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Everything Will Swallow You
Have you ever been curious about how people live when nobody’s watching? Have you wondered whether there’s more going on than meets the eye?
Eric and Carl live in Dorset in a small white cottage under the shadow of a big cliff. Eric sells old records and antiques. Carl cooks, cleans and crochets. Eric likes maps, Second World War memorabilia and the smell of old cars and, at 67, seems to be still waiting for full self-awareness to land. Carl, who everyone assumes is much younger, has a sophisticated emotional intelligence and likes wildflowers, mid-twentieth-century female novelists and swimming. If you passed them on a walk, you may not pay them much attention. You may even be distracted by Carl’s long floppy ears, tail and fur and mistake him for a dog.
Carl’s true nature is a closely guarded secret, and something the neighbours may struggle to fathom. But as the pair meander around South-West England, hunting for rare records and unusual collectibles, they encounter an eclectic range of people, a handful of whom are let in on the truth.
Tom Cox’s third novel is a rare gem, from the importance of friendship, to the joy that can be found in accepting the unusual, Everything Will Swallow You will make you appreciate your surroundings a with fresh perspective.
Eric and Carl live in Dorset in a small white cottage under the shadow of a big cliff. Eric sells old records and antiques. Carl cooks, cleans and crochets. Eric likes maps, Second World War memorabilia and the smell of old cars and, at 67, seems to be still waiting for full self-awareness to land. Carl, who everyone assumes is much younger, has a sophisticated emotional intelligence and likes wildflowers, mid-twentieth-century female novelists and swimming. If you passed them on a walk, you may not pay them much attention. You may even be distracted by Carl’s long floppy ears, tail and fur and mistake him for a dog.
Carl’s true nature is a closely guarded secret, and something the neighbours may struggle to fathom. But as the pair meander around South-West England, hunting for rare records and unusual collectibles, they encounter an eclectic range of people, a handful of whom are let in on the truth.
Tom Cox’s third novel is a rare gem, from the importance of friendship, to the joy that can be found in accepting the unusual, Everything Will Swallow You will make you appreciate your surroundings a with fresh perspective.
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Hardcover
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 40 reviews
December 23, 2024
I love Tom Cox as a writer. I have read his non-fiction, his fiction, his short stories and his novels and he never lets me down. He has a singular view of the world and an authorial voice all his own and no matter what he attempts, he succeeds and he generously takes you, the reader along for the ride.
This is a psychedelic trip of a novel, with wild characters and a plot that sometimes utterly confounds expectation. It's the most experimental thing by Tom and yet it has strongly traditional elements that save the book at the times it promises to veer off the page and go somewhere entirely different. What was rather lovely, as a long time subscriber to Tom's writing on Substack and his website, is seeing him weave some of his non-fiction writing into the body of the novel. It was a real delight to recognise some of the faces and places of the novel from elsewhere.
This is a psychedelic trip of a novel, with wild characters and a plot that sometimes utterly confounds expectation. It's the most experimental thing by Tom and yet it has strongly traditional elements that save the book at the times it promises to veer off the page and go somewhere entirely different. What was rather lovely, as a long time subscriber to Tom's writing on Substack and his website, is seeing him weave some of his non-fiction writing into the body of the novel. It was a real delight to recognise some of the faces and places of the novel from elsewhere.
November 22, 2025
I'm not quite sure what I've just read or if I loved it or not. But I will be reading all of the author's other books to help me figure this out!
September 11, 2025
A chaotic, funny, moving story of friendship, life playing out in unexpected ways, chasing the elusive, time and the west country.
Spoiler:
The dog knits. And does Internet searches. cooks spicy curry and sees through time.
Spoiler:
The dog knits. And does Internet searches. cooks spicy curry and sees through time.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 4, 2025
Everything you’ll ever need to read about love, friendship, record collecting, curries and crows.
Maybe it’s the age that I’m reading this book at but there are many of it’s emotional notes that have hit home so hard that I’ve begun to rethink parts of my life, parts of my own character and I’ll be a better version of myself because of them.
Fans of Tom Cox’s writing will recognise many of his tools and devices in this novel. It draws a lot on Tom’s writing of nature, of memories and places. There are a few quick chapters that seemingly gear change too quickly but then, once you’re back on the dual carriageway of the narrative, you will realise were worthwhile side quests that deepen the tale.
5/5 stars.
Maybe it’s the age that I’m reading this book at but there are many of it’s emotional notes that have hit home so hard that I’ve begun to rethink parts of my life, parts of my own character and I’ll be a better version of myself because of them.
Fans of Tom Cox’s writing will recognise many of his tools and devices in this novel. It draws a lot on Tom’s writing of nature, of memories and places. There are a few quick chapters that seemingly gear change too quickly but then, once you’re back on the dual carriageway of the narrative, you will realise were worthwhile side quests that deepen the tale.
5/5 stars.
March 18, 2025
Things happen in this book. Weird things. Magical things. Peculiar things. It’s a novel about friendship and loving support, about books and records, history and landscape. It’s about those who defy expectations, whose community and support network is small and self-chosen.
