Review: A Little Hatred

A Little Hatred Cover Art

A Little Hatred by Joe Abercrombie marks a triumphant return to the world of the First Law, opening the Age of Madness trilogy with confidence, intelligence, and a keen sense of evolution. Set a generation after the events of the original trilogy, the novel explores a society on the brink of industrial change, where old powers linger uneasily alongside new ambitions and technologies.

One of the most striking aspects of A Little Hatred is its depth of storytelling. Abercrombie weaves together multiple perspectives, each offering a different view of a world in transition. From the political manoeuvring of the Union to the unrest among the working classes, the narrative feels layered and deliberate. The story is not simply about grand conflicts but about the shifting structures of power, the cost of progress, and the personal compromises that accompany both. This breadth gives the novel a richness that rewards careful attention.

For readers familiar with The First Law Trilogy, the novel offers a wealth of satisfying connections. Characters from the earlier books cast long shadows, and their influence can be felt in both subtle and overt ways. The return of familiar names and the continuation of unresolved threads create a strong sense of continuity. At the same time, the story remains accessible to newcomers, as the new generation of characters takes centre stage. These callbacks are handled with care, adding depth without becoming overly reliant on nostalgia.

Characterisation, as always with Abercrombie, is a major strength. The cast is diverse and vividly realised, each individual shaped by their circumstances and personal ambitions. Whether it is Savine dan Glokta navigating the treacherous world of finance and politics, or Leo dan Brock striving to live up to an ideal of heroism, the characters feel authentic and complex. Their flaws are as prominent as their strengths, and their reactions to stress and uncertainty are recognisably human. Abercrombie has a talent for revealing the contradictions within people, allowing them to be both admirable and deeply flawed.

The world itself has evolved in interesting ways since the original trilogy. The rise of industry and the accompanying social tensions provide a fresh backdrop for the story. Factories, labour disputes, and technological innovation introduce new challenges and conflicts, giving the setting a sense of dynamism. This shift does not replace the familiar elements of the series but rather builds upon them, creating a world that feels both continuous and transformed.

The tone of the novel balances grim realism with sharp wit. Abercrombie’s trademark humour is present throughout, often emerging in the form of dry observations and ironic contrasts. This humour does not undermine the seriousness of the story but instead enhances it, providing moments of relief while also highlighting the absurdities of power and ambition.

The audiobook is elevated significantly by the narration of Steven Pacey. Pacey’s performance has long been associated with the First Law universe, and his return here is nothing short of exceptional. He brings each character to life with distinct voices and nuanced delivery, ensuring that the large cast remains clear and engaging.

Pacey’s ability to convey emotion is particularly impressive. He captures the tension, frustration, and occasional vulnerability of the characters with subtle shifts in tone and pacing. His portrayal of dialogue feels natural and immersive, drawing the listener into each interaction. The rhythm of his narration complements Abercrombie’s prose, allowing both the humour and the drama to land effectively.

Another strength of Pacey’s performance is his handling of the novel’s shifting perspectives. Moving between different characters and locations, he maintains a consistent sense of flow while giving each viewpoint its own identity. This clarity is essential in a story of this scope, and Pacey delivers it with confidence and skill.

Overall, A Little Hatred is a compelling and richly constructed novel that successfully builds on the legacy of the First Law trilogy while forging its own path. Its depth of story, strong characterisation, and evolving world make it a rewarding read. With Steven Pacey’s outstanding narration enhancing every aspect of the text, the audiobook becomes an especially immersive and satisfying experience.

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Review: The Sixth Precept

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The Sixth Precept by J. M. Dalgliesh is another compelling entry in a series that continues to grow in confidence and complexity. Set against the evocative backdrop of Yorkshire, the novel blends atmospheric storytelling with a carefully constructed investigation, drawing readers into a case that feels both immediate and deeply rooted in the past.

At its core, the book delivers a mystery that unfolds with deliberate precision. What initially appears to be a straightforward case quickly develops into something far more intricate, with multiple threads weaving together to form a narrative that rewards attention. Dalgliesh has a clear talent for layering his plots, allowing clues to emerge gradually while maintaining a steady sense of tension. The depth of the mystery is one of the novel’s greatest strengths. Each revelation feels earned, and the connections between events are handled with care, avoiding the sense of contrivance that can sometimes undermine crime fiction.

