Set in and around the women’s prison at Milbank in the 1870’s , “Affinity” is an eerie and utterly compelling ghost story, a complex and intriguing literary mystery and a poignant love story with an unexpected twist in the tale. Following the death of her father, Margaret Prior has decided to pursue some ‘good work’ with the lady criminals of one of London’s most notorious gaols. Surrounded by prisoners, murderers and common thieves, Margaret feels herself drawn to one of the prisons more unlikely inmates – the imprisoned spiritualist – Selina Dawes. Sympathetic to the plight of this innocent-seeming girl, Margaret sees herself dispensing guidance and perhaps friendship on her visits, little expecting to find herself dabbling in a twilight world of seances, shadows, unruly spirits and unseemly passions.

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Set in and around the women’s prison at Milbank in the 1870’s , “Affinity” is an eerie and utterly compelling ghost story, a complex and intriguing literary mystery and a poignant love story with an unexpected twist in the tale. Following the death of her father, Margaret Prior has decided to pursue some ‘good work’ with the lady criminals of one of London’s most notorious gaols. Surrounded by prisoners, murderers and common thieves, Margaret feels herself drawn to one of the prisons more unlikely inmates – the imprisoned spiritualist – Selina Dawes. Sympathetic to the plight of this innocent-seeming girl, Margaret sees herself dispensing guidance and perhaps friendship on her visits, little expecting to find herself dabbling in a twilight world of seances, shadows, unruly spirits and unseemly passions.

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Haunts of the Black Masseur is a dazzling introduction to the great swimming heroes: Byron leaping into the surf at Shelley’s beach funeral, Hart Crane, swallow-diving to his death in the Bay of Mexico, Ulysses, Leander, Weismuller and many more. In lively prose bursting with anecdote, Charles Sprawson leads us into a watery world populated by lithe demi-Gods – one that has obsessed humans from the ancient Greeks and Romans, to Yeats, Virginia Woolf, F. Scott Fitzgerald and David Hockney. Original, enticing and dripping with references to literature, film, art and Olympic history, this cult swimming classic pays sparkling tribute to water and the cultural meanings we attach to it.

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Substance D – otherwise known as Death – is the most dangerous drug ever to find its way on to the black market. It destroys the links between the brain’s two hemispheres leading first to disorentation and then to complete and irreversible brain damage. Bob Arctor undercover narcotics agent is trying to find a lead to the source of supply but to pass as an addict he must become a user and soon without knowing what is happening to him he is as dependent as any of the addicts he is monitoring.

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Be careful what you wish for… ; ; Once upon a time there was a fairy godmother named Desiderata who had a good heart a wise head and poor planning skills; which unforunately left the Princess Emberella in the care of her other (not quite so good and wise) godmother when Death came for Desiderata. So now it’s up to Magrat Garlick Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg to hop on broomsticks and make for far-distant Genua to ensure the servant girl doesn’t marry the Prince. ; ; But the road to Genua is bumpy and along the way the trio of witches encounters the occasional vampire werewolf and falling house (well this is a fairy tale after all). The trouble really begins once these reluctant foster-godmothers arrive in Genua and must outwit their power-hungry counterpart who’ll stop at nothing to achieve a proper “happy ending” even if it means destroying a kingdom!

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Twoflower was a tourist the first ever seen on the Discworld. Tourist Rlncewind decided meant idiot. Somewhere on the frontier between thought and reality exists the Discworld a parallel time and place which might sound and smell very much like our own but which looks completely different. It plays by different rules. Certainly it refuses to succumb to the quaint notion that universes are ruled by pure logic and the harmony of numbers. But just because the Disc is different doesn’t mean that some things don’t stay the same. Its very existence is about to be threatened by a strange new blight: the arrival of the first tourist upon whose survival rests the peace and prosperity of the land. But if the person charged with maintaining that survival in the face of robbers mercenaries and well Death is a spectacularly inept wizard a little logic might turn out to be a very good idea…

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The eleventh Discworld novel! ; ; “Death has to happen. That’s what bein’ alive is all about. You’re alive and then you’re dead. It can’t just stop happening.” ; ; But it can. And it has. So what happens after death is now less of a philosophical question than a question of actual reality. On the disc as here they need Death. If Death doesn’t come for you then what are you supposed to do in the meantime? You can’t have the undead wandering about like lost souls. There’s no telling what might happen particularly when they discover that life really is only for the living…

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`Although the scythe isn’t pre-eminent among the weapons of war anyone who has been on the wrong end of say a peasants’ revolt will know that in skilled hands it is fearsome…’ ; ; For Mort however it is about to become one of the tools of his trade. From henceforth Death is no longer going to be the end merely the means to an end. He has received an offer he can’t refuse. As Death’s apprentice he’ll have free board use of the company horse and being dead isn’t compulsory. It’s the dream job until he discovers that it can be a killer on his love life…

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It’s the night before Hogswatch. And it’s too quiet. There’s snow there’re robins there’re trees covered with decorations but there’s a notable lack of the big fat man who delivers the toys…He’s gone. Susan the governess has got to find him before morning otherwise the sun won’t rise. And unfortunately her only helpers are a raven with an eyeball fixation the Death of Rats and an oh god of hangovers. Worse still someone is coming down the chimney. This time he’s carrying a sack instead of a scythe but there’s something regrettably familiar…Ho. Ho. Ho. It’s true what they say. ‘You’d better watch out…’

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