This book flits from place to place and time folds into time like the folds in the landscape of Dorset and Devon. It’s the sort of landscape where one wouldn’t be surprised to encounter mythical creatures. In Everything Will Swallow You, Tom Cox has imagined the most wise and erudite and domestic of them all. Unlike the elves who run away when you give them clothes, the enigmatic Carl delights in caring for his friends and knitting them the most beautiful garments. Of course, the fact that he appears to be a dog, except for those in the know, somewhat restricts his life, but he knows who he can trust with his secret.
This is a book that I rushed to read but find difficult to review. It’s always a good sign if the only things I write in my notes when I’m reading are passages I want to quote because they are profound or beautifully written or deserve to be remembered. This is one of those books. I loved it, zipped through it but can remember little about it. I’m sure it would reveal more gems if I reread. Sadly I won’t be able to do that because it was sent to me by NetGalley as a digital ARC which has since expired. My review, such as it is, reflects my true opinion after reading the book.
“An old gatepost was never just an old gatepost to Carl, a face on the cornice or bench end of a church never just a face, a standing stone never just a lump of granite. He saw every landmark as an arrow, a direct line into the fathoms of history. He had an instinctive feel for the grand folk threadwork of everything, rolling back through time, and the recent reading he’d been doing in the areas of topography and social history only heightened it. It was as if, to Carl, time was happening all at once, its events all potentially visible, like the moving lights you saw in the sky on a clear night that were in fact hundreds of years behind you.”
“There was something seductive to Eric about the idea of leaving the world a handmade present and moving on”, be that creating a garden, or rediscovering and selling obscure records, passing them on to fresh hands.
“Eric read books but felt scant physical attraction to them. When he’d finished them – and, no less frequently, when he hadn’t – he left them, usually much stickier and dog-eared than when he’d found them, in friends’ bathrooms, hotel rooms, on trains, buses, benches, on the walls above blacktop estuary footpaths.”
Batbridge Manor. A house so full of books that house clearers reckoned there were 50,000 of them there, inherited by Penny, who loves its links to the past.
Her uncle had lived a happy and sociable life, but after his death had been condemned as a hoarder by journalists and online commenters.
“Had they ever known the joy of surrounding yourself with love and knowledge and learning? What exactly was the more socially acceptable way to live out your final years that they would commend: the one where a person does everything cleanly and neatly and correctly in the eyes of society, right until their final breath? And did it make anyone who achieves it better, or happier, in their last years on the planet?” (p.38)
As Penny explores the house, it holds so many memories for her that she is ambushed by the past as she opens cupboards and pokes around in virtually inaccessible corners. Let me tell you, it is infinitely worse to go through a deceased relative’s belongings and find nothing that sparks any memories because anything that held any childhood memories had already been taken by someone else, sold, or given away as a raffle prize.
Eric appreciates the beauty of age and decay, tumbling bricks and encroaching moss. There’s probably a Japanese word for that, rather than a German one; Germans are too inclined to neatness to have anything but a disparaging word for the phenomenon.
There are musings about death and legacy, about early promise, flaming high, soon ignored and dying young; murmurings about Nick Drake whose name I only know is real because of obsessed music lovers (all men, round about my age) commemorating him on Twitter. Even my prog rock-loving son hasn’t referred to him. But John and Beverley Martyn also existed, but have never before crossed my path, even in name.
“But what precisely was so fucking great about being dead? Especially if you didn’t get to see people finally getting to give the music you’d made its dues? And what was left in death’s and art’s wake? What were the costs that fanned out from it into the lives of others, unglamorously but painfully?”
This book flits from place to place and time folds into time like the folds in the landscape of Dorset and Devon. It’s the sort of landscape where one wouldn’t be surprised to encounter mythical creatures. In Everything Will Swallow You, Tom Cox has imagined the most wise and erudite and domestic of them all. Unlike the elves who run away when you give them clothes, the enigmatic Carl delights in caring for his friends and knitting them the most beautiful garments. Of course, the fact that he appears to be a dog, except for those in the know, somewhat restricts his life, but he knows who he can trust with his secret.
This is a book that I rushed to read but find difficult to review. It’s always a good sign if the only things I write in my notes when I’m reading are passages I want to quote because they are profound or beautifully written or deserve to be remembered. This is one of those books. I loved it, zipped through it but can remember little about it. I’m sure it would reveal more gems if I reread. Sadly I won’t be able to do that because it was sent to me by NetGalley as a digital ARC which has since expired. My review, such as it is, reflects my true opinion after reading the book.
“An old gatepost was never just an old gatepost to Carl, a face on the cornice or bench end of a church never just a face, a standing stone never just a lump of granite. He saw every landmark as an arrow, a direct line into the fathoms of history. He had an instinctive feel for the grand folk threadwork of everything, rolling back through time, and the recent reading he’d been doing in the areas of topography and social history only heightened it. It was as if, to Carl, time was happening all at once, its events all potentially visible, like the moving lights you saw in the sky on a clear night that were in fact hundreds of years behind you.”
“There was something seductive to Eric about the idea of leaving the world a handmade present and moving on”, be that creating a garden, or rediscovering and selling obscure records, passing them on to fresh hands.
“Eric read books but felt scant physical attraction to them. When he’d finished them – and, no less frequently, when he hadn’t – he left them, usually much stickier and dog-eared than when he’d found them, in friends’ bathrooms, hotel rooms, on trains, buses, benches, on the walls above blacktop estuary footpaths.”
Batbridge Manor. A house so full of books that house clearers reckoned there were 50,000 of them there, inherited by Penny, who loves its links to the past.
