Book Review Competition 2026

To Rest Our Minds and Bodies by Harriet Armstrong feels less like a book than a direct entry into the raw, unfiltered mind of an unnamed psychology student struggling to find her place in the world. The reader follows the narrator's life through her stream of consciousness as she experiences her final year of university and attempts to situate herself not just within her own life, but increasingly within the life of Luke, a fellow student who becomes the object of her intense fixation.

From the outset, she is marked by a constant and consuming need to "conceptualise" herself, as if she must narrow her identity into a certain, yet unknown form. What stayed with me most was how completely Armstrong commits to the reader’s immersion into this concept, as the prose draws the reader straight into the narrator's thought processes and captures the repetitive and merciless logic of her self-doubt and obsession. This perspective feels consistently enclosing, as the denial of a contrasting outlook traps us within the narrow hallway of the narrator's perception. While this demands patience, it is precisely this claustrophobia that I feel gives the novel its power.

Ultimately, To Rest Our Minds and Bodies asks how far we can understand ourselves through others, and what remains when those connections fall away. Armstrong effortlessly provides a progressively destabilising exploration of identity and perception that lingers precisely because of the question of, and answer to, the final state of the narrator's mind and body.

We Pretty Pieces of Flesh is a gut-wrenching and visceral exploration of what it means to experience the intense, fierce and messy friendship between three young women – Rach, Shaz and Kel. Despite embodying different personalities, each girl shapes the others in ways that are incomprehensible until much later: Rach, observant and introspective; Kel, always acting as the middle ground; and Shaz, all sharp-tongued with unswerving loyalty. Together, they form a raucous but utterly inseparable trio. The story unravels itself like a raw, vulnerable confession that feels as if it has been bottled up for years.

Collwill Brown writes with a voice that is purely poetic, peeling back layers of emotion to give the novel a deeply personal view from the glittering chaos of hedonism in the 90s to the quiet realisation of who the characters truly are. Featuring her total commitment to the South Yorkshire dialect, it may be linguistically challenging for the first few chapters, but eventually, it becomes essential for bringing the spark to the setting. By writing in the local tongue, the dialect immediately makes the casual misogyny of the surroundings suddenly feel claustrophobic and terrifyingly real.

At its core, a lingering secret that puts immense pressure on the stability of the characters’ seemingly indestructible friendship begins to surface. Brown refuses to shy away from how trauma can move into adulthood like a slow-moving rot; she captures the way that old wounds never truly heal, but instead become the foundation of every decision these women must make. The balance of lyricism and grit from Brown’s writing results in a beautifully written novel: boisterous, tender, and utterly original.

Under the Blue by Suzannah V. Evans is a deeply powerful and compelling anthology of memories, postcards and poems. Throughout she explores the roles of being a friend, sister, carer and wife. Yet, even when severed from her caring identity (looking after her mother) in the beginning of the book, she is still a carer to those around her – when she is reminded of D’s seizure when they are in a kayak.

Evans’ use of memories and people is stark, beautifully done, and haunting. The motifs of the ocean, of people, Corbière, and Twitter create a chaotic undertone to the mundanity of her simplicity of life.  My favourite ‘memory’ is Bright. Bright has a compelling and intimate nature with a distant and almost dazed undertone. The rhetorical question at the end, I believe, is extremely vital (“Was it the sex or coffee that kept me awake?”). She doesn’t know if it was coffee or intimacy that kept her awake. She has ‘shaking’ nights with a man, passionate and strong, but ultimately, she cannot help but wonder if it was an outside force of coffee. I think this speaks to how our memories are never fully remembered, or ever truthful once gone – they are attached to emotions, people and places, but are never fully graspable.

I think this pairs well with the poem ‘Letter To My Sister’, which discusses the night her sister gave birth. Overshadowed by their mother in the previous poem, this poem offers a new hope to their memories; a new future through the child. Yet, almost melancholically, you wonder if the child will go through what they did. I believe Evans’ control, different techniques and layouts and metaphors are her strongest assets and amplify the elaborately unique and extraordinary experience of being a human.

Evans’ confessional, free-verse style adds a deeply personal and relatable feeling to reading her poems. Regardless of if you are or have been a carer or not, she allows us to feel as she feels and begin to empathise with her and those who have had to be a parent to their own parents. Broadly, her imagery of the ocean speaks to how care changes grow and break a person. I personally believe her poems best suit those who wish to learn about humanity, empathy and sonder, aimed at those who feel lost as a carer and those who feel trapped in conformity. Do yourself this service: read this and feel the words on your skin like waves on the sand, and as soon as it transports you, it will end. So be transported. And be rewarded. Read Under the Blue by Suzannah. V. Evans!

Under the Blue by Suzannah V. Evans is a poetry collection that focuses on everyday life, creating it as something that is incredibly special and unique. Through the use of imagery and powerful descriptions, Evans shows us just how important even the most simple of moments can be. As we read through this insightful and perceptive collection of poems, we notice how deeply Evans looks into moments and memories that would usually go unnoticed by most.

