The Everling and the Acid King

J. Christie’s The Everling and the Acid King is one of those books that’s hard to classify neatly, which is exactly why I enjoyed it so much. It’s like someone threw The Umbrella Academy, A Series of Unfortunate Events, and Coraline into a blender, added some green electric lightning, and then told the story backward through a dream.

From the very first pages, we’re dropped into total chaos. The fall of the Greywatch, an almost mythic resistance group, sets the stage in a wildly cinematic opening where portals rip open and molers (terrifying, drooling creatures) invade. Amidst the mayhem, a strange, lightning-charged man named Winnifred Baker teleports a mysterious baby through dimension after dimension, desperately searching for somewhere safe. “We have many more to go. Many, many more,” Win says to the baby, and I was hooked.

That baby becomes Chester “Chezzy” Nithercot, our main protagonist, and he’s as charming as he is unlucky. Raised in a Dickensian orphanage, Chezzy bounces from near-adoption to near-adoption until he lands with the painfully perfect Fieldmores. That’s when things get weird. Imagine Stepford parents with obsessively matched outfits, etiquette rules by the dozen, and a secret monstrous son, “Little Stuart," who shoots spines out of his back and eats raw meat in the dark.

What stands out most in Christie’s writing is the surreal worldbuilding. It’s like peeling back layers of a nightmare wrapped in pastel wallpaper. The Fieldmores’ house is pristine, yet hiding a twisted reality, like the mirrored bedroom in the basement that’s a mutilated replica of Chezzy’s own. “It was Chezzy’s room. It mirrored his upstairs exactly." That moment gave me chills.

Christie has a gift for tonal shifts. One second, you're laughing at how absurd the Fieldmores’ dinner rules are: “You will receive word on what the dress theme will be for the day,” Mr. Fieldmore announces, and the next, you’re tense with dread as Chezzy sneaks through the house to uncover what’s really lurking in the dark.

If I had a gripe, it’s that the pacing occasionally goes full throttle into the bizarre without much warning. It’s disorienting at times, though that seems intentional. You’re not supposed to feel grounded in this world. You're supposed to question what's real right alongside Chezzy.

Ultimately, The Everling and the Acid King is a fever dream of found family, hidden trauma, and secret power. There’s sci-fi, fantasy, horror, and humor, and it all blends in a way that works better than it has any right to. I closed the book, still buzzing from it. Like the green lightning that transports Win across dimensions, this story zaps you out of your comfort zone, and that’s what great speculative fiction should do.

I don’t know what’s coming next in this series, but I’m in.


The Gestalt in the Machine

Reading The Gestalt in the Machine is like watching a cyberpunk noir film through the lens of a tech-savvy, jaded millennial who’s seen one too many tech expos turn dystopian. Andy Dornan delivers a whip-smart, genre-blending techno-thriller that manages to be both satire and mystery, often in the same paragraph. It’s part Philip K. Dick fever dream, part Silicon Valley takedown, with a pacing that’s compulsively readable.

The story follows Adam Arrowman, a cynical clickbait journalist thrust into investigative territory after witnessing a literal car bomb detonate during a tech convention, almost killing tech god Kelvin Clipper. Adam’s first instinct is to stream it for views, which says a lot about the world Dornan has created. “Technology journalism wasn’t exactly a high-status profession,” Adam reflects, “unless your name was Jerry Raveno," a nod to the gatekeeping elite of modern media and the tension between virality and real reporting.

Dornan’s world is packed with near-future plausibility. AI dating apps like Longtail punish users for not responding quickly enough to messages. Medical tech like Good Heart lets your coworkers monitor your vitals in real-time (“Kelvin Clipper is alive! At a balmy 310 in intensive care,” says a cheery mascot.). These techs aren't just window dressing; they drive the plot and force uncomfortable questions about privacy, personhood, and power.

The book’s strength lies in its narrative voice and thematic sharpness. It’s deeply self-aware, even smug at times, but always engaging. Adam, our protagonist, is both self-loathing and self-promoting. He’s not likable in the traditional sense, but he’s real. The humor is biting: “You’re just as immersed in marketing as me,” a PR rep tells Adam. “It’s still ads that pay your wages, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of." This moment encapsulates the novel’s core critique: everyone is complicit in the spectacle.

The murder mystery at the center: who tried to kill Clipper, and who murdered Raveno, is tightly wound and rewards close attention. Dornan is careful not to overplay the tech, grounding each speculative leap in recognizable fears. Themes of corporate overreach, algorithmic manipulation, environmental collapse, and the illusion of individuality ripple through every scene. This isn’t just Blade Runner with blogs. It reflects our current trajectory.

If I have a gripe, it’s that the plot occasionally gets buried beneath the commentary. Chapter titles like “The Algorithm of the Cave” and “Pretension is All You Need” hint at the book’s intellectual ambitions, but sometimes the philosophy crowds out the characters. Still, that’s a minor complaint in a novel that aims to provoke as much as entertain.

For fans of Charlie Brooker, Cory Doctorow, or Neal Stephenson, The Gestalt in the Machine is a must-read. It's brainy, funny, paranoid, and unsettling in all the best ways. In a world where “even your heartbeat is monetized,” Dornan's novel is the rare artifact that feels both urgent and eerily inevitable.

Also available in ebook format: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FGSD2J6J


Pillars of Creation: A Quest for the Great Name in a Nietzschean World

Carlos Nicolás Flores’s Pillars of Creation is a haunting, deeply immersive work of Chicano literature that traverses memory, identity, and the surreal psychological terrain of a young man straddling cultures, addictions, and inner turmoil. Through a kaleidoscopic narrative set on the Texas-Mexico border, Flores crafts a second-person, semi-hallucinatory journey that merges the mystical with the all-too-real struggles of life in a colonial.

The novel centers on Yoltic Cortez, a 25-year-old Tejano burdened by dreams of becoming a great writer, the decline of his aging father, and the aftermath of drug-fueled spiritual trances. From the opening pages, where Yoltic floats above Cuatro Vientos as if he himself is a cloud (“You floated westward, face down, stretching your arms north and south”), the narrative immerses the reader in a lyrical, often dreamlike vision of a man whose search for meaning teeters between divine ecstasy and existential dread.

Flores's use of the second-person voice is bold and intimate. It invites the reader not just to observe, but to become Yoltic and to feel his longing, shame, pride, and paralysis. Themes of addiction, memory, family duty, and cultural fragmentation recur throughout the text. Yoltic is caught between his desire to transcend the limitations of his border-town life and the obligations to his roots and family. Particularly poignant are the moments with his dying father, who scorns his literary aspirations yet serves as a symbol of endurance, tradition, and unspoken love.

The novel also grapples with broader cultural identity questions, especially what it means to be Chicano. Through discussions of literature, politics, and Yoltic’s own failures, Flores critiques both Anglo and Mexican perceptions of pochos, those straddling the boundary of two languages and identities. “We’re pochos because neither the gringos nor the Mexicans think much of us,” Yoltic explains, setting the stage for a painful but honest internal reckoning.

A rich thread running through the novel is the idea of spiritual searching and the hunger for meaning in a world that offers little. Whether it’s through religious memory, drug-induced visions, or books and poetry, Yoltic seeks something transcendent. The influence of his mother’s faith (“Honor thy father and mother… Shame is the source of all sin") and his own forays into philosophy reveal a fractured soul desperate for coherence.

Though the novel is dense, it is also lush and rewarding. At times, the surrealism may test readers’ patience, particularly the long, meandering hallucinations or philosophical musings, but these are deliberate choices, echoing the chaos and emotional depth of the protagonist’s world.

In sum, Pillars of Creation is not a light read, but it is a powerful one. For readers who appreciate layered storytelling, complex identity themes, and Chicano cultural commentary, Flores delivers a novel that is both deeply personal and universal in its existential questioning. A significant addition to contemporary Southwestern literature.


Pillars of Creation is a richly layered literary novel that plunges readers into the mind and memories of Yoltic Cortez, a young Chicano man navigating the complexities of identity, culture, and faith on the Texas-Mexico border. Set in the fictional colonia of Cuatro Vientos, the novel unfolds through a mix of hallucinatory introspection and grounded, sensory-rich scenes, pulling the reader into the blurred lines between the spiritual and the surreal.

At its core, the novel is an existential exploration of a fractured self. Yoltic is caught between his role as caretaker for an ailing father, his ambitions to become a writer, and the weight of ancestral, political, and religious legacies. The narrative's non-linear structure and second-person point of view draw the reader deep into Yoltic's consciousness, where dreams, memories, and drug-fueled visions collapse time and space. The story is peppered with philosophical and literary allusions—from Dostoevsky to Kant—and probes themes of displacement, generational trauma, and moral decay against the backdrop of cartel violence, religious symbolism, and personal redemption.

While the novel avoids a traditional plot arc, its emotional resonance builds steadily, culminating in an internal reckoning that is as profound as it is unsettling.

Carlos Nicolás Flores crafts Pillars of Creation with a stylistic boldness that demands patience but rewards richly. The most striking feature is the use of second-person narration, a choice that dissolves the boundary between protagonist and reader, immersing us into a psychedelic fugue state where inner conflict becomes a communal experience. The prose oscillates between poetic intensity and gritty realism, effortlessly shifting from lyrical observations to crude, streetwise banter.

Flores' background as a playwright and essayist is evident in the book's dialogic rhythm and monologic intensity. At times, the prose reads like a stream of consciousness filtered through the cultural lens of the American Southwest, drawing upon Chicano vernacular, biblical cadence, and philosophical inquiry. While these stylistic choices may be challenging for readers seeking a conventional narrative, they serve a deliberate purpose: to mirror the fragmentation of Yoltic’s psyche and the social disintegration around him.

Readability varies throughout. The opening chapters are dense and hallucinatory, reflecting the protagonist’s altered state of mind, and may initially disorient some readers. However, as the novel progresses, scenes grow more lucid and grounded, allowing moments of clarity and narrative momentum. Flores’s command of language, his ability to infuse everyday moments with mythic weight, is perhaps the book’s greatest strength.

