Six years ago when I was between degrees, I set up this website. Months went by and then years, and then suddenly Mad Hatter Reviews had a small but determined readership, and I was so grateful - am so grateful - to the people who were checking in to see what I and the team of writers who were contributing at the time had to say about things. 

Unfortunately, over those years, life - or rather, many, many other projects - have got in the way of Mad Hatter Reviews growing any larger than it first did. I'd like to remedy that, and the best way of remedying that seems to be to hand over the site entirely to someone who can give it the attention that it really deserves. 

The brilliant Beth O'Brien is a third year English literature student who has written and published poetry across a number of journals, as well as being a prolific reviewer for the wonderful Riggwelter Press. She has a glorious passion for reading and she is, I think, a very talented and capable writer. I have no doubts that Beth will be a brilliant editor for Mad Hatter Reviews and I can't wait to see what she does with the site in the coming months and, I hope, years. 

I don't mean to ramble so before we get to that stage, I'd like to thank everyone who has contributed toward, read through, and generally supported Mad Hatter Reviews while I've been running it - and while I've been trying to run it, I should probably add. I can't believe that it'll be six years, this summer, since I set the site up and I'm genuinely delighted that there's a way to keep it going, even though it means stepping back from it. That said, I believe that the site can be bigger and I believe that Beth can do that, so, dear reader, keep a keen eye on the horizon. 

Thanks for reading (now and for the last six years). 

All love,
Charley 

Despite not being a huge lover of podcasts - I know, shun me - the premise of The Breakup Monologues intrigued me. Established by Rosie Wilby, award-winning comedian, published author, and all-round funny woman, this 10-episode series invites a host of familiar and new comedians to discuss their most tragic and shocking break-up experiences. On the face of it, what's not to love?

Although the podcast was originally released in monthly installments, because I arrived late to the party I have actually had the pleasure of binge-listening my way through the 10 existing episodes - available across a number of online platforms, by the by - and on the whole it's been a thoroughly enjoyable experience. 

Wilby herself is a charming and unashamedly honest host and she does a fine job of drawing out the most interesting stories from her array of guests, who all have their own fine and sometimes crushing stories to tell too. Throughout the series a wide span of potentially difficult topics are brought up - many of which run parrallel to those discussed in Wilby's book, Is Monogamy Dead? - which not only allows her to speak confidently on these matters, alongside her guests, but also to draw on wider research, knowledge, and experiences that adds an obvious real-life credibility to much of what is presented across these episodes. 

The Breakup Monologues is a wonderful balance between informative and entertaining - particularly episode 8, which I won't ruin but I will mark it out as a personal favourite - and, frankly, I find myself eagerly awaiting the return of the podcast (dear Rosie, let there be more episodes). In the turbulent area of 21st century relationships, I personally appreciate the opportunity to eavesdrop on experienced voices and - not only that - but to hear things from such a variety of perspectives also, which Wilby allows for in her guest choices. 

For a unexpected blend of scandal, emotion, and intrigue, The Breakup Monologues is certainly worth adding to your listening list. A charming production that shed lights on many issues that aren't, but should be, openly discussed, Wilby has created a safe and amusing space in her recording booth, and I urge you to listen in. 

For more on Rosie Wilby, you can hop over to our Books section this week where Beth O'Brien is reviewing Wilby's book, Is Monogamy Dead?

- Charley  

​It’s been a while since a new feature was introduced to the Mad Hatter Reviews website. However, owing to a busy week and, frankly, nowhere near enough reading time, now seems like a good day to try out something new – hence, Currently Reading! This week I’ve been reading Kieran Davis’ second full length poetry collection Legacy, published by Black Pear Press. The collection came out in July 2018 and I’ve been dipping in and out of it since then – but I can’t bring myself to rush through something so meticulously crafted, so in place of a review, consider this a how it looks from here perspective on the book instead. 

