If you are what you eat, what does that make you? Virtuous, cool, immortal? Or deviant, pitiful, ill? Is it useful to make these judgements? Do they help us improve our lives?

In a world where it feels as though the value of your life can be gauged by the goodness in your dinner, it is possible, even easy, to lose the will to live. This became particularly obvious to writer Amber Husain when suddenly, despite almost thirty years of practice, it seemed she had forgotten how to eat.

Medical wisdom tries fix the problem non-eater by teaching them the rules of Good Diet. But what if the problem is precisely the narrowing of life to questions of personal goodness? Suspecting there might be more to her stand-off with food than matters of identity and diet, Husain embarked on an enquiry into the special role of eating in our relationship with the world.

Combining a personal account of modern eating-disorder treatments, from the disturbing to the sublime, with a sprawling collective history of eating in hard times, Tell Me How You Eat unearths the astonishing effect of how we feed ourselves and others, not just on who we are, but on how we perceive our own political power. In doing so, it marks a bold and inspiring confrontation with our very understanding of food.

In August 2017 a car ploughed into a crowd of peaceful marchers. For P.E. Moskowitz, this was a shattering near-death experience, followed by a nervous breakdown. As they willed themselves back to life using a variety of drugs, both prescription and illegal, they started to wonder: why do we need drugs to quell the pain of modern life?

In Breaking Awake, Moskowitz takes us on a kaleidoscopic voyage through the twenty-first century’s mental health crisis and the drugs we take – from fentanyl to SSRIs, from ketamine to LSD and beyond – to cope with the gnawing bleakness of our present moment. We meet a team handing out free heroin on the streets of Vancouver and a young mother in Chicago who has been on SSRIs since childhood, ravers in Brooklyn taking drugs to push the limits of human consciousness and ordinary people leading ordinary lives on a constant cocktail of medication.

Searching for answers to find a path to healing, Moskowitz asks: do drugs spark liberation or simply numb our modern malaise?

‘Michael Mansfield combines rare humanity with a brilliant understanding of the law’ – JON SNOW

‘A book of great importance … Mr Mansfield’s thoughtful reflections demand our attention’ – KEN LOACH

‘I want this book to inspire people, give them a blueprint for fighting their own battles, and challenge the status quo. To see that together, we are always stronger. To understand that those who stand in the way of change cannot do so forever.’ Michael Mansfield, KC

Barrister Michael Mansfield, KC, has spent his career fighting injustice, persecution and corruption. And be it the Birmingham Six, Bloody Sunday, Stephen Lawrence, the Marchioness, Hillsborough or Grenfell, he has come to learn one thing – that people power is unstoppable.

Time and again he has witnessed governments, police forces, legal institutions and the establishment, try to block change and maintain the status quo in order to protect their interests. But almost every time he has seen that passion, perseverance, collectivity and courage create a powerful momentum which is increasingly difficult to stop.

In this short but powerful book, the veteran barrister draws upon his 50 years of fighting for justice and revisits his most important cases and clients, proving without doubt that when people get together they can make lasting and positive change.

Weeks before his final mental breakdown, Nietzsche set out to compose his autobiography, and Ecce Homo is the result. A summary of his life’s work as a philosopher, with chapter headings including ‘Why I Am So Wise’ and ‘Why I Write Such Good Books’, it is part mocking self-judgement and part battle cry, and remains one of the most singular, strange examples of the genre ever written.

An intimate portrait of loneliness, All the Lonely People sees psychologist Dr Sam Carr collect hours of conversations with the young and old, single parents, carers, teenagers and the bereaved. Their heartfelt stories are shared over countless cups of tea.

In stories of love and loss, of trauma and hope, told from care homes, living rooms, classrooms and kitchens, Carr discovers that while each of their stories is utterly unique, they are all born out of the same desire for human connection. As Carr interweaves these touching and powerful tales with his own personal narrative, he opens a window onto the inner lives of regular people – the forgotten, misplaced or misjudged – who all feel isolated in some way.

Sparking a profound conversation about a universal emotion, which may simply be an inevitable part of life in an increasingly disjointed world, he questions what we can do to build stronger human relationships, and to be a part of something bigger than ourselves.

