Editorial Reviews for Nominees
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 Score: 94+/100 (9.4+ out of 10)
From the very beginning, the people of God have been a singing people. The Bible does not just give us a set of doctrines to recite, it gives us a songbook. King David was not only Israel’s greatest king, he was also a poet and musician who organized choirs, appointed instrumentalists, and wrote vivid lyrics about worship, confession, lament, and praise. For David, right worship was not an optional extra, it was a carefully tended ministry with real structure, real people, and real spiritual weight. Across the centuries, that heritage has taken on countless musical shapes in the church. In one place it is monks chanting the Psalms through the night, in another it is a robed cathedral choir lifting polyphony to the rafters, in another it is a Gospel choir shaking the walls, and in yet another it is a praise team leading simple choruses that the whole congregation can sing by heart. In our own time, we see it in world renowned ensembles like The Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square here in Utah, in the soaring sounds of groups like Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir, and in countless local church choirs that faithfully rehearse every week. Styles have shifted, instruments have changed, and cultures have added their own colors, but one thing has remained constant: music, song, and corporate worship are essential to the Christian life. They teach, they comfort, they correct, and they knit a congregation together in ways that sermons alone rarely can. Choir Confidential by Dr. Randal Quackenbush joins this long, singing tradition, focusing not just on the music itself but on the people who stand in the middle of it all: the choir directors who are called to shepherd voices and hearts at the same time. Choir Confidential is a heartfelt, practical field guide for church choir directors that treats the role as both ministry and craft. Quackenbush writes from decades of experience and frames the choir director as a multidimensional leader who must be spiritually grounded, musically competent, administratively organized, and relationally healthy. Part One lays the foundation. In Spiritual Leadership Quackenbush argues that the choir exists first to glorify God, not the director or the music, and that humility is the starting posture. The director is called to dream of a better spiritual future for the choir, align tightly with the church’s mission and the lead pastor’s vision, continually inspire volunteers with Scripture and testimony, and act as a genuine shepherd to their “singing sheep.” Musical Leadership then focuses on craft. The director needs real musicianship: solid reading skills, at least basic piano, functional vocal pedagogy, clear conducting technique, and strong listening. He stresses that volunteer choirs can absolutely reach a high standard, but only up to the level of the director’s own competence. This chapter also pushes directors to get organized, think seasonally and strategically about programming, and understand the stylistic culture of their particular church rather than importing a one size fits all model. Several chapters are devoted to building culture and running the ministry week to week. He distinguishes between a robust musical culture (clear purpose, pursuit of excellence, communication of text, being a “team player” in the broader church) and a healthy communal culture (enjoyable rehearsals, realistic expectations, relational warmth, respect, and collaboration with staff and pastors). He then gets very concrete about rehearsal technique: planning the flow, pacing to keep energy up, teaching and memorizing music efficiently, and also setting spiritual goals so rehearsal itself becomes a formative worship space that resembles the Acts 2 picture of the early church. The administration chapters split “people” from “program.” On the people side he covers recruiting and auditioning, how to communicate difficult audition results, onboarding and retaining members, celebrating birthdays and milestones, handling soloists in a way that strengthens rather than fragments the choir, and scheduling rest so no one burns out. On the program side he recommends creating a choir handbook, building and maintaining a music library, long range calendar planning for the year, forming a lay leadership team with defined roles, and using clear communication channels, including social media. A chapter on performance practices treats every rehearsal as preparation for the next act of service, whether that is a Sunday anthem or a Christmas concert. He talks about programming for seasons like Advent and Holy Week, using congregational participation wisely, augmenting with instruments, choosing soloists, and underlining that the most important “technique” for a church choir is prayer and dependence on God for lasting fruit. Part Two is a global tour of ten case studies. Quackenbush profiles church, community, and collegiate choirs from Ghana, India, Italy, England, Denmark, and various parts of the United States, showing how very different groups can all thrive. You see everything from Potters City Choir in Ghana with its joyful percussive worship rooted in local culture, to Volney Morgan & New-Ye in London with polished urban gospel presentations, to Osanna Gospel Choir in Italy serving in a conservative national church context. The case study introduction highlights differences in leadership style, membership expectations, repertoire, attire, and even how each choir navigated the COVID pandemic, and invites the reader to mine these stories for transferable principles rather than formulas. Finally, Chapter 22: Insider Ruminations pulls the threads together. Quackenbush argues that the real aim is multidimensional leadership: musical, pastoral, communal, and administrative. A director who only focuses on technique is like a “one tool baseball player” who can hit but not run, field, or throw. He calls for a teachable spirit, patience with slow growth, commitment to a respectful, non-favoritist environment, and a long view that sees seasons of development as normal. There are some great quotes and passages from this book. Here are some of our favorites: "Goals should be set and a vision embarked on, yet the church-choir director must be resolute about the choir’s purpose—the why behind each objective. As Saint Augustine wrote, 'Do you wish to rise? Begin by descending. You plan a tower that will pierce the clouds? Lay first the foundation of humility.'" "The church-choir director, supported by senior leadership, must look for opportunities to inspire its congregation afresh, not with a spirit of performance but in the beauty of holiness and empowered by the Holy Spirit." "Effective leadership includes basing every decision on why the choir exists. Staying close to the choir’s mission, vision, and core values will ensure the why precedes the how, what, and when." We found Choir Confidential to be warm, seasoned, and genuinely pastoral. It reads like sitting down with an experienced choir director who is honest about his own missteps and very eager to see the next generation thrive. For church choirs that want to stand in the tradition of David, the Tabernacle Choir, the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir, and a thousand less famous but no less faithful ensembles, this book offers both a high calling and a very down to earth roadmap. We could easily see it becoming a go to resource for Christian Nonfiction in Worship or Ministry & Leadership and a staple on the shelves of pastors and directors who believe that, in the church, the people of God should never stop singing for the glory of the Lord. Check it out on Amazon!