Now, to give you some insight into where I am with the collection – I’m on page 32 of 79. Already in these opening pages it is clear that Davis’ collection is Legacy by name and legacy by nature, as the poet consistently shifts back to this idea of leaving something behind in his wake – whether that be his children, his works, or arguably both. However, while this central theme of making our mark on the world is a prominent one, there are satellite themes hovering around this idea such as love, family, mental health even. Rather than shying away from potentially difficult topics, Davis’ is, so far, making a fine show of displaying life’s peaks and troughs alongside each other, making for an emotionally balanced collection.

Something else that comes through wonderfully in the first leg of this book is the use of sound, despite this being so-called page poetry. Visually alone it’s easy to spot that Davis has matched his words well in terms of their construction on the page and equally in terms of their out-loud pairings, making for words that complement each other well and add a notable rhythm to many of the pieces in the book too.

Technical skill aside – although let’s not downplay it, these poems are technically well-written – Davis also shows a talent for killer lines, I give you (my favourite poem so far) ‘Unstoppable’ as an illustration of this: ‘She looked as though / she were trying to see / right through the world / at something she needed / on the other side’. So beautiful are some lines, indeed whole pieces, that it feels impossible to rush through this collection in case something important and well-crafted slips you by on the way – which is something that all readers of poetry want to avoid, I’m sure. 

​Not so much a quick read as a read that needs to be enjoyed and appreciated one poem at a time, Davis is pouring pieces of himself on pages and asking that we take the time to read them – and I for one am in no rush to finish this book. To enjoy Kieran Davis’ Legacy/legacy with me, you can purchase a copy now from the Black Pear Press website by clicking here. 

- Charley 

​Brace yourselves, readers, because herein lies a rant.
 
Headlines broke out across the globe yesterday after some smart arse journalist – Claudio Gatti – published a story in the New York Review of Books where he in no uncertain terms outed the true identity of much-loved author, Elena Ferrante. Gatti has investigated, clawed through the accounts of Europa – the company that handles the Ferrante publications – and drawn his conclusions on who the author is based on payments that have been made to a certain individual – and now he’s sharing that information with the world like a smug child who’s stepped on an ant for the first time.
 
If you want to know Elena Ferrante’s real name – alleged real name – you can Google it. That’s not what this post is about. What this post is about, however, is the horrendous violation of an author’s privacy who wanted nothing more than to write her novels, while retaining some semblance of a normal life alongside this writing existence. Oh, and how very dare she? Because, as Gatti has explained, ‘...readers have the right to know something about the person who created the work.’
 
Why? Because it changes the work? Or because it makes for a good headline?
 
The title of this blog post isn’t an allusion to my disinterest in Elena Ferrante; quite the opposite, in fact, she has recently become one of those authors that I casually drop into conversation simply for the sake of telling people how brilliant she is. What this title is an allusion to, then, is the fact that it has no bearing whatsoever on my enjoyment of the literature to know who wrote it. Ferrante’s literary authenticity and the conviction with which she writes are the beginning and end of what I need to know about her as an author and, unless we’re going to be best friends in the future – which I really would love, although I appreciate it’s unlikely to happen – then no, I don’t have a right to know anything more about her than what I already know from her pseudonym.
 
A further justification from Gatti, which he spilled during an interview with BBC’s Radio 4, is: ‘I did it because she was a very much public figure.’
 
So one can only hope that Donald Trump is next on Gatti’s hit list of journalistic investigations because if he’ll go to this trouble for an author, who knows what lengths he would go to for an outwardly corrupt political figure. 

​Gatti didn’t do this for readers, though, did he? The majority of us have already decided and come to terms with that fact. Gatti did this for his career. Gatti did this because Ferrante’s identity has – particularly since The Story of the Lost Child’s nomination for the Man Booker Prize earlier this year – been a source of intrigue and speculation. She’s a name that readers throw around with wonder in their voices, although our intrigue into her identity has never robbed from our experience of reading her. So really, in the grand scheme of things, who does give a toss who Elena Ferrante is?
 