A key aspect of the novel’s appeal is its interconnectedness with earlier entries in the series. While The Sixth Precept can be enjoyed as a standalone story, returning readers will find additional layers of meaning in the ongoing development of characters and relationships. Subtle references to past cases and evolving personal dynamics add richness to the narrative, creating a sense of continuity that enhances the overall experience. This broader context never overwhelms the central plot but instead deepens it, making the world feel cohesive and lived in.

The character work is consistently strong, particularly in the portrayal of the investigative team. Their interactions feel natural, shaped by shared history as well as the pressures of the current case. There is a welcome sense of realism in how they respond to setbacks and discoveries, with moments of doubt and frustration balanced by determination and professionalism. This grounding in believable human behaviour helps anchor the more complex elements of the story.

The audiobook version is elevated significantly by the narration of Greg Patmore. Patmore brings a measured and controlled delivery that suits the tone of the novel perfectly. His portrayal of Detective Inspector Caslin is particularly effective. The performance is almost laconic, capturing the character’s analytical mindset and understated authority without resorting to exaggeration. This restraint allows the tension of the investigation to build naturally, giving weight to both dialogue and internal reflection.

Patmore’s pacing is another notable strength. He allows scenes to breathe where necessary, particularly during moments of deduction or quiet conversation, while maintaining momentum during more dramatic developments. His character voices are distinct without being overly theatrical, which helps preserve the grounded feel of the story. The result is a narration that enhances immersion, drawing the listener deeper into the unfolding mystery.

Overall, The Sixth Precept stands as a strong and satisfying addition to Dalgliesh’s body of work. Its layered plotting, well realised characters, and thoughtful integration with the wider series make it a rewarding read. Combined with Greg Patmore’s nuanced narration, the audiobook becomes an engaging and immersive experience that will appeal to both new listeners and long time followers of the series.

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Review: A Wind in the Door

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A Wind in the Door by Madeleine L'Engle is a thoughtful and imaginative sequel to A Wrinkle in Time, one that leans even further into abstraction, philosophy, and the strange beauty of its ideas. While it may feel more complex and at times more unusual than its predecessor, it rewards patience with a story that is rich in meaning and quietly profound.

The novel returns to Meg Murry, now slightly older and facing challenges that are more internal than external. Her younger brother Charles Wallace is once again at the centre of events, this time threatened by a mysterious illness that seems to operate on a level beyond ordinary understanding. From this intimate starting point, L’Engle expands outward into a narrative that spans not just space but scale itself, moving into the microscopic and conceptual realms in a way that feels both daring and original.

What sets A Wind in the Door apart is its willingness to embrace complexity. The introduction of concepts such as farandolae, mitochondria, and the nature of naming as a force of order may initially seem daunting, especially for younger readers. Yet L’Engle presents these ideas with a sense of wonder that encourages curiosity rather than confusion. The story asks the reader to engage actively, to accept that not everything will be immediately clear, and to find meaning through experience rather than simple explanation.

The depth of character remains a central strength. Meg continues to be a compelling protagonist, defined as much by her insecurities as by her determination. Her struggle with self worth is particularly resonant here, as she is forced to confront not just external threats but her own perception of her abilities. Charles Wallace, meanwhile, is portrayed with a vulnerability that adds emotional weight to the story. His condition creates a sense of urgency that underpins the more abstract elements of the narrative.

New characters such as Proginoskes, the cherubim, bring a different kind of presence to the story. These beings are not easily understood, yet they are imbued with a warmth and wisdom that makes them memorable. Their interactions with Meg and the others highlight the novel’s emphasis on connection, compassion, and the power of language.

The world building in this instalment is less about physical locations and more about conceptual space. L’Engle explores the idea that the universe operates on multiple levels simultaneously, from the vastness of the cosmos to the intricate workings of a single cell. This layered approach gives the story a unique texture, even if it occasionally feels challenging to grasp fully. For readers willing to engage with it, however, it offers a deeply rewarding experience.

The audiobook, narrated by Jennifer Ehle, enhances the novel’s accessibility and emotional impact. Ehle brings a calm, measured clarity to the text, which is particularly valuable given the density of some of the material. Her narration helps ground the more abstract passages, making them easier to follow without diminishing their sense of wonder.

