Editorial Reviews for Nominees
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 Score: 94/100 (9.4 out of 10)
Are you up for some fantasy adventure? Well, Talismans by Craig P. Miller might just fit your fancy! In the spirit of Tolkien, this book features a sprawling, lore rich world as well as an ensemble cast of colorful, fantastical characters. We travel across the continent of the Antipodes, from the harsh empire of Makari in the south to the embattled kingdom of Keldana in the north, with a lethal barrier of desert and marsh between them. It feels like a real place, complete with history, politics, and regional quirks that do not exist just to serve the plot but to shape it. On the Makari side, we follow Borman, a physically crooked but magically gifted True Lord who survives in a brutal, survival of the fittest culture through sheer brains and preparation. He studies obscure tomes in the peer’s library, crafts clever talismans, and perfects what he calls the “Ways of the Weak,” winning battles through insight rather than brute force. His discovery of a viable route across the Great Desert is the first domino that allows Makari forces to threaten Keldana, and it quietly turns him from a near expendable into someone the powerful can no longer ignore. On the Keldanan side, we start with something much smaller and more intimate. Ross Cambridge is a tall, lanky fiddler in the village of Stallwort, the kind of quietly decent young man who plays at the local inn, helps his parents, and blushes around his clever friend Salena. When the Makari threat spills north, Ross is swept up alongside a memorable supporting cast: Tilly, a gentle yet formidable healer who carries an ancient Light called Thy’mara, Hallen, a se’swani talisman wright and mentor, fierce warrior Maeve Whenell, and Damon Tambour, a nobleman turned Ranger who is haunted by guilt and grief. The magic system in this book (and series) is interesting. Talismans in this world are not just trinkets, they are carefully designed collaborations between human crafters and mysterious beings of Light called Quathiels. Ross’s training sequences, in which he falls into a trance and “watches” countless bright points of awareness dance in the dark as they co design new talismans, are some of the most imaginative and satisfying magic scenes we have read in a while. The magic here feels at once mystical and technical, as if you are watching high level artisans and engineers working together, only the engineers happen to be sentient sparks. Talismans also does not shy away from the cost of war and power. The Makari invasion is not an abstract threat; it means terrified villages, doomed charges, grieving parents, and leaders scrambling for any advantage. When Ross channels his growing abilities into a massive flood that saves the city of Tambourtynne but kills many in the process, the book takes a very gutsy route. He is hailed and feared at the same time, then scapegoated by priests and authorities who owe their lives to him. It is a powerful example of how a “miracle” can be both salvation and catastrophe, and it gives the ending a bittersweet, unsettled tone that really stuck with us. Stylistically, this leans into classic epic fantasy. There are invented terms, long journeys, political councils, and a large cast. The upside is a world that feels deep and fully imagined. Even minor figures have a place in the wider tapestry, and the appended cast and glossary help drive home that sense of scope. The tradeoff is that it can be dense at times. Readers who prefer very streamlined, fast paced fantasy may find the learning curve steep in the early going, while readers who enjoy sinking into a thick, carefully built world will likely be thrilled. If we have any quibbles, they are mostly about that density. This is a very dense book, and it always feels like it's building, setting up, or just dragging us along without giving us fulfillment. That's part of the downside of this being the first in the series. There are a lot of scenes of characters doing fairly mundane things, joking, and laughing together, and while those moments help build camaraderie and a lived in feel, they sometimes soften the tension and slow the pace when the plot is pressing forward. Readers who love hanging out with a cast and soaking in their banter will probably enjoy this, but readers who prefer every scene to drive the main arc might find themselves wishing the story would tighten up a bit more often. There is also plenty of comic relief sprinkled through the quieter stretches. One moment has Maeve poised in a textbook perfect hunting stance with her bow, only for her cover to be blown because her backside is sticking out, and another has Hallen dryly remarking, “Perhaps she is full of answers... Was she always so full of... joy?” Little beats like these keep the tone buoyant and give the cast a believable, teasing rhythm, even when the larger story is barreling toward war. At the same time, this does tend to cut the tension a bit. We'll say that this book has one of the best opening lines of any book. The writing is beautiful and detailed, sometimes overly so (to the point where it becomes flowery and borish). This is solid epic fantasy fiction. Check it out on Amazon!