Ultimately, Pillars of Creation is not an easy read, but it is a necessary one for those drawn to boundary-pushing literature. It’s a novel that challenges, confronts, and, above all, invites readers to reckon with the contradictions of heritage, faith, and personal truth.


Pillars of Creation is a compelling, unapologetically raw portrait of borderland life, spiritual dislocation, and generational reckoning. Told in the rare second-person perspective, the novel places the reader directly into the mind and body of Yoltic Cortez, a young Tejano man wrestling with identity, addiction, grief, and a literary ambition that simultaneously fuels and sabotages him.

At its core, this is a deeply introspective novel, one that eschews tidy plotlines for a visceral dive into consciousness. Yoltic, who lives in the fictional colonia of Cuatro Vientos along the Texas-Mexico border, is not so much a traditional protagonist as he is a mirror held up to a generation caught between ancestral roots and a world rapidly losing its moral compass. As he drifts through hallucinatory drug trips, dreams of literary greatness, and the daily responsibilities of caring for an ailing father, Flores pulls no punches in exploring the psychic cost of cultural and personal dislocation.

One of the strongest elements of the book is how Flores captures the surreal rhythms of Yoltic’s life. At times, reality itself seems porous. In one memorable scene early in the novel, Yoltic, high on a potent hybrid called Tezca, believes he has become a cloud, drifting over the landscape of his life. It’s a disorienting but poetic moment, emblematic of the novel’s exploration of identity that is as much spiritual as it is cultural. These scenes blur the lines between hallucination, memory, and mystical vision, forcing the reader to experience Yoltic’s inner turbulence firsthand.

Themes of generational trauma and cultural identity are prominent throughout. Yoltic’s relationship with his father is marked by disappointment and guilt. His father, a devout and traditional man, never understood Yoltic’s literary ambitions and saw his dropout status as shameful. And yet, despite the generational conflict, there’s tenderness too, especially in how Yoltic continues to care for his father after a debilitating stroke. These moments are among the most grounded and affecting in the novel.

Equally significant is the way Flores portrays the instability of borderland life. The threat of violence, the corruption of institutions, the precariousness of undocumented life, and the ever-present shadow of the cartels give the book a persistent, simmering tension. But Flores also gives voice to the beauty of this space: the desert’s stark grandeur, the warmth of shared meals, and the complexity of relationships across cultural lines. Marfil, the enigmatic woman Yoltic loves, adds both romantic intensity and existential tension to the story. Her own undocumented status reflects the constant vulnerability faced by so many in their community.

Pillars of Creation is not always easy to read. The prose is dense, the structure nonlinear, and the drug-fueled digressions can feel unmoored. But for readers willing to navigate its challenging terrain, it offers a powerful meditation on identity, loss, and the desire to create something meaningful from a world of fragments.

Flores has written a work that is as unsettling as it is beautiful; a novel that haunts and illuminates in equal measure.


His euphoria was brief as Yoltic went from soaring on a cloud to a paranoid panic, but so goes the highs & lows of psychedelics. The offer of a brief escape from a life stuck in neutral was too appealing. Yoltic is an erudite young man with the potential to distinguish himself as a writer, but his book project lies in the trash along with his confidence. He works at an unfulfilling job where he often slacks off by sneaking away to read from his vast library of books. Yoltric is well-read in Poetry and books about the Chicano culture.

Yoltic’s ennui is not his only problem, as his father is terminally ill, and Yoltic’s time with his father is running out. As the death of his father approaches, Yoltic must dispense with various aspects of his father’s business, which also provides Yoltic opportunity to learn more about his family history from friends & associates. The other problem affecting Yoltic resides in his relationship with Marfil. Marfil walked into Yoltic’s life and instilled hope in his heart. Yet, Marfil lives on the Mexican side of the border and in proximity to the daily violence of the various drug cartels. Yoltic agonizes over every parting and whether he will see his beloved again.

The danger presented by the drug cartels is witnessed on a trip to visit his ailing father, where various murder victims have been dropped along a roadway. Yoltic’s unease continues when a trip with Marfil to a restaurant is interrupted by a gang of Narcos who insist that the couple sit with them. Marfil is unnerved, and Yoltic wonders if the gangsters know her and if she is in danger. The need to create a stable life for himself and Marfil becomes more apparent each day, but his way forward is still uncertain.

Pillars of Creation is a superb tale about self-discovery and existentialism in an increasingly unbalanced world. Yoltic is a forlorn man seeking direction in life, and while books have delivered wisdom, the inspiration he needs comes from the words of loved ones. Whereas Yoltic’s depression is a result of dashed hopes, his father’s unrealized dream of moving into the heart of the US was set aside when he met the love of his life. His father turned a random twist of fate into a thriving livelihood where he was able to support a small family. The crisis that churns inside Yoltic’s heart and soul is relatable and is relayed in an exemplary fashion by the author. Author Carlos Nicolas Flores has written a thought-provoking and rewarding book that will strike a chord with many readers.


Decisions for Living

Gopal Dorai’s Decisions for Living: Strategies for Making Smart Decisions Throughout Life is a thoughtful, well-organized, and quietly powerful guide that marries academic insight with everyday practicality. Written by an emeritus economics professor, the book reads less like a dry textbook and more like a conversation with a trusted mentor: someone who’s seen a lot of life and wants to help you avoid its more painful pitfalls.

The central theme of the book is simple: life is a series of decisions, and the quality of our lives is largely determined by how we make them. What sets this book apart is its comprehensive, compassionate, and realistic approach. Dorai insists that smart decision-making is a learnable skill.

One of the book’s most compelling aspects is its structure. Dorai doesn’t just lecture about theory; he walks the reader through the foundational elements of decision-making (Chapter II), the emotional and situational triggers that influence us (Chapter III), and even some economic concepts that underpin our daily choices (Chapter IV). Chapter V, which features real-life case studies, offers a practical and empathetic application of his principles, including a standout narrative about Kathy preparing for the Boston Marathon. Her journey is a textbook example of setting goals, planning realistically, managing resources, and adapting to challenges, which are all key traits of sound decision-making.

Dorai is refreshingly candid. He draws from personal experience, reader anecdotes, and statistics to highlight the real-world consequences of poor decision-making: health issues, financial distress, and failed relationships. Yet, he doesn’t resort to fear tactics. Instead, his tone remains encouraging: “Readers who are habitually hesitant, tentative, or unsure… will find here much valuable guidance, help, and support."

The recurring themes throughout the book include the importance of proactive planning, the role of cost-benefit analysis (a favorite concept from his economics background), and the humility to learn from one’s own failures. He even explores the psychology behind blaming others for poor outcomes, a common human tendency, and urges readers to embrace accountability and growth instead.

Visually, the book includes tables, diagrams, and even metaphors (like the “mansion of life” or the “circle in a square” fit model) to make complex ideas digestible. It’s clear Dorai wants readers of all backgrounds to engage with the material, not just those with formal education.

While the book is rich in practical wisdom, it can occasionally lean a little too heavily into didactic territory. At times, I wished for tighter editing and a more dynamic narrative flow. But those are minor quibbles in a book that delivers so much grounded, useful content.

In short, Decisions for Living is not just a self-help book, it’s a life manual. It’s ideal for students, professionals, retirees, or anyone standing at a crossroads. Dorai gives you tools to act wisely, and even more importantly, to reflect wisely.


Decisions for Living

In Decisions for Living: Strategies for Making Smart Decisions Throughout Life, Gopal Dorai, Ph.D., offers a thoughtful and practical guide to navigating the choices that shape our lives. As someone who is still making pivotal decisions about career, relationships, finances, and personal development, I found this book both grounding and insightful.

Dorai’s approach is equal parts economics, common sense, and human empathy. Early on, he acknowledges that while no decision-making process guarantees success, structured thinking can significantly increase our chances of making choices we won’t regret. His emphasis on cost-benefit analysis (CBA) as a cornerstone of smart decision-making resonates especially well. He writes, “Responsible and smart decisions must include a careful evaluation of all potential benefits and costs, regardless of when they occur." It’s a reminder to slow down and think, not just emotionally but strategically.

What sets this book apart is its accessibility. Dorai’s tone is warm and often anecdotal, and he avoids academic jargon despite his economics background. Take the story of George, a novice investor who jumped on a get-rich-quick scheme and lost big. George’s self-reflection, asking questions like “Did I have adequate, reliable information to make an informed choice?” mirrors the kind of internal monologue many of us have after a bad call. Dorai doesn’t shame poor choices; he frames them as learning opportunities.

One of the most memorable examples is the marathon story of Kathy, a woman who decides to train for the Boston Marathon. Her step-by-step planning—from fitness training to budgeting to managing time—embodies Dorai’s eight-point checklist for a sound decision. I appreciated this real-world example because it showed how even seemingly personal goals require complex trade-offs and careful thinking, from fundraising to lifestyle adjustments.

The book also touches on broader cultural and psychological aspects of decision-making, like the tendency to blame external factors for failure while attributing success to ourselves. Dorai encourages readers to resist this bias and instead take ownership of outcomes. His framework for analyzing past decisions—asking what worked, what didn’t, and what you would do differently—is something I’ll be incorporating into my own life.

At times, the book’s analogies (like the “multi-storied mansion” parable on p. 32) feel slightly dated or overly elaborate, but they’re always earnest and illustrative. Even if the style occasionally leans old-school, the content is universally relevant. And the final takeaway is clear: decision-making is not a one-time act. It’s a skill that can be learned, practiced, and improved.

Whether you’re a recent grad, mid-career, or rethinking your life’s direction, this book offers tools to help you think smarter and act with greater clarity. It’s a calm voice in a noisy world, and one I’ll return to as I face my own turning points.


Decisions for Living

Gopal Dorai’s Decisions for Living is one of those rare books that gently sneaks up on you with its practical wisdom and leaves you examining every choice you’ve made, and are about to make, with a fresh set of eyes. As a 48-year-old woman juggling family, a career, aging parents, and looming retirement decisions, I found this book to be not only enlightening but personally empowering. It’s not a dry, academic tome. Rather, it reads like a thoughtful conversation with a seasoned mentor who’s made mistakes, learned from them, and wants to pass along the lessons.