In the first poem of the collection, ‘Under the Blue’, Evans presents a moment which describes an experience at sea. This situation includes a group of people who are attempting to push and get into a kayak, yet get quickly overwhelmed by the aggressiveness of the waves ahead. What begins as a simple situation soon becomes intense as we notice the intensity of the sea. This sudden chaos reflects the narrator’s sudden fear and confusion as they watch the scene unfold before them. This creates a clear shift between the tenses when the narrator states “my mind pivots to several years ago”, showing how the moment at sea triggers an unwanted return to an unfortunate past experience. This suggests that the present situation is closely connected to past trauma, which can sometimes return to someone’s mind unexpectedly. The poem shifts between a calm scene to chaotic events and reflection, emphasising how quickly control can be lost in multiple ways. It further suggests how both physical and mental situations can easily become uncontrollable, showing us that even moments that may begin as manageable can quickly become difficult. Through this, Evans creates a sense of tension for the reader, as the calm beginning is slowly replaced with unpredictability.

In ‘Bright’, Evans explores a feeling of struggling to relax after intimate experiences. The poem starts by describing everyday moments, beginning with reading before shifting into a sexual encounter. However, this is then followed by overthinking and difficulty in getting the mind to relax. This is highlighted through the juxtaposition of “lights out”, which describes the physical space, and the idea that the narrator’s “mind feels very bright”. This implies that even when the surroundings are dark and quiet, the narrator’s thoughts remain constant, almost as if they’re overthinking and detached from the moment. The situation seems to cause the writer to dwell on things rather than relax. The poem also moves between reality and dream-like imagery, with scattered thoughts and images such as a barking dog and even surreal dreams involving strangers and shells. These shifting moments make it feel almost as though the writer is struggling to separate their dreams from their actual life, and it appears more like everything is intertwining and blurring for them. Additionally, even the title ‘Bright’ can be seen as ironic as the narrator’s mind feels active and unable to settle throughout the poem. This therefore may lead the reader to feel a sense of sympathy for the writer, because their thoughts and memories continue to make any idea of rest incredibly difficult.

‘Postcard with the Wind’ presents a more observational tone, focusing on the wind’s power as it disturbs the peace of the nighttime. The poem describes the wind as a force that is “tearing” through the dark landscape and “buffets the house”. This use of personification makes the wind feel a lot more active and aggressive, creating a sense that nature is uncontrollable and cannot be predicted. Throughout the poem, the narrator also talks about what could potentially happen because of the storm. The writer describes the house as being “blown over”, which adds slight fear to the poem. As the poem continues, the wind is described as more evocative through the personification of “moaning” and “sighing” across the walls, suggesting that the heaviness of the storm never really stops.

In the poem ‘Letter To My Mother’, Evans presents a deep emotional connection to their mother through a list of recollections. The poem moves through core memories such as moments at school, shared laughter and even physical descriptions like “red lipstick” and “floppy hat”. This creates and implies a strong sense of closeness between them, further suggesting that they have a very strong and loving relationship. Evans also uses a lot of repetition throughout the poem, particularly in the phrase “You, with…”, almost as if the narrator is trying to emphasise different aspects of their mother’s appearance and identity. It suggests that she can be remembered in multiple different ways rather than through just one image. As the poem continues, the narrator shifts into the present, where they describe even more modern-day situations and how they link back to their mother. This can be seen specifically in the line: “the movement of my arms is for you”, suggesting that this strong connection between them is long-lasting and permanent. This line also links with other poems that discuss the physical difficulties of the writer's mother, emphasising how pure their relationship is. Through ‘Letter To My Mother’, Evans presents memory as something that is always ongoing. This further underlines how relationships continue to shape somebody's life even after some moments with individuals have passed. This may lead the reader to feel a sense of warmth towards the memories and their personal feelings.

Overall, Under the Blue presents a range of experiences which move across chaos, intimacy, nature, and memory. Throughout the collection, Evans explores how moments, even the most simple of moments, can impact a person's daily life. The poems often leave an impression through their imagery and emotional depth, which encourage the reader to think more deeply about everyday experiences. The collection feels thoughtful and layered, with each poem offering the reader a different perspective on how people notice the world around them.

Vulnerable. This is the first thing that struck me about Borderline Fiction by Derek Owusu. We follow Marcus between two distinct timelines where he shares with us both his life and the world inside his mind.

I found how Owusu dealt with this dual timeline to be both satisfying and understandable. You can clearly hear the difference between Marcus at nineteen and at twenty-five. I found a chapter from Marcus aged twenty-five in an arcade at Thorpe Park to be particularly charming. The joy he shows here contrasts with the anguish he faces for a lot of the time we’re with him. While Marcus is not ever presented as a perfect character, he is a likable one. And moments such as this one remind the reader that life is multifaceted. We all make mistakes and struggle, but that doesn’t take away from the moments of genuine connection and happiness. That isn’t to say that the whole novel is just Marcus constantly struggling; it isn’t. He seems to exist in this middle ground - a numbed state he takes on as a method of protection from his own thoughts.