Ehle’s performance captures Meg’s emotional journey with sensitivity, conveying both her frustration and her growing confidence. Her handling of dialogue is subtle yet effective, giving each character a distinct presence without resorting to exaggerated voices. This approach suits the tone of the novel, which often relies on quiet moments of realisation rather than overt drama.

Her pacing is another strength. She allows the story to unfold at a steady rhythm, giving listeners time to absorb the ideas being presented. In moments of tension, she gently increases the urgency, maintaining engagement while preserving the reflective quality that defines much of the narrative.

Overall, A Wind in the Door is a bold and imaginative continuation of L’Engle’s work. It may not have the immediate accessibility of its predecessor, but it offers greater depth and a willingness to explore challenging ideas. With strong character work, inventive world building, and Jennifer Ehle’s thoughtful narration, it stands as a rewarding and memorable addition to the series.

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Review: A Wrinkle in Time

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A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle remains a landmark of imaginative children’s literature, blending science fiction, fantasy, and philosophical reflection into a story that continues to resonate across generations. It is a novel that invites readers to embrace curiosity, courage, and individuality, all while exploring concepts that feel surprisingly expansive for a book of its size.

At its heart, the story follows Meg Murry, a young girl struggling with self doubt and a sense of not fitting in, as she embarks on an extraordinary journey across space and time. Accompanied by her gifted younger brother Charles Wallace and their friend Calvin, Meg is drawn into a mission to rescue her father from a dark and oppressive force. The narrative unfolds with a dreamlike logic, moving between familiar domestic settings and strange, otherworldly environments that challenge both the characters and the reader.

One of the novel’s greatest strengths lies in its sense of wonder. L’Engle introduces complex ideas such as tesseracts, higher dimensions, and the nature of good and evil in a way that feels accessible without being simplistic. The world building is imaginative and distinctive, with each new location offering its own atmosphere and underlying philosophy. From the warmth of Mrs Whatsit, Mrs Who, and Mrs Which to the unsettling uniformity of Camazotz, the settings are vivid and memorable.

The depth of character is equally notable. Meg is an especially compelling protagonist because of her flaws. She is often impatient, uncertain, and prone to anger, yet these qualities make her growth feel genuine. Her journey is not just about travelling through space but about learning to trust herself and accept her own worth. Charles Wallace, with his precocious intelligence, and Calvin, with his quiet empathy, provide strong contrasts that enrich the emotional dynamics of the story.

The audiobook presentation adds another dimension to this already rich narrative. The inclusion of multiple narrators, including Hope Davis, Ava DuVernay, and Charlotte Jones Voiklis, creates a layered and engaging listening experience. Each voice brings a slightly different texture to the story, reflecting its shifting tones and perspectives.

Hope Davis provides a grounded and expressive narration that captures Meg’s emotional journey with sensitivity. Her delivery conveys both the vulnerability and determination of the character, making it easy to connect with Meg’s struggles and triumphs. Ava DuVernay’s contributions add a sense of clarity and gravitas, particularly in passages that touch on the novel’s broader themes. Her voice lends weight to the more philosophical elements of the text, helping to emphasise its enduring relevance. Charlotte Jones Voiklis, as L’Engle’s granddaughter, brings a personal connection to the material that feels both respectful and intimate. Her narration carries a warmth that complements the story’s underlying message of love and resilience.

Together, this ensemble approach enhances the storytelling rather than distracting from it. The shifts between narrators are handled smoothly, and the variation in tone keeps the listening experience fresh. It feels almost as though the story is being passed between voices, echoing its themes of connection and shared understanding.

What makes A Wrinkle in Time so enduring is its willingness to engage with big ideas while remaining deeply human. It explores darkness and conformity without losing sight of hope and individuality. The narrative may at times feel unconventional in its structure, but this only adds to its charm, reinforcing the sense that the universe it depicts operates beyond ordinary rules.

Overall, this is a beautifully imaginative and emotionally resonant work that continues to captivate new audiences. With its rich world building, memorable characters, and the added dimension of a thoughtfully performed audiobook, A Wrinkle in Time stands as a timeless and rewarding experience.

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Review: London Rules

London Rules Cover Art (TV Tie-in)

London Rules by Mick Herron is another sharp, darkly funny, and impressively constructed entry in the Slough House series. By this point, Herron has fully mastered the delicate balance between satire and suspense, delivering a novel that is as insightful about institutional power as it is entertaining as a spy thriller.