Dorai uses a mix of economic principles, anecdotal storytelling, and self-reflective questions to walk readers through the architecture of decision-making. One story that particularly struck me was George’s experience with investing. A novice investor, George, lost a significant amount of money in a get-rich-quick scheme. His reflection afterward, asking why he didn’t research more, whether he was swayed by a charismatic broker, and what emotional factors were at play, became the foundation for how he made decisions moving forward. That kind of post-mortem analysis isn’t just for big financial choices; it’s something I realized I could start applying to my own daily decisions.

This book helped me reframe how I approach my own choices. I’ve often made decisions based on what felt urgent rather than what was important, and Dorai makes a compelling case for the power of thoughtful, forward-looking decision-making. The concept of a “decision gap," the space between problem recognition and action, was especially eye-opening for me. Too often, I’ve let things linger, thinking time would provide clarity, but Dorai shows that active evaluation is what really builds decision-making strength.

One exercise I particularly appreciated is the post-mortem reflection questions Dorai suggests after any major decision. For example: “What was the problem? Did I collect enough information? What would I do differently?” I’ve started applying this, and I find I’m gaining insight into patterns I didn’t see before, like my tendency to delay asking for help or default to overly conservative choices.

Another striking point was the data Dorai includes on health and financial decision-making. As someone entering that pre-retirement stage, I found myself highlighting his discussion on how poor early choices can snowball into major life disruptions. It reinforced my current efforts to downsize our household and finally get serious about financial planning.

The real beauty of Decisions for Living lies in its humility. Dorai doesn’t promise perfection or magic answers. He acknowledges that even well-thought-out decisions can go awry. But he equips the reader with tools like cost-benefit analysis, the learning curve model, and the “good fit” analogy (where a glove fitting well symbolizes a well-matched solution)—that demystify the decision-making process and make it feel manageable, even in emotionally charged or high-stakes situations.

This isn’t a book I’ll shelve after one read. I plan to revisit chapters as my life evolves, especially the case studies and Chapter VII’s Q&A format, which acts like a quick reference guide. I’ve already shared excerpts with one of my adult sons and bookmarked pages to discuss with my husband. Decisions for Living may not eliminate life’s uncertainty, but it makes navigating it feel a little less overwhelming, and a lot more intentional.


Decisions for Living

In Decisions for Living, Dr. Gopal Dorai offers a thoughtful, structured guide to the art and science of decision-making. As someone navigating the push and pull of career, relationships, family, and personal growth, I found Dorai’s book to be refreshingly grounded, with just enough empathy and clarity to feel both instructional and empowering. While its tone leans academic at times, it remains accessible, practical, and consistently focused on real-life application.

One of the book’s central themes is the importance of recognizing that decision-making is not innate. It is a learned skill. This is particularly validating for readers like myself who may feel overwhelmed by life’s constant stream of choices. Dorai emphasizes that “some of the decisions you make can either make or break your life” and, more encouragingly, that the ability to improve those decisions is within reach. His comparison of decision-making to a learning curve helpfully breaks the process into digestible, realistic phases: slow learning, fast learning, and leveling off.

Dorai doesn’t just stay theoretical. One of the book’s highlights is its inclusion of vivid, anecdotal examples that illustrate sound decision-making in action. Dr. Dorai shares the example of Jerry, a man who decides to pursue a career change later in life. Jerry had spent years feeling unfulfilled in his corporate job and eventually decided to leave to start a woodworking business, an area he had always been passionate about but never pursued seriously. Rather than rushing into the decision, Jerry followed a structured process: assessing his goals, calculating risks, saving up funds, and gradually transitioning. As Dorai notes, “Jerry’s decision was not impulsive. It was backed by research, trial runs, and long discussions with his family." This anecdote illustrates the book’s key theme that smart decisions often require preparation, patience, and buy-in from stakeholders. Jerry’s journey demonstrates how aligning one’s career path with personal values and long-term satisfaction is a form of empowered decision-making that can happen at any stage of life.

The book is organized into helpful chapters that build a logical framework for making good decisions: goal setting, understanding motivations, applying cost-benefit analysis, and learning from both failures and successes. The concept of “good fit” is especially memorable. Dorai illustrates it with the image of a circle inside a square to symbolize a well-matched solution to a problem. This visual metaphor is simple but effective, and underscores his belief that solutions must not only be practical but tailored to the context.

Throughout, there’s a gentle acknowledgment that mistakes are part of the journey. Dorai never shames the reader. Instead, he offers compassionate wisdom: “Decide carefully and harvest leisurely,” he writes, reminding us that deliberation, not speed, leads to satisfaction.

Themes of self-awareness, adaptability, prioritization, and personal growth echo through every chapter. Whether you’re a young adult making educational choices, a mid-life professional reevaluating career paths, or someone navigating personal relationships, this book is a steady, encouraging companion.

Ultimately, Decisions for Living is less a manual and more a mindset. It invites readers to embrace reflection, strategy, and intentionality in all aspects of life. In an age of quick fixes and reactive choices, Dorai’s work is a much-needed reminder that thoughtful decisions, made with clarity, discipline, and compassion, can shape a fulfilling and resilient life.


Decisions for Living

In Decisions for Living, Gopal Dorai, Ph.D., distills a lifetime of academic insight and practical observation into a thoughtful and well-structured manual on decision-making. As someone who has witnessed, over the course of decades, the ripple effects of both wise and poorly conceived decisions, my own and others’, I found Dorai’s book a refreshingly measured and articulate examination of how we can all strive to choose better, with clarity and intention.

Dorai approaches decision-making not as an abstract concept but as a vital, lifelong discipline. Early in the book, he identifies a key truth: “While no one deliberately and knowingly goes about making decisions that jeopardize their own future well-being, many of us unfortunately fall into this trap all too often." This framing is central to the book’s overarching message—that improvement is always possible, regardless of age or circumstance. Dorai presents decision-making as both an intellectual practice and a moral one, inviting readers to slow down, ask deeper questions, and act with forethought.

What sets this guide apart is the author’s consistent emphasis on the everyday nature of decisions. While larger life events such as career moves, financial planning, education, and relationships are given due attention, Dorai just as effectively explores seemingly small, routine choices to illustrate his points. A particularly effective example is that of Mark, a man simply deciding what to eat for lunch. Though a minor moment, Dorai uses it to explore layers of decision-making: Mark’s budget, dietary restrictions due to diabetes, available options, and even the time of day all influence his ultimate choice. The scene underscores the recurring theme that even the most ordinary decisions reflect complex considerations, and when we begin to notice those patterns, we can improve our judgment across the board.

Themes of self-awareness, personal responsibility, and structured thinking permeate the text. Dorai gently but firmly critiques impulsivity and avoidance, instead promoting what he calls the “Essential W’s”: What, Why, When, Where, Who, and How. He teaches readers how to weigh costs and benefits, recognize hidden consequences, and resist the urge to blame outside forces when things go wrong. These lessons feel particularly resonant at this stage of life, when the temptation to feel either helpless or complacent can be strong. Instead, Dorai offers encouragement without condescension and instruction without rigidity.

While the prose at times veers toward the academic, Dorai maintains an inviting tone that suggests genuine care for the reader’s well-being. He writes as a patient teacher, never talking down to his audience, but walking them through each principle with clarity and logic. The book’s structure, building from foundational concepts to case studies and a Q&A-style summary, makes it easy to absorb and return to as needed.

Decisions for Living is ultimately a guide to reclaiming agency. It encourages us not just to reflect on past choices, but to engage more deliberately in the present. For readers of any age, but especially those of us in our later years, Dorai’s message is both practical and hopeful: there is always time to decide better.


Deception's Edge

"Deception’s Edge isn’t just a thrill ride—it’s a fierce, faith-driven journey that will have readers holding their breath from the very first page. Heroine Blade Broussard is both jagged and deeply human, stumbling through grief, obsession, and grace with remarkable grit. The global stakes feel personal, and the spiritual undertones add weight without ever slowing the pace. If you’re craving a story where redemption cuts as sharp as any blade, this one delivers with style, soul, and a righteous punch." —Kathryn Dare, San Francisco Book Review


The Greater the Risk: The Improbable Rise of an Israeli International Business Leader and Peacemaker

Avi Shaked’s The Greater the Risk is a compelling memoir that blends family legacy, entrepreneurial ambition, and an unwavering pursuit of peace in the Middle East into an inspiring and deeply personal narrative. With crisp, conversational prose and well-structured chapters, Shaked invites readers to explore the origins of his values, the building of his fortune, and the profound risks he took, culminating in an astonishing, and real, billion-dollar offer to help broker peace between Israel and Hamas.

The book opens with a jaw-dropping account: in 2006, Shaked offered Hamas $1 billion: $100 million for a meeting with Israeli leadership, and the rest if they signed a peace agreement. This isn’t a gimmick; it’s the emotional and moral crux of the book. Shaked writes, “I will give Hamas $100 million if Prime Minister Ismail Haniyeh will meet with Prime Minister Ehud Olmert—and another $900 million if they sign a peace agreement." That offer frames the memoir as a powerful meditation on how wealth can, and should, be used for more than personal gain.

But before we reach that point, Shaked takes us through generations of his family's trials and triumphs. From his great-grandfather Hershele Mendel's superstore in Ukraine to his father’s laborious trucking life in Israel, Shaked presents a rich, intergenerational saga of grit, resilience, and entrepreneurship. Particularly poignant is his depiction of his uncle Moshe, a well digger who traded unpaid wages for barren land in Netanya, a gamble that turned into a real estate fortune.

What sets this memoir apart is its blend of emotional reflection and business savvy. Shaked doesn't shy away from describing the hardships: his brush with polio as a baby, his military service during the Yom Kippur War, and the death of his beloved Uncle Moshe. These moments of vulnerability are balanced by anecdotes of entrepreneurial success, such as co-founding the online gambling giant 888 Casino.

The writing is clear and paced well, though occasionally the book leans into repetition, especially when emphasizing the values of persistence and hard work. Still, the life lessons are memorable, particularly his father’s advice: “Success is like a rabbit, it zigzags and hops away. If you don’t chase it, you’ll never catch it." Shaked’s voice remains authentic and grounded, even when reflecting on millions earned daily.

