Welcome to Five Books For, a newsletter for people who love great stories. I’m so happy you’re here.
This month, we have all been wiped out with this awful flu that seems to be doing the rounds - just in time for Christmas too. We have still had a lovely time but honestly, it has made me yearn for rhythm and routine even more than I usually do. I just cannot wait to feel normal again.
I’m not a big fan of New Year’s resolutions in the traditional sense; I have never found them to be very successful and I don’t like the sense of pressure and guilt they create. Instead, I usually do a bit of a stocktake of how things are going in the various areas of my life - family, friends, health, spirituality, work, finances - and take some time to reflect on how I want those areas to grow and change over the coming year. This approach has always worked pretty well for me (I suspect because it hands the reins over to my subconscious, which can then just crack on with things). This year though, I’m finding that the thing I need the most is space - the kind of space that rhythm and routine are so good at creating, at least for me. Space to think, to create, to focus on things; less time spent reacting. So my priority this year will be to find a rhythm that works for us as a family and allows me the space I need to do all the important but non-urgent things that bring the most joy.
In that spirit, I thought this month that I’d share some books which have helped me at one point or another in some of the different areas of my life I mentioned above. None are traditional self-help books per se (possibly the most Marmite of genres) but rather are thoughtful, well-written books that set out either to share wisdom or to provide practical solutions to common concerns. I hope that one of them helps you find whatever space you might need as we move into a new year and that 2026 is the happiest year yet for all of you.
This month over at Global Comment, I had two fun columns. For Great Adaptations, I took a look at Sophie Hannah’s book How To Hold A Grudge which she has adapted into a deliciously witty podcast. Hannah is best known for her crime thrillers, which are excellent, and for her officially-sanctioned Poirot continuation novels (also excellent) but has a real enthusiasm for self-help books as a genre. How To Hold A Grudge is all about the unexpected way in which grudges can be good for us - click on the link to read more and see if you fancy creating your own ‘grudge cabinet’.
For Late To The Movies, this month I took a very seasonal look at the origins of Christmas movies, and how they went on to influence later cinema. Perhaps a little late for most of you given when this newsletter is going out, but here in Spain the Three Kings don’t arrive until the 6th January so there are still plenty of ongoing festivities.
Okay, onto this month’s recommendations!
“In little more than a century we have gone from owning just a few cherished, purposeful objects that lasted a lifetime, the making of which supported satisfying and pleasant work for many, to possessing an overwhelming abundance of valueless, disposable stuff which brings us no more than fleeting enjoyment or satisfaction, and heaps harm on the people who make it and on the planet.”
So what’s it about? Patrick Grant - Savile Row tailor, designer, Great British Sewing Bee judge, and all-round advocate for doing things properly - starts with a simple fact: we own far more stuff than we ever used to, and most of it brings us remarkably little pleasure, clothes especially. They arrive cheaply, briefly, and leave just as fast, often barely worn and quietly guilt-inducing.
Less is part memoir, part cultural critique, part calm manifesto. Grant draws on his life in fashion and his background in materials science to explain how we ended up here - how speed, low prices and the endless churn of “new” have hollowed out both craftsmanship and satisfaction. When everything is disposable, nothing is cherished.
What’s great about it? What’s great about Less is that is has authority without arrogance. Patrick Grant knows this world from the inside - tailoring, manufacturing, retail, the lot - so his critique of fast fashion and overconsumption isn’t theoretical or hand-wavy. It’s grounded, practical, and hard to dismiss. He explains how we got here in a way that feels lucid rather than hectoring, and somehow manages to restore pleasure to a conversation that can often feel saturated with self-righteousness.
Grant isn’t interested in selling virtue or guilt; he’s arguing for enjoyment - the deep, long-term satisfaction of things that fit well, last well, and are made with care. The key argument here is for discernment: for fewer, better things, for buying with intention, for repairing what we have, valuing skill, and reconnecting consumption with meaning. Less clutter, less noise, less waste - but more pleasure, more pride, more care.
Give it a try if: you love books that tackle serious issues without getting preachy; you love books which have genuine insider knowledge of the subject they’re critiquing; you love books which are positive and generous in intent; you like books which have interesting historical asides and are deeply thoughtful; you feel overwhelmed by stuff; you are horrified at the poor quality of goods which seems to have become the modern standard.
