Love Books - My 5 last reads
I love a book that lingers, the story that you just can’t shake, the kind that interrupts your quiet moments, and hijacks your conversations. Over the last few months, I’ve read loads, here’s five worth sharing, and yes there’s a theme.
I first became aware of dystopian fiction started when I was a kid. I grew up in London under the long shadow of the Cold War, when the threat of nuclear annihilation wasn’t just theoretical—it was public policy. We had sirens, grim little leaflets shoved through the door, and bleak TV adverts that cheerfully explained how to turn your kitchen table into a fallout shelter. As if a couple of pine legs and a floral tablecloth could hold back a nuclear blast. My dad, never one to mince his words, made us all promise that if the bomb dropped, we’d walk straight into the middle of the road. “You won’t want to survive a nuclear bomb’’, he said. “The government wants us to hide under wooden tables - they think we’re idiots?” These weren’t just kitchen-table conversations—they were Cold War philosophy, Bill Hughes-style. Then in 1986, I borrowed Children of the Dust from the school library. It told the story of a family living through a nuclear strike and what came after. It does end in something vaguely utopian, but the journey is harrowing. That book was my first real step into dystopian and post-apocalyptic fiction—and I’ve been reading through the ruins ever since.
These books aren’t just page-turners (though some are cracking reads). They’re brain-scratchers, gut-punchers, and occasionally, hope-givers. And while they’re very different, they all tackle power—how it’s gained, lost, corrupted, manipulated, and survived. AI features a lot, unsurprising in 2025, the era of ChatGPT. Here’s my take.
1. Careless People by Sarah Wynne Williams
Synopsis:
This is not your average whistleblower memoir. Sarah Wynne Williams takes us on a journey into the beating, billion-dollar heart of Big Tech, recounting her time working with Facebook (sorry—Meta) in a bid to create safer online spaces. What unfolds is less TED Talk and more Greek tragedy. It’s about complicity, ambition, and what happens when you try to do the right thing inside a machine designed for scale, not soul. Readers are exposed to an up close and personal of the people at the top - their decent into the vortex of power and global recognition and how seductive it was and impossible to stop.
My review:
What I loved—was the writers honesty. Her reflections on bending herself to fit the system hit hard, the moral injury plain to see. I’ve had a very brief window into Facebook behind the scenes albeit briefly and have stood in Menlo Park, sipping the Kool-Aid, thinking I was about to change the world. FYI, the bubbles wear off fast. The portrait of Sheryl Sandberg isn’t surprising, but it is sobering, disappointing female leaders everywhere - she’s apparently less lean in and more look out for number one. And the chapters on Myanmar and Trump? Honestly, they should be taught in schools. Wynn Williams survived to tell the tale and I hope is thriving in her new life. Obviously Meta is thriving, after all Zuckerberg was at Trumps inauguration front and centre, the Kingmaker, no longer a reluctant politician.
2. The Family Experiment by John Marrs
Synopsis:
In a Britain just a few uncomfortable clicks from our own, the government has partnered with reality TV to reinvent parenting. Couples are given AI-generated children to raise virtually—condensing 18 years into 9 months—for a shot at a better life. What starts as a twisted Black Mirror game show morphs into something far darker.
My review:
Marrs taps into everything terrifying about our digital lives - genetic profiling, VR escapism, tech as both saviour and captor. I found myself both seduced and repulsed by the idea of sipping lattes in Manhattan one minute, then swimming in the Indian Ocean the next—all from your sofa. Paradise, until you realise the cost. The tables turned as British children are trafficked abroad. People imprisoned in their own homes. Even the things I advocate for—like innovative justice—get pulled apart and reassembled into something monstrous. It’s sharp, smart, and builds beautifully to an ending that ties everything up in a neat, satisfying bow. My favourite kind of finish.
3. The Treatment by Sarah Moorhead
Synopsis:
Imagine a world where we can “fix” criminal behaviour with psychological intervention instead of prison. Now imagine that system is run by a private corporation with the ethics of a Bond villain and the PR strategy of a mindfulness app. Welcome to The Treatment, where justice has been outsourced, and your brain might be next.
My review:
I struggled with this one—not because of the ideas (which are important and timely), but the execution. There were moments that felt clunky, like a jigsaw with a few pieces forced into the wrong spots. That said, the questions it raises are good ones: Can we rehabilitate instead of punish? Who gets to decide what’s fixable? And what inevitably happens when health, capitalism and politics get into bed together and forget the safe word - people get hurt. It’s not joyful, the characters aren’t likeable and the story is a bit disjointed, but it provokes some good thinking. If you work in justice, policy, or have ever banged your head against the system—add it to your list.
4. Yellowface by R.F. Kuang
Synopsis:
When a white writer steals the work—and identity—of her more successful Asian friend, she becomes a literary star under a racially ambiguous pseudonym. What follows is a painfully sharp satire about privilege, cultural appropriation, publishing politics, and the many flavours of self-delusion. It’s savage. And brilliant.
My review:
This made me feel deeply uncomfortable. As the story unfolded I could see that it reveals social complicity in white privilege that is repeated over and over again in all aspects of living. Kuang needles at issues such as cultural appropriation, racism, envy, insecurity, impostor syndrome, the desperate need to be seen. The main protagonist June is profoundly unlikeable, like really, someone who I would not want to be friends with in real life for sure, she is incredibly frustrating and angry making. The book is written beautifully and makes the reader question their intentions - or at least that’s what it did to me!
5. Human Rights, Robot Wrongs by Susie Alegre
Synopsis:
Alegre takes a torch to the fog of AI hype and shows us what’s really at stake: our freedom of thought, autonomy, and rights as humans. Drawing on law, tech, philosophy, and a bit of righteous rage, she argues that we’re standing at a crossroads—and that we must act before machine learning becomes machine ruling. If you think AI is someone else’s problem, read this.
My review:
This should be required reading for every politician, policy nerd, and person who’s flirting with ChatGPT on the daily. It’s not doom-and-gloom—it’s grounded, smart, and only occasionally terrifying (which I count as a win). Alegre helps us see that AI isn’t an alien invasion—it’s human-made. And that means it’s ours to shape. I choose to engage—not to leave it to the Zuckerbergs of the world. We still have time. But not much. This book is a manifesto for why it’s almost our duty to take .
Bonus Review: My Beloved Kindle Paperwhite
Let’s take a moment to talk about the unsung hero of my entire reading life: my Kindle Paperwhite . I’ve become the kind of reader who only buys physical books after I’ve read and loved them on Kindle—unless it’s work-related, in which case I want to annotate, underline, and scrawl in the margins like a woman possessed.
But for everything else? Kindle all the way. It’s light, it’s book-like, and it holds enough titles to make me feel like my own personal library is tucked inside my handbag. And crucially: if you’re prone to dozing off mid-chapter (hello, me), the Paperwhite won’t give you a black eye when it inevitably drops onto your face. Unlike the Watchmaker of Filigree Street once did.
Yes, it’s an investment—but one I’d make again in a heartbeat. Can’t recommend it more highly. Also, it’s waterproof, which feels unnecessarily luxurious until you’ve cried into it during a weepy plot twist or accidentally dropped it in the bath.
Whether you’re into near-future thrillers, moral dilemmas, or brutal honesty, there’s something here that might just rattle your brain in the best way.
Let me know if any of these spoke to you—or threw you completely off balance. Either way, I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Affiliate Note:
This post contains Amazon affiliate links. If you purchase through them, I may earn a small commission—at no extra cost to you. Products are always best from small business and local bookshops. But for those where that isn’t an option Amazon is an easy way to get what you need.