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Michelle Wright gradually takes us back through Cookie’s life as he tries to find Good Boy somewhere safe. His mother left when he was small, his father was cruel and neglectful, and school offered him little relief. Mrs Mitten, who saw something worthwhile in him, is one of the people I kept thinking about. She paid attention when it would have been easier to write him off.

Ruby was the reason this book worked so well for me. She’s observant and outspoken, but she isn’t oblivious to the effect her words have on other people. She wants to be herself and still be loved by her father. That vulnerability gives weight to a story full of pranks, disguises and increasingly improbable events.

She's charismatic and spontaneous with an ability to make an ordinary afternoon feel like an event. She's also unreliable and frequently selfish. Her presence fills every room while the people closest to her are left dealing with whatever she's neglected on the way through.

After five books, the repetition is finally bothering me. Every visitor is given the same rules, every cup of coffee creates the same countdown and every story is shaped towards a final emotional revelation. Even the characters’ hesitations and the explanations surrounding the journey have begun to feel overly familiar. I understand that repetition is part of the café’s ritual, but I'm now too aware of the construction underneath each story.

Returning to Café Funiculi Funicula for the fourth time felt much like visiting a familiar local cafe (without the time travel). I knew the dim underground ambience, the mysterious woman reading in the special chair and the rules governing every journey to the past.

My main reservation, again, is the repetition. By this point in the series, I know the rules of the café extremely well. I knew them by the second explanation in this book, yet they continue to be restated. The same is true of the emotional structure. A visitor arrives carrying grief or regret. A meeting reveals information they didn't previously understand. The facts remain the same, but the visitor comes back able to face life differently.

Grace is a freshman who's spending Friday night alone with an action film. She's intelligent, adorably awkward and has a tendency to fill nervous silences with anything that happens to enter her head. Logan ends up deciding to stay and watch the film with her, and the unexpected evening soon grows into something much more physical.

Garrett’s father, Phil Graham, is a hockey legend whose public reputation hides years of physical and emotional abuse. Garrett grew up watching Phil assault his mother and later became another of his father's targets.

Ayesha Inoon’s The Sisters of Serendib begins with a family torn apart before its youngest members are old enough to understand what they've lost. In 1990, three sisters flee war-torn Sri Lanka with their mother aboard a boat bound for Australia. When their mother dies during the journey, Janu, Samar and Maryam are separated and raised by different families across the country.

Each tag insists that he existed in a world determined not to notice boys like him. The city can paint over the letters, but for a brief moment he's left something behind. He's occupied space, and he's made himself visible.

Kathy Lette’s The Sisterhood Rules is a loud, bawdy and surprisingly tender novel about twin sisters separated by a betrayal neither has managed to escape.

One of the things I adored was how completely the Australian landscape becomes part of the story. Meredith Downs doesn't simply provide a backdrop; it influences every choice the characters make. The isolation, the relentless distances, the dependence on neighbours, the vulnerability to drought, and later the arrival of the mining industry all create a world that feels authentic rather than romanticised. You can almost feel the dust settling over everything.

One of the easiest mistakes we make is assuming history changed because somebody signed a law or delivered a famous speech. It rarely happens that neatly. More often, it changes because ordinary people begin asking questions they weren't supposed to ask.