“Unlike my grandparents and parents, I own a roomful of cookbooks. I have cookbooks not only of remote and distant countries, but of specific regions within those countries. Yet with a glut of cookbooks and an abundance of available ingredients, no one seems to know how or what to cook… What we grew up with doesn’t work anymore, yet a new way of cooking is not clear. With our broadened palates, available ingredients, yet busier schedules, we need to discover one. Like our parents and grandparents, we need to learn how to cook without recipes.”
So what’s it about? How To Cook Without A Book aims to give you the ability to open the fridge or cupboard, look at what you’ve got in, and rustle up a delicious meal reliably, easily and without fuss. As such, its a book of methods rather than recipes, although it does include base recipes which are easy to learn and adjust. Essentially, Anderson wants to teach you how to think like a cook rather than just follow instructions slavishly. Anderson strips back the usual recipe list and shows that most dishes are just variations on a theme - once you understand the method, you can improvise with whatever’s in your kitchen. Each chapter focuses on a basic cooking technique (sautéing, salads, sauces, roasting), combines clear “master” recipes with variations, and includes handy charts so you remember key steps by heart. I have an old edition of it but I understand that there’s a newer, updated version which includes new sections covering one-pot and sheet-pan meals, which I can imagine is even more useful.
What’s great about it? If, like me, you love cooking, then this is the single most important book you can buy. I have a fairly extensive cookbook collection and as much as I enjoy cooking dishes from around the world, the most frequent kitchen skill I need is to be able to create something reliably delicious whatever I have in the house. This book helps you to do just that - it teaches you to trust your instincts instead of just following a recipe. It teaches you why you’re doing what you’re doing, which gives you the knowledge and confidence to be able to adapt as you go. As a result, dinner becomes less about hunting for the perfect recipe and more about mastering a handful of reliable techniques that can serve you for life. If you want to build your confidence in the kitchen and be able to cook reliably great food with ease (and without taking expensive lessons) then this is the book for you. You’ll come away knowing how to dress any salad, how to improvise a pan sauce, how to create a satisfying meal from an almost empty fridge, and much more.
Give it a try if: you love cooking but are tired of meal planning or trying to find the perfect recipe; you hate cooking but want to eat well; you’re pressed for time but tired of take-aways; you want to improve your cooking techniques without needing lessons; you want to get back to eating wholesome, home-cooked food without fuss or drama.
“Whenever you don’t want to do something, you ask yourself, ‘Will this make my life harder in the future? Am I being my future friend?’”
So what’s it about? The Organised Mum Method is a down-to-earth guide to getting on top of housework without it taking over your life. At its heart is a structured, manageable cleaning routine that breaks the seemingly-endless chores into bite-sized 30-minute sessions, five days a week, so that weekends can be kept for living rather than scrubbing.
Gemma Bray, founder of the TOMM system, takes you through how to shift from reactive, overwhelming cleaning to a proactive rhythm where each part of the home gets attention on a set schedule, and clutter and mess stop piling up out of sight and out of mind. This means that your house gets cleaner the longer you follow the plan, which in turn means no more deep cleans or spring cleans, because everything is already done. Bray provides clear schedules which can be easily adapted to any home as well as checklists, quick tricks and shortcuts to help you get things done.
What’s great about it? What works about this book is that it turns a monstrous to-do list into something almost doable. If you’re a person (like me) who can only relax when the house is clean and tidy, housework can easily begin to feel never-ending. The TOMM method gives it both shape and limits so it feels like a series of short, purposeful tasks rather than an eternal grind and gives you plenty of time for the rest of your life.
Even better is the tone. Bray writes with the sort of relaxed, reassuring voice you’d want from a friend who has been there and doesn’t judge you for having dust bunnies under the sofa. The method acknowledges real life - kids, work, chaos - and offers gentle, practical scaffolding rather than guilt or Instagram-perfect goals. It’s about reclaiming time, not creating more chores, and that’s exactly why it works so well.
Give it a try if: you want a clean, tidy house but the to-do list feels overwhelming; you love books which have a sense of humour; you want to find a good balance between chores and the rest of your life; you want to feel more peaceful and relaxed in your home but have too much clutter to be able to switch off.
“This is what we should all be doing as we grow older—a deep dive into what old age really looks like and training for it rather than just crossing our fingers and hoping that our genetics are good. You may not be able to prevent a catastrophe like cancer or Parkinson’s disease, but there are things you can do to prepare for the years ahead, even if old age is very far ahead.”
