Devil's Roadtrip: The Collected Poetry of Armando Gonzalez

Armando Gonzalez’s Devil’s Roadtrip is a sharp, haunting, and darkly funny poetry collection that drives straight into the heart of human contradiction. At just 65 pages, it’s a compact but potent ride — a desert roadtrip through despair, memory, desire, and absurdity, with the devil himself riding shotgun.

What resonated with me was Gonzalez’s ability to be both unfiltered and deeply poetic. His Lucifer is not some abstract evil — he’s a beer-drinking, cowboy-hatted misfit (“Lucifer in a ten-gallon hat… dancing hula girl tattoo”) who’s almost more human than devil. The journey becomes a metaphor for grief, guilt, and the search for meaning in a broken-down Chevy of a life. That final image of hearts falling from a mysterious box and staining the sand pink in the desert? It lingers.

Gonzalez writes with a fierce rhythm that recalls the beat poets and Bukowski, but with more introspection and cultural layering. Poems like “Styx Mea” and “Somnium Supermercati” capture the push-pull between self-destruction and transcendence. In the latter, a supermarket becomes a surreal warzone of late-stage capitalism and spiritual decay — “press your soul against mine while I’m at the Supermart and feel nothing but my coat wet from toilet water from aisle 7.” It’s grotesque, hilarious, and unnervingly poignant.

The collection also shines in its cultural specificity. Gonzalez grounds many poems in the Mexican-American experience — from Progreso border town memories to Catholic schoolgirl flashbacks — without ever slipping into cliché. The language is rich with Spanglish grit, musicality, and spiritual hunger. “Progreso International Bridge” is a standout: part Kafka hallucination, part drunken prayer, it blends surrealism with raw border-town realism in a way that’s both funny and devastating.

If there’s a critique to be had, it’s that the tone can be unrelentingly intense. There are few moments of quiet or restraint — Gonzalez goes full throttle from start to finish. A bit more structural variety or room to breathe between poems might have helped the strongest pieces land with even more impact.

Still, Devil’s Roadtrip is a thrilling, unforgettable collection. It doesn’t just ask you to read — it dares you to ride shotgun. It’s not for the faint of heart, but for those who love poetry with edge, humor, and soul — this one’s for you.


The Cartoonists Club: A Graphic Novel

Makayla loves telling stories, but drawing is definitely not her thing. When she sees Howard’s artwork, she thinks she has found a solution—she can write, and he can draw! However, they don’t know much about the process, so they go to the school’s expert, their Library Media Specialist, Ms. Fatima. With a bit of guidance, Ms. Fatima helps Makayla and Howard create The Cartoonist’s Club. Art, who has a case of art supplies, joins. Quiet Lynda, who isn’t ready to share, joins to see if she likes it. Each week, Ms. Fatima offers information about cartooning and challenges them with projects and activities. When the downtown library announces a comics convention, Ms. Fatima encourages the group to apply. But are they good enough? They’re just kids, after all!

Kids have been clamoring for another Raina Telgemeier book, and will not be disappointed. The colors are vibrant, and the diversity is welcoming to all readers. This book is more informational and breaks the fourth wall for hilarity and information sharing. Cartooning information is dropped as info dumps throughout by the school librarian, but the kids make it fun and exciting. Great for Telgemeier fans and those interested in cartooning


Here for a Good Time

Poe and Zwe are lifelong friends and roommates, each harboring secret crushes on one another. Poe is a writer and, after a bestselling debut novel, needs inspiration for her next book. She knows that a vacation to a remote island will cure her writer’s block, and convinces Zwe to accompany her. Although things start off dreamily, their perfect vacation soon becomes a nightmare as they are ambushed by masked criminals who appear to want them dead.

Here for a Good Time started off with top-notch banter and a cute dynamic between pals Poe and Zwe. However, as Zwe became close to hotel staffer Leila, Poe’s protective instincts and jealous feelings caused hurt feelings and jabs between Poe and Zwe. The descriptions of the remote island made me want to go visit – at least until everything went south! I was surprised by the main plot twist, and the story became more of a thriller than a romance. However, the last few pages made me audibly whisper “aww!” and I loved the heartwarming ending. Some of the drama was a bit immature for my taste, but this was an enjoyable novel with a fast-moving plot.


Fifty Fifty: A Novel (5) (Eddie Flynn Series)

The 911 calls came from the same residence and spoke of a ghastly homicide, both callers' voices dripping with fear. The victim was former NYC Mayor Frank Avellino; the 911 calls came from Avellino’s daughters, Sofia and Alexandra. Both alleged the other had murdered their father. Attorney Eddie Flynn knows he faces an uphill climb in representing Sofia Avellino, but he only represents clients he believes in. However, Flynn’s case becomes more challenging as the prosecutor plans to try both sisters in a joint trial, and Alexandra’s attorney plans to point the finger at Sofia. The case becomes more complicated with a biased judge and the untimely deaths of witnesses and investigators. Now, Flynn intends not only to get his client acquitted but also to expose a cold-blooded murderer.

Fifty Fifty is a knockout thriller from the outstanding mind of author Steve Cavanagh (Witness 8). The narrative is seen through multiple perspectives and keeps the reader on their toes with clever misdirection and shocking revelations. Steve Cavanagh has penned a sharp, intelligent, and ultimately unforgettable drama that unfolds in the courtroom and on the streets of New York.


How to Dodge a Cannonball

Anders is a hapless white teen volunteering as a flag twirler for the U.S. Civil War's Union Army. He’s doing this to dodge his abusive mother. Then, he dodges one deadly battle, playing dead in the mud and escaping to join an all-Black squad of soldiers. He claims to be an octoroon: one-eighth Black. Perhaps he’s more lucky than hapless—he keeps finding ways to survive.

Full of characters, race swapping, gender swapping, writing plays within the novel, and engaging in other slapstick spy absurdities, Dayle’s satirical comedy How to Dodge a Cannonball would make Shakespeare himself unsure where to look.

With a great concept and title, the execution disappoints. Stylistically, this novel fails at achieving a language believable to the time. Worse, no single character has a distinct voice. The author’s voice—that generally comes across as trying to be clever—invades each line. There should be more action descriptions to break up all the dialogue that bleeds together.

Though the plot was losing me more and more the further I read, I have to say: it has a pretty good ending.


The Frozen People: A Mystery (Ali Dawson Mysteries)

Ali Dawson and her cold case team refer to themselves as The Frozen People, as they work on cases so old that they’re considered frozen. Their team has the unique ability to travel back in time to gather evidence for their cold cases. Ali is asked to investigate the great-great-grandfather of a politician, one whom her son works for. The person in question was part of a group known as the Collectors and was thought to have murdered three women. Ali travels back to 1850 to investigate and ends up stuck. When another team member comes to rescue her, he informs her that the politician has been murdered and her son is the main suspect. Ali knows the cases are related, but she has no idea how far it goes.

This story has a lot of potential and is well written for a time-traveling tale. It doesn’t focus too strongly on the time travel bit to get confusing, and the premise was certainly interesting. Ali is a super fun character to get to know. The only disappointing aspect is that the mysteries from the Victorian part of the story are hardly explored. Overall, a fun, unique mystery to read.


The Book of Lost Hours: A GMA Book Club Pick (a Novel)

Time as a fourth dimension has often been explored in science fiction, although I have rarely seen it explored in a library, and even less so poetically than Gelfuso employs it. Her debut novel—and what a debut it is!—features a library that exists beyond our three dimensions, one in which people who own specially made watches can access the memories of others, spanning from the beginning of time to the present day.

Or, if they wish, they can burn them, erasing the person from everyone’s memories.

The Book of Lost Hours is a beautifully written work of speculative fiction, but it is so much more than just that. It is also a spy thriller, a Cold War story that features not only a hidden aspect of the war but also another faction within that hidden conflict. It is also a love story, one filled with exquisite longing and joyful moments to delight any romantic. All three of these genres are braided together to perfection.

This is one of the best books I’ve read this year, and I’m very excited to see what Hayley Gelfuso does next!


She Didn't See It Coming: A Novel

Bryden and Sam seem to be the perfect couple. That façade falls away quickly when Bryden goes missing from their apartment. Her computer, keys, and phone are still on the table, and her car is in the garage. As the police begin the search for Bryden, a lot of secrets begin to spill out, not just in their life, but also in the lives of their family, friends, and neighbors. Everyone has something to hide. Despite all the secrets, She Didn’t See It Coming

Lapena does such a good job with her domestic thrillers. Almost too good of a job, because you always start to look at the people around you a little differently when you finish one of her stories. The only downside of this story was that the writing tended to be full of statements. The story was there, but you’re reading other people's thoughts, and they didn’t feel connected or emotional, just statements. That seemed different from her other books. Overall, it is a good mystery to add to your collection, but maybe not her best work.


The Entirely True Story of the Fantastical Mesmerist Nora Grey

Nairna Liath’s whole life is uprooted following the death of her Nan, and now she’s traveling with her father, using her ability to interpret tarot cards for money. One day, she meets a wealthy stranger who sees something special in her. The encounter offers her the chance to transform her life by joining an elite Spiritualist society. Her new life quickly faces upheaval when a seance gone wrong ends in scandal, forcing her to relocate outside of Boston, where she reinvents herself as Nora Grey.

The historical setting is key to understanding the journey of Nairna as she becomes Nora, as she’s uprooted from a comfortable life to go on the road with her charlatan father. Her journey mirrors the heartbreaking struggle of Lottie, whose flashbacks add depth and emotional weight to the story. Through these, you also see the correlation between spiritualism and witchcraft, particularly through the dangers presented to the characters. The exploration of spiritualism is fascinating as it's woven around the trials Nairna faces during its height, which also weaves in historical elements such as experiments, society perception, and scandals. A spellbinding read, /Nora Grey/ explores themes of feminine rage and agency, spiritualism, and witchcraft against a satisfying journey of self-discovery and empowerment.