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 Score: 91+/100 (9.1+ out of 10)
Military sci-fi, action, and dystopia collide in Dissonance Volume 1: Reality by Aaron Ryan! The story is set in 2042, about sixteen years after monstrous flying predators called gorgons appeared, broke the world, and drove what is left of humanity into fortified underground “Blockades.” Our narrator and main protagonist is Sergeant Cameron “Jet” Shipley, a tired young veteran in Blockade DN436 near Clarksville / Nashville, who lives with the memory of watching gorgons devour people, including his own family, and now spends his days running patrols, scavenging, and killing whatever threatens the Blockade. The gorgons hunt primarily by sound and some kind of telepathic pressure, and one look into their eyes can freeze you in place (giving them their Medusa-inspired names), so soldiers wear special masks and visors to disrupt their influence. Along with the monsters, strange alien “amulets” fell to Earth when the invasion began. High-level scientists learned to harness them, using them with high-frequency sonic waves to create EMP-like “dissonant tidal floods” (DTFs) that fry gorgon senses and sometimes kill them outright. All of this is monitored by a massive supercomputer called the Beast, which chews on satellite remnants, sensor feeds, and old internet data to find a way to drive the gorgons back. One patrol changes everything for Jet. While out near the Blockade wall, he recovers one of the mysterious amulets from a gorgon and narrowly escapes being seen. Back inside, he gets pulled into a larger operation: escorting a small recon unit north to Austin Peay University and its surrounding area. Their job is to scavenge food and supplies, check out weird thermal readings, and report on gorgon patterns. On campus, they discover Harvill Hall, where a ragtag community of survivors has been living for years, unaware of just how long it has been or how organized the Blockades are. Jet’s squad ends up recruiting some of them, notably Joe Bassett, Fox, Vera, and others, who join the military effort. In the background, we slowly learn that President Graham and her scattered government are not just hiding, they are coordinating a long-term counterattack using the amulets and data from the Beast. The mission escalates when Command hijacks the original “supply run” and orders them to do something far more dangerous: capture a live “berserker” gorgon, tag it with a tracker, and let it go so Command can follow it. This is the su*cide mission that the core of the action centers around, a truly nightmarish mission for the participants who must survive attacks from the gorgons and other obstacles. The Austin Peay action sequence is one of the highlights of the book. This book reminded us of a lot of books we've read in the past: every Ethan Richards book ever written and Ultimatum by Vladimir Fleurisma. Similar to the Ethan Richards monster novels, the book involves military, mercenaries, or military-adjacent characters brandishing guns and bazookas/rocket launchers/RPGs, working together to combat some mysterious monstrosity of some sort. It's interesting to note the references to "Godzilla toys" that are totally something that would be mentioned in an Ethan Richards novel. You can tell that Ryan is a fan of kaijus and monster ficiton himself. However, Ultimatum is arguably a much closer comparison. Both books take place in a post-apocalyptic world in which people live very cut off from one another for safety reasons. In fact, in both books, the characters literally live underground. In Ultimatum, the characters live in underground bunkers to survive mutated beasts called "Uglies." In Dissonance, the characters live in underground "blockades" to survive monstrosities called gorgons. Both books follow young military characters who often get excited or fixated on mundane things in the underground, things that we all take forgranted like having access to real foods like bacon, eggs, and our selection of romantic partners. However, this book breaks away and reaches another gear that Ultimatum hadn't quite reached. There's real chemistry between characters like Jet & Allison Trudy, for example. And you do grow to like them (or at least not want to see them get eaten/mutilated/killed). There are some really human moments like the reading of the bedtime story "I Love You Forever." We think that this series has potential moving forward. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 94/100 (9.4 out of 10)