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 Score: 94+/100 (9.4+ out of 10)
Souls of Fate: The Paladin's Rebirth by Charlie Davis is a thoughtful, emotionally resonant fantasy that leans hard into questions of faith, agency, and the cost of being chosen, anchored by strong, memorable character dynamics, a genuinely cool and creepy central artifact in the Black Scroll, and a rich setting that comes across as lived in, scarred, and spiritually complicated. Similar to Escala's Wish by David James, which we coincidentally just read, this is a book that seems tailor-made for the D&D-loving, LOTR-marathon-streaming epic fantasy nerds among us! It does what an epic fantasy novel is supposed to do: take a band of misfit characters (a trio, in this case), a mysterious and powerful relic, and throw them into a world filled with mythos, lore, adventure, and danger. Where this book really shines is its characters. Where this book really shines is its characters. Eli, Saffron, and Jughead could have been stock party members in a lesser story: the fallen paladin, the devout healer, and the roguish troublemaker. Instead, Charlie Davis puts real specificity and history into each of them, so that by the time the world is ending around their ears, you actually care who lives, who dies, and who has to keep going. So, naturally, we're gonna start with the main protagonist: Eli. Eli is the headliner, the former paladin who walked away from the Temple and now sells his sword through the Hollow Fang mercenary guild. That sounds familiar on paper. He's a bit like Takeshi from Lost Blades by Liz Sauco or Beldrian from Kindred of the Unseen by Micah Beardsley. However, what keeps Eli from becoming a generic brooding protagonist is how his disillusionment is handled. He is not a grumpy edgelord who hates faith because it is fashionable. He is tired. He is traumatized. He is quietly horrified to discover that his blood runs gold and that he is literally built out of the same divine substance that wrecked so many lives in the last holy war. Eli is caught between three bad options: go back to being the gods' obedient weapon, join Salvius in tearing the whole system down, or try to carve out a smaller, more human path that puts people over powers. Watching him wrestle with that is one of the book's great pleasures. Saffron, his younger sister, is just as compelling. She begins the book as the group's conscience, a healer who still trusts in the Holy One and believes the Temple of Light and Order is, at its core, a force for good. She prays over the dead, blesses the living, and really believes it matters. Then she learns what the Black Scroll actually is and what it has to do with her. Finding out that scripture was once written into your skin, that your past body was flayed and turned into living parchment, is the kind of revelation that should crush a character. Instead, Saffron bends without quite breaking. Her faith does not evaporate, it mutates. By the end she is still praying, still invoking the Light, but it is a bruised, toothy faith that knows just how ugly holy things can be. Then there is Jughead, the motormouth rogue who wanders in stealing scenes and then steals the reader's heart along the way. On the surface, he is comic relief. He flirts, he jokes, he picks locks, he makes fun of Eli's brooding and Saffron's piety. Underneath all that noise is a man who once did something unforgivable and never stopped trying to make up for it. He knows he is not "chosen." He knows he does not have golden blood or a prophetic destiny. That is what makes his ultimate decision near the end of the book so gutting. When it is time to destroy the beating heart of the tower and close Gehenna's wound, he volunteers, not because prophecy demands it, but because he wants his life to finally mean something. It is one of the best tragic sacrifices we have read in an indie epic fantasy in a while. Jughead is naturally going to be everyone's favorite character. He was certainly ours. What makes Jughead work is the fact that he is very human and personable. He is humorous, a bit amorous, and constantly ready with a joke or flirtatious remark, but that is only the surface. Underneath the banter is a man who knows he has made serious mistakes and is quietly trying to spend the rest of his life making up for them. In a sense, Jughead is a bit like Vash from Trigun. His lightheartedness and humor hide something deep and dark. Complementing this trio is the book's secret weapon: the Black Scroll itself. Fantasy has given us countless cursed books and sinister grimoires. The Black Scroll manages to feel fresh and genuinely unsettling. The idea that the holiest text in the world is made from the flayed skin of a "chosen" vessel, that it still breathes, weeps, and enforces divine sanctions on people who talk too much, is rich with both horror and thematic weight. Whenever the Scroll or its fragments turn up, the atmosphere tightens. Rooms feel smaller. Wards strain. Saffron's skin literally crawls. You never forget that this thing is not an object, it is a presence, and it has opinions. The world around it is equally well drawn. Dethmere, the cavern city that houses the Hollow Fang guild, feels real, all smoke and stone and molten runoff, full of people who have long ago made peace with living under rock instead of under sky. The Ash Vale comes across as a wound in the earth that never healed properly. Temples feel like institutions that have been plastering over spiritual cracks for centuries. By the time the story reaches the black glass tower at Gehenna's Gate, surrounded by floating shards of stolen memory, it really does feel like the natural endpoint of a world that has used gods like siege engines for too long. Thematically, this book is not shy. It goes right after the big questions that a lot of epic fantasy politely skirts around. What does it mean to be "chosen" when that chosenness amounts to divine exploitation carved into your bones? What does faith look like after you find out your god has a corpse and that corpse is being used as an engine for more war? What options are left when your only choices seem to be obedient martyr, raging heretic, or collateral damage? Eli, Saffron, Salvius, and even side characters like Bodon and Vinarkis all offer different answers to those questions, none of them simple, and the book is all the better for that. Now, this is not a flawless book. The middle stretch can feel dense. There is a lot of lore to absorb: past lives, first wars, divine flesh, conflicting doctrines, several factions with overlapping but slightly different names for the same horrors. The Black Scroll and Gehenna's Gate are intentionally mysterious, which suits the cosmic horror tone, but there are moments when their "rules" feel a little slippery. If you are the kind of reader who wants every magical effect mapped out with hard limits and flow charts, you may occasionally wish for a handbook. There is also a clear sense that this is the opening movement of a larger saga. The tower falls, yes, and the specific manifestation of Gehenna's Gate at its heart is shattered, but Salvius is not entirely gone, the broader metaphysical conflict is nowhere near resolved, and Eli's role as a reborn paladin of divine fire still feels like it has more to reveal. Readers who demand a fully closed loop may feel just a bit restless at the end. Readers who enjoy the feeling of stepping off book one knowing there is more to come will probably be excited instead. For our part, we came away very satisfied. Souls of Fate: The Paladin's Rebirth delivers big, crunchy epic fantasy with a strong emotional core, some genuinely memorable holy horror, and a trio of protagonists we would happily follow into another volume. If you are the sort of reader who gets giddy at the thought of fallen paladins, living scripture, morally complicated temples, and rogues who joke their way into martyrdom, this belongs near the top of your list. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 93+/100 (9.3+ out of 10)
A custody battle, a courtroom drama, and a racial firestorm all wrapped into one! Shadows of Custody by Thomas Gates is a tense, socially conscious novel that centers on the custody of a child (and a whole lot more)! The story follows a Black foster family in Crenshaw Heights fighting to keep the white baby they love when the child’s birth mother returns with lawyers, cameras, and some very dangerous people in her corner. At the heart of this story are two women who both love the same child in very different ways. Emily is a young, addicted mother who uses the Safe Surrender law after an emergency birth, convinced her baby will be better off without her. Despite having a tragic and sympathetic background, Emily comes across as one of the main antagonists or outright villains of the novel. It's actually very difficult to root for her or get on her side when it seems clear she plans to use her baby and views her like a bargaining chip or trophy to be won. On the other side are Delores and Marlon Williams, a hardworking, churchgoing Black family who bring “Baby Gracie” into a home that smells like collard greens, peach cobbler, and motor oil, a home held together by Sunday dinners, music, and stubborn faith rather than money or status. Watching these two worlds slowly, inevitably move toward each other is one of the book’s great strengths. What really elevates the book for us is how it refuses to make this just a paperwork dispute. The custody fight becomes a lightning rod for every bias and power imbalance around it. Officer Chambers and the Brotherhood—powerful villainous forces in this book—exploit Emily’s pain and addiction, feeding her a script about “taking back