Angel Down: A Novel

Daniel Kraus returns after the incredible Whalefall to a unique tale of World War I in Angel Down that goes so far as to emulate the stream of consciousness blood and guts literature that came out after those that survived the trenches shared their tales of suffering.

Private Cyril Bagger is our protagonist and is sent on a mission along with four other comrades as the Great War rages on. They must venture into the dreaded No Man’s Land between the trenches to put a wounded fellow soldier to rest. What they find instead is something impossible: a celestial being that has been brought down by artillery fire. The angel is undoubtedly important, perhaps for the entire war effort, but the small troop must work together to survive and prosper.

Kraus has written a compelling war story of World War I that immediately drags the reader into the book. But he goes one step further by writing it seemingly as one entire sentence from page one to the last page. The book is broken up by sections, but the writing style is fluid and fast and flowing like an unstoppable river as Private Bagger is going through all this.


The Original: A Novel

Grace is a gifted artist, but only when it comes to copying prior artworks. She struggles when painting from life, especially painting people, as she cannot remember faces long after seeing them.

When a man appears claiming to be her long-disappeared cousin Charles, Grace must rely on the word of others, particularly her aunt, to tell whether he really is her cousin or an imposter. Despite her aunt’s insistence that this is her son, Grace remains uncertain and suspicious.

The Original is a fascinating, unsettling, and beautiful novel that beautifully captures the Gothic atmosphere of Victorian literature. The themes of originality and copies are clear both in Grace’s art and in the plot involving Charles without being didactic, and several chapters of the book feel like poetic digressions, adding depth to the story without drawing too much attention away from the plot.

Most of all, I loved Grace herself. She is one of my favorite sorts of protagonists: a woman growing into herself and learning how to take power for herself while remaining true to her surroundings and her personality. I highly recommend this book, to fans of historical fiction and mysteries alike.


The Witch's Orchard: A Novel

Annie Gore is working as a private investigator, barely scraping by, when she gets a case that takes her into a small mountain town in the Appalachians. Ten years ago, three little girls went missing, and while one was returned, the other two were never seen again. The brother of one of the girls hires Annie in order to try and get some closure. Once in town, Annie does her job, which means asking lots of questions and dredging up the past. One story keeps coming up, the story of the Witch of Quartz Creek and The Witch’s Orchard. When another little girl goes missing, Annie realizes there might be more to this legend and that she will do whatever it takes to find these girls. ||Author Archer Sullivan has composed a masterful and compelling read. Annie Gore is the perfect heroine: bruised, a little bit broken, and absolutely tenacious. If you love mysteries, especially those featuring strong female private detectives, then this story is for you. At no point did I want to put this book down. I hope that this isn’t the last we hear of Annie Gore.


Besties: Prank War (The World of Click)

Kayla Miller, Sarah K Turner, Jeffrey Canino

Meet Trent and Sawyer, the school prankster duo. They want to win a contest to meet their favorite skateboard influencer, Trixie Sampson, by having the best pranking video. The only problem is that they will be pranking a classmate, Natasha, who decides to prank them back. What could go wrong when Trent, Sawyer, and Natasha go on a prank war at school?

The story was just okay to me. I liked the other stores in the series more than this one. The pranking got old and boring. The boys were annoying, especially Trent. Natasha was also annoying. I thought it was odd that Trent’s parents helped Natasha prank their son. I didn’t find the story interesting or funny. But I did like the art, though. The art was cute and colorful, just how I like graphic novels. Even though this story wasn’t for me, I think readers who like pranks might like this story.


The Shortest History of France: From Roman Gaul to Revolution and Cultural Radiance―A Global Story for Our Times (The Shortest History Series)

The intervening Atlantic Ocean tends to preclude our knowledge and understanding of countries 'over the pond' Colin Jones in his Shortest History of France takes us back to Gaul, as it was in Roman times, and captures readers by showing that the country's history did not begin with the turbulent late 18th through 20the century.  France weathered invasions and transformative revolutions, followed by steps of acculturation, before reaching its present physical and practical boundary. Back in the Age of Exploration, France initially chose to focus on expanding European economic relations rather than set sail for the New World.

Besides the written word, which is enjoyable all the way through, the book is filled with a wealth of illustrations, maps, and charts. Francophones, all of us perhaps, admire the Hexagon, popularized in the nineteenth century almost as a teaching aid, identifying twelve cities from Lille in the north, southward to Perpignan, and ten other vital cities encircling Paris.

Colins' chapters dextrously blend history with geography, politics, culture, and the arts. Predictably instructive, The Short History of France complements his earlier writing, as well as supplying a fine addition to The Shortest... series.


The Jack Smith Report: Final Report on Efforts to Interfere with the Lawful Transfer of Power Following the 2020 Presidential Election by Donald Trump and Others

Jack Smith was a career prosecutor with an impeccable reputation when he accepted the appointment to become Special Prosecutor to investigate election fraud and corruption in government. He was much maligned and threatened, however, a careful reading of his report will convince any reader that he was impartial and thorough in his investigative process.  After four grand juries issued true bills for indictment, the investigation was stymied by the unprecedented decision by the Supreme Court that the President was immune from conduct in his office.

Some of the findings of this report  were “Mr. Trump’s case represented ones in which the offense was the most flagrant, the public harm the greatest, and the proof the most certain.” The United States has always been a divided country, but we have relied on the courts and due process to determine how the law should be fairly applied.  Without such a remedy, the separation of the three branches of government is in peril.  When any president can usurp the power of Congress and delay and obstruct the power of the courts, our system fails us.  Good and essential reading for all Americans.


Almost Sunset: A Graphic Novel

Hasan has been fasting for Ramadan for 3 years. But this year, Ramadan started earlier, and it’s happening during Hasan’s soccer playoffs, and he’ll need to fast. To make things worse, he hasn’t told his teachers, friends, and teammates that he is fasting. Hasan is tired and hungry at school. He falls asleep during math class and dreams about hamburgers. Will Hasan’s grades, soccer games, and friendships suffer.

I liked this book and the story. I didn’t know about Ramadan and fasting, so I liked how I learned something new. I just didn’t understand why Hasan didn’t tell his friends, teachers, and teammates that he was fasting. They are very supportive of him. At first, I didn’t understand why Hasan’s parents would let him fast when he was struggling at school. But then I realized it was Hasan’s idea to fast, not his parents’. I recommend this graphic novel to anyone who wants to learn about Muslim cultures and Ramadan.


On Writers and Writing: Selected Essays (New York Review Books)

Even though I find myself agreeing with the criticisms of literature put forward by Henry James, I find his prose convoluted and unnecessarily erudite. I think, perhaps being a gifted writer is a different skill set from being a literary critic. Perhaps he looks at all literature as a competition which he may be able to improve upon. Even when writing memorials for other authors, which are, in the main, laudatory, James can’t resist finding the fly in the ointment and so tempering  his regard. He notes Shakespeare’s declination of power in The Tempest which seems rather an over reach. It is obvious to any reader that Our Mutual Friend is not Dickens at his best. It is interesting that James writes this as a twenty-two year old, yet unpublished writer.This reader feels that perhaps this book is best suited to Jamesian scholars who seek to understand his ethos and revel in his discernment. For the rest of us, let us glory in the fact that James did write his own great novels.


Garlic: More than 65 recipes celebrating garlic & wild garlic (Jenny Linford's Cookbooks)

Jenny Linford, author of several food books, returns with her third title on garlic. Her previous two, published in 2016 and 2019, shared similar titles and appeared within just a few years of each other – evidence of her ongoing fascination with this pungent ingredient. While primarily a cookbook, Garlic: More than 65 Recipes Celebrating Garlic & Wild Garlic also offers informative and entertaining context.  Each of its six main chapters begins with a short essay exploring different aspects of garlic, ranging from folklore and health benefits to garlic festivals and growing tips. The introduction provides a helpful overview of garlic varieties.

The heart of the book lies in its recipes, which span appetizers, dips, snacks, poultry, fish, meat, pasta, and bread. These dishes draw inspiration from both Eastern and Western cuisines, unified by one common element: garlic.  Most recipes are main courses, appealing to home cooks who love bold, savory flavors.

Each recipe occupies a two-page spread.  One side includes a concise description, ingredient list, and preparation steps; the facing page features a full-color photograph of the finished dish, helping readers visualize the ideal outcome. One drawback is the lack of a thematic or regional recipe index. Still, this is an eclectic and flavorful collection sure to delight garlic enthusiasts.


So Let Them Burn (The Divine Traitors, 1)

Faron saved her island from the Langlish several years before, ending the war with the dragon riders. When she goes to an international peace summit, she expects to do her part and leave, but her sister, Elara, bonds with an enemy dragon in an unexpected and unprecedented event. Faron, whose abilities come from the gods, approaches them to beg them to tell her some way to break the bond and return her sister to the island. Over and over again, Faron is told there is only one way to separate dragon and rider, and it will cause the death of her sister. Meanwhile, Elara is learning how to survive in a hostile land, in an empire that houses a dark secret, one that might ruin everything for both of them.

The bond between the sisters is such a beautiful and prevalent part of this tale. While both sisters experience infatuation and love in alternating chapters (one heterosexual and one sapphic), the romance does not overshadow their relationship. The Jamaican influences are slight, so hopefully more attention will be paid to this in the sequel. A modest debut for any reader who loves dragon stories.


Dive #2: The Deep

Kaz, Star, Adriana, and Dante are four unlikely friends who meet and encounter mysterious circumstances when diving and exploring the Caribbean Sea. Kaz, an ex-hockey player, is looking for something to do during the summer and working to "find himself" after an incident that left him confused and unsure of his future. The other kids each have something unique about themselves, and together, they discover a shipwreck with sunken treasure and battle sharks in a thrilling adventure.