Her uncle had lived a happy and sociable life, but after his death had been condemned as a hoarder by journalists and online commenters.
“Had they ever known the joy of surrounding yourself with love and knowledge and learning? What exactly was the more socially acceptable way to live out your final years that they would commend: the one where a person does everything cleanly and neatly and correctly in the eyes of society, right until their final breath? And did it make anyone who achieves it better, or happier, in their last years on the planet?” (p.38)
As Penny explores the house, it holds so many memories for her that she is ambushed by the past as she opens cupboards and pokes around in virtually inaccessible corners. Let me tell you, it is infinitely worse to go through a deceased relative’s belongings and find nothing that sparks any memories because anything that held any childhood memories had already been taken by someone else, sold, or given away as a raffle prize.
Eric appreciates the beauty of age and decay, tumbling bricks and encroaching moss. There’s probably a Japanese word for that, rather than a German one; Germans are too inclined to neatness to have anything but a disparaging word for the phenomenon.
There are musings about death and legacy, about early promise, flaming high, soon ignored and dying young; murmurings about Nick Drake whose name I only know is real because of obsessed music lovers (all men, round about my age) commemorating him on Twitter. Even my prog rock-loving son hasn’t referred to him. But John and Beverley Martyn also existed, but have never before crossed my path, even in name.
“But what precisely was so fucking great about being dead? Especially if you didn’t get to see people finally getting to give the music you’d made its dues? And what was left in death’s and art’s wake? What were the costs that fanned out from it into the lives of others, unglamorously but painfully?”
December 22, 2024
Oh, what a glorious book. I adored Tom’s previous, equally idiosyncratic novel Villager, and was looking forward to this immensely.
Eric, approaching 70, spends his time buying and selling vintage vinyl and walking the green woods and hills of south west England. He is accompanied on these walks by his best friend of 20-plus years, Carl.
Carl is a fan of the novels of Anita Brookner, Rosamond Lehmann, and Barbara Kingsolver, a keen knitter, a very capable gardener, and most people encounter him in the form of a very handsome dog.
This wonderful and original book is a rich and warm celebration of friendship and life as it is lived, the small joys and the could have beens and never weres that can make it all such a tantalisingly magical ride.
As we move through the gears and pendulums of Eric and Carl’s friendship Cox, with touching insight and humour, explores the enchantments in our relationship to each other, the land, nature, and history.
Following the life of Eric from young hopeful guitarist in the 60s to his current (literally and figuratively) rambling existence, Cox offers his perspective on the social changes during these times and honours those who secede from the norms and find their own way in life.
The book almost glows as you read it - the radiance of a bruised and dented group of friends finding and celebrating the best in each other. It’s a glow like nostalgia, an undefinable bittersweet sense of comfort, but this is not a nostalgic book. It’s a book about loving the now of your life, informed and shaped as it is by moments you treasure, regret, misremember, or have entirely forgotten.
Be in it, for it is all we have.
Finishing this book felt as satisfying as the rattle and knock of a Morton Flickpot.
A signed copy is now on order for my wife, who I am sure will love it as much as I.
Could be my last 5/5 of 2024…
Eric, approaching 70, spends his time buying and selling vintage vinyl and walking the green woods and hills of south west England. He is accompanied on these walks by his best friend of 20-plus years, Carl.
Carl is a fan of the novels of Anita Brookner, Rosamond Lehmann, and Barbara Kingsolver, a keen knitter, a very capable gardener, and most people encounter him in the form of a very handsome dog.
This wonderful and original book is a rich and warm celebration of friendship and life as it is lived, the small joys and the could have beens and never weres that can make it all such a tantalisingly magical ride.
As we move through the gears and pendulums of Eric and Carl’s friendship Cox, with touching insight and humour, explores the enchantments in our relationship to each other, the land, nature, and history.
Following the life of Eric from young hopeful guitarist in the 60s to his current (literally and figuratively) rambling existence, Cox offers his perspective on the social changes during these times and honours those who secede from the norms and find their own way in life.
The book almost glows as you read it - the radiance of a bruised and dented group of friends finding and celebrating the best in each other. It’s a glow like nostalgia, an undefinable bittersweet sense of comfort, but this is not a nostalgic book. It’s a book about loving the now of your life, informed and shaped as it is by moments you treasure, regret, misremember, or have entirely forgotten.
Be in it, for it is all we have.
Finishing this book felt as satisfying as the rattle and knock of a Morton Flickpot.
A signed copy is now on order for my wife, who I am sure will love it as much as I.
Could be my last 5/5 of 2024…
April 3, 2025
'Meander: moving slowly in no particular direction or with no clear purpose.' This definition perfectly explains the plot for this book, although there is so much more to a book than a plot of course.
It took a chapter for me to fully connect with the story. It is an unusual one with a couple who both talk and have a variety of interests, but one looks like a dog. They live in a white cottage in Devon, but the story travels around the country looking at their personal history and there are details of many locations showing accurate features of places, such as Lyme Regis, Nottingham, Liverpool and Cornwall to mention a few.
The main character is an ex guitarist and has an interest in music. He had a record shop at one point and talks a lot about music of all different styles. Other arts and trends are discussed, for example literature, fine arts and television, with a rather large critique about reality television and modern-day interests being superficial. Along their travels the couple meet a whole host of people who all become friends. Some of them are a quirky as the central pair of characters with very odd habits, like feeding earwax to their cat.