First published in 1960, The Prime of Life offers an intimate, captivating picture of Simone de Beauvoir in her twenties, thirties and forties. Beginning as a recent graduate from the Sorbonne teaching high-school girls, we see de Beauvoir revel in the freedom her new financial independence brings. We see her and Jean-Paul Sartre recognise the powerful romantic and intellectual partnership they have found in one another, as they fall in love and define their own unconventional parameters. The Second World War comes, bringing austerity, violence and questions of the reality of freedom and individual responsibility into de Beauvoir’s life. As relevant and penetrating as when first published, The Prime of Life offers rare insight into a truly fascinating mind.

These were the exasperated words of Mike Brearley’s mother, as he once again trod mud into the family home after a long day playing outdoors. They were also an unwitting but half-accurate prediction, for Brearley would become one of the most successful sportsmen of his generation by playing cricket for Cambridge, Middlesex and then becoming one of England’s finest captains. But for Brearley, cricket wasn’t just a physical activity, it was also an intellectual game, offering the chance to bring closer together body and mind. When his cricketing career came to end – during his playing days he had had a hiatus as a philosophy lecturer – he eschewed sporting commentary for a career as a psychoanalyst.

In Turning Over the Pebbles, which he calls a ‘memoir of the mind’, Brearley reviews his life with its attendant emotions, tensions and moves. It is also a book of his second thoughts and reassessments, allowing him to understand more fully things that were obscure to him earlier. After all, he says, ‘captaining ourselves, like captaining a team, requires a willingness to allow thoughts and feelings their space’.

Deeply thoughtful, erudite and elegantly framed, this book seamlessly blends all aspects of Brearley’s life into a single integrated narrative. With wide-ranging meditations on sport, philosophy, literature, religion, leadership, psychoanalysis, music and more, Brearley delves into his private passions and candidly examines the various shifts, conflicts and triumphs of his extraordinary life and career, both on and off the field.

An intimate portrait of loneliness, All the Lonely People sees psychologist Dr Sam Carr collect hours of conversations with people young and old, including single parents, carers, teenagers and the bereaved – all shared over countless cups of tea.

In stories of love and loss, of trauma and hope, told from care homes, living rooms, classrooms and kitchens, Carr discovers that while each of their stories is utterly unique, they are all born out of the same desire for human connection.

As Carr interweaves these touching and powerful tales with his own personal narrative, he opens a window onto the inner lives of regular people – the forgotten, misplaced or misjudged – who all feel isolated in some way.

Sparking a profound conversation about a universal emotion, which may simply be an inevitable part of life in an increasingly disjointed world, he questions what we can do to build stronger human relationships, and to be a part of something bigger than ourselves.

*

‘I’m not homeless: this is my home!’
Nick points to the branches of the hornbeam under which we are standing, its leaves still glistening in the aftermath of the morning rain. On one of the lower branches sits a robin, joining our conversation. It seems to be saying: Why should anyone want to leave this place?

Nick and Pascal live and sleep outside in central London. They are an unusual duo: Nick is an avid reader of history and philosophy able to converse on any topic; Pascal is quiet, spending much of his time lying still, communicating silently with birds and animals. They have lived alongside each other in London’s streets for nearly two decades, yet do not identify as homeless. For the past five years they have taken shelter under the hornbeam trees in Regent’s Park.

Emma Tarlo first meets Nick and Pascal when out walking. Gradually through the sharing of food, conversation and life stories they develop a friendship. Emma is impressed by their unique way of experiencing both the hardship and pleasures of life outside, and their conversations under the open sky prompt Emma to question many things in her own life, transforming her understanding of what freedom might look like.

Under the Hornbeams follows the seasons of a single year through sun, wind, rain and snow. Returning to the park almost daily, Emma meets the community of people, dogs and birds who gravitate around Nick and Pascal and discovers the precarious networks of giving and receiving that exist undetected in London’s streets. The result is a life-affirming story that pays homage to the power of human connection and upturns many of our preconceptions about home, family, work and community. This is a book that will stay with you long after reading.

*

‘A seductive report from an otherness we are in danger of disregarding: roofless nights of stars and storms, misted parkland mornings, the magic of food exchanges and gifted insights.’ – IAIN SINCLAIR

‘A crowd-pleaser of a book’ – RACHEL COOKE, OBSERVER

‘Perceptive and heartwarming’ – THE TIMES

‘[A] preconception busting life-affirming memoir.’ – THE BOOKSELLER