In one of the most outstanding opening sequences I’ve ever read, a bomb detonates during the second world war in a fictional south London borough, instantaneously wiping out a classroom of children. The novel goes on to extrapolate what the lives of five of these children would have looked like, straddling decades of social and political change with flawless prose and deep humanity.

Nagamatsu’s novel opens with a Siberian plague, and the proximity of its publication date to Covid-19 inevitably placed it in the ‘pandemic novel’ category. However the novel’s remit is much broader, exploring the attitudes, behaviours and rituals around how we approach and deal with death, as individuals and as societies. From euthanasia theme parks to talking pigs, it’s a whirlwind of imagination and I love the confidence which with these scenarios are presented, without over-explanation, simply asking the reader to go with it and enjoy the ride.

Kamila Shamsie has always stood out for me as a writer who is exceptionally good with character, and her most recent novel is no exception. We meet Zahra and Maryam as teenagers in Karachi, where they experience an incident which will haunt them for decades to come – as they move to London and as their lives, values and careers move further apart. An intimate exploration of friendship over time, as well as an unflinching examination of the darker side of UK politics.

Similarly unflinching in its portrayal of austerity Britain is Matt Hill’s Lamb. Suffused with eerie descriptions and surreal imagery, Lamb sits closer to the horror end of the science fiction spectrum than I usually read, but Hill’s superb writing and immersive world-building held me spellbound throughout. The novel has the relationship between parents and children very much at its heart – examining the ties that hold us together and the sometimes brutal cost of that love. This book will stick with you.

Rose Biggin’s marvellous depiction of fin de siècle Paris is packed with theatrical audacity and lush description. Revolving around a notorious poison salon, the novel follows the dynamic between two women, mysterious to each other and to the reader, in a subversive exploration of power, ambition and desire. Belladonna is a glorious read that leaves you wondering how much you can ever really know someone.

A few weeks after young lovers Wren and Lewis marry, Lewis receives a terminal diagnosis – his memories and consciousness will remain (mostly) intact, but he will transform slowly into the body of a great white shark. This was another speculative read where I hugely admired the confidence and deceptive simplicity with which this scenario is presented to the reader. Also setting it apart, and with a wonderfully deft touch, was the use of theatre script to tell some sections of the story (as befits Lewis’s background as an actor). A beautiful and wonderfully unexpected read that might just break your heart.

My year’s reading was bookended by two novels set in space and with common themes, one long and the other short. I read In Ascension whilst on holiday and am very glad I did as it is a novel that demands and perhaps requires full immersion. Told primarily through the perspective of biologist Leigh, who has always been drawn to the ocean, the novel takes the reader from the deepest ocean vents to distant space and the possibility of first contact, in a profound and moving exploration of the connectivity of all living things and the fragility of the one planet we call home. An extraordinary book.

The book I was most looking forward to this year, and it did not disappoint. I’ve loved Samantha Harvey’s writing ever since discovering Dear Thief. This slim volume, tracking 24 hours in the company of six astronauts on the international space station, contains worlds within its exquisitely crafted, beautiful prose. Seen from above, there are no borders on planet Earth, but look long enough and the cracks begin to show. As with In Ascension, this is a novel that pays homage to the beauty of our planet whilst exposing its fragility and the toll of human dominance.

An Immense World explores the extraordinary diversity and complexity of the sensory world as experienced by a selection of non-human animals. I read this book slowly, over several months, for research, but I wanted to include it here as the contents are so transformative in how we perceive the world, how we might begin to rethink our commonalities and differences with other beings, how we relate to those we share the planet with, what we are still to understand and what we can never truly know. A genuinely awe-inspiring read.