Dive: The Deep is a fun and exciting story by an author I already knew I loved. The Deep is the first in a trilogy, which I enjoyed for a couple of reasons—I like to read multiple short stories instead of one long one, and get more of the story between three books versus all in one. There were several larger words that I didn't know throughout the story, and I mostly understood the story overall, but sometimes I got confused because of the number of characters. Now I'm onto book two to learn more!


Dive #1: The Discovery

Dive: The Deep is book 2 in the Dive triology by Gordon Korman. To compare it with the first book, I enjoyed it the same way, but The Deep follows the four friends - Kaz, Dante, Adriana, and Star - further on their diving adventure as they search a sunken ship for treasure. The friends learn and make discoveries about themselves and those around them as they push their limits and boundaries. The Deep contains continued thrills and excitement in the form of endangering and potentially life-threatening situations.

Similar to book one, several scenes were challenging for me to understand and required clarification. I enjoyed learning about diving, such as terminology and good/bad things that can happen to a diver; this is largely because I love to swim and have an interest in possibly trying out diving someday. There were quite a few things that happened in this story that I need to get into book three to figure out how it's all going to play out!


Are You Mad at Me?: How to Stop Focusing on What Others Think and Start Living for You

For those who find themselves overly concerned with what others think of them, this book will be helpful.  If one has had to fend off abuse by complying with a bully, parent, or dominating spouse, they may have developed coping skills that are no longer helpful. The argument I have with the thesis of this book is the label “fawning” to describe that behavior. In my lexicon, I associate the word, fawning, with obsequious flattery designed to provoke a reward. The penultimate fawner was Uriah Heep. It seems cruel to victimize those who have suffered trauma by labeling them and their behaviors with unkind descriptors. Nor do I believe that flattery is a part of the defensive behavior in all cases of trauma. In describing trauma, the author uses personal experiences which didn’t seem to relate to the point she was making.

Of the many things she did get right, is relating how physically and mentally exhausting it becomes when one is always trying to placate others.


Into the Storms: A Hell Divers Prequel (Hell Divers Series)

Before Xavier, “Tin” and the rest of the Hell Divers. Before the struggles of life above the clouds was the war that ended life on Earth and set humanity into the sky. //Into the Storms: A Hell Divers Prequel// by best-selling writer, Nicholas Sansbury Smith, is the beginning of his dystopian military sci-fi series. Before the post-apocalyptic hellscape that Sansbury Smith wrote 12 novels and a novella was the war that caused the apocalypse. This book is the story of that war and its heroes.

Into the Storms: A Hell Divers Prequel is a fast-paced military sci-fi thriller. Even though this book is part of a much larger series, this story takes place 250 years before the rest of the saga and can be read as a stand-alone novel. Like many of Sansbury Smith’s books, this is a fast-paced thrill ride filled with catastrophic battles and murderous AI soldiers. Sansbury Smith is known for his hectic writing style. He has a gift for portraying a sense of danger and doom, making this book a must-read for fans of his Hell Diver series or sci-fi military action/adventure.


The Wrong Sister: A Dark Suspense Thriller With A Compelling Plot―Get Ready For An Adrenaline-Fueled Ride

The Wrong Sister by Claire Douglas is a suspense novel that will keep you guessing until the end. The book starts off with sisters Alice and Tasha doing a house swap. Alice is a geneticist married to a tech genius named Kyle. Tasha is married to a mechanic named Aaron and works at a dental office. Tasha and Aaron have twin girls. Tasha and Alice's mother, Jeanette, also plays a part in the book. The author has two main storylines in the book: the disappearance of a third sister, Holly, who was taken from her pram as an infant, and the murder and attack of Alice's husband, Kyle. When Tasha and Aaron are in London, they are also chased by a man with a knife.

The Wrong Sister is written in a way that makes it so the reader is always guessing what happened to Holly and if it is connected to Kyle's murder. The twists and turns are easy to follow, though, and near the end, the reader is given more information as to what happened to Holly. Needless to say, without this information, I would have never guessed the ending. This is a fun read with loads of interesting characters.


Mother Mary Comes to Me

Having read two of Arundhati Roy's novels, The God of Small Things and The Ministry of Utmost Happiness, I wasn't sure what to expect from her memoir Mother Mary Comes to Me. I need not have worried; this book is as brilliant, cutting, sharp, and true as her fiction.

The book is a memoir by design, but is also a love letter to the complicated relationship Roy shared with her mother, Mary. At one point, Roy describes Mary as her "most enthralling subject," as a "gangster," and as her "shelter and [her] storm." While this may sound like the book praises Mary unconditionally, you need to read that line more closely--shelter and storm. Roy faces her mother's flaws head-on, neither condemning nor forgiving Mary for them; instead, she presents a full and nuanced picture of the woman who gave birth to her.

Mary Roy was a teacher, a feminist, and an ambitious woman at a time when any one of those labels would have been challenging for a woman in India. She raised her children in an increasingly rigid political climate that she fought against while also expecting a rigid standard for her children that could be oppressive, abusive, and cruel. Roy makes it clear that she would not be the person or writer she is today without her mother Mary, but as a reader, I have to question if she would be more joyful in an alternate universe.

Still, if mother/daughter relationships are of interest to you, or if you'd like to read about a remarkable woman's life, Mother Mary Comes to Me is a must-read.


The Wish Switch

Emma just knows that her wishes will come true. Even though her Nana is not there to guide her, Emma took copious notes. She and her best friends will find the portal, drop their wishes and gifts down the portal, then wait for the magic. However, when she sends her offering off, Jackson, that horrible new boy in the neighborhood, throws a rock and knocks her wishes out of the portal. She quickly dumps hers in, hoping for the best. Then they have to wait. Four months after sending their wishes, her best friends experience noticeable changes. But so does Jackson! Jackson stole her wishes! How can she get her wishes back, especially that last one that’s not really for her?

This cute little middle grade romantasy is adorable! Painter, best known for her spicy adult tales and YA romances, drops an enemies-to-friends trope into a story light on fae but heavy on fun. Emma is sassy and determined, Jackson is hesitant and lonely, and together they become friends. The ensuing crush is lighthearted and sweet. Though the lore could use more explanation, this light read is perfect for those who enjoy strange magic and first crushes.


Family of Spies: A World War II Story of Nazi Espionage, Betrayal, and the Secret History Behind Pearl Harbor

In 1964, siblings Ruth and Hans reunited in Germany in a bid to exorcise the ghosts of the past through a large bonfire. Despite their fondest wishes, the sins of the Kuehn family wouldn’t die with the incriminating documents they set aflame that winter’s night. Christine Kuehn, Hans’ daughter, noticed how reticent Hans could be in discussing his father, Otto. Christine wondered if Hans was hiding something about the family’s past. Still, this curiosity would only be magnified with a phone call asking about the Kuehns and their residence in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, up to and including the attack by Japan on December 7th, 1941. Otto Kuehn hailed from Germany, had served the fatherland during World War I and fell under the sway of the Nazi ideology. His service to the Reich would not only include his acting as a covert agent, but his family as well, leading to consequences decades later.

Author Christine Kuehn excavates a painful yet illuminating aspect of her family history in the engrossing memoir Family of Spies. Kuehn provides a wealth of research in the search for the truth about her family’s painful past, and the result is a truly remarkable and memorable book.


Flashout: A Novel

In 1972, when Allison first encounters the avant-garde theater troupe Theater Negative in New York City, she’s a fresh-faced college student desperate for adventure and authentic experiences. The show she attends is unlike anything she’s ever seen, and her life changes after that evening. Even her name changes, as the leader of the group, Peter, mishears her name as “Alice.” Alice becomes embroiled with the group, living collectively and cleaving her fate to Peter’s. That fate is manipulative, difficult, and often violent, but Alice lives for the rush of performing, the glow of Peter’s ardor, and, eventually, the attention of Rosa, a volatile new group member who sets Alice’s world spinning. No one will escape these years unscathed.

In 1997, a much older Allison is a school teacher facing the unthinkable: someone from the past has found her and initiated contact. Allison prefers to keep her past sealed tightly shut--the nightmare of the group’s dissolution, her betrayal, and escape. But just as the stage on those long-ago shows with Theater Negative ended with a bright glare of light, a “flashout,” instead of fading to black, the past demands visibility. Allison finds that telling her story is the only path to closure. Dark, claustrophobic, and startlingly clear in its depiction of youthful yearning and euphoria, Flashout is an exceptional fall read.


The Zombees

Have you ever wondered if other animals celebrate spooky season and the cool Autumn weather? It seems like these bees do. The bees are always working to make their very tasty, yummy honey, and fall is no different. So they decide to have a little fun and dress up as Zombies while they work, but they only want honey, not brains. When it seems they have had their fun, I love that they are preparing mumbee costumes for the next year. So hopefully this will be a continued series.

The illustrations in this book are really great. I love the black, white, and green color scheme. I especially love the queen bee dressed up as a Zombee. We are definitely adding this to the fall favorites.

Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers


Veil

Something is wrong with the world. People are going missing and it’s happening all over the world. Even with modern technology and social media it takes a while to get actual footage of people being taken. And the videos are terrifying: average people walking along and suddenly they are dragged away and disappear into thin air. And no one knows what to do about it.

John Calhoun has lost his son and is beyond heartbroken. He has no idea if he’ll ever see him again. But it brings him closer to his separated wife and daughter. Meanwhile society starts shutting down as more people disappear, and his neighborhood has turned into a vigilante mob looking to protect its own and he wants no part of it. But then his wife and daughter are taken too and John has to join an unusual group to find out what is going on with hopes of rescuing his family.

Janz has written a terrifying but addictive novel where you’re scared to turn the page but you have to know what happens next. Veil starts in high gear and somehow goes to full throttle in. a matter of pages and keeps it that way to the very end.


The Black Family Who Built America: The McKissacks, Two Centuries of Daring Pioneers

In spite of obstacles, there are black households that have attained upper-class status and created intergenerational wealth. These families are often overlooked as the focus tends to be on wealth disparity, which is institutionalized in the United States. It may be surprising to learn that 25% make over $100,000/year, 37% make over $75,000/year, and 9-16% are upper-income households. 23% of black men are considered upper income.

