Charlotte Runcie's Desert Island Books

Featuring the first book to break Charlotte’s heart and an electric collection of poems...

I know lots of friends who’ve read—and loved—Salt on Your Tongue by Charlotte Runcie. It’s a beautiful mix of stories, legends, myths, and songs about the sea, and the women left waiting on the shore. It’s been on my to-read list for ages (plus ça change, etc.).

The first of hers I finally picked up was actually her recent novel, Bring the House Down. Set in Edinburgh, it’s a pacy, riveting read—a sharp, thoughtful exploration of criticism, responsibility, and cancel culture. When ruthless theatre critic Alex Lyons tears apart a Fringe show and then unknowingly sleeps with its creator, Hayley, she takes revenge by turning her next production into a brutal takedown of him. As Alex’s reputation unravels, the novel asks: where’s the line between honesty and cruelty, and who gets to decide? Told through the eyes of Alex’s colleague, Sophie, this is a smart, layered look at power, judgement, and moral grey areas.

If you’d like to buy a copy, please consider supporting local independent bookshops by ordering through Bookshop.org.

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I loved having Charlotte take part in Desert Island Books and learning more about the stories that have shaped her. From the novel she’ll never tire of, to an electric collection of poems, read on to find out which books she’d take with her to the sandy shores of a desert island…

David Copperfield by Charles Dickens

This isn’t really like taking a book to a desert island, this is like taking a whole group of friends. How could anyone be lonely on a desert island with Peggotty, Betsey Trotwood, Mr Micawber, Agnes Wickfield and David for company? Charles Dickens described it as his “favourite child”, Tolstoy said it was the best of Dickens and therefore the best of the world’s literature, and who am I to disagree? This was the first book that ever managed to both break my heart and put it back together again. One of the richest novels in the English language, I couldn’t ever get tired of reading it and living in its pages.

Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K Jerome

One of the funniest books ever, and the distilled essence of an idealistic yet ultimately disappointing British summer excursion. My mother gave me the beautiful hardback Folio Society edition as a birthday present just before she died, because I’d worn out the pages on my Penguin Classic paperback. I love it so much and, if I were alone on a desert island, I could just read it myself in peace forever. Bliss.

The Code of the Woosters by PG Wodehouse

I’m choosing another funny book. Well, you’ve got to enjoy your life. And writing funny books is so much harder than writing serious ones; it’s probably the skill I admire most in any author. PG Wodehouse is the genius at this and his Bertie Wooster books have restored my spirits in some dark times, so any of them would do, but I’m choosing The Code of the Woosters purely because it has the theft of the cow-creamer in it, which would lift the lowest heart.

The Complete Poems of E.E. Cummings

E.E. Cummings’s poems are electrifying; they scratch my brain in places other writers just can’t reach. His poetry does what the best poetry does, and makes you see the world from entirely new angles. Always fresh, this hefty collection is by turns sad, sexy, funny, frivolous and profound. All life is here.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

Suspense, beauty, drama (even some melodrama): Rebecca is maybe the most influential literary page-turner ever. I’ve read it three times and I’m not bored of it yet. I love it for the deeply troubling human psychology from pretty much every character, as well as how beautiful and immersive the sweeping Gothicness of it all becomes without ever being overpowering. It’s a book to get lost in.

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys

Island writing seems appropriate for a desert island, and this novel, imagining the story behind Jane Eyre and the first Mrs Rochester’s early life in Jamaica, is a vivid glimpse into the untold stories of women in history and literature. It’s also written in this wild, intoxicating way that I’ve loved ever since my secondary school English teacher lent me her copy when I was doing my GCSEs. Even now, Jean Rhys’s writing always makes me feel as if I’m in the middle of a lush lucid dream.

The Owl Service by Alan Garner

The story of the ancient Welsh myth of Blodeuwedd, a woman made from flowers cursed to become an owl, coming back to life to curse in turn three teenagers in a Welsh valley in the 1960s, is a stunning exploration of how we’re haunted by the past, both the ancient past and the more recent actions of parents and grandparents. It’s such a complex and tangled modern folk tale told with amazing economy, in pared back dialogue and deft characterisation. This spare novel is a great reminder of how what matters most in novels is sometimes what’s not on the page, leaving space for us to put things together ourselves.

Marcovaldo by Italo Calvino

Calvino is the master of taut, transporting tales that blend the surreal with the mundane. These captivating stories are often more like fables, and are usually read by children in Italy, but when they’re translated into English, I think of them as very grown-up stories of disappointment and disillusionment amid a sort of grubby, restorative everyday wonder. They’re melancholic and funny at the same time, an addictive combination. I’ll take a copy in Italian so I can give my brain more of a workout.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

The ultimate comfort read by the queen of the ironic narrative voice. A perfect novel. Sometimes I read it to study every scene and every character to try (and fail) to work out how she does it. Other times I read it just for the sheer joy of the story, the humour and the personal drama at its heart. Persuasion is a close second for me, so I might try to sneak that one to the island too if there’s space, but Pride and Prejudice is so obviously the best, sharpest, cleanest novel ever written that I simply don’t care how basic it makes me, I couldn’t be without it.