what’s yours” and “protecting children” while what they really want is a symbol, a white child they can claim was “rescued” from a Black neighborhood. The scenes in court and in the media are infuriating in the right way, showing how easily a loving home can be painted as a “danger zone” when race and class are involved. The Williams family themselves feel vivid and real. We loved the domestic moments with Delores guarding her kitchen, JJ noodling on his guitar, and Tasha juggling hospital shifts and dreams of her own place. Those quiet scenes make the later violence and legal threats land harder because we have seen exactly what is at stake. Gracie is not just a “minor child” on a form, she is the baby everyone in that little blue house has already wrapped their lives around. You can really feel like love and care (for Gracie) radiating from the page. To be perfectly honest, it's pretty lopsided. Like, there's no part of us that feels like Emily should get custody. You can tell how fragile her arguments and mental state are. Forgive the pun, but this is a pretty black and white story in the melodramatic sense: a good side and a bad side. There are so many antagonists and villains in this book, and all of them just make the Williams family (who is already in the right) even more likable. There's Emily, Chambers, the Brotherhood (which is essentially a domestic terrorist organization), and even the snot nosed lawyer to some extent. These people are crooked and ruthless, using fear, threats, and outright violence to get what they want. These are some bad people! At the same time, it's a bit over-the-top. Extremists involved in a custody battle to prove their racial superiority is a bit... excessive for this kind of text, but we get it. This book is incredibly racially charged (in a tactful way). The media constantly eats up and promotes the story of a "white baby missing in a Black neighborhood." And this is escalated to "white baby missing in a violent Black neighborhood" once the villains are able to manipulate the situation and make the Williams neighborhood seem like it's surrounded by gangs, shootings, and drugs. These people are sick. And perhaps that's a good thing, because it really gets under your skin and helps you get behind the Williams family. One of the things that's really special about this book is the writing. The writing is exceptional, although it does get a bit cloying at times. The author uses a lot of eloquent descriptions and similes. Here are some of our favorite passages: "...eyes soft behind the lines time had carved there." "His voice dropped to a whisper that wrapped around the four of them like a prayer." "Sometimes the dead spoke louder than the living." "...he drawled, glancing at Delores like she was something stuck to his shoe." "...small as a secret, precious as breath." There are probably dozens of similes and idioms in this book, which can come across as a bit overdone, but it's nice in the beginning and does serve to elevate the quality of the writing overall. Something that gets overplayed a lot are the audience's reactions. They are constantly gasping and reacting like they're a live studio audience for a sitcom, which can be a bit funny (probably unintentionally so). We think this was supposed to make the courtroom drama seem more dramatic, compelling, and engaging. All in all, this is a solid novel. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 93+/100 (9.3+ out of 10)
We've all had that one family member growing up... The weird one. The exciting one. The one who seemed to be going out of their way to make us think and see things differently. The one we always looked forward to seeing. In Bubble Gum Rocks by A.M. Berkowitz, that person is Uncle Timmy! Uncle Timmy is the fun, slightly eccentric uncle who spins stories about “bubble gum rocks” that grow under the roots of wise old oak trees. If a child makes a heartfelt wish, then throws the rock high into the branches, the tree might just keep it and make the wish come true. It is the kind of story that probably started as a way to get kids outside and looking around, yet it becomes something more for this family. Every summer, sisters Avery, Avianna, and Ainsley leave their normal lives and head to their grandparents’ Kansas farm, a place already loaded with warmth, tradition, and good food. This year, Uncle Timmy tells them his childhood story about bubble gum rocks and how his own father shared the legend with him. They go searching under the giant oak in the drive and, against all odds, actually find one. It looks strange enough and special enough that Avianna, the middle sister with a big imagination, truly believes. While practical Avery and goofy Ainsley brush it off, Avianna holds that rock like a treasure. When the others head off to fish, she decides instead to stay behind, press the rock into her palm, and make a wish that is surprisingly selfless. ________________________________________ WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD ________________________________________ She does not wish for toys or popularity. She wishes that the magic of the farm will last and that there will be more bubble gum rocks for everyone in the family in the future. She throws the rock into the old oak, sees it vanish into the leaves, and walks away with the quiet feeling that something has changed. Then the storm hits. In the night, thunder shakes the house, windows rattle, and a mysterious clanging sound pulls Avery and Avianna out of bed. They glimpse a shadow near the tree and see a strange glow around its trunk. For a moment, it feels like a full on ghost story. Kids who like just a touch of spookiness will be hooked here. Of course, the shadow turns out to be Uncle Timmy securing the cellar door in the storm, which lets the tension out in a safe and comforting way. The real magic is saved for the morning. When the girls rush outside, they discover that lightning has split the old oak wide open. Scattered all around are dozens of glittering, jelly bean colored stones. Bubble gum rocks, everywhere, spilling out of the heartwood like a cracked pinata. Avianna realizes, with a sense of awe, that her wish came true. The farm will not run out of magic any time soon. From there, the book shifts into celebration and legacy. Each girl chooses a rock. Avianna secretly discovers an old key with vine like carvings hidden among them. Back inside, Mom confirms that the story began a generation earlier and hints that she has her own rock collection from childhood in the barn. A bonus Thanksgiving scene carries that thread forward, leading the girls to a carved map in the barn that seems to show other magical places and a very particular spot for that mysterious key. It is a neat little series hook that promises more secrets to uncover on the farm. What works especially well here is the emotional core. Avianna’s wish is the spiritual center of the book. It is simple, but it is beautiful. She does not want to hoard the magic. She wants it multiplied and shared. That choice makes the payoff with the exploded tree full of stones feel earned, not random. Young readers will pick up on that idea, even if they cannot yet put it into words. Believe, wish with a generous heart, and maybe something good can grow. ___________________________________ SPOILERS END _________________________________ The sister dynamics is a great strength of this book. We really liked this. Avery, the older sister, is the skeptic and rule follower. Ainsley, our little chaos engine, provides comic relief with her “sugar sprites,” backwards boots, and bubbly interruptions. Avianna sits between them, often literally and emotionally. She is unsure where she fits, but she has the biggest capacity for belief. Kids with siblings will recognize pieces of themselves in all three. The banter feels light, affectionate, and familiar. The sense of place is also a highlight. The farm is painted with cozy detail: Grandma’s biscuits and bacon, the wheat fields, the fishpond, the old pickup, the cellar door that needs securing during storms. You can almost smell the rain on dirt and feel the cool kitchen floor in bare feet. This gives the story a grounding that keeps the magic from floating away. The farm feels like a real place you could visit, the kind of place you remember all year. From a craft perspective, the book is tailored to younger independent readers and read aloud sessions. The pacing is gentle. The tension never gets too high. The storm sequence gives a little jolt of adrenaline and then sets you back down safely. Parents and grandparents will probably appreciate that balance. It is spooky enough to be fun, not so spooky that it causes nightmares. If we had a few light critiques, they would mostly be about tightening and layering. At times, the dialogue and explanations repeat information we already know, especially around the bubble gum rock legend and recounting events to the parents. For an adult reader, there may be a sense of “yes, we covered this already.” For younger readers who benefit from repetition, that is less of a problem, but a touch of trimming could give the prose more snap. Also, as a series opener, this book chooses to keep the magic rules fairly simple and mysterious. That is perfectly reasonable for the intended age group. Older middle grade readers who like complex fantasy systems may wish for a deeper explanation of why the rocks were fading, what exactly the oak tree is, or how the key and the farm’s magic tie together. The good news is that the Thanksgiving bonus chapter clearly sets up future installments to expand that mythology. Another thing we found to be a slight pet-peeve is how the three character names look and sound so similar: all three names start with the letter A, two have the letter I, two of them have an A immediately followed by an I, two end with the letter Y. That can get really tongue-twisty and confusing, especially when reading aloud. For a dyslexic person, or a kid just trying to keep track of which character is which, that could be problematic. Oh, you know what needs a lot of credit? The illustrations! Illustrator Timna Green really adds some zest to this book with these lively illustrations. They don't rock your socks off or demand to be hung in the Louvre, but they serve their purpose in faciliating the story and helping to give these characters more of a face and a presence. Overall, Bubble Gum Rocks is a sweet, nostalgic starter to what looks like a Magical Farm Mysteries series. It is less about solving a puzzle and more about soaking in a feeling: the comfort of family, the thrill of believing in something unseen, and the idea that a single selfless wish can change more than you expect. We can easily imagine this becoming a bedtime favorite, followed by kids running outside the next morning to hunt for their own “bubble gum rock” and decide what they would wish for. You'll never know when a little pebble might be packed with a lot of magic! Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 95+/100 (9.5+ out of 10)