So what’s it about? Built to Move isn’t a gym-style training manual or another “more burpees” fitness book. It’s a practical, life-friendly guide to helping your body feel better now and to age with more ease and joy. Drawing on decades of experience with athletes, military personnel and everyday people, the Starretts ask what makes a durable, agile human in an age of chairs, screens and sedentary jobs. The book centres on a simple but powerful formula: a set of ten easy movement tests paired with ten practices you can weave into daily life to improve mobility, reduce stiffness and support long-term health. Alongside this, they weave in sensible advice on breathing, sleep, nutrition and how to sneak more natural movement into your day so your body stays useful rather than creaky.
What’s great about it? Where Built to Move really lands is in its accessibility. You don’t need a gym membership, a smart watch or an hour of free time to start. The tests and practices are grounded in everyday life - things like getting up and down from the floor, walking enough steps, and reclaiming the hip and shoulder mobility that modern sitting habits have eroded. That focus on simple, repeatable habits makes the book feel less like a programme you’ll ditch after a week and more like a set of tools you can actually use.
Even better, it doesn’t preach performance for its own sake. The Starretts are less interested in how fast you can sprint or how heavy you can lift, and more in how your body feels and functions in your life now, and ten years from now. There’s a gentle long-game perspective here - movement as longevity, as comfort, as freedom of motion rather than punishment. For anyone who’s ever felt stiffness, nagging aches or simply a creeping sense that their body isn’t as spry as it used to be, this book offers a grounded, encouraging way forward without melodrama or technical intimidation.
What I love most about this book is that it’s not a book for people who are already passionate about exercise; instead, it’s a book for people who want to live well, and the focus is very much on how to stay as healthy as possible for as long as possible rather than on how to excel in any given area.
Give it a try if: you want to get healthier but have no desire to run a marathon or get really into a particular sport; you want to age gracefully and healthily; you want to be able to move easily on a day to day basis.
“Finding meaning does not require us to live differently; it requires us to see our lives differently. Many of us already live far more meaningful lives than we know. When we go beyond the superficial to the essential, things that are familiar and even commonplace are revealed in new ways. Meaning may change the way we see ourselves and the world. People who have felt themselves to be victims may be surprised to realize they are heroes.”
So what’s it about? My Grandfather’s Blessings is a luminous collection of stories, reflections and gentle wisdom drawn from Rachel Naomi Remen’s life as a doctor, teacher and granddaughter of an Orthodox rabbi who saw life as a tapestry of connection and meaning. At its heart is the idea that our lives are filled with blessings we often overlook - moments of grace, kindness and belonging that slip past when we’re distracted by busyness, fear or difficult emotions. Drawing on encounters with patients facing illness, her own personal journey and the lessons from her grandfather’s mystical way of seeing the world, Remen invites the reader to recognise and receive the everyday gifts around us, and to offer blessings - by listening, by presence, by small acts of compassion - in return. It’s a book about belonging, wholeness, service and discovering that the ordinary can be sacred if we learn to see it.
What’s great about it? What makes this book truly resonate is its quiet, human scale. Remen isn’t trying to dazzle you with cleverness or grand theories; she meets you where you are - in the messy, unpolished middle of real life - and shows how tenderness and meaning grow out of ordinary experiences. Her stories of patients, of grief and resilience, of humour and heartbreak, are shared with a mix of humility and clarity that feels like a friend speaking to you over tea rather than a sermon from on high. There’s a profound warmth here: no sugar-coating, just an invitation to slow down and recognise the sparks of goodness around (and within) us.
The book’s wisdom isn’t abstract. It’s rooted in practical humanity - how listening generously can heal, how simple acts of service create connection, how recognising blessings can become a practice rather than a fleeting thought. Remen gently reframes suffering not as something to be fixed or feared, but as a doorway to compassion and wholeness, reminding us that our shared vulnerability can be a source of belonging rather than shame. It’s a rare kind of book: thoughtful without being heavy, spiritual without being vague, and generous without being idealistic.
Give it a try if: you want to nurture a sense of spirituality without necessarily engaging in religion; you love thoughtful books about human nature; you love stories about family, courage and love; you enjoy books which are philosophical yet easy to read.
I hope you found something good to read here. As ever, I’d love to hear if you’ve read and loved (or even hated) any of the books here, and which ones you’d add to the list. You can reply directly to this email or leave a comment by clicking the button below.
In the meantime, I wish you happy reading,
Kate
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