Five Books to Read in June 2025

June is time for big decisions which will likely shape the rest of summer, not least when it comes to books. Here are five recommendations to pack alongside that holiday page-turner.

THE MÖBIUS BOOK, Catherine Lacey

Bloomsbury Circus, pp. 240

Catherine Lacey is the author of recent literary sensation Biography of X which followed the narrator, a grieving widow, as she tried to piece together the life of her late partner—larger-than-life artist X—by investigating her traumatic childhood growing up in Southern Territory, a version of the American South that in the world of the novel has managed to secede the rest of the country after the World War Two. 

The Möbius Book, her latest offering, resumes where that one left off. Not only does one of the two storylines follow a character (Lacey herself) and similarly in thrall of her domineering partner, the two storylines—the memoir and the fiction—form a closed loop, in which the reader can pick up the book at either end until one story tips into the other.

This is not the first time a conceit like this has been tried—I am thinking of Hopscotch by Julio Cortázar—but one thing is trying, and another is pulling it off in a way that adds to the reading experience. If you like stuff that pushes the envelope, this is the author for you.

PORTRAIT OF AN ISLAND ON FIRE, Ariel Saramandi

Fitzcarraldo Editions, pp. 352

An unflinching account of a country at a crossroads, The Portrait of an Island on Fire by Anglo-Mauritian author Ariel Saramandi explores the way in which colonialism and its lasting consequences—patriarchy, racism, and more recently, climate change—continue to shape Mauritius to this day. 

Like Annie Ernaux, Saramandi isn’t afraid to put herself directly on the line and sometimes risk being shunned not just by society but in some cases in her own family while speaking out.

A case in point is her essay titled “An Education”. Originally published in Grants in 2019, it is anchored around a single anecdote—Saramandi’s visit to a elite, predominantly French-speaking high school on occasion of the Day of Mauritian Literature—but manages different strands to show how deep racism might run in Mauritian society. And how in order to survive, it relies on a foundation of both complacency and outright denial. 

LONE WOLF: Walking the Faultlines of Europe, Adam Weymouth

Hutchinson Heinemann, pp. 384

Retracing the 1,200-mile journey that in 2011 took a wolf named Slavc from its native Slovenia all the way to the Italian Alps, where he was to start the the first wolf-pack in more than a century—Lone Wolf: Walking the Faultlines of Europe by British travel writer Adam Weymouth attempts two things. On the one hand, it’s a deep dive into the world of this animal, which for so long has been considered the ultimate threat, especially in folklore. One the other, it is an exploration of how its slow reintroduction—the result of the efforts of conservationists, new laws, and chance—has been politicised and made into a kind of symbol of the rapid changes and attendant anxieties surfacing in the areas where it has been making its comeback.

This a true gem: well-written, deeply researched and reported, and insightful beyond its subject matter.

OUTCAST: A History of Leprosy, Humanity and Modernity, Oliver Basciano

Faber & Faber, pp. 320

Combining in-person reportage, interviews with those living with leprosy today, historical narrative, and critical theory—Outcast: A History of Leprosy, Humanity and Modernity by Oliver Basciano argues that a lot of the stigma and revulsion that comes with the disease is in fact tied to the complex forces that produced much of our modern word: colonialism, racism, the ostracisation and demonisation of certain populations for purposes of economic exploitation. 

The author has a tendency to bury the lede and wax lyrical at points. However, once you accustom yourself with the style, this is not just a fascinating history and compassionate dispatch from the four corners of the world, but one that might make you reconsider many things—not least how you look at sickness more broadly.

THE LITTLE I KNEW, Chiara Valerio

Foundry Editions, pp. 245

Chiara Valerio is one of just a handful of writers in Italy who can be said to have achieved a small degree of notoriety. Having now read The Little I Knew — published by two publishers I trust, Foundry Editions in the UK and Sellerio in Italy — left me wondering why I’ve overlooked Valerio’s work until now. 

Set in Scauri, the seaside town between Rome and Naples where Valerio is originally from—this novel which was shortlisted for the Italian Booker upon publication smartly deploys the tropes of the small town murder mystery to investigate the sort of secrets and undercurrents of desire that bubble under the surface of any community, however small and seemingly tranquil.

Translated from Italian by Ailsa Wood.

Bartolomeo Sala is a writer and reader based in London. His writing has appeared in Frieze, Vittles, and The Brooklyn Rail. You can find all of Bart’s writing for Something Curated here.

Header image courtesy of Pixabay / Pexels.