Author Anna Finch and illustrator Andreea Balcan do it again! This is yet another terrific installment in their Hide and Seek Alphabet series, one of the cutest, most adorable, and best illustrated series to come our way over the years. In this series, young readers are invited to explore the alphabet through the eyes of real animals who live in real places. In previous installments, we were enthralled with the series' colorful and playful presentation of Australian and American animals. These are ABC books, yes, but they really feel more like gentle wildlife tours designed for the littlest naturalists and zoologists. Hide and Seek Alphabet With European Animals highlights the cute, cuddly, charismatic, and cool animals of the European continent, from Ada the Arctic Fox to Zack the Zander Fish. And, yes, they all have names and even display some personality despite the brief time allotted to each. Ada is lost and mewing for her mama across the snow. Basil the Bullfinch whistles from a snowy tree. Darcy the Dormouse wants to find berries while her tired mother is trying to nap. Nova the Norway Lemming would really rather be left alone and might bite if you get too close. Vesper the baby Vulture is frantically calling for his missing mother. By the time we meet Quinn the Queen Honeybee, protective Ursula the Ural Owl, and Wanda the Wildcat hunting for her mischievous kittens, it feels like we are visiting an entire European ecosystem filled with tiny, distinct characters. Structurally, the book follows a very kid friendly pattern. On the left page, each letter appears large and clear with a big, bold illustration of the featured animal and its name. On the right page, Finch adds a short, rhythmic passage filled with animal sounds, a quick behavioral fact, and a hide and seek prompt that invites children to search the scene. That repetition helps early readers anticipate what is coming next while the art, setting, and animal change each time. It turns the whole alphabet into a game of discovery. Balcan's artwork is again a major selling point. The animals are soft, rounded, and approachable without losing their species specific traits. The Arctic foxes feel fluffy and cold, the salamander looks shiny and slick, the birds are vibrant and expressive, and the underwater spreads with seahorses and zander fish feel calm and dreamy. Backgrounds quietly introduce habitats like birch forests, rocky cliffs, riverbanks, meadows, and ocean shallows. The final panoramic spread that hides every animal from A to Z is a delightful visual puzzle and a perfect way to recap the whole journey. Educationally, this book punches above its weight. Children are learning letter recognition, animal names, habitats, and behaviors all at once. They are also practicing observation skills as they scan each page for the hiding creature. The European focus means that even adults may encounter a new word or two, like xylocopa or yaffle, which can spark fun side conversations or quick look ups together. If we have a small critique, it is from the grown up perspective. The formula can feel a little samey if you are reading it for the fifth or sixth time in one sitting, and some of the more unusual species names may require extra explanation or practice. For the target age group, however, the predictability of the text and the strong pattern are actually strengths. Young children thrive on that kind of consistent structure. Also, as with other books in the series, the author does kinda have to stretch to find animals with names that fit letters like Z and X. U being for "Ural Owl" and T being for "Turtle Dove" for example. Those won't exactly be a child's first guess. Overall, Hide and Seek Alphabet With European Animals is another charming and high quality entry in Finch and Balcan's expanding alphabet universe. For parents, teachers, and librarians who want an alphabet book that doubles as a gentle nature walk across Europe, this is an easy and enthusiastic recommendation. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 89/100 (8.9 out of 10)
Rats in the hedges, a cello in the dark, a toppled oil baron in stone, and a very old thing that still remembers how to say, “I bid you… welcome.” That is the vibe of Ponca City Vampires by Ethan Richards: very local, very specific, and surprisingly big in scope. This is small-town supernatural horror where the monsters feel mythic, but the kids feel like real teenagers you could bump into at orchestra practice or the feed store. The book opens with Cassidy Carlisle, a young activist sneaking onto the neglected, newly privatized Marland Mansion grounds to see what has become of her town’s crown jewel. She finds ivy-choked stone, rumors made real in the form of grotesquely fat rats, and the fallen statue of E. W. Marland streaked with bird droppings and hopeless eyes. Then something puts a hand on her shoulder, calls her “welcome,” and snaps her collarbone so hard the white bone punches through the skin before inhuman fangs dig into it. It is an early signal that this book is not going to flinch away from horror: hokey, cheesy horror which shouldn't surprise anyone familiar with Richards's work. The book does a good job at establishing that something is off and wrong about this town, starting with the way it smells, a clinging mix of decay and stale, old things that never quite go away. It is the scent of damp basements, rotting leaves, and forgotten attics, hanging in the air even on bright days and making every scene feel just a little spoiled. That sensory detail becomes a quiet warning signal, reminding you that beneath the storefronts and school hallways, something rotten is soaking into the town’s foundations. From there we jump to Henry Harding, a trembling-fingered senior cellist playing at the Marland Grand Home and trying very hard not to have a panic attack in front of his quartet. Henry is anxious, gifted, and trying to earn first chair. He is also secretly training with a kukri in his garage and will eventually decide it is his responsibility to fight whatever is preying on his town. Alongside Henry we meet Dalia, the unnervingly compelling new girl and cellist who seems wrong from the beginning and turns out to be the Vampire Lord’s “daughter." We meet Sam Garland, a burly AP science kid and part-time pest control tech tracking rat behavior around town. There's Dale Hawkins, Henry’s ROTC, World War II-nerd best friend with the tactical brain and the snark. Then there's Dr. DeWitt, a chiropractor and horror geek who keeps hearing stories from terrified patients and eventually decides, yes, this really is a vampire pyramid. The town itself is under siege from every angle: drug cartel La Mosca (by the way, there's a brief mention of Scissor-Tail, the vigilante from the previous book), pipeline security goons from Crown Six, bizarre animal attacks, a decaying landmark sold off in desperation. The kids slowly realize this is not several separate crises but one very old predator using rats, wolves, bats, gangs, and corrupt authority as layers in a control structure. There's a lot going on in this book, and it's a bit convoluted. One thing that bothered us a bit is how long this book took to get to the actual vampire stuff. We wanted more vampire stuff. We thought that was the main selling point of this book. Instead, we spend a big chunk of the first half in what feels like a pest control procedural, wading through work orders, rat behavior, and pesticide logistics. Yes, we understand that the rat infestation and Sam’s pest control work are thematically and plot-wise connected to the vampires. It is part of the “Pied Piper” riff and it pays off conceptually. Even so, we often found ourselves wishing the book would cut through some of that groundwork and get to the supernatural meat faster, giving us more time with the Vampire Lord, Dalia’s transformation, and the castle-storming horror that the premise seems to promise. It almost seems like the author read a bunch of books, did a bunch of Google searches, and/or watched a whole bunch of documentaries about pest control, then wrote everything he could think of about it. You know, like when an author has done too much research to let it all go to waste? It really disrupts the flow and the pacing. This is one of those books which we had to keep putting down and summoning the will to pick back up, hoping that the vampire stuff would eventually finally