The writing is beautiful and stylish and just right for a tale such as this. There are many phrases that I re-read so I could fully absorb the craft of the expression. A true literary talent. This is a book about time and place, the beauty of the surroundings and living in the present. But mostly this is about friendship and acceptance. An original read.
It took a chapter for me to fully connect with the story. It is an unusual one with a couple who both talk and have a variety of interests, but one looks like a dog. They live in a white cottage in Devon, but the story travels around the country looking at their personal history and there are details of many locations showing accurate features of places, such as Lyme Regis, Nottingham, Liverpool and Cornwall to mention a few.
The main character is an ex guitarist and has an interest in music. He had a record shop at one point and talks a lot about music of all different styles. Other arts and trends are discussed, for example literature, fine arts and television, with a rather large critique about reality television and modern-day interests being superficial. Along their travels the couple meet a whole host of people who all become friends. Some of them are a quirky as the central pair of characters with very odd habits, like feeding earwax to their cat.
The writing is beautiful and stylish and just right for a tale such as this. There are many phrases that I re-read so I could fully absorb the craft of the expression. A true literary talent. This is a book about time and place, the beauty of the surroundings and living in the present. But mostly this is about friendship and acceptance. An original read.
January 23, 2026
Beautiful. Funny. Whimsical. Moving. Poignant. Reflective. Magical. This wonderful book was so many things, it was so unique, clever and moving. I loved every page. One of the most unique and brilliant books I've read.
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July 26, 2025Tom Cox's previous novel, 1983, was autobiographical in a way that mirrored my own childhood, given I grew up not that far from Cox in either time or space. His protagonists this time out, Eric Inskip and Carl, are a little less obviously Cox than 1983's Benji; Eric is a couple of decades older, had a rockier upbringing, at one stage even reads a piece by Tom Cox. Carl, meanwhile, emerged from the sea and, although he prefers to walk upright when not in company, and has 24 fingers with which he likes to crochet, is usually mistaken for a dog. Still, in their sensibilities, their distrust of social media and the metropolis, their preference for old vinyl (definitely not 'vinyls'), twentieth century novels and rural pottering, they retain a noticeable resemblance to the Cox of his Substack, just as the wry, rambling prose which often suggests an anecdote getting away from itself, only to coalesce into moments of transcendent beauty, could easily be said newsletter on a particularly good evening. And blow me if their wanderings haven't once again ended up in territory I know pretty well myself; the main action of the novel takes place on the Jurassic Coast, where my parents moved in the noughties, and where Cox pulls off the impressive trick of finding places names daft enough to sit plausibly alongside the likes of Whitchurch Canonicorum, and where I had to look up a few to check which were real ones I simply hadn't happened to visit, and which were his own puckish inventions, frequently guessing wrongly on both counts. As if that weren't enough, a flashback to Sheffield was in the same neck of the woods as where I used to visit an ex, and in Nottingham, though my school is never mentioned, Eric takes a route which would go right past it. I was quite relieved when, during a mostly unhappy London interlude, he isn't mentioned as going any closer than a 15-minute walk from anywhere I've lived; had he ended up in the pub downstairs, I'd have been unnerved, but by that point hardly surprised.
So what's the book about, apart from freaking me out? Time, and loss, and collecting. Collecting the right people and pets around oneself, but also collecting records, or anything really, and the awareness that it's a vain attempt to build a hedge against oblivion, a frequently counterproductive attempt to bottle the sensation of great music changing your life, a hobby that can so easily tip over into pedantry or worse (I don't think it's any coincidence that, since completing this book, Cox has been winnowing his own collection)...but also, no sillier a way of spending one's brief time on Earth than any other, and a lot better than some. There's a lovely section here with what I think might be the central image of the book, or certainly one of them, where Eric (unofficially aided by Carl, who has much more of a knack for it) is employed as a gardener, makes a mess of a garden into a lovely little haven – all for a house that isn't his, which the owner is looking to sell, and where for all anyone knows the buyers might get rid of the lot. "What had it all been for? A person might as well ask 'What is anything for?' There was something seductive to Eric about the idea of leaving the world a handmade present and moving on". Of course, this coming to terms with impermanence is made easier by the presence of Carl who, with his occasional glimpses through time, ensures that lost moments can be remembered after all. Somehow, though, that never felt like a cheat.
Which is not to say everything here worked for me. The writing often gives a deceptive sense of a runaway train, only to resolve beautifully at the last, but every so often it does crash messily into the buffers – though I suspect that, at least in terms of metaphors and such, some of the ones which made me wince might be other people's favourites, and vice versa; that comes with the territory of writing an overstuffed ramble of a book that couldn't care less about fashion, and paradoxically I'm not sure the overall effect would work if every sentence worked. More of a problem is that Cox is trying to extol the benefits of life lived at an older, more offline pace, but can't really do that without sometimes showing the opposite, which seems to utterly capsize the rural calm he's acquired; I may be the only reader to think of Julian the Apostate when Cox reminds us never to read the comments by recounting a selection of comments, but I think my broader sense of regret might be shared. This also feeds into the occasional reports from a future which has suffered a suspiciously convenient apocalypse where 'gadgets' have ceased to exist but civilisation as a whole, and especially folklore journals, survives. Most vexing of all is a hyperbolic diatribe against, of all the inoffensive years, 2006, when supposedly "The United Kingdom was in the grip of a populist mindwarp, an unbending new plasticity, and epidemic of reverse cultural snobbery cleverly designed to serve corporations and their rapacity. Formerly sane and discerning people pretended to like terrible songs and books and television shows for fear of being cast out of their social circles for the newly illegal hobby of appreciating art made with passion, individuality and integrity." Well, I was there, I wasn't watching reality TV, and unlike Cox's reports from Nottingham parks or the byways of the Dorset-Devon border, I find this one unrecognisable going on embarrassing.
