This Is Not a Book About Benedict Cumberbatch by Tabitha Carvan caught my eye just for the title. In fact, I thought it was fiction (apparently, I did not read the synopsis). Then, when I shared in my Books of Winter reading list that Caravan was forthcoming, several folks commented that I would enjoy it, as they had. Interestingly, my 2026 has started off with all nonfiction so far!

The full title of Australian author Tabitha Carvan’s book is This Is Not a Book About Benedict Cumberbatch: The Joy of Loving Something—Anything—Like Your Life Depends On It. Interestingly, I did even notice the subtitle, and I assumed this book would be about, yes, Benedict Cumberbatch. Firstly, before I move on to the review: I am not a fan girl of Benedict Cumberbatch. I think I saw some Marvel movie with my spouse, and Cumberbatch was in it? And he looks like Sid the Sloth? The only other movies of his I have seen was voice work as the dragon in the Hobbit trilogy (trilogy??) and as the titular character in Illumination’s The Grinch. Okay, so why did I buy this book? I dunno.

And yet, I was REALLY pleased with Carvan’s personal story, her relationship with Benedict Cumberbatch, and the way fandom changed her life. Carvan has lived in several countries, and at each location, she would create a blog about her experiences there—and this was before blog was even a word. As a writer, she had quite a following. Eventually, she settled in Canberra where she got married and had two children. Although her spouse sounds, in general, like a helpful, supportive individual, Carvan loses her identity to motherhood but doesn’t realize it.

That is, until Benedict Cumberbatch. Something about him wakens a dormant passion in Carvan, and not just something lusty. Instead, she’s obsessed like a teen girl over any boy band—The Beatles, Backstreeet Boys, One Direction, whatever—and feels deep shame. So, she hides it. Much later in the book Carvan reveals what her husband thinks about her obsession, so I won’t spoil that for you, but it’s an interesting component of the conversation. Does she even need to care what her husband thinks?

This Is Not a Book About Benedict Cumberbatch isn’t self-focused; Carvan interviews women in Australia, the US, and on blog forums about their relationship to the British superstar with the admittedly weird face. Women, often older than 50, admit that Cumberbatch reignited passion at its most fundamental level. Really, it has nothing to do with Cumberbatch; he was merely the vehicle, though some women argue there were no other vehicles. I appreciated hearing how similar their stories were, especially the obsessive re-watches of Sherlock, which I’ve never seen.

Although Carvan concludes that her book is about joy, I would argue it’s about shame. When a coworker decorates his cubicle obsessively with a soccer team’s logo, and has a tattoo, office mates find his obsession applaudable, while Carvan’s Benedict Cumberbatch calendar bothers everyone. The IT guy “reminds” Carvan that Cumberbatch has no idea she exists. Why are male fandoms celebrated as normal or healthy, while female fandoms are mocked and ridiculed? Recently, I asked my younger friend if she was a Twilight fan growing up, and she was somewhat apologetic about it.

Here is the beauty of Carvan’s book: I think every woman can relate to it. I started listing the fandoms of my youth (ages 10-20 are peak fandom years for girls), and they included: Big Trouble in Little China, Interview with the Vampire, Power Rangers, the Goosebumps series, and the Sweet Valley High books. Was I ashamed of my fandoms? Well, some. Goosebumps seemed to take boys and girls by storm, so they were accepted, and Big Trouble in Little China is an action film, a classic 1980s dude’s-dude movie, so that was fine, too. I find it so strange that one of my top visited blog posts is my review of the Sweet Valley Wakefield sagas. But now…I’m wondering if other readers, likely aged 50-ish (the first book was published in 1983), are out there looking for bits of info on their secret fandoms.

Although you could argue Carvan’s book (with the obscenely long title!) is for mothers trying to find themselves, not everyone she interviewed who was a “Cumberbitch” was a mother — nor am I. Women lose themselves in all kinds of ways. I distinctly remember it happening a few times, some small (such as being humiliated for liking a show or movie or music album) and others much bigger, such as the repeat shaming I experienced in grad school.

One project my senior year of high school had me deep diving into fandom only to regret my existence after my big presentation. We had read Dante’s Inferno and were tasked with creating our own levels of hell in some way. I think the goal was to consider morals. What’s bad, what’s worse. I decided to take the vampires from Interview with the Vampire and put them in hierarchical order. I obsessively reasoned out which vampire was an absolute a-hole and which was fairly harmless. I bought in the soundtrack to the movie and played it for the class, which was not cool in the era of the Dave Matthew’s Band because the CD was all moody orchestral stuff. I was really, really into it. Until I did the presentation and realized I wasn’t supposed to be. And yet the dude who smelled like weed and saw the DMB 19 times that year was really cool. Carvan convinced me that female fandoms are the problem, not fandoms in general.

I recommend everyone read This Is Not a Book About Benedict Cumberbatch. It has a self-help-ish/memoir/essay vibe though it’s useful, intelligent, and really funny. Carvan doesn’t dump zingers on us; instead, she creates a whole situation, making it difficult to include quotes that demonstrate she’s funny, because I would basically need to take a photo of a full page.

books of winter

• Savage Inequalities: Children in America’s Schools by Jonathan Kozol
• Monster: A Fan’s Dilemma by Claire Deder (DNF)
• This is Not a Book about Benedict Cumberbatch by Tabitha Carvan
• Crafting for Sinners by Jenny Kiefer
• Deliverance by James Dickey
• Devil’s Call by J. Danielle Dorn
• Jaws by Peter Benchley
• The Lost Girls by Allison Brennan (#11)
• The New York trilogy by Paul Auster
• The Man Who Shot Out My Eye is Dead by Chanelle Benz
• All of Me by Venise Berry
• At Wit’s End by Erma Bombeck
• Minding the Store: Great Literature About Business from Tolstoy to Now edited by Robert Coles and Albert LaFarge
• Touched by Kim Kelly
• Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man by Emmanuel Acho
• Awakened by Laura Elliott
• The Road to Helltown by S.M. Reine (Preternatural Affairs series #9)
• After Life by Andrew Neiderman
• Paradise Rot by Jenny Hval
• How to Save a Misfit by Ellen Cassidy
• Suggs Black Backtracks by Martha Ann Spencer