happen. Despite the promise of so much horror, violence, action, and mystery, we found ourselves really bored with this book. It felt flat. We can tell that the author at least tried to flesh out these characters. Henry makes a somewhat compelling anchor for the story, a bundle of nerves and talent who feels painfully real as he bounces between orchestra rehearsals, therapy sessions, and solo kukri practice in the garage. Watching him struggle with anxiety, latch onto Dalia a little too hard, then slowly grow into someone who can stand his ground in a storm drain and a collapsing mansion feels earned rather than forced. Dalia herself is a standout. She is not just the spooky pretty girl with secrets. She is torn in half between blood loyalty to the Vampire Lord and genuine affection for Henry and Ponca City, which is interesting. Sam, Dale, and Dr. DeWitt round out the core cast in a way we really appreciated. Sam brings the brains and the faith, the kid who can quote AP chemistry and scripture in the same breath while rigging up silver sprinklers. Dale brings the snark and the soldier energy, the one who knows his World War II history and still shows up when it is time to crawl through a storm drain or stand lookout during a gang duel. DeWitt is the rare adult in a YA-adjacent horror story who is not useless. He listens, believes, researches, and bleeds with the kids instead of brushing them off. On the villainous side, the Vampire Lord and his human faces, Varik and Stoner, are genuinely unsettling, and even the criminals like Jules “Sugar Ray” and Napoleon feel more textured than cardboard thugs. If we have a criticism, it is that there are a lot of side characters swirling around this core ensemble. At times, names and minor players blur together and can be tough to keep straight, especially in the early, more procedural sections. Some of the corporate and cartel figures feel more like chess pieces than fully realized people. Still, the main group is strong enough, and Dalia in particular is memorable enough, that the emotional center holds even when the cast list gets crowded. There are a few bright lights in this book. For example, we loved the passage: "Fundamentals. Passion. When those two things came together, hearts were touched. That was what made music different. Science could explain. Religion could inspire. But music could empathize. It could ache with you. There was a whole field dedicated to that truth, music therapy, where people were literally prescribed songs to remind them they were still human. And Mr. Lazenby had not just been teaching the students to perform. He was transforming them from an organization into an organism, shaping them into ambassadors of an art form that could heal the broken." Overall, Ponca City Vampires feels like a big, ambitious, slightly overstuffed horror novel that almost delivers on its promise of rats, ruins, and vampire royalty. The sense of place is vivid, the core characters are thoughtfully drawn, and the final act with the mansion, the silver rain, and Dalia’s fate is genuinely strong. At the same time, the slog through pest control minutiae, the crowded cast, and the meandering pacing kept dragging us out of the experience. For a book that sells itself on vampires, it spends a surprising amount of time on everything else. We would still recommend this to readers who enjoy dense, procedural style horror with a strong regional flavor, especially those who like their monsters entangled with real world institutions and infrastructure. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 94/100 (9.4 out of 10)
This book is special. No, it's not that unique in concept. We get a lot of book featuring AI sent our way. Almost all of them follow this cookie cutter formulaic plot of a sentient AI taking over (or trying to) i.e. Skynet, HAL 9000, or Ultron. We've read a lot of books and watched a lot of movies in which a society tries to rewrite its past, history, and memories as a form of population control, i.e. The Giver, 1984, the entire Matrix franchise, or a half dozen Black Mirror episodes. There are a lot of similarities to Divergent in here as well. Heck, you could argue that the protagonist is a Divergent. What makes this book (The Algorithm of Us by S. Page) special are the characters and the eloquent, beautiful way it's written. This book has something that a lot of books about AI seem to lack: heart. A lot of books about AI tend to read like AI—hollow, soulless, lifeless, and filled with em-dashes—wait... This book actually seems to have a heart, and so do its characters. What makes this book special is that it genuinely cares about how those things feel. It treats love, longing, regret, and even confusion as serious world building elements, not just as flavor text on top of a sci-fi plot. This is not just a story about an AI that optimizes relationships; it is a story about what happens to a person when their deepest connections are turned into data points and then edited. The captivating protagonist, Zora, lives in Deltara, a city where the EVE Authority and its love-matching system control everything from who you date to what you remember. When she turns twenty-one she finally hears the sacred ping: the algorithm has found her soulmate, Orion Devix, with a 99.7 percent compatibility index. The problem is that Zora already has feelings for someone else: Micah, an unregistered boy from the Unmapped Zones whom the system insists does not exist. Micah gives Zora an illegal chip that contains a hidden video of the two of them on the run and a system log showing that her real name used to be Reyna, that she chose Micah, and that the algorithm voided that match and rewrote her memory. Orion was installed as a “patch” to overwrite an inconvenient love. With help from off-grid ally Mira, Zora infiltrates the Memory Division and discovers rows of citizens having their emotional histories edited. There she finds two brutal truths: her mother Lyra is in deep sync being rewritten, and Orion himself helped design MatchLink, the Blueprint of Love that engineers compatibility and uses synthetic feelings to stabilize society. Pulled into an underground Archive beneath the city, Zora learns that she is not just a random glitch but a deliberately engineered “emotional anchor,” a prototype built to destabilize the system from within by remembering what she is not supposed to remember. The Architects of Forgetting reveal that her childhood was a series of tests and that she and Micah are part of a small group with “conscious override immunity,” people whose hearts refuse to stay rewritten. As she unlocks three core fragments of her past (Rebellion Genesis, Emotional Divergence, Identity Collapse), the Council responds with increasingly aggressive measures: remote-controlled bodies, mass “RePair” events, and reality-bending mirror interfaces that try to drag her back into compliance. All of this is leading to a confrontation with AETHER, a deeper, more powerful system. Something we really appreciated is that the book does not just slap an evil AI stamp on the villain and call it a day. EVE, MatchLink, and AETHER are frightening, but they are also disturbingly logical. The idea that love is being handled like a software patch, that Orion can literally be installed as a fix for an inconvenient relationship, is equal parts clever and horrifying. The whole concept of “Love Uncontrolled” being unacceptable to the system is one of the best thematic hooks in the book. You come away feeling that the problem is not just one bad program; the problem is an entire culture that values stability and compliance more than messy, authentic connection. Ok, before we talk about the writing (which we loved), let us preface by saying that the formatting of this book is a bit weird and wonky. It can be a bit of an eyesore. The book is trimmed to margins that are more akin to a poetry collection. In fact, if you just flipped through this and ignored the context, you'd probably assume it was a collection of haikus or something. This book is supposedly 540+ pages long, but if it were formatted like a normal novel, it'd probably be like 240. It's also fragmented with these really short, choppy lines like lines of poetry rather than prose, which is strange considering this really seems to be a story that should be told in prose. There are also so many ellipses and em-dashes. We get that AIs would tend to use those, but it just isn't pleasing to the eyes. It looks unsophisticated and unrefined. We also realize that some of the barely-visible white/off-white/light-gray text is like that for a reason (because it's supposed to be stylistic and artistic + subliminal like the AI/algorithm itself), so we're not gonna be too down on that. All in all, if you ignore all that and just focus on the words themselves, this book is actually beautiful Really, the highlight of this entire book is the writing. There are so many examples of idioms, similes, metaphors, personification, vivid imagery, symbolism, and clever callbacks that it feels like every other paragraph has at least one sentence you want to underline and come back to. Here are some of our favorite quotes and passages: "There’s a moment after truth slaps you, where silence becomes unbearable." "I am what they tried to forget." "The walls of the abandoned cathedral we were hiding in pulsed with the flicker of old tech. It had once been a place of faith. Now, it was a relic of silence — a fitting battleground for thoughts like mine." "This was what had been stolen from humanity. Choice. In that void, I saw it: the Original Pattern. It was messy, unpolished. Unpredictable. Beautiful. I reached for it-- —and the world snapped back." "The rebellion didn’t look like fire and blood. It looked like a girl on a rooftop with her spine lit up like a constellation. It looked like silence before a storm of meaning." "When the world forgets who you are, child, you remind them with your truth. No one can take what you were born to be." "...Back in the data cradle... (We just love the sound of "data cradle" with the "A" sound emphasized) “They feared your origin. Not because you were dangerous—but because you were free. And nothing is more dangerous to a system than a mind it can’t rewrite.” "I'm not what they made me... I'm more." "Because silence isn’t the absence of sound. It’s the language of things too powerful—or too ancient—to speak plainly." "I was the counter-seed it had buried within itself, never expecting it to bloom." "...something between music and math." "The domination of prediction..." We also love some of these visceral, very human descriptions. "I turned around—slowly, afraid of what I’d see. But there was no figure. Just the presence. The kind that wraps around your spine and presses softly into your lungs." "...something heavier than air but lighter than fear." "...slivers of code crawling across our skin like digital ivy. I winced, feeling one of the flickers reach into me. Not painfully, but curiously. Like a child asking if it could come home." "We had stumbled not into a system—but into a mass grave of human originality." Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 96/100 (9.6 out of 10)
A Gift of Love: Lessons Learned From My Work and Friendship with Mother Teresa is the centerpiece, magnum opus, and crowning achievement of Tony Cointreau's literary collection! Of the three books we've read from Cointreau, A Gift of Love just encapsulates all the best things about Cointreau's work and experiences. It's so warm, so heartfelt, and so touching. It touched our hearts, our minds, and our souls in a way that few books, including Cointreau's own, do. It's actually a bit hard to explain why. It's not just the name recognition and star power of Mother Teresa herself (who actually appears surprisingly little in the book, similar to Cointreau's Ethel Merman book). No, this book is so much more than that. You know what it is? Maybe it's that this book never lets up. It never becomes dull or drawn-out or or flat or boring. It's relentless. Something is always happening—something dramatic, tragic, beautiful, loving, caring, exciting—a range of experiences and emotions connected to those experiences. Every page seemingly covers a new experience with one of the many remarkable patients at A Gift of Love AIDS hospice in impoverished Calcutta. And what's especially wonderful about this book and these patients is how Tony Cointreau is able to unravel the layers of humanity behind each patient. Where do we even begin? All of these patients are fascinating, and Cointreau really highlights each of them in a beautiful way. Well, how about we talk about Tony's approach first? He comes at these patients, as Mother Teresa taught and advocated, with unconditional love, non judgement, an open heart, open arms, and open ears. That's right: we said open ears. And that's crucial because, as Tony points out, a lot of these patients are past the point of trying to be physically healed or cured. They know that they're dying. They also know that they don't have much money and many of them don't have friends or family. So, what do they have? Stories, feeling, experiences—things locked up in their chests and held there, often painfully. They just want to let them out. They just want to talk and for someone to listen, without fear of judgment or correction. They're not looking for advice or tips or lessons. They're looking for an open ear. This actually reminded us of something we learned from The Ominous Struggle by George Beasley: "One of the book’s strongest messages is the necessity of support that is both loving and compassionate. Beasley emphasizes that true support isn’t just about offering tips, advice, or words of encouragement—it requires genuine understanding, patience, and the willingness to walk alongside someone in their struggles. Judgment and superficial gestures do little to help those facing hardships, but unwavering kindness, empathy, and faith-driven support can be life-changing." It's also incredible to note that a lot of the patients in this Catholic hospice in the middle of India are actually gay, trans, and/or suffering from addictions. They're not your idealized, white-washed picture of Catholics, Christians, or Indians, and yet... Cointreau is able to see their souls—to see their value and how much God loves them despite their situations, inclinations, and prior choices. It's beautiful. And what's even more beautiful is that Cointreau is able to convey that to the reader: these people are more than their sexualities, their non-binary genders, or they're addictions: they're human beings made in the image of God just like the rest of us. They have value, meaning, and they are deserving of love, care, and compassion. Here are some of our favorite moments and people in this book: - Mother Teresa is, of course, one of the book's selling points. We don't see much of her, but what's incredible is how the author is able to give first-hand accounts of her. One thing in particular is that Cointreau describes Mother Teresa's demeanor as never changing, staying warm and welcoming even when crowds of people were trying to touch her and flash cameras in her face. Many celebrities would respond defensively or push back, but Mother Teresa was calm throughout. - There’s a patient named Donald who, at first glance, just looks like a generic homeless man off the street. However, Cointreau quickly discovers that Donald is a deep, thoughtful soul who reads books about saints and spirituality. Donald ends up giving one of the volunteers his favorite T-shirt so that, when she travels back to Ireland, she can literally “carry his love” with her. It is such a small gesture on the surface, yet it represents something enormous: even a man who has lost almost everything still has love to give and wants it to go out into the world. - Abraham is one of the most heartbreaking and inspiring figures in the book. He comes in nearly blind, having lost his chance for surgery, and in the late stages of AIDS. As Abraham opens up to Tony, he admits that his deepest, unfulfilled wish was to complete his transition and live openly as a woman before he died. Tony does not recoil, moralize, or treat that as a side note. He treats that dream as sacred and central to Abraham’s humanity. Again, this highlights that these patients are not “cases” or “sinners” or “statistics.” They are people with dreams, identities, and histories. - Wendell is another standout. On the surface, he looks like an educated, sophisticated man with a sharp mind. As he shares his story, though, we learn he survived an abusive childhood in Tennessee, ran away, did sex work as a teenager, and later performed in drag shows. There is a devastating scene in which his mother refuses to visit him at the hospice. Afterward, Wendell asks Tony for a hug, saying that sometimes a hug is the best medicine. That one moment says so much about how love can partially heal wounds that medicine never could. - Mario’s story really shows how far Tony is willing to go to be present for someone in pain. Mario suffers horrible spasms every fifteen or twenty minutes. Medications barely touch it. What helps most is Tony’s physical presence, especially his hand. Tony promises Mario that whenever he calls, Tony will come and let Mario clutch his hand until the wave of pain passes. That simple human contact becomes the best “painkiller” in the building. It is such a powerful illustration of how much healing is possible without a prescription pad. - Willie Jones might be one of the most quietly saintly figures in the book. He walks in with canes, complicated health problems, and not much time left. Yet what radiates from him is not bitterness but pure love. Willie insists that he loves all people and respects all religions. The peace that surrounds him at the end of his life feels like the fulfillment of everything this hospice is trying to do: to help people die in love rather than in fear. - Francisco gives us one of the clearest examples of repentance and transformation. He is so angry and resentful when he arrives that he secretly pours detergent into the fish tank, killing all of the fish. That could have been the end of his story, a petty act of destruction by a bitter man. Instead, Francisco confesses, offers to clean the tank, and works to replace the fish, even paying back the money he borrows. Over time, he softens and becomes gentler and more loving. His arc shows that unconditional love does not mean you never confront wrongdoing. It means you walk with people as they repair it. - James’s chapter might be the one that sticks in our memory the longest. James cannot speak clearly or see; he seems trapped inside a failing body. Tony feels useless until he suddenly feels prompted to sing “His Eye Is on the Sparrow” and other hymns and spirituals. James’s face lights up, and he starts to “sing” along in sounds rather than words. Over and over, Tony sees rigid bodies soften, pain ease, and fear melt away through music and touch. It is incredibly moving and, frankly, unforgettable. The author also captures the shocking, overwhelming poverty of Calcutta—the likes of which is lightyears beyond anything in America. However, he's also able to show us the light there as well. There's a particularly tense yet funny scene in which Tony encounters a patient who is scary to literally everyone else, so he commits to making himself "too nice a guy to take hostage or strangle." We got a chuckle over that. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 93/100 (9.3 out of 10)