Gatti. People like Gatti, mostly. While people unlike Gatti are now empathising with an author who had previously stated that it would be a great sadness to have her privacy taken away. Because the rest of us don’t care who she is, we care when the next book is coming out. We don’t have a right to know anything more than the expected publication date – and even that, we know when Elena Ferrante tells us, and not a second sooner. 
 
To conclude, then, I send my deepest sympathies to Elena Ferrante for being the latest public figure to fall victim to an age that demands we know everything about everyone – politicians aside, somewhat ironically. And to Claudio Gatti I send shallow congratulations for making a name for himself, as that idiot journalist looking for a make-me-famous headline. 

C x 

​I’m quietly confident that it was January when I attended my first committee meeting for Worcester Music Festival. I went on the understanding that they needed a writer – and I have a tiny bit of experience with the word thing – so I went along to see what I could offer. From then, a whirlwind followed. I unexpectedly found myself working alongside a hugely dedicated team who were doing everything they could to make this year’s festival the best one to date and, last weekend, all of that work paid off.
 
I wish – I desperately do wish – that I could go into huge details about the bands that I saw and loved and bopped along to (that’s right, I bop, on occasion), but chiefly, there are too many, and secondly, when you’re ploughing time and effort into a weekend-long event like this, it is far too easy to get swept up in everything that is happening behind the scenes, so much so that you forget to look up and listen – which I think is something that happened to everyone helping out. Nevertheless, the committee, the volunteers, and the absurdly gorgeous charity girls who were out there for the whole weekend – in fancy dress, no less – raising money for Acorns Children’s Hospice did just plough on, and their efforts made it a weekend to remember.
 
There are big plans for Worcester Music Festival next year already – because the powers that be behind this event never sleep, and they are already working towards making next year better again – so if you didn’t catch any of the events this year (side note: Where were you?!) then for the love of everything look out for it next year. It was three days of pubs, cafes, and outdoor stages packed with talented musicians from up and down – and even just outside of – the country, and next year will undoubtedly bring even more of this to Worcester.
 
To those who I have worked and grumbled with over the weekend – you are absolute stars, and you’re a credit to what you do. I imagine that your Monday mornings have been packed with painkillers and ice packs – but my God, it was worth it. Thank you for having me, thanks for doing what you do, and thank you for being bloody marvellous at doing it. 

​C x 

When I’m not wearing my Mad Hatter Reviews’ Editor hat, I am (sometimes, at least) wearing my Worcester LitFest and Fringe’s Secretary hat – and for this blog post, I am trying desperately to wear them both at the same time, so bear with me...

Kieran Davies, a talented and enthusiastic poet based in Worcestershire, will soon be coming to Mad Hatter Reviews with a book review and an author interview – keep your eyes peeled for that – but he will also be coming to Worcester with the official launch of his debut poetry collection, Lacuna. The book isn’t released until August – so you’ll be getting an EXCLUSIVE review from Mad Hatter Reviews, thank you very much – but Kieran is very keen to get the ball rolling and spread the word about his upcoming launch, and rightly so.

So for a fantastic evening packed with poetry and, I’m assured, some free cake, you can find Kieran, Lacuna, and no doubt much of the LitFest team, at Drummonds on August 14th (further details can be found below), and do stay tuned for our review and interview with Kieran over the coming weeks.

C x 

​On a personal level 2015 has been unexpectedly wild, for some good and some fairly terrible reasons. On a professional level, this little website here has been doing better than I could ever have possibly imagined it would. And now here comes the mushy part…

I’m incredibly lucky to have some wonderful writers pass through these pages and luckier still that one or two of them even wanted, and have since, joined the team that keeps this website going. So my first mushy and heartfelt thank you is to anyone who has submitted an article to Mad Hatter Reviews this year, with an extra load of love for those who have worked their fingers to the bone getting articles in on a weekly basis. The site would just be me rambling about a lot of things that I don’t understand without you so from the bottom of my heart I thank you and I wish you the best 2016 could you possibly hope for. 