I enjoyed the style of Owusu’s dialogue once I got used to his choice to forgo quotation marks. I found that the dialogue flowed and it was easy to slip into a rhythm when reading it. I found some passages difficult to get my head around, as well as some of the stories Marcus tells. I feel unqualified to say whether this was due to my own lack of experience with the literary fiction genre or the author's writing style.

In the end, the reward was worth any minor challenges I had with this book. It’s a beautiful thing to be able to glimpse into the mind of someone seemingly so far away from you and find similarities. Through his descriptions of feeling not fully there, Owusu offers this to the reader, reminding us that even in our moments of vulnerability, we are not alone.

Seán Hewitt's Open, Heaven follows the story of James Legh, a bashful young boy with hopeful expectations of a yet experienced life and a tender longing for a boy named Luke. At the turning point of adolescence, James provides us with a story not unlike many others: a relatable commentary on young love, the queer experience, and the sensation of a hope so heavy it may crush you. Hewitt's descriptive voice immersed me into the story, as if I were there, seeing what James saw, feeling what James felt. He was easily my favourite character and a well-written protagonist; I couldn't help comparing his queer experience with my own as I hope many others can, too. It is an astonishingly understanding and painful novel. It is almost like a poetic autobiography to those who've ever felt lonely and hopeful.

Open, Heaven offers realistic characters, humour, sorrow, fear, and a story that reaches for a Heaven we've all dreamed of at least once in our lives. I believe the prolonged ending adds to such a never-ending story; this is a rich, beautiful novel about the secrecy of love and how it never quite ceases.

Borderline Fiction is an achingly intimate story from the perspective of Marcus, a young black man with borderline personality disorder. Through alternating chapters depicting different points in Marcus’ life, the novel explores love, heritage, substance abuse, neurodivergence, family, and self-discovery in a gripping and devastating way. Marcus faces the agony of love with characters Adwoa and San, deals with his complicated relationships with both his biological and foster parents, and learns about Pan-Africanism, all while fighting a painful and disorientating inner battle.

Derek Owusu’s writing is a waterfall of vivid metaphor and raw description that beautifully encapsulates the complexity and depth of a concept, place, emotion, or person. He has the phenomenal ability to immerse the reader in the mind of the protagonist to the extent of feeling as though you experienced the events yourself. Being very different to the character of Marcus in many ways did not stop me from being able to feel with him strongly throughout the book - thanks to Owusu’s impactful and compelling narrative voice and storytelling.

This book offers reassurance and companionship to those with similar experiences and a window that allows empathy and understanding from those without. Borderline Fiction is overflowing with authenticity: it’s uniquely excruciating, cathartic, and beautiful.

Joy is My Middle Name is a deeply reflective, contemplative collection of poems that documents being a woman in your 20's. I have personally never read work from an author so transparent and self-aware, using poetry as a cure and navigator in such hard political and societal times, at an age where everything already seems so other-worldly. Sasha Debevec-McKenny's writing is breathtaking, with amazing humour, mixed with pop-culture and American history to then become a collection that is so utterly addictive that it is impossible to not read or relate to it in the everyday. Using so many different forms of poetry and formatting, her bathos delivers hard truths, with comedic lines that really become moving in a critique of a flawed world and our consumerist natures.

My personal favourite poem, "I Feel Like if I'm Not Writing Political Poems I'm Wasting My Time ... " really showcases this, using the subtlety of a string of consciousness to create deeper meanings of race, sex and body imagery. Sasha Debevec-McKenny also interrogates relationships in a way which is so personalised and yet relatable, connecting consumption, addiction, love, sex and womanhood. This collection is utterly subversive, hilarious, brutal, political, awkward and addictive.

Experimental and humorous, blending traditional and modern forms, Sasha Debevec-McKenney writes both playfully and politically, often dealing with heavy topics with grace and light-handedness. Many of her poems are politically and socially aware, besides interrogating themes of childhood, nature, and modern society.

Debevec-McKenney is vulnerable in sharing her anxiety while connecting with her readers through universal anecdotes and light-hearted monologues. Despite this, she retains an air of distinct culture and intellectualism, having been inspired by works she includes in the closing notes of the book, reminding her readers that there is always more to learn and engage with and inspiring them to embark on further journeys into wide-reaching poetry and prose. The context included in the notes beautifully uplifts the collection and gives each poem extra life and layers otherwise unknown to audiences, which are absolutely essential to consider while wading through her jovial poetry.

Occasionally angry, but only with purpose, the poet establishes clear messaging that works to inform - and at times, disturb - the reader before they are thrust into another youthful vortex of humour to balance the dire and the whimsy and jest of the everyday. This collection is a breath of fresh air, while confidently and necessarily educating readers, as well as expressing the poet’s frustration on so many of the world’s toils.