The premise centres on a series of apparently random terrorist attacks that leave both the public and the intelligence services scrambling for answers. As panic spreads and political pressure mounts, the guiding principle becomes the eponymous “London Rules,” an informal understanding that, when something goes wrong, responsibility must be quickly and decisively shifted elsewhere. This concept sits at the heart of the novel, shaping both the investigation and the behaviour of those in positions of authority.

As with earlier books in the series, the plot is intricate and, at times, seemingly improbable. The connections between events are not immediately obvious, and the narrative weaves together multiple strands that only gradually converge. On the surface, some of the developments stretch credibility. Yet Herron grounds the story in such a convincing depiction of human behaviour and institutional self preservation that it all feels plausible. The decisions made by characters, particularly those in senior positions, are driven by fear, ambition, and the need to protect their own reputations, which makes the unfolding drama feel authentic.

The realism of the characters is once again one of Herron’s greatest strengths. The inhabitants of Slough House remain a collection of flawed, often side-lined individuals who react to stress in recognisably human ways. They argue, misjudge situations, and occasionally let personal grievances influence their actions. At the same time, moments of courage and competence emerge, often when least expected. This balance between weakness and resilience gives the novel its emotional weight.

The machinations of power within the intelligence services are portrayed with a cynical but believable eye. Senior figures are less concerned with uncovering the truth than with managing the narrative and avoiding blame. Decisions are made behind closed doors, alliances shift rapidly, and those lower down the hierarchy are frequently left to deal with the consequences. This depiction of bureaucratic manoeuvring adds a layer of tension that runs alongside the more immediate threat of the attacks themselves.

At the centre of it all is Jackson Lamb, the dishevelled and abrasive head of Slough House. Lamb remains one of the most compelling figures in contemporary spy fiction, combining apparent indifference with a sharp and calculating mind. His interactions with both his team and his superiors are laced with biting humour, but there is also a sense of underlying loyalty that becomes more apparent as the story unfolds.

The audiobook is elevated significantly by the narration of Sean Barrett. Barrett’s performance captures the tone of the series perfectly, blending dry wit with understated tension. His portrayal of Lamb is particularly effective, conveying the character’s lethargic manner and hidden intelligence with subtle precision.

Barrett also excels at differentiating the wider cast, ensuring that each character feels distinct without resorting to exaggeration. This is especially important in a novel with multiple perspectives and intersecting plotlines. His pacing allows the complexity of the story to unfold clearly, guiding the listener through the various threads without confusion.

In moments of heightened tension, Barrett’s delivery becomes slightly sharper, reflecting the urgency of the situation while maintaining the overall restraint that defines the narration. This approach enhances the impact of key scenes and ensures that the humour and drama remain in balance.

Overall, London Rules is a thoroughly engaging and well crafted novel that showcases Mick Herron’s strengths as both a storyteller and a satirist. Its blend of complex plotting, realistic characterisation, and sharp commentary on power makes it a standout entry in the series. With Sean Barrett’s excellent narration bringing the story vividly to life, the audiobook offers an immersive and rewarding experience for fans of intelligent, character driven espionage fiction.

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Review: The Player of Games

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The Player of Games by Iain M. Banks is a superb continuation of the Culture series, refining and deepening many of the ideas introduced in Consider Phlebas while offering a more focused and character driven narrative. It is a novel that combines intellectual intrigue with rich world building, resulting in a story that is both engaging and quietly thought provoking.

At the centre of the novel is Jernau Morat Gurgeh, a master game player from the Culture, a civilisation defined by its post scarcity abundance and reliance on advanced artificial intelligences. Gurgeh’s life is one of comfort and prestige, yet it is also marked by a certain restlessness. When he is invited to take part in a complex and politically significant game in the Empire of Azad, he accepts, setting in motion a journey that challenges not only his skills but his understanding of himself and the societies around him.

The depth of character in the novel is one of its greatest strengths. Gurgeh is not a traditional hero, but he is deeply compelling. His confidence, pride, and occasional moral uncertainty make him feel fully realised. As the story progresses, his reactions to new experiences and increasing pressure reveal layers of vulnerability beneath his composed exterior. Supporting characters, including both humans and artificial intelligences, are equally well drawn. Banks has a remarkable ability to convey personality through dialogue and subtle detail, giving even minor figures a sense of presence.