My second thank you is to all of the lovely people who have given us things to write about. The publishers, the PR companies, the musicians who have asked to be featured (side note, if you’re still waiting to be featured then give us a nudge in 2016 because I probably just need to be reminded), and everyone else who has posted, emailed, tweeted bits and pieces to us over the past year. You’ve kept us going and we hope you’ll continue to do the same in the coming year as well. 

And, finally - I promise! Thank you to the amazing people who check in with our little website and read our little articles. The readership this year has sky-rocketed so whoever you are and wherever you’re reading from, the whole team thanks you for checking in and making our little online rambles worthwhile. We’ll still be here next year, bringing you content and snide comments on a weekly basis, so we hope you’ll continue checking in with us… because we really would miss you if you went away now. 

Whatever you’re doing this New Year be safe, be happy, be a little drunk if you feel so inclined, and we’ll see you on the other side. 

Happy New Year!

C x 

The X Factor has been wrapped up for another year, and while the final was lovely and we’re all very happy with the winner, I for one am downright relieved that the small screen no longer has to play host to the snide comments and total cock-ups that we’ve seen over the last few weeks. I can only assume now that the show is over some people will be having one or two stern tellings-off ahead of next year’s auditions - assuming that there will be any auditions at all, if rumours are to be believed. 

Firstly, I get that the show is massive. I get that there are huge amounts of people working their backsides off behind the scenes and I applaud them for that, I really do, because so much effort goes into making a show like this. However, what I don’t get… is how Olly managed to read the right name at the wrong time. How Sean Miley Moore’s name ended up on the wrong performance, despite him already having left the competition when it happened. How the wrong song was played for the right video in the final of the show. And these are just the more obvious technical issues. I haven’t even got started on the fact that Rita Ora can’t stop saying “Mash it up” in the most cringey way imaginable and Simon Cowell seems to be going either completely soft or slightly mad.

The show has always seen a fair amount of criticism for the one-hit-wonders that it so frequently churns out, bar the few who actually push themselves to go further (somewhat ironically, though, this usually happens after they’ve broken ties with The X Factor). Similarly, the joke act of every year has always invited a mixture of criticisms as well; however, this year it seems that the one comedic act of the bunch actually managed to press on to the final. Seriously, am I the only person who doesn’t understand how Reggie N Bollie bagged second place position over Che? (If so, get in touch and explain it to me because I’m just not getting it!) 

This latest season, however, has just seen things turned upside as far as I’m concerned. Somewhat surprisingly Simon Cowell has been a massive part of this problem with his disgusting attitude at the six-chair-challenge and his apparent disinterest that has crept in throughout the live shows since. I get it, The X Factor is flailing around for attention and sometimes it does get a little bit boring… But should its main backer demonstrate a similar view to that? Probably not. Also, this new judging panel hasn’t really worked, has it? Rita Ora is lovely, Nick Grimshaw is quite funny when he really tries to be, but generally speaking the four of them together just seems like an accident waiting to happen as the three notably younger judges just seem hell-bent on pushing Cowell’s buttons and, worse still, they succeed in doing so. It’s a horrible mash-up of new and trendy, and old and bitter, and while either would work well on their own, the collaboration of the two has made for some uncomfortable viewing this year. 

Somewhat ironically, whatever the X factor is, The X Factor seems to have totally lost it. So much so that midway through the season rumours started flying about whether this would be one of the final seasons of the show, and those rumours haven’t been put straight yet. It’s served its purpose in finding a semi-decent singer who has the potential to sell as a popstar, but as a popular television show The X Factor is certainly starting to struggle after all these years and I for one am glad to have my usual Saturday night television returned...

C x

I watch The X Factor. Mostly under duress, might I add, but I do most definitely watch it. I’m one of those grumpy people who believe that Simon Cowell’s curt tones and offensive outbursts in the face of a terrible singer actually make the series an altogether better viewing experience, but during yesterday’s show Cowell quickly went from rude and amusing to irritating, unprofessional and, you all know I’m right, downright cringy. 

