Crimbo limbo (the initially delicious lack of schedule in company of nearest and dearest, with inherent risk of boredom and crankiness) officially runs from mid Boxing Day afternoon until 3 January, but can start much earlier. The books that will divert the fractious soul during this testing time have some of the qualities of the Christmas TV schedule stalwarts.
In the Doctor Who slot is Philip Reeve’s Railhead (Oxford University Press, £9.99), not surprising, as Reeve wrote one of the Doctor Who 50th anniversary novels. The steampunk charm of the millennial Mortal Engines quartet (try this too, if you want peace and quiet until New Year’s Eve) has had an upgrade in this technology-run-riot world where trains are overlords zipping between universes, with thoughts, feelings and opinions of their own. The life of arch trainspotter Zen Starling has echoes of The Prince and the Pauper: noble by birth but cast off to a factory town and turned thief to support his mother and sister, he’s ripe for manipulation by an eternally embittered soul. Dazzling technological trappings wrap up a tale of recognisable humans (real or constructed) with moral dilemmas and longings.
Hilary Freeman’s When I Was Me (Hot Key, £6.99) fills a similar mind-expanding function while being set firmly in a familiar world, albeit a world in which Ella lives two separate lives that intersect on the night of a party. The mystery at the heart of this classy, intense psychological thriller depends on big ideas and a touch of quantum physics, yet Ella’s predicament is rooted in classic teenage identity anxiety. Her horror when she wakes up in a chintzy pink bedroom as a mousy model student, having gone to bed amid minimalism as a slacker with a Louise Brooks look, is familiar to anyone who cannot feel truly alive until they have updated their profile picture.
Ready for that Downton Abbey or Sherlock Holmes moment? Several recent novels explore the restrictions of female lives in the early 20th century. The Hired Girl by Laura Amy Schlitz (Walker Books, £12.99) explores a Pennsylvania farmer’s daughter’s longing for beauty, culture and wider horizons as she runs away to Baltimore and works for a wealthy Jewish family. Joan (later Janet) has a lot in her favour: progressive employers, public works of art to be inspired by (her encounters with these works frame the narrative) and social reformers prioritising girls’ education. But the strength of the novel lies in its dissection of the hurdles to be overcome in relationships that attempt to cross class boundaries, and the detail of the servant class’s lack of privacy and autonomy. Joan/Janet is funny and fascinating, although her Anne of Green Gables chatter can be relentless, and is refreshingly real in her desire for new clothes alongside thirst for knowledge.
These Shallow Graves by Jennifer Donnelly (Hot Key, £14.99) is a briskly paced detective story set in the final days of the old New York of Edith Wharton’s novels (look out for Donnelly’s brief homage to Wharton). Can Jo Marchmont, the most marriageable girl from the top families, escape her gilded cage and become a news reporter? You bet, but only if she finds out who killed her father and doesn’t get herself killed on the waterfront along the way. For Jo, as for Schlitz’s Joan, starting again means shedding a skin and some of the damage she does in transition can’t be easily repaired.
101 Pieces of Me by Veronica Bennett (Walker, £7.99) celebrates the glory days of silent film, but in the UK. The next big thing at the flicks, Clara Hope, starts out as a girl called Sarah from a Welsh village who instinctively understands the power of the moving image but not the megalomania of those who control it. With a new name and overnight success, Clara struggles to retain her sense of self. As well as a timeless warning on the hazards of fame, 101 Pieces of Me conceals a neat revenge plot.
When the grown-ups have gone to bed and the chocolate stash has been raided, it’s time for a clever and disturbing classic film (Dead of Night, perhaps). The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness (Walker Books, £12.99) is guaranteed to entertain and fascinate as it plays with and pokes fun at trends and conventions in young adult fiction (vampires, demons, paranormal activity) while showcasing the outwardly uneventful lives of those usually cast as background characters in the average fantasy high-school tale. Mikey finds everyday life tough enough as he manages an obsessive-compulsive disorder and is only dimly aware of the bloody and brutal scenarios afflicting his cooler classmates, the “indie kids”. Ness confines the epic gods-and-monsters-with-pillars-of-light plot elements to chapter summaries while Mikey and his friends dominate the main action. As in When I Was Me, eventually it all implodes, and then it makes brilliant sense.
For those who want more of a Die Hard experience on the Christmas couch, Charlie Higson’s The Enemy series (in which everyone over 14 is a zombie, as we always suspected) is drawing to a close after seven books in six years set in London’s streets and landmarks. It’s called The End (Penguin, £7.99) but some will need to start at the beginning.