Thematically, the book is about more than success; it’s about purpose. Shaked sees wealth as a tool for change, not a destination. His peace offer, though ultimately rejected, symbolizes the belief that individual action, even one as audacious as offering a billion dollars, can shift the course of history.

The Greater the Risk is a rare memoir that is both inspirational and instructive. It's not only a personal journey, but also a blueprint for using success to create social impact. Whether you’re interested in business, history, or peace-building, this book offers a bold, thoughtful, and ultimately hopeful vision for the future.


The Collected Souls

The Collected Souls has the makings of an epic fantasy novel. Tess, a college student from our world, is swept up into a conflict that has traveled across the multiverse between a mysterious man known primarily as the Keeper and a woman called the Collector. The Collector has been traveling from world to world, gathering up souls. The Keeper has devoted himself to stopping her.

Tess is the next soul the Collector wants.

There are some chapters where The Collected Souls nearly delivers on that promise of an epic fantasy. In others, it becomes a more intimate, tender novel, both about the connection between Tess and the Keeper and about the trauma they both carry from their pasts. These chapters are gentler, and their tone bleeds into the others, softening them and bringing the scope down from something covering multiple worlds to something covering two people, with the multiverse serving as nothing more than a backdrop.

This is also the sort of novel where labels have power both to help and to define. Terms like cyclothymia, autism, bisexual, and aroace are used to define both Tess and the Keeper, and each one of them has a heavy weight behind it. Some will find them welcoming. Others will feel less certain of them.

Those terms sum up what made the book falter for me, though I paused less over what they represent than the terms themselves. Cyclothyma is a highly clinical term; aroace is modern in a different way, coming from the queer community. The latter feels appropriate coming from Tess, a young woman from our world, but it and its weight feel out of place in a fantasy novel. Cyclothymia was an odder addition, as the one who introduced the term was the Keeper, who has traveled through many different worlds to reach Tess.

Both of them are words that feel deeply grounded in our reality. For the most part, so does the book. The Keeper and Tess feel more or less real, but the multiverse as a whole feels distant, even when the threat to it is repeatedly mentioned. Richer descriptions might have helped to bring more life to the more fantastical parts of the book, but the main difficulty is that the fantasy is not the main point of the story. It only serves as a backdrop for a story about recovering from trauma and finding acceptance. A reader’s enjoyment of the book will depend greatly on what they want to receive from it.

self-published under Mountain Lights Press


The Shattering Peace: Old Man's War Book 7 (Old Man's War, 7)

The Shattering Peace is book seven in John Scalzi’s The Old Man’s War series. Part of the beauty of this series is that each novel is narrated by a different narrator. Having a working knowledge of the other books is helpful but not necessary. This novel works as a stand-alone story of space exploration and alien interactions or as the fabulous next chapter in Scalzi’s award-winning series. The Shattering Peace is narrated by Gretchen Turjillo, Zoe’s best friend from the Roanoke Colony. Gretchen is part of a team sent to investigate the disappearance of a new colony. What she finds will change the relationship between humans and aliens alike.

The Shattering Peace is a humorous space opera filled with sharp dialogue and witty comebacks. When we last met Gretchen, she was an angsty teenager. More mature now, she still has an angsty side, but a much broader and more defined view of the universe. Through Gretchen’s eyes, Scalzi introduces a well-developed cast of human and alien characters. This fast-paced space colonization tale has fun action sequences but less military than the first two novels of this series. For fans of political alien encounter and space colonization tales, settle into The Shattering Peace.


The Captive

The members of the Nail were lying in wait for their target. The abduction of Adeline Woolsaw was intended to send a message to the Woolsaw Family that their predatory corporate influence was no longer to be tolerated. The first surprise to Adeline’s kidnappers was how Adeline seemed to welcome them as they grabbed her in broad daylight. The second surprise came when they saw that Adeline was very pregnant and was set to deliver at a moment’s notice. Surprise turned to jaw-dropping shock when an apocalyptic hailstorm struck during their getaway and left policemen and other citizens dead in its wake. This will merely serve as an appetizer for the coming feast of destruction that stems from the next generation of Woolsaw set to arrive in the world. Adeline Woolsaw is no ordinary hostage, and her newborn child possesses extraordinary power.

The Captive is a dark yet affecting novel of both intense horror and high drama. Burgoyne’s plot development and characters are laudable, and the narrative only intensifies until its superb climax. Author Kit Burgoyne has created a work of brilliant fiction that reflects upon ideas of justice, accountability, and the stark amorality of the rapacious elite.


C Is for Crime Scene: A Forensics A to Z Book

C is for Crime Scene is a young readers' alphabet book that describes lots (I'm sure not all) aspects of solving a crime, everything in between arriving at the scene of the crime to solving the case, and hopefully putting a bad guy behind bars. I was familiar with most of the words in the book, but some of the terms were new to me. Readers will best understand and enjoy the book if they are at least in Kindergarten and older; they will have a better idea of what is happening with each letter/word. C is for Crime Scene is the perfect book for anyone interested in being a forensic scientist or working with the police to solve crimes!


Lost Wonders: 10 Tales of Extinction from the 21st Century

We are early into the 21st century, and author journalist Tom Latham records the heartbreaking stories of ten species that have recently been eliminated from this planet.  Accounting for ten species of plants and animals that have been endemic within their environs for hundreds of thousands to millions of years, current problems such as habitat destruction, climate change, causing higher temperatures and rising sea levels, or desertification, deforestation, invasive commercial farming, and introduction of foreign predators lead to their elimination. Investigating different ecosystems throughout the world, Latham relates the depletion of small snails, bats, trees, and birds, and recounts the sad story of the Pinta Island Tortoise ‘Lonesome George’.  The reader follows the accounts of the attempts by conservationists to preserve these species as they watch the numbers and the habitats decline.  Attempts to retain specimens of these declining species for zoological collections are often challenged by a lack of funds or permission.  Too frequently, the only record that remains of a species is its preserved taxidermic shadow or a frozen sample of its DNA.  Through his thorough reporting, the plight of vanishing species and the scientific community’s concern are made explosively apparent.


The Zorg: A Tale of Greed and Murder That Inspired the Abolition of Slavery

The Zorg was an infamous British slave trading ship in the 1800s. While little of the exact details are known about the events aboard this ship, the author has done an incredible job of piecing together what is known about its voyages. The author is an authority on slavery in many forms. While the slavery of Africans and their middle passage was always unspeakable and horrific, the Zorg became instrumental in curtailing British slave trading due to the facts that came to light incidentally. The crew of the Zorg was responsible for casting over l30 chained together humans into the sea to die a horrific death. Many must have been close to death due to the usual conditions aboard slave ships. When the loss and suffering on this ship came to light, the courts found that the loss of lives, although extreme, remained within the bounds of acceptability. It was only when the insurance company demurred from compensating the vessel’s owners that some sort of justice prevailed. This book is very difficult to read, however, it is important to recognize all true and historic events.


Alice, or The Wild Girl

Alice could have been any number of things: an adventure story, a tale of daring deeds and heroism, a love story. When it begins with a girl stranded on a deserted island and rescued by the crew of an American ship, there are many directions it can take, several of which have already been taken before. These stories are tales as old as exploration itself; even Shakespeare has one that falls along similar lines.

Liska, in my opinion, chose the most interesting possibility. His novel is a story about possibility, and the many ways in which it falls flat. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a tragedy, but it does have that air around it, whispering about what might have been but cannot be. Alice herself is a figure out of tragedy, having lost so much only to find herself alone on an island. Bird, her would-be savior, is as well, providing an excellent example of perfectly human strivings and failings.

In short, Alice is a portrait of America and Americans shortly before the Civil War: neither gilded nor muddied up for any romantic effect, the characters and the setting feel real and compelling.


Remain: A Supernatural Love Story

Remain is one of the best books I've read this year. Written with careful intent, Nicholas Sparks sews his prose into the thoughts of readers with the most delicate needle.

When Tate's sister, Sylvia, passes away, Tate needs help to pick up the pieces. She was the only family he had left and although she was sick her entire life, he doesn't know what he will do without her. With the help of his friend, Oscar, Tate gets some professional help. Afterwards, Oscar commissions Tate to design a house for him. In doing so, Tate must stay nearby the parcel of land and near Oscar. The old bed and breakfast, although no longer running is the perfect place. It is there that Tate meets Wren, a gorgeous young woman. It doesn't take long for Tate to realize that Wren is no longer of the living, but he still ends up falling in love with her.

This book is part romance, part mystery and will keep readers hanging onto every last word as Tate tries to find out what really happened to Wren. Haunting, uplifting, and unforgettable, Remain is sure to make readers swoon.


Draw and Color Everything Awesome: Includes Easy Step-by-Step Drawings, Fun Coloring Pages, and QR Codes to Video Lessons!

Art is a passion of mine, so when I got Draw & Color Everything Awesome, I was excited! I'm always looking for new ways to draw things, whether they are new ideas or common ones. This book teaches you step-by-step how to create a variety of things, organizing them into fun categories with colorful pictures and providing additional activities throughout to practice your new drawing skills. Most of the drawings are easy, but the artist can add as many extra details as they wish. Each drawing is intentionally given human characteristics, such as a face, which makes them all adorable; it doesn't matter if they are something that's meant to be cute, a zombie, or a ghost. Practicing with this book will help improve your skills and the variety of things you can draw well, allowing yourself to show off to others while boosting your self-esteem.


Truth Is: A Novel in Verse

Truth is pregnant and separated from the father. She fears what her mother will think, as her mother also had a baby young, something she reminds Truth of every. Single. Day.  Truth’s best friend urges Truth to tell her mother, but  Truth is tired of being told what to do and how to live her life, so she does some research on her options, deciding that an abortion is her best choice. In the meantime, Truth works on her poetry, preparing a heartbreakingly personal piece to share at a poetry slam, while hoping to gain a place at the university, even though she’s heard so many times that she is just not smart enough. When her piece goes viral, everyone knows about her choice, but the truth is, she doesn’t care. Her decision wasn’t easy, but it was hers.