Given the series of unprofessional outbursts that appeared during his six-chair-challenge, I can only assume that some idiot got the big man’s coffee order wrong because we moved swiftly from one tantrum to the next until I was reaching for the television remote; although I hadn’t yet decided whether I would turn the programme off, or whether I would launch the remote control at his smug little face the next time he shrugged someone off the stage. 

On more than one occasion I’ve heard Cowell read the riot act to one artist or another who stepped out of line and became smug, rude, and arrogant. He’s always been quite the champion, in fact, for putting people back in their place when they so naturally rise above their station in the music industry. While on one level I appreciate that Cowell is the top of his game when it comes to making money from contemporary mainstream music sales, last night he rose well above his station himself and went from being the we-love-to-hate-you music mogul to being a bitter and angry old man who never mind bettering the show, he may have actually taken some steps towards making the whole thing considerably worse. (Bravo!)

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I found myself frantically p!ssed off by The X Factor yesterday. It was embarrassing to watch, Cowell left me and surely many other viewers cringing, and as for his chair-swapping antics with contestants who - regardless of their talent, because that’s a topic for another blog and another time - genuinely want the opportunity to work on this show, they merely found themselves pushed from pillar to post by the man who made it uncomfortably clear that some of them were only there because the audience demanded it, not because Cowell himself wanted it. 

Considering his heavy involvement with the show, including his eye-watering financial investments, all Cowell succeeded in doing in last night’s show was validating the already unsavoury opinions of those dislike the show, and tainting the optimistic opinions of those who think/thought it was okay to watch. 

So congratulations, Cowell, The X Factor has officially gone from bad to offensive. 

C x 

As I’m writing this, I’m hoping that four days after the finale of Broadchurch is a long enough time span to discuss it without ruining it for anyone who hasn’t yet watched the final instalment. If you haven’t watched it yet, it might be best to swerve this post until you have - just in case. 

The first season of Broadchurch was nothing short of bloody marvellous. I don’t think many people have disputed that. The second season, however, seems to have received one criticism after the next and, after a truly satisfying albeit appropriately frustrating finale, I think it’s about time I threw my opinion into the mixing pot - given that everyone else already has! 

There have been so many snide and smug comments made about factual inaccuracies appearing in this season. The Judge is wearing the wrong wig. The witnesses are in the courtroom. This is wrong. That’s outrageous. That just wouldn’t happen. 

Blah, blah, blah.

And, after reading these complaints intermittently throughout the past few weeks, my response is the same now as it was at the very beginning: So what?

Okay, okay, I’ll expand a little. I appreciate that for people who work in these settings in reality, as opposed to watching them in a televised and totally fictionalised courtroom drama, the factual inaccuracies must be mind-numbingly frustrating, and you must be itching to throw your remote at the television screen and just scream at that bloody Judge: ‘Put the right wig on, you dozy mare!’ I get that. I really do. Unfortunately, Broachchurch isn’t real life, these people aren’t real Judges and witnesses and whoever else may have sported some kind of factual inaccuracy. They are there for entertainment purposes, and generally speaking I think if you’re not entertained, your best course of action might be to change the channel rather than make an official complaint - although I suppose ultimately it depends on how much free time you have on your hands…

As a big reader of crime fiction, I can’t tell you the amount of times that I’ve read a note from the author apologising for any factual inaccuracies. Are televised equivalents not acceptable? And if so, why the bloody hell not?

Also, might I add, that these people who found grievance with this latest series should perhaps avoid watching things like CSI, because that is also occasionally ludicrous - wildly entertaining! But ludicrous nevertheless.

Throughout the two seasons of Broadchurch, we have totally been there with the characters. We have been shocked, and outraged, and when Joe was released from court on a not-guilty verdict my jaw dropped along with everyone else’s. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that level of audience involvement a satisfying result from a televised programme? I don’t even remember the last time I felt so invested in fictionalised, televised characters prior to Broadchurch! 

And that’s why, when it comes to things like televised series, you need to take them for what they are: a source of entertainment. If you want cold, hard facts then go and watch a documentary, and leave the rest of us to watch Broadchurch (season three - thank you, ITV!) in peace. 

C x