Still, I can forgive a certain amount of misdirected fire when it's so clearly in defence of something precious, loved, and worth protecting – the west of England; its odd little settlements and the even odder people (and Carls, and crows) who call them home; long evenings with friends! the perfect song for the moment. The awareness that even here you get the occasional binhead, but that they need not prevail. It has clearly been an absolute trial for Cox that this book was originally meant to be coming out from Unbound before their inglorious demise*, but for all that I wouldn't have wished that on him, somehow it fits the content and the theme that it flirted with becoming lost art through corporate shenanigans, that it escaped that fate – and especially that it's coming out in autumn rather than spring, a better time to console us over all that passes away.
*Whereas I usually annotate freebies with a simple '(Netgalley ARC)', some people have a longer version in which they thank the publisher. Well, I hope nobody thanked the original publisher which supplied this one, because the publisher does not deserve it.
So what's the book about, apart from freaking me out? Time, and loss, and collecting. Collecting the right people and pets around oneself, but also collecting records, or anything really, and the awareness that it's a vain attempt to build a hedge against oblivion, a frequently counterproductive attempt to bottle the sensation of great music changing your life, a hobby that can so easily tip over into pedantry or worse (I don't think it's any coincidence that, since completing this book, Cox has been winnowing his own collection)...but also, no sillier a way of spending one's brief time on Earth than any other, and a lot better than some. There's a lovely section here with what I think might be the central image of the book, or certainly one of them, where Eric (unofficially aided by Carl, who has much more of a knack for it) is employed as a gardener, makes a mess of a garden into a lovely little haven – all for a house that isn't his, which the owner is looking to sell, and where for all anyone knows the buyers might get rid of the lot. "What had it all been for? A person might as well ask 'What is anything for?' There was something seductive to Eric about the idea of leaving the world a handmade present and moving on". Of course, this coming to terms with impermanence is made easier by the presence of Carl who, with his occasional glimpses through time, ensures that lost moments can be remembered after all. Somehow, though, that never felt like a cheat.
Which is not to say everything here worked for me. The writing often gives a deceptive sense of a runaway train, only to resolve beautifully at the last, but every so often it does crash messily into the buffers – though I suspect that, at least in terms of metaphors and such, some of the ones which made me wince might be other people's favourites, and vice versa; that comes with the territory of writing an overstuffed ramble of a book that couldn't care less about fashion, and paradoxically I'm not sure the overall effect would work if every sentence worked. More of a problem is that Cox is trying to extol the benefits of life lived at an older, more offline pace, but can't really do that without sometimes showing the opposite, which seems to utterly capsize the rural calm he's acquired; I may be the only reader to think of Julian the Apostate when Cox reminds us never to read the comments by recounting a selection of comments, but I think my broader sense of regret might be shared. This also feeds into the occasional reports from a future which has suffered a suspiciously convenient apocalypse where 'gadgets' have ceased to exist but civilisation as a whole, and especially folklore journals, survives. Most vexing of all is a hyperbolic diatribe against, of all the inoffensive years, 2006, when supposedly "The United Kingdom was in the grip of a populist mindwarp, an unbending new plasticity, and epidemic of reverse cultural snobbery cleverly designed to serve corporations and their rapacity. Formerly sane and discerning people pretended to like terrible songs and books and television shows for fear of being cast out of their social circles for the newly illegal hobby of appreciating art made with passion, individuality and integrity." Well, I was there, I wasn't watching reality TV, and unlike Cox's reports from Nottingham parks or the byways of the Dorset-Devon border, I find this one unrecognisable going on embarrassing.
Still, I can forgive a certain amount of misdirected fire when it's so clearly in defence of something precious, loved, and worth protecting – the west of England; its odd little settlements and the even odder people (and Carls, and crows) who call them home; long evenings with friends! the perfect song for the moment. The awareness that even here you get the occasional binhead, but that they need not prevail. It has clearly been an absolute trial for Cox that this book was originally meant to be coming out from Unbound before their inglorious demise*, but for all that I wouldn't have wished that on him, somehow it fits the content and the theme that it flirted with becoming lost art through corporate shenanigans, that it escaped that fate – and especially that it's coming out in autumn rather than spring, a better time to console us over all that passes away.
*Whereas I usually annotate freebies with a simple '(Netgalley ARC)', some people have a longer version in which they thank the publisher. Well, I hope nobody thanked the original publisher which supplied this one, because the publisher does not deserve it.
December 13, 2024
What a weirdly wonderful and wonderfully weird book. I loved reading this original book. The wry and colourful observations of life, friendship and the landscape were so beautiful and resonated so strongly with me. The story made me laugh and made me sad and I just loved all the characters. And oh what a beautiful ending. This is the sort of book that stays with you and you just want to keep going back to it.
