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A finger-on-the-pulse satire of technology and big business taken to extreme and obscene limits, the future in Cory Doctorow's hugely impressive novel adheres to J.G. Ballard's vision of the future of the next five minutes, but in the case of Doctorow's world of rapidly evolving technology and a ruthlessly efficiently business model to keep up with it, the future itself only has a shelf-life of about five minutes. But don't worry, there's another hot innovation coming right along five minutes behind it. Recognising that the business model of the past is obsolete and so are many of the old traditional technologies, Makers starts off by seeing Kodak and Duracell having no alternative but to former a merger and lead the way in favour of investment in new technologies. The new CEO for the new Kodacell corporation sets up a New Work initiative, putting power into the hands of hot young inventors, technology geeks with their finger on the pulse of what America really nee

It's hard to believe that Asterios Polyp is in fact David Mazzucchelli's first graphic novel, such is the artist's reputation as artist on the groundbreaking Batman: Year One with Frank Miller, his dazzling graphic adaptation of Paul Auster's City of Glass and his acclaimed work on his solo work on his Rubber Blankets series, but Asterios Polyp is indeed his first sustained narrative storyline as both writer and artist. A brilliant and highly respected architect, albeit only being demonstrated on paper and in a lecturing capacity, Asterios Polyp comes to the realisation that his life and failed marriage has ultimately been unsatisfying. When his apartment building is destroyed in an accidental fire, Asterios is presented with an opportunity to start his life anew, even at this late stage, and disappears, taking up work as a car mechanic at the destination where fate takes him. Not quite as linear as it sounds, Mazzucchelli depicts episodes from Asterios's past

With its wonderful depiction of Victorian England, a grim Whitechapel murder-thriller plot, some cross-dressing eroticism, all caught up in the theatrical world of music halls and circuses, Ann Featherstone's Walking in Pimlico will almost certainly appeal to fans of Sarah Waters who miss the Victorian melodrama and eroticism of her earlier novels such as Fingersmith and Tipping The Velvet . Featherstone, previously the co-author of an academic study of the Victorian Clown, clearly knows the period she is writing about, filling the authentic characterisation with authentic and relevant background details that capture the contrast between seediness and the glamour of the period, as well as the seediness behind the glamour of another profession that isn't entirely unconnected from "the oldest profession" itself. There is however no info-dumping of academic research here - everything is in the service of the characterisation and the plot. Written from a number of first

The mean streets of Glasgow in the 1950s serve as a fine post-war setting for Craig Russell’s hard-edged noir. A tough no-nonsense Private Investigator, Lennox is more than capable of looking after himself, but it so happens in this case that he has the Three Kings, the crime kingpins who have the city carved up between themselves, watching out for his back. Normally Lennox would be more careful of the company he keeps, but in this case he doesn’t really have much of a choice, not if he wants to keep his toes attached to his feet. There’s another outfit in town throwing their weight around, picking off some of the smaller players in town, Lennox finding himself involved whether he likes it or not. Nothing however really adds up, and no matter what angle the detective looks at it, it’s a messy business involving blackmail, prostitution, pornography, property and shady import-export dealings. Even some heavy backing might not be enough to keep Lennox from taking a long walk off a short b

I’m not sure what to make of this. Bombproof is a fun and an enjoyable thriller, but it really, really doesn’t feel like a Michael Robotham novel. Former DI Ruiz is here sure enough, and although retired he’s still the right man for the job when there is a girl missing and he’s asked to help out, but what are we to make of her brother Sami Macbeth, an ex-con just released from prison who seems to have gotten caught up in a terrorist bombing of the London Underground while trying to free her from the clutches of some dangerous and influential London gangsters? Sami’s extraordinary run of bad luck continues through a series of escalating disasters, which sees his face plastered across the TV and has everyone from half of the London underworld to the SAS and Special Terrorism Units after him on a shoot-to-kill basis. All of this however has the feel of parody, picking up on the public’s fears of terrorist bombings and the casual xenophobia and racism that lies behind it, and playing it f

Initially, there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of mystery or suspense about Underwater – initially there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of anything in the novel’s rather commonplace situation of Jane’s life. It’s the humdrum and somewhat bleak stuff of recovering from a serious illness, family troubles, a difficult childhood, a ruined marriage and a disabled son – far too many things that Jane finds hard to deal with. Any yet, there’s something that tugs gently, first on Jane and then on the reader – and at the bottom of it is a missing brother that starts to trouble her dreams and who could hold the key to acknowledging the truth of her past and perhaps finding a way out of her unhappy loneliness. The writing is quite simple, the dialogue ordinary and commonplace, the storyline a little bit melodramatic and… well… very much dealing with women’s issues (feelings, emotions, relationships, family matters), but Elizabeth Diamond does explore these areas so well that even though you can

Island of Lost Girls definitely has a thing about rabbits. And submarines - rabbits and submarines. And Peter Pan. Jennifer McMahon however works and reworks these recurring motifs throughout this intriguing and thoroughly readable little thriller, which is as much about coming to terms with the past as it is in solving the puzzle of a missing girl who has been abducted by a giant white rabbit.  Yep, that's right, a giant white rabbit. Now anyone who watches movies will know that giant rabbits are never the sign of anything good - think Donnie Darko, Sexy Beast, even Harvey - but even in literature they have certain connotations on account of Alice in Wonderland , and indeed, the use of rabbits here (and submarines, and Peter Pan) all have a lot to do with childhood and childhood secrets, deep dark metaphorical burrows where one can hide from those fears of a threatening adult world that we are not really ready or capable of dealing with.  What's great then about Island of Los