How much of your day do you spend worrying? We spend a lot! We worry about work. We worry about family. We worry about the weather, our clothes, our hair, whether we shaved, whether we showered, whether we remembered to turn the stove off or the faucet in the sink. We worry about being able to review enough of these books in time to judge them for this 2026 Spring Contest. We worry about upcoming contests. We worry about potentially moving. We worry about the rent or the mortgage. We worry about taxes. And, of course, we worry about money. Life is full of worries, big and small. But, in the narrative of Wagon of Worries, Christians have one place to go, one person to turn to, and one worry they'll never have to worry about. Wagon of Worries by Ruthie Godfrey tactfully confronts the topic of worries using the metaphorical motifs of coins and the titular wagon. Now, to be perfectly honest, this gimmick gets introduced in a way that initially confused us. A little girl named Mable is out for a stroll with her adorable Oreo-colored dog when she comes upon a coin with the words "DAD" on it. So, this had us thinking: is this coin some kind of novelty coin that someone bought for their parent and lost? Is that going to be the plot? But Mable continues to find coins everywhere. She finds one that reminds her of her best friend with whom she had a misunderstanding over tetherball. She then proceeds to find coins that remind her of a much broader and less personal range of problems from the poisons on/in food, climate change impacting polar bears, the life expectancy of people her great-grandmother's age, pollution, the fear of flying in an airplane, and even aliens! And it gradually guided us to the realization that these coins are likely not physical, they are metaphorical, allegorical. This is actually a very timely book. With social media dominating public consciousness and being influential in the lives of children, it's easy for children (and adults) to be disturbed and alarmed by the sensationalism and buzz spread by these platforms. It can create a lot of fear and anxiety. It can cause one to worry. But Wagon of Worries is not content to simply name anxiety. It wants to redirect it. That is where the Christian heart of the book really comes into focus. Mable eventually learns that she does not have to keep collecting and carrying every fear that crosses her path. She can give those worries to Jesus. And, in the book’s worldview, that changes everything. What began as a growing collection of fear slowly becomes an invitation to let go and make room for something better: peace and joy. With Jesus, there's hope for forgiveness, redemption, salvation, and eternal life. With Jesus, there's something beyond all the problems and worries of this mortal world. It really puts things into perspective. The illustrations help sell this too. Mable is adorable, her spotted dog is adorable, and the soft storybook aesthetic keeps the subject matter from becoming too heavy or frightening. Even when the book touches on surprisingly big concerns like food safety, climate issues, aging, illness, and mortality, it does so in a way that still feels child-centered and gentle. Jesus is portrayed in a very friendly, loving, and endearing light. Ruthie Godfrey is also the author of God Made It All, a phenomenal children's Christian book. Together, these two books are incredible at sharing the marvelous wonder of God with children. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 94/100 (9.4 out of 10)
What do you do when the things that once gave your life meaning are suddenly ripped away? Caroline’s Purpose begins in that exact place of heartbreak, following a young woman who has lost not just her dreams, but her sense of who she is without them. How can she regain the parts of herself and her life that seem dead, gone, and buried? We've all experienced something like that. We've all had a passion, a dream, a career, or hobby that we put so much into only to see it slip. We get injured. We get married. We have kids. We gain weight. We get out of shape. There's an accident, a divorce, a world-shattering diagnosis, or something that puts "important" into perspective. We ask ourselves: will we ever be back? Can we ever get back to the thing(s) that ignited our fire years ago? Caroline’s Purpose by Erica Zaborac is not a shiny, triumphant horse-riding-girl fantasy where everything magically clicks back into place. It's a story about how real life can pull the rug out from under you. It's a book about climbing and crawling back—discovering/rediscovering God's purpose for you. And, yes, this book does have a bit of a Christian angle with both Coach Sullivan and Connor serving as voices who keep gently nudging Caroline toward the possibility that pain is not the end of her story. Thankfully, that element is usually handled with a soft hand rather than a sledgehammer. The book is not just trying to preach at Caroline. It is trying to show how someone who feels abandoned by God might slowly, reluctantly, painfully find her way back to belief. That is a much stronger and more human angle than if the novel had just forced some instant spiritual breakthrough on her. It's a message we all need to hear from time to time. Caroline’s Purpose centers on Caroline Davis, a college sophomore whose life has been shattered twice. Years earlier, she had been a gifted young event rider on the rise, seemingly destined for a major future in the horse world. Then a catastrophic riding accident changed everything. Her beloved horse Beau was euthanized after a rotational fall, Caroline herself was critically injured, and the entire identity she had built around horses collapsed. Instead of returning to riding, she buried that life and redirected all of her ambition into softball, where she became an elite pitcher. But just as she built a second dream for herself, that one was taken too when an arm injury ended her softball career. By the time the novel opens, Caroline is living in the hollowed-out aftermath of both