park. They can’t survive like this. In this astonishing book, Jonathan Lawley returns to what was once a penal colony built by the British to house Indian mutineers. He asks what responsibility colonial administrators like his grandfather may have had for the sad plight of these palaeolithic hunter- gatherers, and what the Indian government should now be doing to protect them.