This is the story of one family who got an early start on wealth creation. Under slavery, the elder was trained in construction and construction supervision. Some owners rented out their slaves for income, and some even allowed their slaves to earn some pay. The McKissack family is such an unusual story. It is a fascinating and often untold story of black success in the United States. However,  this reader was expecting more. It would have benefited from focusing on the family’s journey and struggles. Photographs would have added another dimension. Instead, this book reads like a corporate brochure. In particular, the firm’s decision to move to a New York location despite Southern roots and success isn’t completely revealed. However, this is an important American family success story which may encourage other families to believe racist stereotypes and reveal stories of fellow Americans who work hard and succeed despite obstacles.


The Art of Drag

The Art of Drag is a delightfully informative and visually striking exploration of drag culture’s rich history and evolution. Far more than entertainment, drag is a dynamic performance art rooted in self-expression, protest, and joy. Author Jake Hall, alongside a talented team of illustrators and contributors, traces drag’s multifaceted lineage—from kabuki theater and vaudeville to pantomime and classic Hollywood cinema.

Hall highlights how drag has shifted over time, shaping and being shaped by broader cultural movements. Readers will journey from the underground ballrooms of the 1960s to iconic figures like Crystal LaBeija, Danny La Rue, and Leigh Bowery, and witness drag’s role in the fight for LGBTQ+ rights and its rise to mainstream recognition.

This beautifully rendered book is an ideal primer for those new to drag or anyone interested in understanding its cultural significance. It’s also a timely reminder of why drag matters. As anti-LGBTQ+ rhetoric strengthens in political discourse, The Art of Drag urges readers to celebrate and protect queer expression.

For many, drag is an act of self-love, resistance, and radical imagination. Whether humorous, glamorous, political, or provocative, drag is always creative. This book captures its dazzling complexity with insight and affection.


Slashed Beauties

Present-day Alys is an antiques dealer who has been commissioned to destroy a famed anatomical model of a young sex worker, yet she struggles to destroy history and feels personally connected to the figure. In 1769, Young Eleanor meets posh Elizabeth in London, who takes her under her wing and introduces her to an intriguing life that takes advantage of sleazy, rich men. Yet, it requires Eleanor to offer her body in exchange for a ritzy life.

This book was unique and chilling! I typically lean toward present-day storylines in similar novels; however, I was very drawn to Eleanor’s story. As a vulnerable teenager, Elizabeth grooms her to be a courtesan after tempting her with fineries, but also a soft place to land after being left alone. She becomes fast friends with Emily, who urges her to leave the house while she still can, yet Emily will not abandon her new friend. Eleanor feels betrayed when Elizabeth’s true colors are slowly revealed. I was a bit confused about Alys’ involvement with the Venuses throughout the story. The ending left me lost in the intricate details of how the spells came to be, though I found Alys’ ending satisfying.


Robert Shaw: An Actor’s Life on the Set of JAWS and Beyond

The shark wasn’t working, the production was over budget, and a key part of the script hadn’t been nailed down yet. As Robert Shaw filmed the movie Jaws in 1974, he wondered if he were a doomed member of a slowly sinking ship. Throughout his life, he and his family had faced tough times and remained resilient, ranging from the tragic loss of his father due to an overdose to the possible obliteration of their town during World War II. The visit from his sister and mother to the troubled set seemed almost fitting in a way; they would bear witness to something special or a beautiful disaster. Robert Shaw caught the acting bug from an early age and took joy from performing, despite his mother’s disapproval. Shaw would act in theater, television, and movies, but yearned to be one of the greats. Jaws would prove to be the pinnacle of a versatile career.

Christopher Shaw Myers has written a candid and wonderful memoir of both his legendary uncle and his family, filled with interesting, humorous, warm, and poignant anecdotes. Robert Shaw fills in the blanks about a larger-than-life actor and the background that shaped him throughout his all-too-short life.


Fine Young People: A Novel

St. Ignatius, a Catholic prep school in Pittsburgh, is full of Fine Young People. However, its students keep dying. Frankie and her best friend, Shiv, decide to write about it for the journalism class essay. Three students, all hockey players, have died either by suicide or under mysterious circumstances over the last eighteen years. It all started with Woolf Whiting, so Frankie and Shiv begin their search there. Little do they know, but their investigation will expose secrets they didn’t even know they were looking for. ||While I really enjoyed this story and its characters, I was a little disappointed that the investigation only looked at Woolf’s case. It didn’t seem like anyone cared about why the other two hockey players died. I am fond of this author’s writing style. She made it feel like you were right there with Frankie as she was growing up and realizing what the world is like and what her place in it is. The inclusion of the interview notes also added to the feeling that you were part of the story. If you enjoy coming-of-age mysteries, then this book is for you.


The Late-Night Witches

Cassie’s life is too ordinary for magic, and far too busy as she balances an unruly teenager, being a mom of three while her husband is gone, and handling her sister’s problems. When the cryptic warnings from her neighbors become reality, she faces an unsettling revelation that vampires are real, and they seem to be interested in her. To protect her loved ones, she must train under an estranged aunt and find a way to end a generational curse that has befallen the women in her family.

The ordinary life that Cassie has held onto is peeled back to expose a darker reality that forces her to figure out what she’s capable of. This is done with dramatic flair and non-stop fun as she’s dragged into the middle of her sister’s boyfriend troubles, and comes face-to-face with an actual vampire. You never know what to expect with the quirky sense of dark humor, as at any moment, you have a decaying boyfriend or bickering sisters. Cassie is forced to take an honest look at the different dynamics in her life, which provides the story with themes of family and self-discovery. A feel-good read, The Late Night Witches is a cozy fantasy that brings charm, quirkiness, heart, and fun with every page.


A Tour to Die for (The Serial Killer Guide to San Francisco Mysteries, 2)

Capri’s tours have never been better until she’s once again chasing after a killer. One of her guests witnesses a startling sight when she spies a woman being attacked in her apartment. But when the police check out the scene, there’s no sign of foul play or the woman. Capri can’t get the thought of someone needing help out of her mind, so she takes it upon herself to find proof one way or another. Something doesn’t sit right with her, and she would never be able to sleep if someone actually needed help.

This is an exciting mystery that takes the time to get to know the victim, which allows you to feel the compassion and care that Capri has for seeking the truth. Remembering who the victim was as a person is at the heart of the mystery, and this gives the story a sweet depth. Friendship is an important part of the story, and Heather is a shining star in Capri’s orbit as her direct nature and honesty make her so likable. The writing is humorous as Capri has a great voice, which perfectly blends the essence of a cozy mystery with a modern edge. A Tour to Die For is a highly recommended mystery with charm, heart, humor, and strong female characters.


Last Night in San Francisco: Tech's Lost Promise and the Killing of Bob Lee

The 911 call was a last-ditch appeal for help, but Bob Lee’s wounds were mortal, and doctors weren’t able to save him. The call originated during the early morning hours of April 4, 2023, and despite the San Francisco Police Department’s best efforts, the story of Lee’s violent demise would soon go viral. The City of San Francisco had been generating headlines in the previous years, but mostly in a negative way due to its homeless population and its increasing crime problem. The death of a high-profile tech figure like Lee only furthered the scrutiny of the City by the Bay. Police would arrest Nima Momeni for the stabbing, but the motive was still being questioned. In 2024, Momeni would go on trial for Lee’s murder, where his defense argued that Momeni acted in self-defense. Families of both victim and defendant would listen in rapt attention as the last day of Bob Lee’s life was told in vivid detail.

Last Night in San Francisco is an engrossing read from start to finish. Author Scott Alan Lucas focuses on both Lee and Momeni and how the two men came into each other’s lives. His reporting is both fair and thorough. This is a must-read True Crime book.


This Is the Ocean

Filled with entrancing blue illustrations featuring views of the ocean and its marine dwellers, the story musically crescendos with rhymes that detail the feeding cycles in that aquatic environment. It begins with the sun's power, which enables plankton to produce their food. Continuing up the food chain to the krill, then the fish, crab, seal, shark, and finally to the prime predator, the whale. As the reader ascends the food chain, the musical descriptive words increase in length, as if to fit the size of the marine predator. And the whale’s waste or plume continues this circle of life, providing the nutrients that feed the plankton.  This is a lovely introduction to the concept of food chains for the early reader. The illustrations appear magical with their diverse shapes and colors. One problem is that the illustrations do not include a version of the feeder being described until the following page, which might frustrate the finger pointer. Additionally, while the concept of a whale plume may be evident to the adult, the term should be better clarified for beginners. This is a magical entry to biological themes.


Last Seen

Up until last week, Halley thought her mother and sister had died in a car accident when she was six. Coming home to help her dad after a surgery, she discovers that her sister actually murdered her mom and has been missing for the last fifteen years. Since Halley just lost her job and her marriage is falling apart, she decides to put all her energy into finding her sister, Cat. Her search leads her to the mysterious town of Brockville, where her sister was Last Seen. But people are dying all around her, and it looks like she might be next.

I love Ellison’s stories. She manages to write what seems to be up to four different tales, that deep down you know are related, but aren’t quite sure until you get to the end. Each page keeps you in suspense, and you know that you have to go on. I also have a love/hate relationship with her endings. You start to feel like you’re safe because things have been figured out, but there is always something lurking that leaves you wanting more. I highly recommend any of her books, but definitely this one.


The Unseen: A Novel

Isla and Luke recently lost a child, so when one appears in the woods surrounding their home, Isla thinks it’s a sign. They begin fostering the child, much to the chagrin of their other five children, and strange things start occurring. There seems to be something wrong with this child. There is also a hidden presence that each of them can feel, but cannot fully see. It doesn’t take long before this family realizes The Unseen presence has some purpose for them, and it isn’t good.