World building is handled with similar care. The Culture itself is presented in greater detail here, offering a clearer picture of its values and internal dynamics. At the same time, the Empire of Azad provides a striking contrast. Its rigid hierarchy, competitive ethos, and the central role of the game that defines its society create a setting that feels both alien and disturbingly familiar. Banks uses this contrast to explore themes of power, control, and the ways in which systems of competition can shape entire cultures.

The complexity of the story lies not only in its plot but in the ideas it engages with. The game of Azad is more than a simple contest. It is a reflection of the empire’s political and social structure, with each move carrying symbolic and practical consequences. As Gurgeh progresses through the tournament, the narrative becomes increasingly layered, blending strategy, psychological tension, and political intrigue. Banks manages to convey the significance of the game without overwhelming the reader with technical detail, maintaining a balance between accessibility and depth.

The audiobook is greatly enhanced by the narration of Peter Kenny. Kenny delivers a performance that captures both the intellectual tone of the novel and its underlying emotional currents. His portrayal of Gurgeh reflects the character’s confidence and gradual transformation, while his handling of other voices ensures that each character remains distinct and recognisable.

Kenny’s pacing is particularly effective in a story that alternates between moments of quiet reflection and intense competition. He allows the tension of the game sequences to build naturally, giving the listener time to absorb the stakes involved. At the same time, his delivery of the novel’s more contemplative passages adds weight to the themes being explored.

Overall, The Player of Games is a richly rewarding novel that showcases Iain M. Banks at his best. It combines strong character work, detailed world building, and a narrative that is both intellectually and emotionally engaging. With Peter Kenny’s excellent narration bringing the story to life, the audiobook offers an immersive experience that highlights the depth and complexity of this outstanding work of science fiction.

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Review: Consider Phlebas

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Consider Phlebas by Iain M. Banks is a bold and ambitious introduction to the Culture series, one that immediately establishes the scale, complexity, and philosophical depth that would come to define Banks’ science fiction. Rather than easing the reader into this universe, the novel immerses you in the middle of a vast interstellar conflict, trusting you to find your footing as the story unfolds.

Set during a war between the Culture and the Idiran Empire, the novel follows Bora Horza Gobuchul, a shape changing mercenary who finds himself aligned against the Culture. This choice of protagonist is one of the book’s most interesting aspects. By focusing on a character who opposes what is often presented as a utopian civilisation, Banks invites the reader to question assumptions about morality, progress, and power. Horza is not an easy hero to embrace, but he is compelling. His motivations, loyalties, and contradictions give the narrative a strong emotional anchor.

The depth of character throughout the novel is impressive. Even secondary figures are given enough detail to feel distinct and believable. Banks has a talent for suggesting entire lives and histories with relatively small amounts of text, which contributes to the sense that this universe extends far beyond the immediate story. Characters react to danger, loss, and shifting alliances in ways that feel grounded and human, even within the novel’s far future setting.

World building is where Consider Phlebas truly excels. The Culture itself is only glimpsed from the outside for much of the story, yet it feels vast and fully realised. Its post scarcity society, governed in large part by advanced artificial intelligences, stands in stark contrast to the more rigid and hierarchical Idiran Empire. Beyond these two major powers, the novel introduces a wide range of locations, species, and technologies, each adding another layer to the setting. From orbital habitats to derelict structures drifting in space, every environment feels carefully imagined.

The complexity of the story is both a strength and, at times, a challenge. The narrative moves through a series of episodes that can feel almost self contained, yet they gradually build towards a larger conclusion. There are moments of intense action, quieter passages of reflection, and sudden shifts in tone that keep the reader on edge. This structure reinforces the unpredictability of the universe Banks has created, though it does require a degree of patience and attention to fully appreciate how the pieces fit together.

The audiobook is greatly enhanced by the narration of Peter Kenny. Kenny brings clarity and energy to a text that could easily become overwhelming. His ability to differentiate characters helps guide the listener through the novel’s many perspectives, and his pacing ensures that even the more complex sections remain engaging.

Kenny also captures the tonal shifts of the story effectively. He handles action sequences with urgency, while giving quieter moments the space they need to resonate. His narration adds a sense of cohesion to the episodic structure, helping the story feel more unified as it progresses.