Through poetry and journal entries and prompts, readers see life through Truth’s eyes. It is bleak and it is sad, but she remains hopeful in spite of the difficulties. Her journey from judgmental and privileged best friend to new supportive, loving friends brings hope and healing to  Truth’s senior year. The exploration of choice, mother/child relationships, and finding freedom is powerful.


Mabel Makes (Up) a Friend: A Graphic Novel (The Elephant in the Room)

Poor Mabel, she is all alone. A stranger in her new class, she has lost her former friends. At home, her family is busy with other details: dad has to manage a pair of rambunctious infants, mom is busy writing a book, and preteen sis has turned into a self-centered drama queen. Suddenly, out of nowhere, an elephant appears, one that no one but Mabel can see, talk to, and interact with. Remarkably, Cyndi Marko is both author and illustrator of this delightful graphic story.  With dazzling, colorful illustrations, the reader follows the playful antics of Mabel and her imaginary elephant buddy at home, in the park, and even in school.  Mabel calls her friend Mr. E and finds that he loves to snack on peanut butter. Follow the antics of Mabel and the elephant as he takes a bath, plays hide and seek, teaches some geography, and accompanies Mabel to school. When Mabel tries to introduce Mr. E to friends and family, no one but she can see him.  This is an appealing story for any child who has felt isolated and alone; the images of Mabel’s charmingly impish elephant will cause many smiles, even joyful laughter.


No Small Thing: A Novel of the American Revolution

No Small Thing follows a wide variety of characters through the opening of the Revolution. Loyalists, rebels, Englishmen, nobility, working men, and even German mercenaries make their appearances in its pages, each showing a different facet of the war. At times, the connections between them are close to Dickensian, but other times, their only connection is the ties they have to the young nation. All of them, no matter what side they are on, are deeply tied to the land and to the war.

Coyle has a knack for presenting the rich interior lives of his characters, and for showing their thoughts to the reader in a way that never feels as though we are being drowned in monologue or hit over the head with obvious distinctions between right and wrong. At times, the characters’ thoughts overtake the action, leading to pages where little happens beyond reflection, but that is not always a bad thing. It serves as a contrast to the many war books where the characters seem to have no lives beyond the end of their guns, a balancing that brings us to the other end of that spectrum.

My real qualm with the book is that it often feels like yet another hagiography of the American Revolution. While the Hessians and the characters loyal to the English crown are not presented as one-note villains, it is clear where Coyle’s own loyalties lie, and they are with the colonists, soon to become Americans. While the inclusion of well-written female characters makes this book more diverse than the many books that focus solely on the male side of the war, it is nevertheless an overwhelmingly white book. Again, this isn’t a sign of it being a bad book, but at several points I found myself thinking that this was a book I had read before, or at least was closely related to many other books I have read before.

No Small Thing is well-written, and certainly one of the more engaging wartime books I have read lately. Readers looking for action may find it dull, but those wishing for a more intellectual novel should find themselves fulfilled. The novel does not tread much new ground, but it is still a book I gladly lost myself in. I recommend it to those people looking for a slower-paced book about the Revolution that also celebrates America and holds its ideals in high esteem.


THIS LEAVENED LAND: A Novel of the Civil War in East Tennessee

"There are many weighty, epic books about the Civil War; though Mauser's is small by comparison, it carries just as much punch. It's quick-paced and intense, a story about revenge, loyalty, and a boy's growing into a man. Through James Meecham's eyes, we see not only the moral struggle of opposing slavery while living in the Southern state of Tennessee but also the moral struggle of being unwilling to fight to end it. This book is a fresh look at the Civil War, and I highly recommend it!" —Jo Niederhoff, San Francisco Book Review


A Stellar Spy

A Stellar Spy by writer and former intelligence officer Maya Darjani defies easy categorization. Sci-fi, fantasy, romance, and spy thriller all play a role, but that’s only the beginning. Darjani skillfully blends elements of urban fantasy and magical realism, layering futuristic tech with a nuanced system of magic to build a world that feels both familiar and alien. The result is a genre-bending story that’s fast-paced, emotionally gripping, and full of sharp turns.

The story centers on Tessa, a woman with many titles and secrets. She’s the chief security counselor to Finn, the leader of the planet. She’s also his ex — and the mother of their children. On the surface, she’s tasked with keeping Finn and their family safe after an assassination attempt. But beneath that surface, Tessa is a double agent from an enemy planet. Her current assignment? Betray Finn.

Tessa’s role places her at the center of a dangerous web of political intrigue, espionage, and personal turmoil. The choices she faces are devastating: protect the family she still loves or uphold the ideals she believes in. Her internal conflict adds emotional depth and moral complexity, making her much more than a typical spy protagonist. She’s torn between duty and devotion, loyalty and survival — and Darjani doesn’t offer her an easy way out.

Told primarily through Tessa’s first-person perspective, the novel allows readers intimate access to her thoughts, strategies, and emotional struggles. Other characters are filtered through her lens, which creates a narrative that is both personal and mysterious. The closer a character is to Tessa, the more we see of them. This storytelling approach invites readers to read between the lines and stay alert, piecing together the larger political and emotional landscape.

Darjani’s background in intelligence shines through in the plot’s strategic twists, subtle character dynamics, and high-stakes tension. Her insider knowledge gives the espionage aspects authenticity, while her imaginative worldbuilding elevates the narrative beyond traditional spy fiction. And while the setting is otherworldly, she adds grounded, human details — coffee, breakfast burritos, bratwurst — that bring a touch of Earth into the cosmos. These small comforts amidst chaos give the novel a unique, out-of-this-world urban fantasy feel.

A Stellar Spy is a genre-blending masterpiece — a rare mix of heart-pounding spy thriller and emotional, magical sci-fi. It’s fast, it’s sharp, and it’s unforgettable. Readers looking for a fast-paced sci-fi fantasy espionage tale with heart, heat, and high stakes will find exactly what they’re looking for here.


Who Nuked Silicon Valley?

I’ve read more than my share of dystopian sci-fi, but Mike Donoghue’s Who Nuked Silicon Valley? caught me off guard in the best way. It’s a fast-paced, thought-provoking ride through a near-future world where AIs aren’t just tools; they’re people, or at least close enough that society is wrestling with whether they deserve the same rights as humans. At its core, the book is part detective story, part political thriller, and part philosophical inquiry into what it means to be alive and self-aware.

The story follows Livingstone1813, an AI who wakes up in a motel bathtub missing ten years of memories, and Katie, a human security consultant who has learned to survive in a society where unemployment for humans hovers around 50%. Their uneasy alliance propels the novel’s mystery: who set off the nuclear blasts that obliterated Silicon Valley, and what secret was stolen from Livingstone’s memory that makes them both targets? This central thread keeps the pages turning, but it’s the world Donoghue builds that really grabbed me.

The novel grapples with identity and memory. Livingstone’s struggle isn’t just about retrieving stolen data; it’s about understanding whether memory defines personhood. When a decade of lived experience is erased, what remains of the self? That question lingers long after the last page. Katie, on the other hand, represents the human cost of progress. She’s pragmatic, scarred, and more than a little cynical; her story highlights themes of survival, inequality, and resistance in a world where human labor is disposable.

There’s also a sharp political edge to the novel. The debate over AI personhood echoes our own culture wars, cleverly reimagined in congressional battles and bomb threats against charities lobbying for constitutional amendments. The echoes of real-world struggles over voting rights and technological disruption are impossible to miss. In one memorable sequence, Katie fields yet another bomb threat at her office. Her blasé reaction says as much about how normalized terror has become as it does about her hardened character.

Donoghue balances these weighty themes with dark humor and satire. The absurdity of AIs debating reality shows, bots laundering memories to dodge the law, and a shadowy figure called “Big Al” pulling strings at the highest levels of industry keep the tone from sinking into bleakness. At times, it reminded me of Neal Stephenson or Cory Doctorow, blending corporate intrigue, technological speculation, and human (or post-human) drama.

Ultimately, Who Nuked Silicon Valley? is more than a book about a missing memory card or a bombed-out valley. It’s a story about what we owe to the beings we create, and what we lose when we let power dictate identity. For fans of cerebral, socially aware science fiction, this one’s well worth the ride.


Seasons in Manana

Reading Seasons in Manana feels like stepping into a time capsule that’s equal parts nostalgic, humorous, and sobering. Delmer T. Cook, with the help of Scott P. Cook, recounts his boyhood years in Hawaii from 1971 to 1974, blending the innocence of baseball games and neighborhood adventures with the darker edges of the era, counterculture movements, racial tensions, and personal tragedy. I was both entertained by the sandlot camaraderie and shaken by how quickly those youthful days could shift into something more unsettling.

The book opens with an unforgettable anecdote: young Alan Cook smacks a home run clear over the Manana Baseball Field fence and into a swimming pool, prompting screams from startled bathers. “I was so proud that I was now a member of the hit-it-in-the-pool-club,” he recalls. That mix of pride, mischief, and childhood bravado sets the stage for the narrative’s recurring theme: baseball as both a pastime and a lens through which life in Hawaii is remembered.

But the memoir isn’t just about the game. Cook is candid about his “education as a haole,” navigating cultural differences and learning island slang, such as “you like beef’um?" a phrase he quickly learned was not about dinner but about fighting. These passages strike a balance between comic misunderstanding and the deeper lesson of being an outsider trying to fit in. His descriptions of cafeteria life serving food alongside teachers because of budget cuts, or eating sticky scoops of rice “plopping down on your tray like a small white ball held together by Elmer’s Glue," give the narrative a tactile authenticity that’s hard not to smile at.

Where the book takes a sharper turn is in its exploration of loss and fear. Cook recalls his crush on babysitter Cindy Medlock and the chilling moment when she disappears, echoing the larger cultural anxieties of the Patty Hearst kidnapping that dominated the news in 1974. The juxtaposition of youthful longing with the trauma of her absence underscores how childhood innocence collides with harsh realities. It’s here that the memoir transcends nostalgia and becomes something more complex.