I received a free review copy of the book from the publisher in exchange for my honest and unedited review.
I received a free review copy of the book from the publisher in exchange for my honest and unedited review.
March 21, 2025
Relentless rat-a-tat-tat of garrulous whimsy 1.5 rating
I’m afraid I had to abandon this less than a tenth of the way through, as I was almost grinding my teeth in irritation,
The experience was of being talked AT, unstoppably and VERY LOUDLY by someone who speaks a mile and minute, never drawing breath, and telling a very long, very shaggy dog story to the wrong person (me)
I’ve raised my 1.5 star to 2 because I’m honest enough to know that Mr Cox has been unfortunate enough to just be paired with the wrong reader, for whom his voice grates.
He clearly has many lovers of his style and anarchic imagination (I can take delight in anarchic imagination, but not, sadly Tom’s) but this is just not at all a charm offensive which works on me.
I found the humour just tries far too hard. For what it’s worth (and may well help to attract the readers for whom his writing will find a happy home) I have also found the same difficulty with Terry Pratchett – horrifying those friends who adore Pratchett, who have amused me by explaining, chortling merrily, snippets of their favourite Pratchett moments, and had me, many times, assaying a Pratchett, only to abandon, early, feeling over-battered by what feels like a too relentless bashing of my funny bone
I really wish that it were possible, on Netgalley, with ARC’s to have a short excerpt available to read on the site, without having to request the title. I would have known, pretty quickly that this writer and this reader would not connect
I’m afraid I had to abandon this less than a tenth of the way through, as I was almost grinding my teeth in irritation,
The experience was of being talked AT, unstoppably and VERY LOUDLY by someone who speaks a mile and minute, never drawing breath, and telling a very long, very shaggy dog story to the wrong person (me)
I’ve raised my 1.5 star to 2 because I’m honest enough to know that Mr Cox has been unfortunate enough to just be paired with the wrong reader, for whom his voice grates.
He clearly has many lovers of his style and anarchic imagination (I can take delight in anarchic imagination, but not, sadly Tom’s) but this is just not at all a charm offensive which works on me.
I found the humour just tries far too hard. For what it’s worth (and may well help to attract the readers for whom his writing will find a happy home) I have also found the same difficulty with Terry Pratchett – horrifying those friends who adore Pratchett, who have amused me by explaining, chortling merrily, snippets of their favourite Pratchett moments, and had me, many times, assaying a Pratchett, only to abandon, early, feeling over-battered by what feels like a too relentless bashing of my funny bone
I really wish that it were possible, on Netgalley, with ARC’s to have a short excerpt available to read on the site, without having to request the title. I would have known, pretty quickly that this writer and this reader would not connect
November 9, 2025
Strange and beautiful, like a breathtaking fever-dream. There are lots of writers whom one might refer to as those with genius, gifted for stringing together evocative, visceral words and phrases, but who lack either the discipline or humility to craft that gift into something that still touches the earth while reaching the sky. Tom Cox is one of those few that manage this incredibly difficult balance.
One can easily just lose oneself in the words, drifting along like listening to good music, time disappearing, images floating before one's eyes, but the structure and narrative remarkably still shine through. There are so many moments and lines that after reading just made me stop, lower the book, stare into the distance, revel in the beauty and the truth, unable to continue until they were properly digested.
And the characters, so well crafted and developed, each flawed, interesting, lovely in their own right on their own terms. They felt so real, fully including Carl, who has no right to feel so solid to the reader. Even as the pages turned, and the feeling of approaching tragedy strengthened, it was released in such a loving and full-hearted way, it felt like Cox really loves his readers as well as his characters.
There's a magic here, which is no surprise to anyone who's read his work or followed him online, but somehow the knowing in no way diminishes the journey or the destination.
One can easily just lose oneself in the words, drifting along like listening to good music, time disappearing, images floating before one's eyes, but the structure and narrative remarkably still shine through. There are so many moments and lines that after reading just made me stop, lower the book, stare into the distance, revel in the beauty and the truth, unable to continue until they were properly digested.
And the characters, so well crafted and developed, each flawed, interesting, lovely in their own right on their own terms. They felt so real, fully including Carl, who has no right to feel so solid to the reader. Even as the pages turned, and the feeling of approaching tragedy strengthened, it was released in such a loving and full-hearted way, it felt like Cox really loves his readers as well as his characters.
There's a magic here, which is no surprise to anyone who's read his work or followed him online, but somehow the knowing in no way diminishes the journey or the destination.
January 6, 2025
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for this ARC!
I found certain elements of this book really charming, particularly following the cast of characters through their early, mid, and eventually, late lives in different settings and contexts depending on the circumstance. It definitely leans into the concept of whimsy and relies heavily on a sense of nostalgia and small-town cosiness, which is really lovely in its own way. Some of the descriptions are lovely, and there are definitely some sections of this book that give a very heavy 'curl up and read' sort of vibe.
I did find that parts of this book did wander off sometimes into weird pockets where I wasn't quite sure where it was going, but I can appreciate there's definitely an experimental aspect that maybe didn't click with me as much as it might for others. There was definitely an element in here that I really enjoyed, but I didn't find the characters easy to connect with. Maybe it was just a matter of not having had the requisite life experience or vibe of the characters themselves. I am sure that this book has a perfect audience - I just don't think that I am it!