losses. She is physically present, but spiritually stuck. She is grieving Beau, grieving softball, and grieving the person she used to be. The book opens with Caroline waking from a nightmare about Beau and the accident. That dream immediately establishes the emotional wound at the center of the novel. She is now back in school, studying at the University of Arizona, and facing a semester she dreads. Her advisor has pushed her toward Equine Science, not knowing that horses are the very thing Caroline has spent years avoiding. Caroline has secretly enrolled in horse-related classes, including one involving weanling training, but she has not told her parents. Her mother Holly is still a prominent horse trainer and top eventer, and her father Doug is a former major league pitcher. Both are accomplished athletes, and Caroline has grown up in a house shaped by excellence, competition, and discipline. But for Caroline, that world no longer feels like home. She feels like someone who has been stripped of every role that once gave her value. Even at home, she is disconnected. Her room has been stripped of the softball awards and reminders of her past. Her Bible sits dusty and unopened because, after losing Beau and then losing softball, Caroline has decided that God either does not care or is not worth trusting. She no longer believes there is any purpose behind what happened to her. That loss of faith is just as important as the physical losses. She is not simply afraid of horses. She is afraid of meaninglessness. In the equine class, Caroline meets Connor Taylor. Connor comes from a horse-breeding family and is deeply at ease in the world Caroline fears. He is kind, observant, grounded, and openly Christian. He immediately recognizes Caroline, because he remembers her from the competition world and knows exactly who she used to be: the brilliant young rider everyone assumed would go far. Caroline, however, does not recognize him. Even more importantly, she lies on her intro card and claims to have no horse experience. Connor realizes very quickly that something deeper is going on. He sees her shaking hands, her fear around horses, and the disconnect between the rider he remembers and the girl now sitting beside him. They are paired together and assigned a weanling filly named Luna. That pairing becomes the first major engine of the story. Luna is sweet but not perfect, and working with her forces Caroline into daily, practical contact with horses again. Connor becomes her steady support. He does not bully her forward or expose her secrets. He simply helps, watches, and makes himself reliable. Through halter work, leading, grooming, and basic training, Luna becomes the first horse Caroline can begin to trust again. At the same time, Luna is not emotionally neutral for Caroline. The filly is related to Beau, which means every interaction brings comfort and pain at once. Luna is a living reminder of what Caroline lost, but she is also proof that not every horse relationship has to end in catastrophe. Running parallel to this horse storyline is Caroline’s unraveling relationship with her longtime boyfriend Ryan Cole, a baseball star whose career is rising just as hers has ended. Ryan, one of the book's main antagonists, is almost instantly unlikable. At first, he seems like a familiar part of Caroline’s life. They have history, shared athletic ambition, and old affection. But the deeper the novel goes, the clearer it becomes that Ryan cannot truly meet Caroline where she is. He is wrapped up in his own success, his MLB prospects, his baseball schedule, and his sense that the future will work out because he will make it work out. He keeps talking about his achievements while Caroline quietly drowns beside him. He offers shallow reassurance instead of real empathy. The painful truth is not that Ryan is malicious, but that he is self-absorbed enough to become emotionally cruel without fully realizing it. Ryan is also quite possessive, jealous, and insecure, calling, texting, and demanding a fast response each time. Ryan is contrasted with Connor, who is a much better guy in almost every way. Well, except when it comes to baseball, maybe. But who really cares? One of the book’s most painful early scenes comes when Caroline, desperate to feel like herself again, sneaks into the softball bullpen and tries to throw a pitch. She wants, just for one second, to prove that the doctors were wrong and that she still has the life she lost. Instead, the ball dies in front of her, pain shoots through her arm, and she collapses into grief. Her coach catches her in that vulnerable moment. He gently tells her that when his own athletic dreams died, life still continued and meaning eventually returned, even if not in the way he expected. This scene matters because it shows Caroline hitting the wall. Softball is not coming back. She cannot use it as a replacement identity anymore. The crutch is gone. The novel also reveals more of Caroline’s original horse trauma through flashbacks. When she was fourteen, Beau was not just a horse to her. He was her partner, her future, and her joy. After the accident, she returned home physically battered and emotionally ruined. Her parents, especially her mother, wanted to help her re-enter the horse world, even