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I have a lot of time for Richard Sharpe. Give him a handful of riflemen, an impossible assignment and a French fort to take, and I’m usually happy to follow him into trouble. Sharpe’s Command gives him all three. Set in Spain in 1812, it sends Sharpe to inspect the defences around a vital bridge over the River Tagus. Two French armies could join forces if the crossing remains open, and Sharpe soon decides that merely reporting what he finds won’t be enough.

Aria’s friendship with Calliope and Flitter gives this story its emotional depth. Their experiences expose the machinery beneath Hollywood’s dream factory, where beauty is treated as currency and a young woman’s career can depend upon how much of herself she's prepared, or pressured to surrender. Bob Ashenhurst, the self-appointed King of Hollywood, is the clearest face of that corruption. His power rests upon more than his own behaviour.

As winter deepens and the fishermen return with empty nets, fear begins to consume the isolated community. Selkies, strangers and women who refuse to behave as they should all become convenient objects of suspicion. Malie has to contend not only with the mystery of her mother’s disappearance but with an increasingly dangerous husband and a society structured to protect his authority rather than her safety.

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.