Grace Notes, by Bernard McLaverty, read by Frances Tomelty (HarperCollins, 2 tapes, 3 hrs, £8.99 in UK)
Bernard McLaverty seems to set himself not one, but two, impossible tasks in this beautifully understated novel: to write about the process of musical composition, and to write about the state of post-natal depression, both notoriously inexpressible areas of human experience. The degree to which he has succeeded is, perhaps, reflected in the book having being listed both for the 1997 Booker Prize and the Whitbread Novel of the Year, but it operates on a much more immediate level too - a lump-in-the-throat level, simple and direct but never sentimental - and it is given an uncommonly forceful reading here by the actress Frances Tomelty. Her rendition of the climactic final passages, when Catherine McKenna is present at the premiere of the piece she has written to celebrate the birth of her daughter, fairly burns itself into your head.
Master Georgie, by Beryl Bainbridge, read by Lindsay Duncan and David Rintoul (HarperCollins, 2 tapes, 3 hrs, £8.99 in UK)
The Crimean War forms an almost casual backdrop for the domestic drama which unfolds as a brave little band of Britishers - the single-minded surgeon George Hardy, his ineffectual brother-in-law Doctor Potter, his adopted sister Myrtle and a fire-eating photographer friend - make their way across a ravaged landscape. With astonishing ease Bainbridge drops bombshell after bombshell into her deceptively low-key text; as assumptions explode, sympathies swing from one extreme to the other in what gradually emerges as the literary equivalent of the historical carnage on offer at Sebastopol. Reading, David Rintoul slips easily from the role of Dr Potter to that of the bisexual photographer; and Lindsay Duncan plays the obsessive Myrtle to perfection.
Into The Heart of Borneo, by Redmond O'Hanlon, read by the author (Penguin, 2 tapes, 3 hrs, £8.99 in UK)
While preparing for this trip to Borneo Redmond O'Hanlon sought survival advice from the SAS, and his con brio regurgitation of his confrontation with stiff-upper-lip militarism is as hilarious as anything he has yet written. Once in the jungle matters go, as the experienced O'Hanlon reader would expect - not to say hope - from bad to worse as our hero is assailed by heat, humidity, leeches, mosquitoes and an unspeakably awful diet (the fish which appears in the mess tins each night is summoned up with stomach-churning accuracy as "hairbrush and rice"). The natural world is brought before our eyes and ears with equal vividness but, as usual, O'Hanlon's trump card is humanity - both his own and that of his companions. On this occasion he was accompanied by the poet James Fenton and a couple of brave, witty, patient and characterful local trackers, all of whom are marvellously conjured up by O'Hanlon's lively reading. An absolute treat.
About a Boy, by Nick Hornby, read by Alan Cumming (HarperCollins, 2 tapes, 3 hrs, £8.99 in UK)
Will is the archetypal Nineties "lad" - wears the right clothes, listens to the right music, preys on single mothers because they're desperate for, well, sex. Marcus, on the other hand, makes a pretty lousy teenager - wears slip-on shoes, inadvertently sings aloud at school when he's nervous, thinks Kurt Cobain is somebody who plays for Manchester United. The friendship which springs up between the pair is hilarious and painful, and Hornby charts it with an amused but observant eye. Alan Cummings does his best with the voices, but it isn't easy to produce a weird 12-year-old, a suicidal mother, a cool thirtysomething and assorted others from the same hat.
Cold Mountain, by Charles Frazier, read by Kerry Shale (HarperCollins, 2 tapes, 3 hrs, £8.99 in UK)
This is a sort of Little House on the Prairie with the Civil War humming away in the background, and it's hard to see how such an incredibly soft-centred tale has created such a buzz in the States, with its soppy central pair and a host of extras who would have been rejected as too OTT for the Beverly Hillbillies. It's read by Kerry Shale, who also reads the X- Files books, so be careful - if you close your eyes and allow his mellifluous tones lull you into a doze for a second, you may imagine you see Mulder and Scully marching over the brow of the hill armed with a pair of torches. Or is that just wishful thinking?
Sherlock Holmes: The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire and other Stories, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, read by Christopher Lee (Harper Collins, 2 tapes, 3 hrs, £8.99 in UK)
The Peruvian wife of a country gentleman appears to have turned vampire in the first of these four delightful tales from the Sherlock Holmes casebook - but when Holmes and his faithful sidekick Watson come down from town to investigate, all is not as it seems. Conan Doyle's stories are elegant enough to have been written with a quill pen, and they are given an equally aristocratic reading by the marvellously expressive Christopher Lee. Even Watson could figure it out: this is escapism of the most perfect variety.
Racing Pigs and Giant Marrows, by Harry Pearson, read by David Threfall (HarperCollins, 2 tapes, 3 hrs, £8.99 in UK)
The country fairs of northern Britain would seem an unpromising subject for a book, but Harry Pearson has done his homework, and once you tune in to his fascinating opening chapter, which delves happily into the Roman origins of these events, you're hooked. From candy floss to horses, not to mention the racing pigs and giant marrows of the title, all the eccentricities of the fairs are here, and Pearson meanders through them with obvious and contagious delight, though some of his cornier jokes should be passed over as swiftly as possible. David Threfall's authentic accent adds greatly to the atmosphere.
The Buddha of Brewer Street, by Michael Dobbs (HarperCollins, 2 tapes, 3 hrs, £8.99 in UK)
Michael Dobbs writes amiable romps which are set in and around Westminster and populated by a rake of unlikely characters, including the aptly-named MP Thomas Goodfellowe. For this episode the good-natured Goodfellowe is joined by a couple of dastardly Chinese diplomats, a clutch of bemused ex-pat Tibetans and an infant Dalai Lama; it's utterly daft, of course, but easy listening doesn't come much easier, and Tim Pigott-Smith reads with plummy enthusiasm.