I found certain elements of this book really charming, particularly following the cast of characters through their early, mid, and eventually, late lives in different settings and contexts depending on the circumstance. It definitely leans into the concept of whimsy and relies heavily on a sense of nostalgia and small-town cosiness, which is really lovely in its own way. Some of the descriptions are lovely, and there are definitely some sections of this book that give a very heavy 'curl up and read' sort of vibe.
I did find that parts of this book did wander off sometimes into weird pockets where I wasn't quite sure where it was going, but I can appreciate there's definitely an experimental aspect that maybe didn't click with me as much as it might for others. There was definitely an element in here that I really enjoyed, but I didn't find the characters easy to connect with. Maybe it was just a matter of not having had the requisite life experience or vibe of the characters themselves. I am sure that this book has a perfect audience - I just don't think that I am it!
February 4, 2025
Grab bag of characters, themes, stories and writing - for Tom Cox fans
What you never know with Tom Cox is exactly what you’re going to get, and this novel is no different. Following a pair of irascible (and enigmatic) old friends as they satisfy their passions and obsessions, the semi-urban landscape and the internal cultural landscapes of the two leads elide and morph, exploring their histories and their friendship.
I didn’t really connect with this book, in its restless, rambling fullness, with so many thematic threads that slipped past each other on the way to somewhere else. I think I may get more out of it by picking it up now and again, like taking a refreshing dip in a bracing river, and then scrambling back to the safety of the shore.
Tom Cox’s world is nice to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.
Three stars.
What you never know with Tom Cox is exactly what you’re going to get, and this novel is no different. Following a pair of irascible (and enigmatic) old friends as they satisfy their passions and obsessions, the semi-urban landscape and the internal cultural landscapes of the two leads elide and morph, exploring their histories and their friendship.
I didn’t really connect with this book, in its restless, rambling fullness, with so many thematic threads that slipped past each other on the way to somewhere else. I think I may get more out of it by picking it up now and again, like taking a refreshing dip in a bracing river, and then scrambling back to the safety of the shore.
Tom Cox’s world is nice to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.
Three stars.
October 20, 2025
A love story to nature, friends, records, the Westcountry and a meditation on love and loss with magical twists.
I am really happy I bought this book from Waterstones when it was released and have been savouring it. So it has taken me a while to finish the book.
I love the way Tom Cox writes. Each chapter is a little gift, often a tale in itself.
Occasionally the change of direction from one chapter to the next can be a little disconcerting, especially when the story is at a critical point and the next chapter is many years in the past or future with entirely different characters, but it does all pan out and come together.
I felt like a spent time with some friends, I am very happy to have met them.
I am really happy I bought this book from Waterstones when it was released and have been savouring it. So it has taken me a while to finish the book.
I love the way Tom Cox writes. Each chapter is a little gift, often a tale in itself.
Occasionally the change of direction from one chapter to the next can be a little disconcerting, especially when the story is at a critical point and the next chapter is many years in the past or future with entirely different characters, but it does all pan out and come together.
I felt like a spent time with some friends, I am very happy to have met them.
November 21, 2025
This is the first book that I started without and ended with the aid of reading glasses. It feels important to mention for the analogy that the book brought into clear focus the kindness of strangers. Starting a bit cluttered with ideas, towards the end, and certainly in the section named oldfashioned letters, it becomes way more personal. And yes it does feel like a bit of a push for this to come out of the writer. I guess he's getting older and more comfortable with enjoying the comforts of this time in his life as more comfortable. And having come forth out of a difficult stretch of his life, who could ask for more. It is not exactly friendship, but seeing the world as filled with strangers that could be friends, befriends the world and gives you a place in it.
November 30, 2025
A rambling tale around the English countryside about a vinyl record loving, thrifting man & his knitting, cooking, gardening, 6 language speaking dog. Funny, nostalgic, quirky & utterly unique.
A very different read, wonderful story telling. The last 18 pages brought it all together for me and almost had me running to the bathroom for the tissue box. One of my favorite, meaningful lines, amongst many scattered throughout, along with quite a few laugh out loud ones too:
“I'm just an old bloke. But I know one thing: being surrounded by a lovely group of people, just a nice manageable number of them, not too big or overwhelming, at a time in your life when you properly know yourself is a rare and special gift.” (page 316/330)
A very different read, wonderful story telling. The last 18 pages brought it all together for me and almost had me running to the bathroom for the tissue box. One of my favorite, meaningful lines, amongst many scattered throughout, along with quite a few laugh out loud ones too:
“I'm just an old bloke. But I know one thing: being surrounded by a lovely group of people, just a nice manageable number of them, not too big or overwhelming, at a time in your life when you properly know yourself is a rare and special gift.” (page 316/330)
April 24, 2025
A brilliantly detailed novel following the entire life of Eric and his special companion Carl. Through dense, plot filled sentences, we follow Eric’s journey with comprehensive descriptions of South West England with its walking trails and his encyclopaedic knowledge of collectible vinyl records. This is the story of true friendship and the importance of companionship, and how genuine friendship connections become one’s family and support in challenging times. Especially poignant are the letters between Eric and Carl describing their true feelings which Eric has found difficult to articulate in the past.