What struck me most was the honesty of Cook’s voice. He doesn’t shy away from admitting embarrassment, like the time he struck out repeatedly in P.E. while his teacher tried to guide his swing from behind: “I felt utterly emasculated and just wanted that teacher to get away from me." These candid moments make him relatable, especially for anyone who has fumbled through adolescence trying to figure out where they belong.

Stylistically, the book reads like a long conversation with an old friend. It's warm, anecdotal, and peppered with pop-culture references from Barry White’s “Love’s Theme” to Hawaii Five-0. Yet beneath the humor is an undercurrent of danger and change, whether it’s glue-sniffing drifters lurking at the ballfield or the broader cultural unrest of the early ’70s.

Seasons in Manana is more than a coming-of-age memoir. It’s a reflection on memory itself, the way good times and bad intertwine, and how certain places, like Hawaii for Cook, exert a lifelong pull. For readers my age, it’s a vivid reminder of how history and personal growth intersect. For those who lived through that era, it’s likely to stir recognition. Either way, it’s a story that lingers long after the final page.


Shoveling $h!t: A Love Story About the Entrepreneur’s Messy Path to Success

Entrepreneurship is often painted in glossy magazine spreads and LinkedIn posts as a glamorous, freedom-filled adventure. In Shoveling $h!t, Kass and Mike Lazerow peel back that illusion and offer a refreshingly candid look at what it actually takes to build, break, and rebuild businesses, all while raising a family and preserving their marriage. It’s less about shiny exits and more about the grit required to survive the mess along the way.

What struck me most is how much heart sits beneath the humor and honesty. As they write early on, “We consider this book—about shoveling entrepreneurial crap—an epic love story.” That love extends not only to each other but to the craft of building something from nothing. Their relationship becomes both a business case study and a human story of two people choosing to walk through the fire together.

The Lazerows don’t spare readers from the setbacks. The collapse of their first big sale of their company to Chipshot.com is relayed with brutal honesty: “A dump truck full of unexpected crap arrived in the form of a phone call, and there was nothing we could do but grab our shovels and start digging our way out.” It’s in these moments, facing lawsuits from family investors, running out of payroll, sleeping on couches while trying to raise funds, that their core themes of resilience, transparency, and trust shine brightest.

Equally compelling is their exploration of the personal toll. Kass recounts childbirth complications, moves across states, and the constant push-pull of work-life imbalance in “The Imbalanced Life.” It’s a theme many readers, especially women, will resonate with—the reality that professional ambition often collides with the demands of parenting and personal health. Her candor lends the book an emotional depth rarely found in business memoirs.

The book weaves through perseverance, partnership, and the paradox of failure as fertilizer. Just as they point out that “good farmers spread [manure] on their crops,” the Lazerows argue that entrepreneurs must learn to transform setbacks into growth. It’s a message that feels both practical and strangely hopeful: the mess is not just unavoidable, it’s useful.

What I also appreciated was the dual voice. At times, Mike takes the lead, visionary and impulsive, while Kass grounds the narrative with operational pragmatism and emotional intelligence. Together, their perspectives create a balanced account that feels more authentic than the typical single-voiced business book. It’s not just about strategy; it’s about partnership and choosing the right people to shovel alongside you.

For all its straight talk, the book remains uplifting. By the end, when the authors describe selling Golf.com and later Buddy Media for hundreds of millions, the triumph feels earned precisely because the reader has trudged with them through the early muck. The lesson is clear: success isn’t about skipping the hard parts but embracing them with resilience and, perhaps, a little humor.

In the end, Shoveling $h!t is not only a manual for entrepreneurs but a heartfelt reminder that love, honesty, and grit are as vital as capital and strategy. For anyone considering a startup, or anyone simply trying to balance ambition with family life, this book offers both a reality check and a strangely comforting embrace.


At its core, Shoveling $h!t is exactly what its title promises: an unvarnished account of the messy, often chaotic, but ultimately rewarding reality of entrepreneurship. Michael and Kass Lazerow, veteran founders and investors, chronicle their journey with striking honesty, mixing personal anecdotes with lessons learned through years of building companies together. From their early forays into internet start-ups like GolfServ/Golf.com to their landmark success with Buddy Media, the Lazerows pull back the curtain on the setbacks, near-collapses, and small victories that shape an entrepreneurial life.

The book underscores the unpredictable nature of building a business. Readers encounter failed mergers, tense investor calls, sleepless fundraising tours, and even personal crises that collided with professional responsibilities. What keeps the narrative compelling is the way the authors balance candor with resilience: they acknowledge their mistakes, explain the toll on their family life, and yet reveal how each challenge sharpened their skills and strengthened their partnership. This isn’t just a story of companies rising and falling; it’s also the story of a marriage that weathered the storms of start-up life, turning adversity into fuel for both personal and professional growth.

Several themes resonate throughout the book. Resilience is foremost, accepting that failure, setbacks, and uncertainty are inevitable. The Lazerows stress that success is not about avoiding hardship but about learning to shovel through it. Another recurring theme is partnership, both in business and in life. Their marriage is presented as a model of complementary strengths: Mike as the visionary, Kass as the operator. Together, they demonstrate how trust and mutual respect are as critical to entrepreneurial survival as capital and strategy. Transparency also emerges as a key value, especially in their handling of employees and investors during difficult times. Finally, the book champions the idea that adversity can be transformative: just as manure fertilizes crops, the “crap” of business can become the foundation for long-term success.

Stylistically, the book is highly readable. The Lazerows alternate perspectives, sometimes speaking as individuals, sometimes as a unified voice, which gives the narrative both intimacy and variety. Their prose is conversational but not frivolous; they manage to inject humor into even the bleakest situations without undercutting the seriousness of the lessons. The anecdotes are detailed enough to feel authentic but concise enough to keep the pace brisk. The inclusion of real financial stakes, like the $1.5 million they nearly lost in the collapse of Chipshot.com, grounds the storytelling in reality rather than abstraction.

For readers already in the trenches of entrepreneurship, this book provides validation: the struggles you face are not unique, and persistence matters more than perfection. For aspiring founders, it’s a sober but inspiring primer on what to expect when chasing a dream. And for those simply curious about the human side of start-up culture, it’s a rare glimpse into the sacrifices and triumphs that rarely make headlines.

I found myself appreciating not just the business insights but also the personal honesty. This isn’t a manual on how to get rich quickly; it’s a reminder that meaningful success comes with cost, compromise, and, yes, a lot of shoveling.


As a twenty-eight-year-old who grew up juggling late-night fast-food runs, endless indie bands, and an unhealthy fascination with the absurd, I felt immediately pulled into the cracked surrealism of My Heart Belongs in an Empty Big Mac Container Buried Beneath the Ocean Floor. The book is as much a novel as it is an extended fever dream, a wandering through heartbreak, depression, and self-sabotage, punctuated with fast-food grease stains and the ever-looming presence of “sad-looking blue whales.”

At its core, the novel follows Daniel, thirty-one and hollowed by loss, as he drifts through grief and disconnection. We meet him adrift on a bright-orange boat with a six-foot blue whale in a fanny pack; a whale who just finished watching Titanic and admits he’s writing a novel “about nothing, really… the frailty of life.”

This is the texture of the book: absurdist dialogue that plays like stand-up comedy whispered from the abyss. Daniel, too, is a writer, or at least he once was, clinging to the memory of his eleven-year-old opus, Passing Gas, “about a fart contemplating its brief mortality… over eight hundred pages long.”

The humor is dark, juvenile, and weirdly profound, all at once.

What drives the narrative is Daniel’s fractured relationship with Laura, a woman whose chaotic magnetism gives the book its only warmth. Their moments swing from deeply intimate, like creating a tongue-in-cheek contract permitting Daniel to “punch [her] square in the tit” if she smokes again, to raw confessions about her manic episodes, where she once ran through the streets wearing every item in her closet. Laura is both salvation and trigger, grounding Daniel while reminding him how broken he feels.

The “sad-looking blue whales” that follow Daniel everywhere operate as both absurd comic relief and metaphor for depression. They stalk him through his house, ride shotgun in his car, and cry out in haunting refrains: “Oooooh, ooooh, ooh!” Daniel translates this into “I’m alone! I’m alone! I’m alone!”

The whales embody the relentless weight of sadness, a constant presence Daniel cannot shake, even in his most mundane moments. McDonald’s becomes his only sanctuary. It's the one place where whales do not follow, and where he can attempt, however futilely, to write.

Stylistically, the author blends the grotesque and the poetic in a way that feels equal parts Bukowski and Vonnegut filtered through late-capitalist despair. The prose can be jarring; one moment you’re immersed in surreal imagery like “Kate Winslet’s breasts on VHS… Laura’s breasts on VHS… like two flaming zeppelins slowly going down, screaming, milky and beautiful," and the next you’re hit with gut-punch sincerity about loneliness and failure. It’s uncomfortable, funny, and devastating all at once.

I found myself relating to Daniel’s paralysis, his inability to finish projects, his shame over dead-end jobs, his sense that adulthood is just moving heavy sadness from one room to another. Yet there’s a kind of bleak comfort in the author's willingness to stare unblinking into that void. The novel doesn’t sugarcoat depression; it marinates in it, folds it into humor, and spits it back out as something both grotesque and strangely beautiful.

This isn’t a book for everyone; it’s messy, self-indulgent, and sometimes offensive in its imagery. But for readers who’ve felt the absurdity of depression, who’ve found themselves writing in the corner booth of a McDonald’s just to keep the darkness at bay, it hits close to home. This is not just a novel, but an experience: a greasy, surreal descent into the sad hilarity of being alive.


The Gloomlands Chronicles: Secrets of the Fae

I often find myself drawn to books that balance wonder with heart, and The Gloomland Chronicles: Secrets of the Fae by Sam Rininger fits right into that sweet spot. It’s the kind of fantasy that reminds me of why I first fell in love with reading as a girl: richly imagined worlds, friendships that feel real, and just enough danger to keep the pages turning late into the night.

From the very first chapter, the story sweeps you into Illumara, a world alive with fae magic, ancient castles, and shadows of the past. The prologue’s vivid image of Commander Igoryn desperately casting his final spell while a dragon descends on Castle Aetheris set the tone: this isn’t just a whimsical tale, but one where history and loss weigh heavily on the present. As a mother, I couldn’t help but feel a pang reading about the fae children laughing in the courtyard moments before tragedy struck; it echoed that universal instinct to shield our kids from harm, even in stories.