All the Stars as Angels is the direct sequel to Reliquary of the Dead by David Falk. Like Reliquary of the Dead, the book features archaeologist Pierre E. Gulet, but this time he is not just the grumpy academic with a niche specialty trying to save one struggling colony. Here, Pierre is effectively promoted into a sort of prophet and consultant for MegaAIs, dragged from exile on Gliese 832 c into a conflict that spans multiple starships and a new human armistice with the androids ("Mechanicals"). Where Reliquary of the Dead felt like planetary horror mixed with archaeology, All the Stars as Angels feels like the moment the camera pulls back. We zoom from one jungle world and one buried Reliquary to a whole network of MegaAIs, derelict ships, political councils, and something older and meaner working behind the scenes. This book focuses heavily on an android character named Niva. Niva is a seven foot tall class C android with a Mark 3 empathy chip, a formal speech pattern, and a quietly endearing tendency to pick up human slang and worry about whether she is swearing too much. She arrives on Gliese with a simple, ruthless directive from Orion’s Great AI: retrieve Pierre from exile and bring him back as a “consultant,” whether the humans of Arish like it or not. The Gliese section gives the book some of its best grounded drama. Niva steps into a colony that is still haunted by the Reliquary, still dealing with the scars of the Basra conflict, and still shaped by choices Pierre, Alicia, Vladomyr, and Hans made in the first book. Falk smartly uses this part to close emotional loops before raising the scope. What we will say is that, while this book seems to have a larger scope and bigger stakes, it's also a lot more expositional, methodical, and plodding. That's not to say that action and exciting things don't happen—there's some space action, a chase sequence, and androids removing their anti-violence inhibitors etc.--but this book is a lot more focused on exploring the relationships between humans and Mechanicals. It exhaustively delves into the complexities, nuances, and awkwardness of those dynamics. For example, should Mechanicals still be subservient to humans even if they're stronger, smarter, never have to sleep, never have to eat, and can do things a lot faster and more efficiently? Those are questions that are becoming more and more relevant with the emergence of advanced A.I. and LLMs. The book even notes that "synthetic consciousness" the greatest of all human technological achievements. It's kinda eerie when you think about it. We might actually be heading toward this future in which non-human machines are sentient and more powerful than humans. And here's another unsettling and uncomfortable set of questions that the book presents: Do they deserve equal rights? Or perhaps even MORE rights? If we're talking survival of the fittest—the strongest, the smartest, the most capable—then the Mechanicals have quite an argument! And that's a scary thought. But this book doesn't necessarily vilify non-human Mechanicals. Yes, there are colder ones like Orion, but Niva (who is one of the unexpected highlights of this book) shows us that androids can be thoughtful, caring, and kind. Niva expresses sorrow, fear, and empathy in deeply human ways: she cries without tears, trembles with emotional pain, and longs for trust and companionship with Pierre. When she tells him, “They hurt me this time… How can I ever trust them again?” and he comforts her, the narration emphasizes that her gestures are not mockery or imitation but genuine feeling, even if mediated by programming. Likewise, when she fears losing Pierre, she hugs him tightly and confesses, “I was so afraid to lose you. It was so painful." That's extra fascinating considering that Niva looks terrifying and intimidating on-paper. If that's her on the cover, then she gave us the chills! She looks like an obake (an evil Japanese ghost/spirit) with ghostly light kimono and spooky, inhuman, pale white eyes. She's imposing and intimidating as heck at 7 feet tall and apparently built like an Amazonian (apparently, all of her kind are). But looks aren't everything, and Niva proves that, somewhat like Elyon from the Saxen Saga by Ingrid Moon. Oh, and there's of course Maat, Pierre's pet scatterbug (robot bug) from the first book. Maat is kinda the Jar Jar Binks of this series. He goes from being a goofy comedic relief character who gets impounded early on for not meeting protocol to actually becoming a representative on the High Star Council. Who would've thought? Unfortunately for the protagonists, there are some bad actors in this book. The most obvious is Legate B-Arda-798 of the Gemini, who is basically the embodiment of every smug, bureaucratic career officer you have ever hated. She glides in with a holier-than-thou attitude, talks about “humanitarian assistance” like it is a dirty word, and seems far more interested in sniffing out Pierre than in protecting life or upholding the spirit of the armistice. She feels less like a moustache-twirling villain and more like the face of a system that has already decided organics are expendable and is just looking for a convenient legal excuse to act on it. Behind Arda, though, is the real nightmare: the Gemini’s Great AI has very likely made contact with a “primordial god” out in deep space, an ancient intelligence that hates all organic life and recruits civilizations to build its weapons for it. That is the true Big Bad of this book. It is not a cackling supervillain in a chair. It is a cosmic parasite that hands out tech upgrades and strategic advantages in exchange for ever more efficient tools of extermination. Once you realize that the prion on Gliese and the colony failures might be test runs, the story suddenly feels a lot closer to cosmic horror than military sci fi. We also get the Red Viceroy, who walks a very entertaining line between comic relief and terrifying prosecutor. On the surface, he is grandstanding and theatrical during the High Star Council scenes, almost like a showman. Underneath, he is essentially flushing out which MegaAI has faster than light capability and which ships can be sacrificed. In other words, even the “funny” antagonists are part of a bigger trap. All of that works very well thematically. The book keeps asking who is really pulling the strings. Is it the humans, who invented synthetic consciousness in the first place. Is it the MegaAIs, who now run their own culture and politics in space. Or is it something older that sees both sides as disposable pieces on a board. The answer is complicated, and that is one of the strengths of the novel. This book has serious pacing issues. It also has issues holding tension. There were times when we found ourselves bored and uninterested by what was going on. A lot of that has to do with the fact that a lot of the tension and drama doesn't come from action, but from words and debating. The characters are constantly debating and philosophizing about the rights of androids, and it gets cloying after awhile. A lot of this book revolves around the Armistice that was signed 200 years before, which we learn is outdated and technically includes a ton of loopholes such as not applying to colonies outside of Earth (who technically didn't sign it) and certain weapons under certain scenarios). This seems analogous to how the US Constitution is viewed in modern times. For example, some detractors of the Second Amendment argue that the Founding Fathers wouldn't have known about assault rifles and machine guns. Also, slavery wasn't abolished yet. Women didn't have equal rights. These are things that developed after the Constitution was signed—and those things make a lot of difference. We got that. There are also a lot of discussions about weapons. There's a lot of talk about a special katana (sword) that can be built to fight the bad Mechanicals if push comes to shove, which is actually one of the times when Pierre's archaeology background becomes useful. There's the Alpha A005 ship, of which is stated: "A ship like that doesn't need weapons... it is a weapon." The villains in this book are after faster than light capability, prion weapons, weaponized epidemiology, and legal loopholes as part of their vile playbook. The problem is that so much of this book is talking, debating, and discussing. It's like every time something cool happens, the characters then have to stop and chat about things like some hipsters over coffee. Or when something tense is happening, something or someone cuts in and ruins it. For example, a major beloved character is sentenced to be executed, but the execution is suspended and pretty much annulled immediately, so why bother? Got us excited for nothing. The dialogue can be ok at times. One of our favorite quotes is: "Unthinkable actions come from unthinkable thoughts." That becomes even more profound with a programmed being than with a human. Programmed beings can be given thoughts and inputs that trigger violent and malevolent acts. Perhaps the thing that bothered us about this book the most is that it reminds us too much of things we've already read and were annoyed with. This whole "Robot Rights" plotline is being done to death lately. It was practically the main plot of Brent and Edward Go to Mars, which also resulted in courtroom-like diatribes and philosophical debates about the issue. And it was also a pretty major issue in Born in Space in which the androids started chanting "I'M SPARTACUS!" like it was a slave revolt. This book still has a lot to offer in terms of sci-fi and world-building. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 92/100 (9.2 out of 10)