This was probably one of the most terrifying books I’ve ever read. I couldn’t put it down because I wanted to finish before I went to bed, and honestly, I’m still not quite sure what was going on. However, if you like scary stories, whether they make sense or not, this book is for you. The author does a wonderful job of giving the reader a continual sense of foreboding. You know it won’t end well, but you have no idea how crazy it will get. This is definitely a book you read in one sitting.


The Million-Dollar Car Detective: Inside the Worldwide Hunt for a Stolen $7 Million Car

The movie “Gone in Sixty Seconds” and its remake are based on real-life techniques by which thieves steal cars, remove their VINs, and resell them. But, as this fast-paced book explains, car theft is at an entirely different level when it involves the “passion investments” of the most exclusive, rare sports cars. Millionaires across the globe compete in collecting and restoring (and occasionally driving) these valuable acquisitions. The tales told here involve insurance fraud, money laundering, tax evasion, forgery, and much more.

Primarily, the author focuses on two individuals. Once partners in buying and selling exotic vehicles, Joe Ford and Chris Gardner became sworn enemies, locked in legal battles for years as they fought over a seven-million-dollar car. Who is the rightful owner? Who stole it from an old man’s warehouse? Moving from the playgrounds of the rich to the Wisconsin Superior Court, from jailhouse to a Swiss villa, readers will keep turning the pages, fascinated by the text and aided by plenty of photographs that illustrate the luxury cars at stake. The author wisely leaves it up to us to decide which of the protagonists we believe more—or perhaps, which of them seems less of a liar than the other.


Romantasy Crochet Club: 20 Epic Projects for Your Reading Journeys

Raise your swords! Mount your dragons! This crochet project book will entice readers of Sarah Maas, Holly Black, Rebecca Yarros, and more. Cut your crocheting teeth on some basics, like a dragon tail bookmark or a werewolf book sleeve. Add some fun to your shelves with poisoned apples, skulls, swords, and magic mushrooms. Enhance your closet with a mask or fae ear cuffs. Finally, create your own dragon, raven, or fae warrior. These are just a few of the projects available to transform reading spaces into bookish lairs.

When you can’t find the bookish goodies you want to support your latest romantasy crush, this book allows artistic and creative freedom to just make it. The directions are clear, and projects are marked with skill level. There are some projects for beginners (the bookmarks and book sleeve) and some that are more difficult (the dragon and warrior). The authors included QR codes for videos to assist with difficult steps, knowing these could hinder some crafters. In addition, there are resources that include steps for specific crochet stitches, yarn suggestions, and an abbreviation list. The gorgeous sprayed edges ensure that this book belongs on your bookshelves, next to your favorite titles.


Please Don't Lie: A Thriller (Crystal River)

At twenty-eight, Hayley lost her parents in a tragic house fire. Not long after that, her twenty-year-old sister overdosed. Hayley inherited everything, including the media circus surrounding the suspicious circumstances in which her family died. Along comes Brandon, who seems to be the answer to her problems. After a whirlwind romance, they get married and move to the Adirondacks, where Brandon inherited the home he grew up in. The isolation begins to gnaw at Hayley, as well as the mysterious comments she keeps getting about her new husband from the townsfolk. Hayley has been burned by relationships before and knows she needs to confront her husband. She wants the truth and Please Don’t Lie. ||Another classic tale of why it is not good to be rich. Everyone will lie to you and try to marry you for your money. Almost everyone is keeping secrets in this story. While the end seems obvious, if you enjoy thrillers, I would still recommend this, as it doesn’t end the way you think. You’ll definitely be thankful you aren’t rich after reading this.


DEEP FAKE: A Murder, A Coverup, and the Ultimate Digital Manipulation

Vincent deFilippo has done it again in this intriguing modern-day technothriller, pitting nefarious cybercriminals against PIs working on the right side of morality but not always on the right side of the law. This book is perfect not only for fans of thrillers but also for fans of grounded science fiction. Reading this will remind anyone that technology is constantly zooming forward, both for good and for evil. Deep Fake is a gripping novel that will keep you glued until the very last page. —Jo Niederhoff, Seattle Book Review


Shadows of Tehran: Forged in Conflict: From Iranian Rebel to American Soldier

Nick Berg’s Shadows of Tehran is a poignant, sprawling novel that captures the tension of dual identity with lyrical prose and unflinching honesty. Berg crafts an evocative narrative that moves from the fragrant courtyards of Tehran to the restless suburbs of America, mapping not just a journey of physical migration but one of spiritual reckoning and personal transformation.

What distinguishes this novel is its ability to marry historical complexity with deeply personal stakes. Ricardo, born to an Iranian mother and American father, embodies the fractured self of the modern exile. From the beginning, he is a child “from two different worlds,” straddling cultural chasms and emotional divides that few can navigate without scars. The author’s preface warns us that “this is not just a recounting of events,” and indeed, what unfolds is a richly textured exploration of family, abandonment, resilience, and ultimately, identity.

The early chapters are particularly vivid. I was moved by the descriptions of the family’s Tehran home—a place “built in the mid-1800s...with colorful pomegranate trees and lemon and orange trees with fragrant blooms.” Berg’s ability to describe the setting with such sensory immersion is one of the book’s great strengths. His Tehran is not just a city; it is a character in its own right, both nurturing and oppressive.

Yet it is in the depiction of betrayal and estrangement that Berg’s storytelling truly soars. David, Ricardo’s American father, gradually disappears from their lives—first emotionally, then physically. The scenes of Ricardo trying to understand this abandonment, particularly when the private investigator says David has fled again, are heart-wrenching. “Who was this man?” Ricardo asks. “What were his motives?” These are the questions that echo through the novel like a drumbeat.

Equally powerful is the figure of Samira, Ricardo’s mother, who clings to her dignity and intelligence despite mounting obstacles. Her attempt to learn English, thwarted by her husband’s cryptic insistence on Spanish, is symbolic of how women’s agency is often redirected or denied in patriarchal systems. One of the book’s most chilling lines is a whispered nighttime call: “Hello, Reza... it’s me.” In that moment, we realize that love and survival do not always follow the same path.

As someone who has raised children and faced the complexities of reinvention later in life, I was especially touched by Ricardo’s growth from confused child to a young man shaped by loss, literature, and history. His time in his Uncle Masood’s bookstore—portrayed with almost sacred reverence—offers the balm of intellectual sanctuary and moral clarity.

Shadows of Tehran is not an easy read, but it is a necessary one. It reminds us that the wounds of exile are carried for generations, and that in the search for home, sometimes the shadows show us where the light still burns.


The Elephant in the Family Room: Managing the Complexities of Legacy Businesses

René Sonneveld’s The Elephant in the Family Room isn’t your average business book. It doesn’t just tell you how to professionalize your family enterprise—it dares you to confront what really matters: the unspoken emotions, power struggles, and psychological undercurrents that quietly shape success or sabotage it from within.

From the first page, Sonneveld is refreshingly honest. The book opens with a powerful story of a seasoned patriarch, not shaken by financial fears, but by the thought of losing his family to the business he built. That tone—empathetic, clear-eyed, and deeply human—carries throughout the book. Sonneveld writes, “The elephant in the room is never invisible—it’s just that no one dares to name it. But what if I told you that naming it could save your family business?” That question alone hits hard for anyone who has ever watched family dynamics unravel behind a glossy boardroom door.

This book is valuable because it blends real-life case studies with conceptual insights. The Montenegro family, for example, illustrates the paralyzing weight of unspoken fears during succession. The father, once a towering presence, now sits silently at the dinner table while his children tiptoe around the legacy question like it’s a landmine. Another case, the Harrison brothers, digs into how unresolved identity issues around a father's legacy can block even the most rational business transitions.

Sonneveld’s strength is making abstract emotional challenges feel tangible. He draws on behavioral economics, introducing cognitive biases like the endowment effect or loss aversion, not in a dry academic tone, but with practical family business examples. You see how legacy can become a double-edged sword—something families overvalue emotionally and underprepare for logically.

He also offers tools, not just theory. Reflection questions at the end of each chapter ask you to consider, “What would you say if you could fully express your hopes and fears for your family and business?” It’s clear this isn’t just a book to be read—it’s a workbook for emotional intelligence.

If I had one critique, it would be that the book leans a little heavily on metaphor and repetition at times, especially around the “elephant” imagery. Still, considering the topic—how silence and avoidance can derail families and businesses alike—the emphasis feels earned.

Overall, The Elephant in the Family Room is a standout. It’s less about profit and more about people, legacy, and learning how to talk about the hard stuff before it tears everything apart. This book is essential if you’re in a family business, work with one, or are trying to avoid becoming your family’s next cautionary tale.


Maya, Dead and Dreaming

Lana Sabarwal’s Maya, Dead and Dreaming is an atmospheric, beautifully layered literary mystery that doesn’t just ask who committed a crime—it asks why we choose silence, how grief transforms us, and what happens when the ghosts we bury refuse to stay buried. Set in the sleepy, rain-soaked town of Shogie, Washington, in the 1950s, the novel unearths long-buried secrets through the eyes of Munna Dhingra, a deeply introspective and painfully self-aware Indian American woman trapped by her past and the expectations of a judgmental small town.

When Munna receives an anonymous letter fourteen years after the mysterious death of her childhood friend Maya Hickman, her carefully ordered life begins to unravel. The letter is chilling: “She didn’t kill herself. She couldn’t have. Cowards stayed silent with blood on their hands.” As if summoned by the message, Maya’s ghost begins to haunt Munna—not just in dreams, but in waking memory and emotion. What follows is part detective story, part ghost story, and a character study in longing, shame, and reluctant courage.

Sabarwal’s prose is intimate and emotionally precise. She captures Munna’s insecurities with empathy and elegance: “Thirty-six, alone, in the grips of a dishonorable, unrequited infatuation. How had I become this person?” Themes of identity and belonging resonate throughout, primarily through Munna’s reflections on being a brown woman in a white town, always accepted but never embraced. The novel deftly explores racial and social dynamics of the 1950s without preaching—Munna’s marginalization is subtle, but deeply felt.

