On Monday 4 May 2015 I finished The Sultan's Tigers by Josh Lacey - this was the only book I think we managed to read together in our intergenerational book club (we borrowed two copies from the library), which was a shame, since I liked the idea, and I'd even been given a hand-drawn membership card.
It wasn't chosen by me, and I didn't like it at all. It was an adventure story, in which the narrator was the boy, away with his dodgy uncle. It wasn't that well-written, the story as a whole was implausible, but worst of all was that the boy and the uncle were really rather unpleasant (not least to/about the boy's parents) - one kept thinking that there would be some moment or process of change or realisation or revealing that they weren't really so bad, but there never was.
My dislike of the book was somewhat pooh-poohed, but I notice that I'm pretty sure none of his other books have been bought or borrowed.