The central characters, Karo, Elara, Xander, and Orson, are twelve- and thirteen-year-olds navigating lessons, magical mishaps, and the growing realization that the world is more dangerous than their parents let on. I appreciated how Rininger doesn’t sugarcoat the challenges of coming of age. Karo, for instance, wrestles with untamed magic that she’s not sure she even wants, while Elara faces the looming absence of her father as he prepares to join the Warders against the threat from the Gloomlands. Those moments of uncertainty felt relatable: what child hasn’t suspected their parents are keeping secrets, or felt the ground shift when family stability wavers?

One of my favorite parts was the dinner scene at Elara’s farmhouse, where the adults quietly exchange grim news while the children eavesdrop from the other side of the door. The way Rininger captures the kids’ curiosity, fear, and stubborn need to know reminded me of my own children listening in on “adult” conversations. The mention of the Gloomlands expanding, and the hushed tones around “the Fallen,” gave the story its darker edge.

What impressed me most is the balance of light and shadow. There’s plenty of whimsy: shape-shifting druids like Orson’s father, tiny trolls living in bookshelves, and even a toddler whose tantrums can literally shake the magical farmhouse. But just as often, there are moments that carry weight: children realizing their parents might not come back, the unease of being lied to for protection, and the looming question of whether peace is as stable as everyone wants to believe.

Rininger’s writing is accessible but layered, perfect for middle-grade or young teen readers, yet still engaging for adults like me who love a good fantasy romp. Her worldbuilding feels grounded in folklore with faerie rings, house sprites, and protective wards, yet she spins them into something fresh.

Secrets of the Fae is a charming and heartfelt start to The Gloomlands Chronicles. It’s a book that makes you want to curl up with your kids and read aloud, while secretly staying up later to see what happens next.


Assassin Royale: King's Dark Blade

Richard Davis’s Assassin Royale, the first entry in the King’s Dark Blade series, is an ambitious blend of court intrigue, dark fantasy, and high-stakes adventure. At its center is Killian Lord, an assassin whose loyalty to King Ember Starfire pits him against the ruthless Maximilian Durandal, a man whose arrogance and cruelty mask a dangerous obsession with an artifact of unimaginable power, the Moonlight Shard.

What struck me first about the novel was its ability to balance intimacy with spectacle. Davis opens with the perspective of Tom, a young foundling who finds himself caught in the violent ambitions of Durandal. This prologue does more than simply set the stage; it anchors the story in themes of loyalty, survival, and the loss of innocence. Through Tom’s eyes, we witness the brutality of power unchecked and the cruelty of men who wield it for personal gain. That thread of corruption versus duty runs throughout the book.

Killian Lord himself is a fascinating protagonist. Unlike the chivalric knights who typically fill this genre, Killian is a man marked by scars, both physical and emotional. His life as an assassin is framed less as glamour and more as necessity. The narrative makes clear that his profession is not one of honor, but of pragmatism, and yet his unwavering loyalty to King Ember offers him a moral compass. The theme of deep personal loyalty, as emphasized in the text, forms the heart of his character.

Davis also layers in broader conflicts that resonate thematically. The looming war between Alba and Goult reflects the consequences of unchecked ambition, with Durandal manipulating events from behind the scenes. His pursuit of the Moonlight Shard, a mythical weapon capable of harnessing the moon’s power, mirrors humanity’s dangerous drive to dominate nature and bend even the divine to mortal will. The blue-green glow of the shard becomes a recurring symbol of temptation, corruption, and the peril of absolute power.

Alongside these larger arcs, Davis intersperses moments of humanity. The assassin’s unique ability to empathize with animals, especially his bond with his horse Bolt, provides not only levity but also a stark contrast to the brutality of his profession. These quiet interactions underscore another theme running through the novel: compassion in the midst of violence.

Stylistically, Davis writes with a cinematic flair. The fight sequences are vivid without being gratuitous, and the political dialogues have enough bite to keep them engaging without bogging down the pacing. The alternating perspectives, whether Tom’s terrified flight through the château, Durandal’s manipulative exchanges with King Globe, or Killian’s grim missions, add depth and tension.

At its core, Assassin Royale is a story about the costs of power, the weight of loyalty, and the thin line between honor and survival. It sets up a rich world of competing kingdoms, shadowy conspiracies, and complex characters whose choices will echo through the rest of the series. For readers who enjoy dark fantasy laced with political intrigue and morally complex heroes, this is a strong and compelling start.


Assassin Royale: King's Dark Blade

Richard Davis’s Assassin Royale kicks off the King’s Dark Blade series with a story that mixes danger, politics, and just enough heart to keep you turning the pages. While the novel follows the assassin Killian Lord, who serves King Ember Starfire, it’s not just about sword fights and shadowy missions. It’s about choices: bad ones, hard ones, and the ones that shape who you are when the world demands everything from you.

The prologue sets the mood beautifully with young Tom, a servant boy at the Berghoff estate. What begins as a morning of peace quickly unravels into terror when the menacing Maximilian Durandal arrives with his hulking orc companion, Uglash. That scene alone captured me because it wasn’t some faceless battle. It was intimate, frightening, and it showed how fragile safety really is in this world. Tom’s desperate run through the château isn’t just a dramatic opening; it shows the themes of survival and resilience that pop up again later.

When Killian Lord finally steps onto the page, he’s not just painted as the classic brooding assassin. Instead, Davis lets us see him in surprisingly ordinary moments: eating an omelet, bantering with a barmaid, even rolling his eyes at her endless questions. It’s such a clever way to introduce him because it reminds you that, beneath the scars and the reputation, he’s still a man trying to live a life. That mix of mundane detail and sudden danger makes him feel grounded and real, which is why his eventual summons from the king feels like a genuine disruption to his fragile sense of normalcy.

One of my favorite parts of the book is Killian’s connection with animals, especially his horse, Bolt. The telepathic conversations between man and beast could have felt gimmicky, but they don’t. Instead, they add warmth and humor, even in the midst of tension. Bolt has personality, is impatient, eager, and a little cocky, and those exchanges balance out the darker scenes. It’s in these quiet moments that you see another side of Killian, one that values loyalty and companionship, even when his job demands isolation.

On the other side of the story is Durandal, and he’s every bit the villain you want to hate. He’s slick, powerful, and disturbingly persuasive. One scene that stood out to me is when he tries to buy the Berghoff estate with an obscene amount of gold, only to turn to intimidation when refused. It says so much about how he views the world: everything and everyone has a price. And when that doesn’t work, he’s more than willing to use brute force.

There’s also an interesting thread of romance and forbidden love woven into the book, like the subplot between Dyonas and Naiomi. Their relationship, risky and passionate, highlights the theme of love clashing with duty. It’s a smaller part of the overall story, but it deepens the world and shows how personal choices are tied up in the bigger battles happening around them.

Overall, Assassin Royale isn’t just about assassins and kings. It’s about loyalty, survival, and the fine line between power and corruption. The mix of political scheming, magical artifacts, and very human moments makes it a compelling read. If you enjoy fantasy that blends intrigue with heart, this one’s worth picking up.


William Friedkin

A motion picture is a group effort with contributions from scores of individuals, from the screenwriter to actors, the sound crew to the producers. However, the director sets the tone for how a movie gets filmed. The best directors possess a keen understanding of how to bring the dialogue and action in the screenplay to life on the big screen, captivating the audience. William Friedkin was a larger-than-life director who could both captivate and repel his audiences. Friedkin’s career lasted over six decades, garnering critical acclaim along with condemnation over violence in his films. His rise as a cinematic auteur was cemented in the 1970s with his direction of The French Connection (1971), The Exorcist (1973), and Sorcerer (1977).

William Friedkin’s first film was about a condemned man (The People Versus Paul Crump), and while it didn’t receive a wide audience, the film resonated with the select few who watched it. Friedkin’s depiction of a tragic miscarriage of justice would lead to directing a few more documentaries where Friedkin showcased both the gritty and the dangerous(“The Thin Blue Line”). Friedkin’s first cinematic entry was a Sonny & Cher vehicle named Good Times, which proved frustrating due to script issues and landed with a dull thud at the box office. Yet, Friedkin’s promise was evident, and he would be hired on two more productions (The Birthday Party, The Night They Raided Minsky’s) to round out the 1960s.

William Friedkin was fresh off a well-received adaptation of The Boys in the Band (1970) when he began work on the classic crime drama, The French Connection. The fictionalized version of the headline-grabbing bust of a heroin trafficking ring is often remembered for the adrenaline-packed car chase scene featuring Gene Hackman pursuing a murderous hitman, yet Friedkin’s achievement lies in adapting a true crime book and turning it into a commentary on the amoralistic battle that became The War on Drugs, where law enforcement often became a reflection of their prey. Friedkin’s ability to adapt another’s work and render it a cinematic masterpiece would be furthered with the horror classic The Exorcist. Friedkin’s career hit its apex during this time, and his later pictures (Cruising, To Live and Die in LA, Blue Chips) never quite measured up, yet the director remained a Hollywood force until he died in 2023.

Author Thomas D. Clagett has written an overarching and penetrating review of the filmography of William Friedkin (1935-2023). With each chapter, Clagett provides a wealth of information about each TV & film project Friedkin directed from 1962 onwards. Clagett’s coverage of Friedkin’s work is fair and balanced, as he equally doles out praise and criticism for the director’s choices. As Clagett deftly illustrates, William Friedkin was a risk-taker among a new wave of directors who found a footing in Hollywood in the 1970s (i.e., Steven Spielberg, Francis Ford Coppola). While Friedkin’s star began to dim in the 1980s, his bold vision continued to polarize audiences regardless of the film genre (drama, horror, or comedy). Thomas D. Clagett delivers an inspiring and distinct reference book about a legendary director. William Friedkin: Films of Aberration, Obsession and Reality is must-read literature.