The heart of the story is the complex relationship between Munna and Maya. Through vivid flashbacks, we learn Maya was charismatic, bold, and fiercely loyal—a “girl of blinding brightness.” Their friendship, tinged with class difference and possibly repressed desire, is full of affection, rivalry, and ultimately, guilt. Munna’s decision to turn Maya away on the night she died becomes the emotional fulcrum of the book, adding a painful layer of personal responsibility to the central mystery.

The cast of supporting characters is rich, especially Andrew, Munna’s married boss and source of complicated feelings, and Karenina, a psychoanalyst whose quiet intensity and probing questions guide Munna toward self-discovery. Karenina is particularly well-drawn—her velvet-soft voice and unsettling insight into Munna’s emotional landscape make her a standout.

Themes of grief, guilt, identity, and justice run deep. “Why Maya Had to Die” isn’t just a question—it becomes a demand that Munna stop running from her past. Maya, Dead and Dreaming is a novel about ghosts in every form: spectral, emotional, and societal. Thought-provoking and haunting, it’s a masterfully told story of reckoning with truth, no matter how painful.

 A quiet stunner.


Fox Creek

Some books entertain, and then there are books like Fox Creek that challenge you to sit in discomfort, reflect, and bear witness. M.E. Torrey’s novel is a vivid, emotionally raw exploration of life on a Louisiana plantation in the mid-1800s.

At the novel’s emotional core is Monette, an enslaved woman whose experiences—ranging from backbreaking labor to the aching loss of the one man she truly loved—form the heart of the story. From the first few chapters, it's clear that Monette isn’t just a passive figure in the background of someone else’s story—she is the story.

On the other side of the social divide are the plantation owners—the white families who live in comfort while depending entirely on the forced labor of others.

Thematically, Fox Creek tackles the ugliness of slavery with brutal honesty. It doesn’t sensationalize violence, but it doesn’t shy away from it either. The daily horrors are baked into the background: women separated from their children, bodies used without consent, and faith weaponized to justify ownership. Plantation ownership isn’t romanticized here. The grand houses and manicured grounds are shown for what they really are—facades built on human suffering. Torrey gives us a story full of pain, endurance, and flickers of love where you least expect it. It’s about women who carry each other, men who hold onto dignity, and a system that tried—and failed—to crush their humanity.

I appreciated how much research clearly went into the book—Torrey doesn't just describe a plantation, she builds it brick by brick, with every detail loaded with meaning.

As much as I respect this book and became deeply invested in its characters and their fates, it isn’t a flawless read. The fragmented structure can be disorienting at times. Switching between points of view and formats (letters, diary entries, narrative prose) occasionally broke the emotional momentum for me. I understand why Torrey chose this approach—it mirrors the fractured lives of the characters—but it takes some patience to adjust. Readers looking for a straightforward plot might struggle with that. There were also moments when the prose leaned a bit too heavily into its poetic side, and I occasionally wished for more straightforward storytelling, especially in scenes that demanded clarity.

 The emotional payoff of Fox Creek is real. It’s a story about surviving in a world built to erase you, about clinging to love, memory, and even small freedoms. Torrey gives voice to the silenced, and she does it with compassion, skill, and a clear sense of moral responsibility. If you love historical fiction that confronts difficult truths head-on and gives real weight to every voice, Fox Creek is worth your time.


Fox Creek: A Novel

M. E. Torrey’s Fox Creek doesn’t flinch. It’s the kind of novel that dares you to look directly at the ugliest parts of American history—and refuses to let you look away. Set in 1840s Louisiana, the story plunges into the tangled roots of slavery, grief, and power. What makes this novel exceptional isn’t just its historical detail but its ability to evoke a visceral emotional response without ever turning sensational.

From the start, Torrey’s prose demands your attention. The structure is unconventional—fragments of personal letters, inventory records, overheard conversations—and it requires work, but it rewards you with an intimacy that traditional narration often can’t achieve. The past doesn’t come to life here; it confronts you. And sometimes, it hurts.

What struck me most wasn’t the grand historical context, but the sharply observed moments that revealed what slavery meant on a profoundly personal level. A woman quietly tracing a scar no one talks about. A man praying in a language he knows he’ll be beaten for speaking. These moments aren’t center stage, but they accumulate with devastating effect. Torrey builds her characters with this kind of quiet detail—never preaching, always trusting the reader to feel the truth.

Lucy Saffin, a central but enigmatic figure, is one of the book’s great triumphs. Her presence ripples through multiple storylines, though we rarely see her speak at length. Yet through others’ memories and observations, we begin to understand her silence as its own kind of power. Similarly, the character of Sawney lingers in the margins, but his emotional depth is clear. You feel the weight he carries simply from how others regard him—with fear, with resentment, and occasionally, with a dangerous kind of respect.

One of the novel’s most effective strategies is how it plays with absence—missing pages, incomplete records, unfinished sentences. In a lesser book, this might feel gimmicky, but in Fox Creek, it mirrors the historical erasure of so many Black lives. The gaps in the narrative aren’t flaws; they’re the point. What’s not said often feels more painful than what is.

I also appreciated Torrey’s refusal to offer easy catharsis. There’s no final act of redemption, no justice neatly served. Instead, we are left with a lingering ache and a series of questions: Who gets to tell history? Who gets remembered? What price is paid when memory is sanitized? It’s a deeply literary book, but one that keeps its feet firmly in the muck of lived experience.

While I wouldn’t call Fox Creek a “page-turner” in the traditional sense, I couldn’t stop reading. I found myself pausing, rereading, and reflecting. It reminded me that historical fiction can still be radical—if it chooses to tell the truth. And Fox Creek tells it, beautifully and brutally.

This is the kind of book I want to press into people’s hands not because it’s pleasant, but because it matters.


Fox Creek

M.E. Torrey’s Fox Creek is a haunting and beautifully crafted exploration of life in 19th-century Louisiana. Set during a time of deep social division and institutionalized oppression, the novel immerses readers in a world marked by sorrow, injustice, and quiet resilience. Through rich historical detail and lyrical prose, Torrey captures the emotional and physical toll of slavery while illuminating the inner strength of those forced to endure it. At the center of the story is Monette, an enslaved woman whose quiet courage and emotional depth give the novel its powerful, beating heart.

Fox Creek centers on its many characters and how they interact with one another in what is the societal norm of this time. Readers follow Monette, a little mulatto girl sold at only six years old, who lives her life as an enslaved woman. Her life is shaped by a brutal system, but her spirit remains strikingly vivid. From the outset, Monette’s interior life is richly developed, and her voice resonates with emotional truth. Because Monette is so young, she is hired to play with, teach French to, and dress young Kate Jensey, whose father, William, owns Fox Creek. As the girls grow into their teens, Monette is soon put in her place as a slave rather than an equal to Kate.

Monette's relationship with Breck, a man she deeply connects with, is heartbreaking and doomed. What little intimacy these two characters are able to have serves as a balm in an otherwise violent and unforgiving world.

What sets Fox Creek apart is Torrey’s refusal to simplify the emotional and ethical landscape of her characters. While many novels about the antebellum South rely on stark dichotomies, Torrey dwells in nuance.

Themes of generational trauma, the legacy of faith, and the role of women’s resistance course throughout the book. Monette’s defiance, though often quiet and coded, is unmistakable. In a setting where she has little control over her body or fate, every act of care, every remembered song, becomes a form of rebellion.

There are moments when the fragmented structure of the novel can feel disorienting, especially as the narrative jumps between characters and formats. However, this structure ultimately mirrors the emotional dislocation experienced by those living under slavery and amplifies the novel’s themes of loss and survival. By weaving diary fragments, plantation ledgers, and direct monologues, Torrey constructs a literary tapestry as intricate as it is immersive.

As someone who frequently reads historical fiction, I appreciate when a novel doesn't just aim to educate but also to provoke empathy, and Fox Creek does just that. It doesn’t offer easy redemption or tidy resolutions. Instead, it lingers in the quiet spaces of resistance, the daily endurance of women like Monette, and the complicated legacies left behind.

Torrey’s dedication to historical accuracy is clear—not just in the texture of the language, but in the way she captures the rhythms of labor, the architecture of the plantations, and the oppressive etiquette of Southern society.

Fox Creek is a novel that honors the voices of the silenced, the love that survived impossible conditions, and the hard truths of a history still reverberating today. I turned the last page with a lump in my throat and a renewed sense of reverence for the power of historical fiction to awaken both the heart and mind.


Fox Creek

M.E. Torrey’s Fox Creek is a wrenching, lyrical portrait of antebellum Louisiana, where landowners mourn lost fortunes, enslaved women navigate a treacherous emotional landscape, and grief hangs like the heavy southern air. The novel is at once gorgeously written and emotionally harrowing, inviting readers into a deeply divided world where every relationship is shaped by violence, loss, and a rigid social order. With decades of reading historical fiction behind me, I can confidently say that Fox Creek is among the most powerful depictions of the Old South I’ve encountered—unflinching, layered, and keenly aware of the silences history leaves behind.

Fox Creek spans the 1840s and early 1850s, centering around a decaying Louisiana plantation and the women, both free and enslaved, whose lives intertwine in quiet and devastating ways. Among the most memorable characters is Monette, a house servant praised for her beauty, whose survival hinges on suppressing her own trauma. Monette forms a deep, protective bond with young Kate, becoming both caregiver and silent witness to the girl’s own experiences.

The white characters, too, are rendered with complexity, though not always sympathy. Plantation owner William is struggling to find his place in the world of business ownership and is often pulled into "friendly" competitions and bets. William is not a monster in the caricatured sense, which makes his cruelty all the more disturbing. He is pitiable—and that is Torrey’s genius. She makes us feel the horror of complicity, not just its outcomes.