going so far as to shop for another event horse for her. But instead of feeling supported, Caroline felt cornered. She could not bear the idea of replacing Beau, and the pressure pushed her further away. She boxed up her ribbons, photos, and trophies and shut that chapter of her life away. Later, when she succeeded in softball, that became her answer to the pity she felt from others. If she could be great at something else, maybe no one would look at her like she was broken. But after her arm injury, she is once again exactly where she never wanted to be: pitied, uncertain, and without a future she recognizes. As Caroline and Connor spend more time together, their friendship deepens naturally. They eat lunch together. They talk more openly. Caroline begins to laugh. Connor becomes a place of calm. He is not flashy, but he listens in a way Ryan does not. He notices her moods. He remembers details. He offers help without making her feel weak. Slowly, she begins trusting him. At the same time, Ryan grows jealous. He shows up at the farm watching Caroline and Connor work with Luna. Later, he confronts Connor and accuses him of changing Caroline. He even threatens violence. This is the turning point where Ryan’s insecurity and entitlement come fully into view. Something else happens in the second half of the book that some readers will have mixed feelings about (like we did): Luna, who initially feels like the emotional and narrative center of Caroline’s return to horses, gradually gets overshadowed by Edison. Luna is the first bridge. She is the sweet but not perfect weanling who helps Caroline relearn trust through haltering, leading, grooming, trailer loading, and all those small, practical class moments. She matters. A lot. In many ways, Luna is the horse who gets Caroline’s foot back in the door. But once Edison enters the picture as the wounded, volatile, abused stallion with much heavier symbolism attached to him, the novel’s center of gravity starts to shift. And to be fair, we understand why. Edison is simply written as the more dramatically charged horse. He is not just a horse Caroline works with. He becomes a mirror for her. He is fearful, damaged, hard to reach, and operating from old hurt, just like she is. Some of the book’s strongest material comes from Caroline connecting with him, calming him, grooming him, and even finding an unexpectedly clever way to introduce Connor to him. Those scenes are powerful, intimate, and packed with emotional payoff. It is very easy to see why the author leans into them. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 94/100 (9.4 out of 10)
Well, this is an interesting one! And it's gonna be a bit challenging to judge and review. On one hand, we actually REALLY liked aspects of this book. Some of the characters like Danny, Mia, and RJ are genuinely engaging and easy to get behind. The antics and shenanigans of the characters got a rise out of us. There's a ton of good jokes and humor. The writing is clever, which really elevates this. This book also really sinks you into the time-period of the early 80s with pop culture, music, posters, and more timely things. Oh, and another thing that really impressed us is how the titular whale—Belu—is used as a symbol, a beacon, and a fitting motif in this coming-of-age book. On the other hand: what the hell? We kept asking ourselves that. This book is so scatterbrained and out of focus. There's so much randomness, dysfunction, chaos, and disjointedness. All of these characters are damaged, tainted, and troubled in some way. They're entangled in relationships with each other and plodding forward, sometimes at the pace of a tortoise or a snail. One of the things about this book that we both loved and hated about it is that it's so... mundane. Yes, there's drama. Yes, there's action and violence. Yes, there's romance. But most of this book feels like meandering. It often seems like all of these characters are lost, confused, and trying to find their own way in life. It seems like few of them actually know what they want or how to get it, and perhaps that's the point. They spend so much of this book getting into trouble, wallowing in self-pity, doing drugs, and getting into squabbles. And yet... we still enjoyed this book somehow. So, let's talk about what we liked. Let's start with the core characters and some of the supporting characters. First of all, the fact that they're flawed and damaged actually makes them more relatable and easy to get behind. Danny is observant, intelligent, sensitive, and quietly funny, but he is also timid, traumatized, awkward, and painfully unsure of himself. That combination works. He is not some swaggering coming-of-age hero who kicks the door down and takes over the story. He is more like a kid trying to survive it. We liked that. His dissociation, his fear, his dreams of Hollywood, and his tendency to notice everything around him all make him feel very human. He is soft in a world that keeps punishing softness, and that gives the book a real emotional anchor. In the end, you really get the sense of how highly the other characters think of Danny and how he's earned their respect and affection, sometimes without fully realizing it. Mia is another big reason this book works. In fact, some of us picked Mia