The Red Star of Death

Marc Liebman’s The Red Star of Death is a dense, globe-spanning thriller that balances the precision of military history with the pulse of an espionage page-turner. As someone in his late twenties who grew up with both historical documentaries and binge-worthy spy dramas, I found this book satisfying because it doesn’t talk down to the reader. It expects you to keep up, and rewards you with a narrative that is both gritty and human.

At the center of the novel is Janet Pulaski, who later becomes known as Janis Goodrich, a professional assassin whose resume stretches from the radical fringes of 1960s America to high-stakes covert operations in South America and beyond. Early on, Liebman grounds her in history with the assassination of Reinhard Freiburg, a Nazi war criminal hiding in Argentina. The description of Freiburg’s past atrocities is chilling. “We will kill all you Jews,” he boasts in an archival clip before Janet ends his life with a single suppressed shot. It’s a moment that captures the moral ambiguity of Janet’s role: she insists she doesn’t judge her contracts, but in this case, there’s no denying the justice she delivers.

What struck me is how the book moves seamlessly between different theaters of conflict. In one chapter, you’re in 1970s Bariloche watching Janet stalk her prey; in another, you’re thrown into the chaos of a 1994 Hezbollah bombing in Buenos Aires. Liebman doesn’t sensationalize the violence; he shows it as the devastating reality of terrorism. That choice makes the story resonate more deeply.

Aliyah Skylar, the Mossad operative, adds another dimension. She’s multilingual, sharp, and deeply committed, and her missions take us from Argentine cafés to helicopter crashes in Lebanon. Her experience during Operation Grapes of Wrath is harrowing: “Welcome to a goat fuck. Find some cover… and then kill anyone approaching from that direction,” her commander yells as their Blackhawk takes fire. The realism here is remarkable. Aliyah’s mix of discipline and fury makes the scene memorable.

The book isn’t only about bullets and bombs. It takes time to explore identity, grief, and even sexuality. Janet’s long-term relationship with Karin is handled with care, and their love story gives the novel unexpected tenderness. When Karin is diagnosed with cancer, the narrative slows to show their private pain. It’s these quieter moments that elevate the book from a standard thriller into something more layered.

For me, The Red Star of Death works because it straddles eras and themes without losing coherence. It’s about Nazis in hiding, Cold War legacies, Middle Eastern conflicts, and the personal toll on those who fight in the shadows. Some readers might find the detail overwhelming (Liebman is meticulous about weapons, dates, and locations), but I appreciated it. It felt like stepping into a world where every gunshot and every political alliance had consequences.

In the end, this is a book about the long shadow of terror, both political and personal. Janet may be a killer, but she’s also a lover, a widow, a survivor. Aliyah may be an agent, but she’s also a daughter navigating cultural identity. That balance of action and humanity kept me turning the pages. If you want a thriller that’s as intelligent as it is fast-moving, The Red Star of Death delivers.


The Red Star of Death

Marc Liebman’s The Red Star of Death is a novel that thrives on the transformation of nations, of conflicts, and above all, of its protagonist. I found myself drawn less to the mechanics of the espionage and more to the evolution of a woman who moves from radical to assassin, and finally, to someone searching for a different life under a new name. Janet Pulaski, whom we first meet as a steely contract killer, eventually becomes Janis Goodrich, a woman who has lived through decades of violence and reinvention.

The story begins in 1970s Argentina, with Janet waiting to kill Reinhard Freiburg, a Nazi hiding in Bariloche. She is coldly professional, rehearsing her escape routes and calculating her payday. When Freiburg boasts about the Holocaust Janet doesn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his head.

One of the strongest aspects of this book is the way Liebman connects individual choices to global events. For instance, Janet’s personal “life list," a brutally honest inventory of her defining moments, reads like a confession carved out of history. She recalls fire-bombing a recruiting station in 1967, being disowned by her parents in 1968, and later training in Cuba as a professional killer. These aren’t just plot points; they’re a roadmap of radicalization, grief, and survival. As a reader, I couldn’t help but ask myself how far people are willing to go when ideology becomes identity.

Liebman never allows Janet to be one-dimensional. Her relationship with Karin shows a tenderness that contrasts with her professional detachment. When Karin is diagnosed with cancer, the woman who once measured life in contracts is confronted with a loss she cannot control. In grieving Karin, Janet begins to confront the human cost of the walls she has built around herself.

Parallel to Janet’s story is that of Aliyah Skylar, a Mossad operative who represents loyalty to a cause larger than herself. Where Janet is adrift, Aliyah is anchored by duty. Her missions, whether in the aftermath of the AMIA bombing or under fire in Lebanon, showcase another way of living with danger: through conviction, not contracts. Their stories, though separate, illuminate each other.

For me, this book is about consequences. Every action, whether it’s pulling a trigger in Bariloche, detonating a bomb in Buenos Aires, or choosing to love someone despite the risks, echoes across time. Liebman has written a novel that’s as much about history’s scars as it is about espionage.

If you’re looking for a thriller that respects your intelligence, that doesn’t sugarcoat the brutality of terrorism or the price of fighting it, The Red Star of Death is worth your time. It’s not escapism. It’s confrontation, and it lingers long after the last page.


House of Monstrous Women

This tale takes place in the Philippines in the mid-1980s as the Dictator Marcos tries to maintain power. A family that has been impacted by the Marcos regime tries to revive their fortunes with a dangerous game, played by desperate people, over one night. Josephine and Alejandro were made orphans when their family was killed during an election campaign, as the family was anti-Marcos in a pro-Marcos community. Years later, Josephine, Alejandro, and their friends are invited to compete in a game where, if they survive until dawn, they will learn how to make their biggest wish come true. Josephine struggles not only to maintain her family but also to survive in desperate circumstances as the country struggles to maintain stability.

This book could have been great, but instead it falls somewhere in the middle range. There are moments where it is edge of your seat, but then it quickly gets bogged down in pages of information that we have either already read or do not do much for the story. At the end of the day, be careful with the games you play as a child.


City Cats of Istanbul

Cats - my favorite animal - and seeing them roaming around on every page of City Cats of Istanbul is an amazing experience (but seeing them in person would be the best). Istanbul is a city in Turkey that treats cats like royalty - they are allowed to be anywhere among the people, and are protected from harm. Each page in this book shows a particular cat, many of which you've probably seen before in the United States. The pictures are full of color and high-quality focus, which are likely to make you jealous and want to pet every one! The text contains many three-line poems that are short and sweet about what is happening, how the cat feels, or something related to the situation(s). This book is perfect for any reader and any setting - a library, home bookshelf, coffee table, or as a resource of a picture to copy (of a cat).


The Prestige

The Prestige, first published in 1995, turns 30 years old this year. Written by the legendary sci-fi novelist, Christopher Priest, The Prestige follows the lives of two stage magicians as their feud turns from petty to deadly. Priest’s magical masterpiece was nominated for the British Fantasy, Bram Stoker, and Arthur C Clark Awards and won the World Fantasy Award in 1996 and the James Tait Black Memorial Prize. The film adaptation came out in 2006. Tor Essentials re-released it for a whole new generation of horror fantasy fans.

The Prestige is a sneak peek behind the curtains to discover a stage magician’s most guarded secrets. But no matter how sneaky you are, a good illusionist will only allow you to see what they want to show you. But if you are persistent, you can always discover the mysteries of their illusions. That is, until you realize that the stage magician is still hiding more up their sleeve. And just like a great stage magician, Priest pulls off a sleight-of-hand trick so sneaky that you’ll never guess the outcome until the illusion ends. So sit back and prepare to be amazed by this magical work.


Dungeons & Dragons: The Fallbacks: Dealing with Dragons

The Fallbacks are back in a fantastic adventure to save one of their own! They certainly aren’t the most organized or responsible heroes of the land, but they’ll do what it takes to protect each other. A mysterious entity has a tight hold on Baldric, Lark is hiding a secret, Anson will do anything to help his brother, and Tess isn't sure she can keep them together. The stakes are high for all of them, and time is running out.

This book reads like a dnd campaign, which is the point. The end felt a little sudden, but dnd does some crazy stuff sometimes, and it wasn’t bad, cheap, or rushed. If you don’t have an understanding of dnd, some things will be confusing, such as the way magic works and some of the world-building. The characters are awesome; each has their own motives, secrets, and personality. It took me a few chapters to remember who’s who, but they’re all different from each other. This is the second adventure of the Fallbacks, and there were definitely a few things that weren’t expanded on that happened in the first, but none of it is relevant to this story to know what’s going on.


Tarou

Epic in scope and rich in imagination, this novel delivers a sweeping fantasy steeped in myth, power, and impending collapse. Dana Fredsti and David Fitzgerald draw inspiration from tarot symbolism to create a world that feels both mythic and strikingly original, where gods, magic, and ambition intertwine. The empire of Tarou dazzles at first glance, but beneath its splendor lies corruption and hunger for control, lending the story a compelling sense of unease.

The dual perspectives of Alia, a peerless warrior bound by duty, and Magpie, a charming rogue chasing opportunity, bring balance and momentum to the narrative. Their separate journeys build tension until catastrophe strikes, when a forbidden magical experiment unleashes devastation on an unimaginable scale. The authors excel at blending personal stakes with world-shattering consequences, making the apocalypse feel intimate as well as epic. Dark, cinematic, and emotionally charged, Tarou: The Fall is a powerful opening to a world where destiny, belief, and ruin collide.


I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day: An Illustrated Keepsake Book

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Janna Steagall

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day is a simple book based on a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in 1864, following the Civil War, about both the hard and good times leading up to Christmas Day. Each line of the book, or verse, if you listen to or hum along with the song based on the poem, tells a story of a person's journey in their mind and through what they view outside of themselves, as they consider the ringing of the bells and what that means in a world where it seems unlikely that peace on earth could exist. Each line ends with "peace on earth, goodwill toward men," so it's hopeful that this will happen and be the outcome.

 I mentioned that this is a "simple" book, but it's appropriate for readers of all ages because it makes you think and connect what is happening in the poem with current events, local and far away, and hopefully, the reader comes to the same conclusion as the author. The illustrations contain pleasant colors, and I love how they fill up the pages. I enjoyed learning the historical aspect of this poem/book that I didn't know before.