But where Fox Creek shines is in its treatment of female relationships. The bond between Monette and Kate, between mothers and daughters (including Sarah and her mother and mother-in-law), forms the true emotional core of the novel. Torrey understands the particular shape of women’s resilience—the way it passes through whispered songs, secret names, and shared labor.

Themes of grief, inherited trauma, and silence run throughout the novel. So too does the question of survival—who gets to tell their story and who is buried beneath it. The journal entries from William contrast painfully with the invisibility of Monette’s voice, reminding readers that even in fiction, not all lives are granted equal narrative weight. Yet Torrey pushes against that inequality, giving her enslaved characters rich inner worlds and the dignity of interiority.

Fox Creek is beautiful, devastating, and essential. For those interested in American history, Southern Gothic fiction, or women's literature, this is a must-read. At a time when many novels shy away from confronting the brutal truths of our past, Fox Creek leans in with compassion, sorrow, and unrelenting honesty. M.E. Torrey has given us a story that aches, but never sensationalizes. And long after turning the final page, I find myself haunted—in the best, most necessary way.


Fox Creek

Monette is a young girl who is still mourning the passing of her father. The sadness that overwhelms her is soon coupled with shock as she is whisked away with a group of slaves that her desperate half-brother sold. Monette’s worry is eased by a young boy named Cyrus, who accompanies Monette on a journey where neither knows their ultimate destination. The year is 1843, and the world Monette and Cyrus inhabit views them as inferior labor to be bought and sold at the whim of a plantation owner.

William Jensey inherited the sprawling plantation dubbed Fox Creek from his father, and William accepted his birthright and made it his own by expanding the labor force and land. William runs his homestead with an uncompromising hand, meting out punishment for even minor infractions. He is married and devoted to his Wife, Sarah, and has two children named Breck and Kate. The paths of Cyrus and Monette intersect with the Jenseys as William Jensey seeks to add additional manpower. Kate is smitten with the adorable Monette and believes she will be her playmate for the foreseeable future. She convinces William to purchase the young girl. Meanwhile, Breck had a brief but memorable encounter with Cyrus, which made an impression on him. Breck defies convention and makes a bid for Cyrus in his father’s name.

Breck is unaware of the harsh nature of his father’s profession until he witnesses his father shoot a runaway slave. His emotional reaction disgusts his father, who believes that Breck needs to toughen up if he plans to take over the plantation in the future. Despite Monette and Kate being joined at the hip, the cruel reality of Monette’s status at Fox Creek is reinforced by Sarah when she tells her that Monette is part of the help, not family. However, Breck defies the rules by teaching Monette to read, and Kate lets her sleep next to her.

As the years pass, trouble looms on the horizon as Fox Creek begins to see various escape attempts. The antebellum South has begun to become unsettled, and the Jenseys and others on the farm are about to bear witness to it.

Fox Creek is a sweeping historical fiction novel that explores nearly a decade in the lives of a slaveholding family and their involuntary servants. The cruel nature of slavery is well illustrated primarily through the actions of William Jensey in his role as a planter. He believes that his actions are justifiable due to a perceived supremacy over his enslaved employees. His desire to educate his son in the ways of the plantation reflects the generational misteachings that allowed the historical wrong to survive. Author M.E. Torrey has created characters that are multifaceted and absorbing while penning a heartrending story about life, love, family, and finding freedom in any conceivable way. This is an unforgettable book that will linger with the reader well after its conclusion.


Fox Creek

Set in 1840s Louisiana, Fox Creek by M.E. Torrey crafts a searing portrait of antebellum life, told through a third-person narrative that immerses the reader in a world shaped by grief, violence, and unyielding hierarchy. It’s not an easy read, and it’s not supposed to be.

From the first chapter, the immersive prose struck me. Torrey doesn’t coddle the reader with exposition; instead, she trusts us to catch up. This pays off in spades.

What elevates Fox Creek beyond its setting is its unflinching portrayal of its characters, especially the enslaved women, whose inner lives, small triumphs, and devastating defeats carry the novel’s emotional heft. Monette is a central figure: sharp-witted and observant, she moves through the novel under the constant threat of exploitation. When she’s described as “near breeding age,” the dehumanizing language is both matter-of-fact and revolting. Fatima, another enslaved woman, is sold for $200—a transaction recounted in a plantation ledger entry with the same emotional weight as noting the weather.

We also glimpse the unbalanced and often disturbing relationships between enslavers and the enslaved. One man’s obsessive fixation on Monette culminates in a fevered declaration: “Monette, I love you, I love you.” But love, in this context, is poisoned by ownership, power, and the entitlement to her body. These moments are not romantic—they are harrowing.

Torrey also explores resistance in small forms. Monette is paid five dollars for reporting runaways—an act that could be read as betrayal or survival. The ambiguity is intentional, illustrating how survival often comes at impossible moral cost.

Torrey uses juxtaposition like a weapon, contrasting genteel Southern rituals with the ever-present brutality of slavery. There are no satisfying arcs or cathartic resolutions. The story denies comfort, and that honesty lingers. Silence becomes a narrative tool—what’s left unsaid says everything.

It reminded me of Beloved, not because of style, but because of the emotional weight it demands you carry. Torrey’s restraint—never overwriting pain, never forcing empathy—makes the book all the more powerful.

If you’re looking for escapism, look elsewhere. But if you want historical fiction that confronts America’s past with clear eyes and open wounds, Fox Creek is essential reading. Its characters may not be free, but their stories refuse to be silenced.


Fox Creek

The antebellum period of American history has captured the American imagination since not long after the Civil War. It has been romanticized and exaggerated, told and retold in many different ways from many different perspectives. Some tell a story sympathetic to the slaveholders; others focus on the plight of the enslaved.

In this, Fox Creek is little different from many other books focused on the pre-Civil War South. It is softer than some stories, with plantation owners who are relatively kind, and the focus is much more on the blurry lines that might have existed between slaveholder and enslaved, the strange loyalty and affection that some called love, and may have even meant it as such. The story shifts between different perspectives; sometimes readers see through the eyes of enslaved children, other times through the eyes of the adults who own them, and still others through the eyes of the white children coming to realize that the very children they are growing up alongside must live a different life from them.

At times, it seems that Torrey is trying to have it both ways, to tell a story about so-called “good plantation owners” while still recognizing that slavery was an evil entrenched in our early nation. Certainly, the way the enslaved characters speak at times rings false, their vernacular sounding like an echo of those books that presented black people as condemned to their station in life due to ignorance. However, it is clear this is not Torrey’s intent. The empathy and humanity with which she writes Cyrus and Monette, her enslaved protagonists, shows this.

If Torrey is having it both ways, it is in writing most of her viewpoint characters with that same empathy and humanity. Whether this is a softening of history or an accurate look at what some people were like is open to interpretation. Fox Creek does seem like a softened, even sanitized version of history at times, but at others, the cruelty of reality shines through.

Taken by its own merits, the novel does what it does very well. It presents a deeply human story, and it tells it beautifully. I found it a compelling story and was very glad to have come across it. It may not have told an entirely new story, but neither did it have to. It was enough that it told the story that it did. Torrey is a powerful writer, and I’ll be looking for more of her work in the future.


Fox Creek

M.E. Torrey’s Fox Creek is a beautiful work of historical fiction that invites the reader into the morally entangled and emotionally fractured world of 1840s Louisiana plantation life. Torrey reconstructs the antebellum South with both archival precision and literary elegance.

What distinguishes this novel is not simply its fidelity to historical atmosphere, but its relentless interrogation of relationships, especially those between the white planter class and the people over whom they exert authority. Patriarchs are rendered not as stock villains but as men whose emotional impotence and moral evasions are inextricable from the violence they enact or permit. Their grief, when expressed, becomes a kind of narcissism—a refusal to see beyond their own losses into the chasm of generational harm they perpetuate.

The relationships among the plantation owners themselves are no less complex. Marriages in Fox Creek often resemble economic alliances rather than emotional bonds. Female characters who are constrained by the gendered codes of Southern gentility seek control in the few spaces allowed to them through managing households, arranging marriages, or enforcing social hierarchies among the enslaved. Yet the emotional isolation of these white women is depicted not to elicit sympathy, but to expose how deeply white womanhood was invested in maintaining the very structures that entrapped them.

More fraught, however, are the intimate and often coerced relationships between the planter class and the enslaved. These relationships are never sensationalized, but Torrey makes clear that violence exists in more than just the lash. It resides in tone, in surveillance, in the expectation of silence. One particularly harrowing scene involves a white woman obsessing over a young enslaved girl’s beauty, not as a human attribute, but as a commodity to be feared and controlled. Such moments underscore how white possessiveness extended beyond bodies to the very expressions of personhood.

What emerges from these relationships is a theme of radical disconnection. The plantation is less a community than a machine—one that distorts every human interaction into an expression of dominance, dependency, or denial. Torrey does not offer moments of reconciliation; instead, she offers witness. The enslaved are not ciphers of suffering, but bearers of interiority and agency, often navigating layers of exploitation with strategic silence, coded resistance, and bonds of kinship that exist in defiance of the world around them.

Fox Creek's nonlinear form mirrors the fragmentary way trauma is remembered and recorded. This is not a book of epiphanies or narrative arcs; its power lies in its accumulation of small, brutal truths. Torrey’s prose is lyrical without being florid, and her descriptive language often invokes the senses before the intellect—sugarcane fields sweltering with tension, the texture of homes thick with generational rot.

Ultimately, Fox Creek is a book that resists closure. It is not concerned with catharsis, but with clarity. For those attuned to the aftershocks of American slavery—not only in history books, but in lived experience—this novel offers a mirror held up to the past, reflecting the enduring entanglements of race, power, and memory. Torrey has written a haunting, unsparing narrative that belongs in conversation with the best of historical fiction—and in the hands of readers prepared to be unsettled.