as our favorite character. She is jagged, guarded, cynical, sexual, artistic, and often hard to read in the best way. She is not written like some idealized dream girl. She has real damage in her. She can be cruel, impulsive, self-protective, and frustrating. Good. That makes her interesting. The scenes involving her drawings, her cigarettes, her bathroom conversations, and her relationships with boys all help paint the picture of someone who is trying to stay in control of her own pain by turning herself into the kind of person nobody can really touch. That gives her a lot of bite. One aspect of Mia's character really resonated with us: she's an artist, a creator, and a dreamer. She has made these remarkable, clever characters and stories like her Pumpkin Girls on Pumpkin Place, including Clumpkin, Prumpkin, Grumpkin, Jumpkin, Bumpkin, and Sumpkin. Then, as her imagination and pain seem to darken and mature, she creates her far edgier Barb Wire Betties, including figures like Scar Storm, Lash (or Lady Lash), and Vicious Vivacious. And that is such a cool detail about her. These are not throwaway doodles. They feel like extensions of Mia’s inner life. The Pumpkin Girls suggest an earlier, softer, more playful imagination, while the Barb Wire Betties feel sharper, sadder, sexier, and more dangerous, like Mia taking all of her hurt, rage, and edge and turning it into art. That made us connect with her even more. She is not just a troubled girl in a leather jacket smoking cigarettes and pushing people away. She is someone with a real creative voice, someone building whole identities and emotional worlds on paper, and that gives her character an extra layer of depth and poignancy. She's creating stories within this story! And it elevates Danny even more when he's one of the characters who recognizes her potential and encourages her. Danny & Mia are great candidates for "Best Couple" in our contest, by the way. They have a real bond, great chemistry—an organic connection that slowly brews and builds throughout the novel. And then there is RJ, who might honestly be the coolest character in the whole book. He has that effortless local-legend energy from the moment he appears. He plays guitar, he has a reputation, he is dangerous enough to be interesting, but he also has vulnerability underneath all of that. That matters. Without that vulnerability, he would just be another too-cool rebel archetype. Instead, he becomes one of the emotional engines of the story. He feels like the kind of character a lot of readers are going to latch onto immediately. The supporting cast also deserves some credit. Gram is one of the warmest presences in the book and gives it some much-needed heart and wisdom. Danny’s mother, Sophia, is a train wreck of a character, but intentionally so. She is manipulative, inappropriate, selfish, chaotic, and often downright disturbing. She is not “fun” to read in a cozy sense, but she is memorable, and her presence helps explain so much of Danny’s emotional wiring. Frank, likewise, is awful in a way that feels heavy and oppressive. This book is full of people who leave bruises on each other, emotionally and otherwise. Gram is probably a candidate for "Best Supporting Character" in our contest. She makes a profoundly positive impact on Danny. She also contributes the quote that resonates throughout this book: "Don’t let the world that hurt you, be the world that makes you." That line is not just a touching piece of dialogue. It is basically the thematic heartbeat of the whole novel. It speaks to Danny’s trauma, RJ’s pain, Mia’s emotional armor, and even the broader struggle of these kids trying not to become permanent products of the damage around them. It is one of the wisest and most memorable lines in the book, and it gives Gram an even bigger presence than her page count alone might suggest. Ivan also gets a ton of love and attention near the end of this book, but we probably weren't as sold on him as the narrative seemed to want us to be. Then there's Mushroom. Ok, can we just say that some of these character nicknames come across as really silly? You could argue they help to facilitate the absurdist tone of a lot of this book. And that leads us to one of the strangest strengths of the book: the absurdist, snarky, sarcastic, sassy humor. We actually really dug this. This isn't dry prose or flat dialogue. Every page is packing some spice. And, yes, most of our favorite parts were crude and vulgar, but darn would we by lying if we said it didn't get a kick out of us! Here are some of our favorite funny lines and passages from the book: "I sat in my beanbag chair, playing solitaire at 2:28am, waiting for the school’s fourth-best running back to wake up and get the fuck out of my house." "If I ever told Mushroom he was sweet, he’d stab me in the eye with a lawn dart." "The left side of my butt fell asleep." "He was just a sucker for small tits and glasses." "Tara told me, loud sex was only hot if it was the girl being loud. A guy being loud was just funny. " "We went to his bedroom to hang out. His side of the room was comic books and ‘book books.'" "You always think you’re so wise after half a dozen fortune cookies.” And this one is just really great at providing visceral details you can feel: "I had never really