Thank you Netgalley for the ARC
Thank you Netgalley for the ARC
July 14, 2025
Tom Cox throws pretty much everything from his work’s recurring themes into this novel - folklore, rambling, wildlife, psychedelic rock, cat ownership and local history. And my word, it really works.
In what feels like effortless stream-of-consciousness prose (but which I’m sure took huge amounts of effort to flow so beautifully), he unravels the story of record-dealer Eric’s life, and the meaning he finds in his relationships with family, lovers, friends, pets - and with the glorious and mysterious Carl.
Absorbing and magical - and by the end I was reading to a soundtrack of Iggy Pop and John Martyn…
In what feels like effortless stream-of-consciousness prose (but which I’m sure took huge amounts of effort to flow so beautifully), he unravels the story of record-dealer Eric’s life, and the meaning he finds in his relationships with family, lovers, friends, pets - and with the glorious and mysterious Carl.
Absorbing and magical - and by the end I was reading to a soundtrack of Iggy Pop and John Martyn…
December 31, 2025
I have never loved a book that baffled me as much as this one. Nor have I ever appreciated a book by the end that I disliked so much mid-way through. I was dangerously close to a DNF half way through this book. But I persevered and am so glad I did. Something clicked and suddenly a monochrome, misty narrative became a multi-coloured, vibrant, emotional adventure. If you, like me, struggle with this book in the early stages, keep going. You won’t regret it. That said, I have no idea what I just read and would be hard pushed to explain it. But I enjoyed it and recommend it. That’s worth 4 stars in anybody’s book.
November 24, 2025
Tom has a gift for writing about the outsiders and outliers, the collectors and the creators, the heads and the gatekeepers, weaving them into the fabric of a British landscape and communities that thrive and crackle with creative energy.
Imagine David Keenan's Memorial Device warmed by an open fire instead of a bottle of Thunderbird, Alan Warner's Kitchenly 434 without the schadenfreude rear view mirror.
Tom's characters inhabit the same Britain as Weird Walk and Wuthering Heights, Worzel and Aunt Sally, Bagpuss and Bert Jansch, Sgt Pepper's and Stewart Lee.
Absolutely brilliant.
Imagine David Keenan's Memorial Device warmed by an open fire instead of a bottle of Thunderbird, Alan Warner's Kitchenly 434 without the schadenfreude rear view mirror.
Tom's characters inhabit the same Britain as Weird Walk and Wuthering Heights, Worzel and Aunt Sally, Bagpuss and Bert Jansch, Sgt Pepper's and Stewart Lee.
Absolutely brilliant.
September 23, 2025
Loved it! The title is a cryptic nod to Dorset and Devon life, people and places weaved in with moments in time and stories within stories. It's a cornucopia of real and unreal events, mingled with so many arcane records that even the most fun record store in the galaxy doesn't stock! A Continuum from Dark Star to Screamadelica of life, love and observations. And thank you Tom for the many visits to Clocktower Records in Bridport, the coffee, aphantasia, gigs and casual detonation in our foyer!
December 17, 2024
Rounding up to 3 🌟
It's me, I think I'm the problem.
I wish I'd loved this book as much as other reviewers had.
I see snatches of what they're talking about.
I enjoyed the whimsical, the amusing, the characters, but for me, they were buried in too much other stuff. I was not so keen on the other stuff.
Just never a story I rushed back to.
It's me, I think I'm the problem.
I wish I'd loved this book as much as other reviewers had.
I see snatches of what they're talking about.
I enjoyed the whimsical, the amusing, the characters, but for me, they were buried in too much other stuff. I was not so keen on the other stuff.
Just never a story I rushed back to.
November 2, 2025
Includes a character that has aphantasia, so that he couldn't picture an object in his mind. After finishing the book, listened to Cox's BBC talk. Also listened to one of his short stories that featured a character with a tale, relevant to this book.
Overall I liked this book quite a lot.
4.5
Birmingham library
Overall I liked this book quite a lot.
4.5
Birmingham library
December 23, 2024
I loved this book, an unusual book. A contemporary setting and centres on a friendship between Eric and Carl. Carl is unusual looks like a dog and has many talents. Enjoyable read, thank you to the author. Thank you to #netgalley and the publisher for an ARC.
October 31, 2025
This is a beautiful book about friendship, finding your people and your path in life, it's about difference, acceptance, loss. It's about the poetry inherent in village names. It is rooted in very recognisable real life, and it is utterly magical. I'm sure it will reward repeated reading.
December 1, 2025
Tom Cox builds sentences with an artistry and craft that are unexpected, breathtaking, and humorous. With this novel, we meet fascinating and beautiful characters who show us what friendship and acceptance mean beyond liking the same things and having a laugh together. I intentionally slowed down my reading pace so as to stay with Eric and Carl a little longer.
January 22, 2026
I wasn’t sure about this book. Some of it I enjoyed enormously - I even made notes. But some of it seemed unnecessarily overblown, just a bit too clever. The changes in narrator jseemed to over complicate it without adding anything. But it was both amusing and touching and I’m glad I persisted.
January 29, 2026
I absolutely loved this book... it made me laugh out loud, cry and think... sometimes all at the same time.. a magical blend of dimensions and characters who have stayed with me long after I finished reading.
April 30, 2025
Sort of bonkers. But also wonderful.
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