This was really rather annoying. The real characters, described through the medium of magic realism, created a book in which nothing could be trusted. Which was probably part of the point, but if that was part of the point I’m not very interested; I picked it up to read about Madam Cheng, the famous lady pirate. Discarded it after her chapter was done. I’m more interested in facts, I think; high-faluting meandering, I can do myself.

The scandalous subject matter probably won this slender academic piece a popular release. Benedetta Carlini, abbess and mystic in sixteenth-century Italy is discovered, under investigation by church authorities, faking her own stigmata and having sex with a fellow nun while under the influence of an angel called Splenditello. The scrupulously on-topic main paper abandons intriguing hints of a definite career arc for popular female mystics of the time so the author can concentrate (with all the prim charm of 1980s America) on the sexual allegations. Especially recommended for fans of footnotes and appendices, where curious details and suggestions for further investigation abound.

Possibly the most decadent fruit tea ever, coloured with cornflower petals, flavoured with almond essence, the stong amaretto-like scent might get you “should you be drinking that at work” looks from your colleagues, but feel virtuous—it doesn’t even contain caffeine, let alone anything more nefarious.

I missed this comic book series when it orginally came out in the Megazine (a UK comics periodical) but have been curious to read it ever since discussing it briefly with the artist as he confided that he felt that the pinnacle of his career so far was the lesbian dinosaur sex scene which opens the penultimate chapter. And that I had to see.

It’s actually very moving.

A while ago when I visited my mum, I left a copy of The Summer Book (also by Tove Jansson) behind sort of accidentally on purpose. It’s about what a little girl and her grandmother do on an island in summer. At the end … well, I couldn’t say, it would spoil it. But it has an excellent chapter about cats. She sent it back to me. “I don’t even want it in the house,” she said. I felt somewhat bad about that; I know she misses her mother and grandmother very much, and the book is all about mothers and grandmothers. I felt sad that I had made her feel sad. But this christmas, she sent me a copy of The Winter Book, and I feel that all is well again. Suitably, as a forgiveness gift, The Winter Book is much more upbeat, full of stories about parties and dreams, although (naturally) shot through with sinster amusement and lurking shadows.