Overall, Consider Phlebas is a challenging but rewarding read. It offers rich characterisation, expansive world building, and a story that is unafraid to embrace complexity. With Peter Kenny’s strong narration bringing the text to life, the audiobook becomes an accessible and immersive way to experience one of the most distinctive works in modern science fiction.

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Review: The Fireman

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The Fireman by Joe Hill is a bold, emotionally resonant, and often unsettling novel that blends apocalyptic horror with deeply human storytelling. It takes a high concept premise and grounds it in character, relationships, and the fragile structures that hold society together. The result is a work that feels both expansive in scope and intimate in its emotional focus.

The story centres on a global pandemic known as Dragonscale, a fungal infection that causes those afflicted to spontaneously combust. It is a striking and memorable idea, one that allows Hill to explore themes of fear, control, and the breakdown of order. As the infection spreads, society fractures in ways that feel disturbingly plausible. Communities turn inward, paranoia grows, and the line between survival and cruelty becomes increasingly blurred.

At the heart of the novel is Harper Grayson, a nurse who finds herself infected and pregnant as the world begins to collapse around her. Harper is an engaging and sympathetic protagonist, defined by her compassion and resilience. She is not immune to fear or doubt, but she continues to act with a sense of purpose that makes her easy to root for. Through her perspective, Hill explores the emotional toll of the apocalypse, focusing not just on survival but on what it means to remain humane in the face of overwhelming adversity.

The figure of the Fireman himself adds a mythic quality to the narrative. As a character, he embodies both danger and hope, reflecting the dual nature of the Dragonscale infection. Hill uses him to explore the idea that even the most destructive forces can be understood and, perhaps, controlled. This tension between destruction and possibility runs throughout the novel and gives it much of its thematic weight.

Hill’s prose is one of the book’s greatest strengths. His writing is vivid and evocative, capable of capturing both the horror of the situation and the quieter, more reflective moments that give the story its emotional depth. There are passages that feel almost lyrical, particularly when Hill reflects on memory, family, and the persistence of culture even as the world falls apart.

It is in these moments that readers may notice the influence of Stephen King, Hill’s father. The novel contains several poignant echoes of King’s work, not in a derivative sense but as a kind of literary conversation. Themes of community under pressure, the endurance of ordinary people, and the intrusion of the extraordinary into everyday life all feel like a continuation of that tradition. These references add a layer of richness for readers familiar with King’s writing, creating a sense of continuity between generations of storytelling.At times, however, the novel includes references that feel slightly less integrated.

Mentions of J. K. Rowling and her work can come across as somewhat jarring due to her continued ranting about trans issues. While they reflect the cultural landscape in which the story is set, they occasionally pull the reader out of the narrative rather than enhancing it. This is a minor issue in the context of the broader novel, but it stands out precisely because so much else feels carefully constructed and immersive.

The audiobook adaptation is elevated significantly by the narration of Kate Mulgrew. Mulgrew delivers a performance that is both powerful and nuanced, capturing the emotional complexity of the story with impressive skill. Her voice conveys Harper’s vulnerability and determination, making the character’s journey feel immediate and personal.

Mulgrew’s pacing is particularly effective. She allows scenes to breathe when necessary, giving weight to moments of reflection and emotional connection. At the same time, she builds tension expertly during scenes of danger or conflict. Her ability to shift between these modes ensures that the narrative remains engaging throughout its considerable length.

Another strength of Mulgrew’s narration is her character work. She differentiates the various voices in the story with clarity and subtlety, avoiding caricature while still giving each character a distinct presence. This is especially important in a novel that features a wide range of personalities and perspectives. Mulgrew’s performance helps bring these characters to life in a way that enhances the emotional impact of the story.

Ultimately, The Fireman succeeds because it is more than just an apocalyptic thriller. It is a story about community, resilience, and the enduring power of hope. Hill takes a terrifying premise and uses it to explore what people are capable of when the world falls apart, both for better and for worse.

With its rich prose, compelling characters, and strong thematic core, the novel stands as one of Hill’s most accomplished works. Kate Mulgrew’s outstanding narration adds an additional layer of depth, making the audiobook a particularly rewarding experience. Despite a few minor tonal inconsistencies, this is a gripping and often moving story that lingers in the mind long after it has ended.

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