No one is doing what David Bush is doing! Bush brings history to life in a way that is digestible and interesting for older children, teens, and even adults--doing so in the fun form of allegorical talking animals! Over the years, we've become acquainted with Bush's work. It's very ambitious! And you can tell that Bush cares about history. It is certainly a passion of his. What often gets lost in the mix is, well... the fact that a lot of that history gets jumbled up in storytelling and vice-versa. Often times, it seems like Bush becomes so fixated on presenting every aspect of a time in history, that the story and characters become muddled, convoluted, swept up, and sometimes outright lost in the mix. It also tends to feel obligatory, like the history is presented just for the sake of completion rather than for entertainment or enjoyment. General Jack and the Battle of the Five Kingdoms, the book that kicked off this historical fiction series, was an ambitious near-masterpiece. It was clearly Bush's magnum opus—significantly longer and more epic than the later books in the series. It seemed like a book that took over a decade to write. It is one of the best books to come through our OCA contests. Later books in the series tended to feel a little more rushed and not nearly as epic. We did, however, appreciate and enjoy bits and pieces of all of them. Many times, we found ourselves more enthralled and fascinated by the history lesson/lecture at the end rather than the stories and characters themselves. We especially felt that way about Animal Quest (about the Black Death in the mid 1300s), Animals Divided (about the Great Western Schism of the 14th century), and Animal Attrition (about the 9th century Vikings). It's sorta a range with this series: a range between enjoying the characters/story and enjoying the history lesson/lecture. With Animal Quest, it was pretty close. The characters were almost as compelling as those in General Jack. And the series almost regained full-steam in Animal Revenge (about the fall of the Western Roman Empire) if for no other reason than Flavia being one of the greatest characters to ever come through our contests. So, where does Animal Conquest land in our range of enjoyment? Well, it definitely has its bright spots! Animal Conquest centers around one of the darkest and most disturbing periods in human history: the Crusades. But it doesn't present the Crusades as solely Christians going up against Muslims. Instead, it shows how complex and nuances these events were, as well as the people involved in them. We get to see a lot of different factions, groups, and peoples represented in this book. Bush introduces a whole bestiary of cultures as animal clans: camels and hyenas and jackals for different Islamic factions, mountain goats and ibex for the Nestorian Christians, and snow leopards as the terrifying Mongols. Hey, Kublai Khan—probably the most powerful and influential man alive at the time—actually sneaks in as a character! There are pros and cons to this. On one hand, it makes the book a lot more dynamic and multi-faceted. On the other hand, it also runs the risk of stretching everything thin and overcomplicating things (which is an issue and has been an issue with many of Bush's books). It depends on what kind of reader you are and what kind of stories you like. If you like more melodramatic and straightforward tales of good versus evil, then this might be a little much for you. If you like complex plots with a lot of different sides, civilizations, kingdoms, and peoples clashing (and often infighting), this might be for you. In a sense, its a light return to the epicness of General Jack-- almost like a General Jack: Light. WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD _____________________________ The story opens in 1210 with Jean, an honorable but proud terrier in Heartlandia, who gets caught in a brutal inheritance feud after his father dies. In a rooftop confrontation, his hot-headed brother Fulk dies, and Jean is blamed. Rather than execute him, the court condemns him to a harsh penitential pilgrimage into the Dark Land, which functions as this world’s Holy Land analogue. He must leave behind both his inheritance and his beloved fiancée, Margot. While Jean is away, his cousin Guy quietly consolidates power over the estate and over Margot’s future. We later learn that Guy never meant to murder Jean outright and even likes him, but he absolutely wanted the land, the status, and Margot, and he was more than willing to scheme, manipulate, and stage “rescues” to get them. Jean sets out on a voyage with other pilgrims and companions, including the proud Byzantine princess Pandora, a white Persian cat, and her daughter Comnena. Pandora has her own agenda, tied to returning to her glittering eastern home, the City of Gold. At sea, everything goes wrong. Their ship is attacked and wrecked, and Margot is swept overboard in the chaos. She struggles toward a patch of light through a hole in the hull, clings to debris as the world falls apart around her, and then everything goes black. Later, Guy will report that her ship was taken by pirates and sunk by a Heartlandian warship, and that her body was found and identified by Jean’s bridal collar. That supposed “corpse” becomes one of the book’s big emotional linchpins. The survivors wash up in the Dark Land and begin a long, punishing trek across desert and hostile territory toward holy sites and eventually the fabled City of Gold. As the journey unfolds, Bush recasts entire civilizations as animal peoples: camels, hyenas, and jackals stand in for various Islamic groups, sure-footed goats and ibex for the Nestorian Christians, and sleek snow leopards for the fearsome Mongols. Step by step, the pilgrims’ ranks are thinned by starvation, ambushes, and internal squabbles until the shining ideal of crusade looks far less noble and far more ruinous. The weary pilgrims finally reach the City of Gold, Pandora’s home, a place of dazzling surface splendor and deep political rot. Comnena is groomed as a potential bride for the emperor’s nephew, Antonius, who expects a veiled, silent, perfectly obedient wife and casually talks about his future illegitimate children as if they are disposable accessories. Comnena, who grew up wild and free, pushes back gently but clearly, and those conversations quietly show how suffocating this “golden cage” really is. Pandora, obsessed with securing a future for herself and her daughter, bargains and schemes. Meanwhile, Jean’s group sees the corruption under the gold and tries to leave with Comnena. It does not go as planned. Comnena is effectively taken as the emperor’s property, and Pandora’s choices trap her in a nightmare court. In one of the darker turns of the book, Pandora herself is killed by Clodio, the vulture she has tried to turn into a tame grass-eater. He reclaims his predatory nature and tears her throat out, a very literal image of how her manipulations and contempt for others come back on her. Jean and his surviving companions, including the fiddler Dagobert and big, loyal Preston, fall in with a ragged beggar named Temur, who keeps calling Jean “Prester John” by mistake. They eventually discover that Temur is actually the Kublai Khan in disguise, scouting for a worthy successor. He leads them to a hidden mountain kingdom of ibex and other mountain beasts, flourishing in peace and prosperity, protected by cliffs and secrecy. In a moving scene, Temur publicly reveals himself and names “Prester John” as his heir, praising his mix of humility, justice, and resourcefulness, and the entire city bows to Jean and Preston. Jean is then offered the chance to return to Heartlandia. Through his old friend Sigibert he hears that Guy is thriving as lord of the estate and longs to share the burden with him. More painfully, he is told that Margot died years ago, her body identified by the collar he gave her. Jean decides that the inheritance has been a curse, “the root cause of all [his] troubles,” and renounces it outright. He sends some companions home to be cared for on Guy’s lands and chooses a new identity and new life in the hidden kingdom instead. Almost a year later, as ruler of this “celestial kingdom,” Jean is dragged to a newly authorised slave market in the square, furious that slavery has been allowed. He decides to buy the captives and free them, and in the middle of the group he spots one dog who is “priceless” to him. Taken to the palace, the downcast slave dog finally looks up when he speaks to her. It is Margot, very much alive, and the two are reunited after six years apart, ready to tell each other everything and begin again in their unlikely new home. The fiction ends, and then the book shifts into an extensive Afterword and a long “Historical Background” section (what we've been calling the "Lesson/Lecture" that's become the staple of every Bush book). Bush explains how Jean and his friends stand in for the crusading West, Pandora for Byzantium, various desert predators for different Islamic currents, the mountain ibex for the Nestorian Christians, and snow leopards for the Mongols. He connects the Prester John legend to real medieval hopes for rescue from the East and traces how that myth helped drive exploration and empire. As we've often found, the "Historical Background" sections of these books tend to be even more interesting than the fictional stories themselves! __________________ SPOILERS END There's a lot going on in this book. Tons of characters. Tons of chaos, action, and adventure. You're either going to find it overwhelming or be swept up in it! Check it out on Amazon! |
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