Such a Pretty Picture

Reading Such A Pretty Picture was raw and aching, but impossible to look away from. Andrea Leeb writes her childhood with clarity, but not detachment. Every scene is heavy with emotion, especially because she recounts them through the eyes of a little girl trying desperately to be loved, accepted, and safe. It’s a book I had to take breaks from, not because it’s poorly written (quite the opposite), but because it cuts deep. You don’t just read it—you feel it.

From the very first chapter, Andrea sets the tone. The story starts with what should be a simple, loving act: a parent bathing their child. Instead, it becomes a haunting, irreversible moment. “Play with your duck, and let Daddy wash you with his hand,” her father says, while her mother is out getting ready for a dinner date. What follows is an encounter that strips innocence away in seconds. It’s so matter-of-factly told, without dramatics, that I had to stop and catch my breath. The simplicity makes it even more horrifying.

But this memoir isn’t just about one event—it’s about everything that followed. The silence. The shame. The way her mother’s love becomes conditional, erratic, and even cruel. After witnessing the abuse, her mother faints, becomes temporarily blind, and then punishes Andrea emotionally and physically for years. One of the most heartbreaking quotes comes when Andrea is still just a child, trying to make sense of it all: “Maybe I could cure her with my love, the same way I had hurt her with my badness.” That idea—that she’s somehow responsible for everything wrong in her home—is heartbreaking and so relatable for anyone who’s ever been scapegoated as a child.

The memoir is full of painful moments, like when her mother slaps her over a pink shirt on color day at summer camp, or when Andrea tries to smother herself using a shoebox full of cotton balls, toilet paper, and tape. That scene gutted me. The sheer ingenuity of it—how a young girl finds ways to hurt herself using whatever’s on hand—should terrify anyone. But the moment her mother finds her and cradles her, saying, “My poor baby. What have I done to you?” it’s like this impossible contradiction. That was Andrea’s first moment of being held again—of feeling loved. And it came after trying to die.

The writing itself is clean, straightforward, and emotionally honest. There’s a brutal beauty in the way Leeb allows each memory to speak for itself. There’s no need for embellishment—just the truth, laid bare. I especially appreciated the scenes where she’s trying to navigate the outside world: school, friendships, teachers who suspect something but say nothing.

It’s important to note that while this memoir includes sexual abuse, it’s not just about that. It’s about family dysfunction, generational trauma, the failure of adults to protect children, and the way abuse festers in silence. It’s about what it costs a child to keep a secret.

This isn’t a book I’d recommend lightly—it’s emotionally intense and triggering. But it’s also one of the most honest, powerful memoirs I’ve ever read. Andrea Leeb isn’t asking for pity. She’s telling her story to shed light, to speak the truth, and to make someone else feel less alone. And that’s precisely why it matters.


Such a Pretty Picture: A Memoir

Andrea Leeb’s Such A Pretty Picture: A Memoir is an exquisitely written yet profoundly disturbing account of childhood sexual abuse, maternal betrayal, and the fracturing effects of long-buried trauma. With unwavering honesty and lyrical restraint, Leeb constructs a narrative that is as emotionally devastating as it is artistically accomplished. This memoir is not just a chronicle of survival—it is a study in how language, silence, and memory coalesce into a haunting portrait of a life shaped by secrets.

The book begins in the early 1960s in what outwardly appears to be an idyllic suburban home. Leeb, at five years old, experiences her first betrayal during a seemingly mundane moment—her father offering to bathe her so her mother can rest. In clinical yet heartbreakingly lucid language, Leeb writes, “He rubbed my neck, my chest, my legs, and then the place in between. He didn’t use soap, and he used only one hand. His breathing grew fast and heavy.” This moment, both stark and intimate, sets the tone for what follows: an unrelenting confrontation with the personal, psychological, and emotional cost of abuse.

What makes this memoir particularly harrowing is the layered complicity of the mother figure. The mother’s silence—first shocked, then deliberate—becomes its own form of violence. When Andrea seeks comfort, her mother withdraws: “Do whatever he tells you,” she says, a sentence so short and cruel it reverberates through the rest of the book like a verdict. The refusal of the mother to protect her child, even after witnessing the abuse, creates an emotional void more haunting than the physical acts themselves.

Throughout the memoir, Leeb’s prose is marked by its precision. She avoids sensationalism and instead offers details that are psychologically rich and devastating in their simplicity. When describing her own internalization of the abuse, she writes, “I wanted to be good enough to deserve love. If I could be better, then maybe she would see me.” This longing to be seen, to be acknowledged as both victim and child, underpins every chapter. The emotional resonance here is profound—Leeb has a deep understanding of how children translate trauma into self-blame.

Leeb’s prose is lyrical and evocative, with vivid imagery that captures both the beauty and horror of everyday life. The nonlinear storytelling, alternating between present and past, enhances the reader's understanding of how trauma silently shapes identity over time. At its core, this novel is a quiet rebellion against the invisible burdens carried by women and the unspoken griefs they endure.

Such a Pretty Picture is not just a domestic drama but a psychological excavation. It will resonate with readers who appreciate character-driven stories that explore the darker undercurrents of family life with honesty and compassion. A compelling debut that lingers long after the last page.


Such a Pretty Picture: A Memoir

Andrea Leeb’s Such A Pretty Picture is a gut-wrenching, courageous memoir that unflinchingly explores the lasting impact of childhood sexual abuse and emotional trauma. From the very first chapter, where a seemingly ordinary bath scene transforms into a moment of life-altering horror, Leeb draws the reader into her harrowing story of betrayal by those meant to protect her.

The memoir traces Andrea's early life in 1960s New York, where appearances masked devastating truths. Her father, a respected teacher, is revealed to be a predator; her mother, beautiful and fragile, is alternately neglectful, abusive, and complicit. The layers of family dysfunction are heartbreakingly detailed, especially in how Andrea internalizes guilt and self-hatred, believing herself responsible for the chaos around her. Andrea Leeb offers no easy villains or tidy redemptions; instead, she meticulously portrays the complex emotional terrain of a child trying to navigate an unsafe world.

One of the most poignant threads throughout the book is Andrea’s relationship with her mother, Marlene. Beautiful and emotionally volatile, Marlene is both victim and perpetrator, consumed by her own traumas yet blind—or willfully indifferent-to her daughter’s suffering. In one chilling scene, Marlene tells Andrea to “do whatever your father tells you,” a moment that echoes with tragic foreshadowing. The emotional abandonment Andrea endures is just as damaging as the physical abuse.

What makes this memoir especially powerful is Leeb’s ability to blend a child’s innocent confusion with the adult clarity of hindsight. She documents not only the physical violations but also the deep psychological scars—her compulsive need to be “good,” her fear of being labeled “crazy,” and her desperate yearning for love and safety.

The title itself is devastatingly ironic. “Such a pretty picture” refers to the carefully constructed façade the family presents to the world—a façade Andrea is pressured to uphold. The book underscores how dangerous this need for appearances can be, especially in families where truth threatens to unravel everything. While difficult to read at times, Such A Pretty Picture is ultimately a story of resilience. Leeb does not flinch from the truth, nor does she allow her story to be defined solely by victimhood. Instead, she gives voice to a lived experience too often hidden in silence and shame.Such A Pretty Picture is a fierce act of reclamation, written with haunting grace. Brave, honest, and exquisitely written, this memoir is a necessary addition to the canon of survival literature. Leeb's story will stay with readers long after the final page.


Such a Pretty Picture: A Memoir

Andrea Leeb’s Such A Pretty Picture is a haunting and unflinching memoir that reveals the chasm between appearances and reality, particularly in the context of 1950s and 60s suburbia. With crystalline prose and a measured, evocative tone, Leeb guides the reader through her childhood in a home that, from the outside, appeared perfect—but behind closed doors, hid deep dysfunction. As a longtime reader and reviewer with a particular interest in women’s voices and narratives of survival, I found this memoir both deeply disturbing and profoundly important.

At the heart of this book is the theme of maternal betrayal. Leeb’s mother is portrayed not simply as emotionally distant but as actively cruel—“a woman who weaponized silence,” as Leeb writes in one especially telling passage. This maternal figure’s obsession with appearances, social status, and rigid femininity defines the early environment of the narrator, where little Andrea must learn how to survive not just neglect, but calculated emotional abuse. The house, the clothing, the social performances—everything had to be “just so,” even if the cost was the well-being of the child behind the pretty picture.

This leads to the book’s second major theme: the performance of femininity and the societal pressures placed on girls to be pleasing, quiet, and beautiful. Leeb connects her mother’s compulsion to maintain a perfect image to the broader expectations placed on women in mid-century America. There are scenes where the young narrator is shamed for being too loud or for expressing discomfort, and they land with particular force. It’s a searing critique of how an entire generation of girls was taught to swallow pain for the sake of decorum.

Leeb also explores the theme of mental illness—both as it manifests in her mother’s unpredictable behavior and in her own adult reflections. There’s a growing sense throughout the memoir that the author is trying to name what couldn’t be named when she was a child: narcissism, depression, perhaps even sociopathy. But she does so with grace and restraint, avoiding easy diagnoses in favor of hard-earned insight. The act of writing becomes, itself, an act of reclamation. Her voice, muted in childhood, finds its full expression here.

The memoir’s structure adds to its emotional weight. Leeb does not proceed chronologically; rather, she loops back through memories with the intimacy of someone sorting through a long-locked box of old photographs. This nonlinear approach feels honest to the process of remembering trauma. It’s jagged, emotionally layered, and occasionally disorienting, in the best way. As readers, we aren’t offered the comfort of a clean arc or redemption narrative. Instead, we are immersed in the complexity of a survivor reclaiming her story.

For readers who have experienced familial trauma, Such A Pretty Picture may feel both validating and painful. Leeb does not offer simplistic healing or dramatic confrontations. Instead, she offers truth—raw, reflective, and unadorned. This honesty is what makes the book so powerful.

Such A Pretty Picture is not a comfortable read, but it is an essential one. It reminds us that healing begins with naming what hurt us—and that bearing witness, even decades later, is an act of liberation.