liked Rainbow before, but that song helped the pain feel good, like digging a toothpick into a rotted molar." There are other aspects of this book that are genuinely funny in a very specific, chaotic way, like when Danny ends up getting a job at the Golden Dragon barely a day after helping rob the place and stealing Joy Fang’s cherry brandy. That whole scenario is absurdly good. Danny walks in nervous that Joy will recognize him, while Mushroom casually introduces him to his mother and acts like this is all perfectly normal, then just hands him a job anyway. The humor comes from the sheer nerve of it, but also from Danny’s panic. He is sitting there trying to be polite and employable in front of the very family he was just stealing from, and the scene somehow manages to be tense, ridiculous, and weirdly charming all at once. Not all of this absurdist, vulgar humor landed for us. For example, there’s a scene in which Danny wakes up at 3:17 in the morning to find Sal completely obliterated and urinating all over his crates of records because, in his drunken brain, he thinks he’s at a gas station. Danny is horrified, Sal is mumbling nonsense and nearly peeing on Danny too, and then Gram walks in, sees the disaster, and just sighs, “Again?” before calmly taking over cleanup duty. We get what the scene is doing. It is trying to be gross, chaotic, sad, and darkly funny all at once. And to be fair, the “Again?” line from Gram is pretty good. But this was one of those moments where the book’s taste for random, vulgar absurdity pushed a little too far for us. Instead of feeling sharply funny, it felt more like the novel elbowing us and saying, “Look how dysfunctional this family is.” We already knew that. Things like that just come across as stupid, ridiculous, and unnecessary. But you can't win 'em all. By the way, Sal is in this book in case we forgot to mention that before. That's kinda how some of these characters are. They're just... here for some reason. There's so much friggin' going on in this book and so many characters. There are factions beating each other up constantly, feuding for some reason, and we're often lost as to why. We're introduced to all these big bully-type characters, and they all sorta blend and blur together. There's a sexual assault in here by the way, so be warned. There's also an accident. Shooting(s). A lot of people getting beat up for some reason, as we mentioned. It's strange how all these super serious things get blended into this book with so much absurdist, vulgar humor. It's equally strange how such heartwarming things like Danny & Mia's relationship and Gram's powerful words get blended into something so tragic and violent. We think our biggest gripe with this book is how meandering and drawn out it feels. The ending of this book is like the ending of Lord of the Rings. There are like four or five times when this book needed to wrap up and just refused to. Anyway... this is a mixed bag if we ever saw one! Oh, and really quickly... it's really admirable what the author was trying to do with the whale, which clearly is meant to parallel the characters, who are trapped in this place just like the whale is trapped in the harbor. They talk to the whale like he's some kind of wish-granting genie or local deity, yet he's just a baby animal who is trying to find a way just like they are. Check out the Instagram page.  Score: 93+/100 (9.3+ out of 10)
What happens when a frightened rescue dog and a lonely human find exactly what they need in each other? In this tender story, the answer is not just love, but patience, safety, and the slow miracle of trust. Anyone who has bonded with a pet or an animal can relate to this story. Anyone who has found comfort in a pet or an animal during a dark or troubling time can relate to this story. Finding Chrissy: A Rescue Tale of Love and Belonging is a tender picture book about a red hound dog who is abandoned, traumatized, and deeply fearful of people until she is rescued and eventually meets Crystal, who gives her the patience, gentleness, and consistency she needs to finally feel safe. The story follows Chrissy from neglect and instability to trust, companionship, and joy, showing how love is not built through one big dramatic gesture, but through everyday care: walks, cuddles, reassurance, play, and simply being there again and again. What makes Crystal such an effective emotional anchor for this book is that she is not presented as some perfect, magical fixer who solves everything overnight. In fact, the story quietly suggests that she needs Chrissy too. Crystal has struggled with loneliness and making friends herself, which gives their bond a lovely sense of mutual healing. She does not "save" Chrissy through force or instant transformation. She earns Chrissy’s trust the hard way, through patience, consistency, and compassion, even when Chrissy is anxious, destructive, or waking up from bad dreams in the middle of the night. That makes Crystal feel less like a stock children's-book heroine and more like the kind of safe, steady person who changes a life simply by showing up and staying. This story is structurally very similar to some of Saratoga Springs Publishing's other adorable, heartwarming children's books like Where Are You, Alfie? by Mary Jean DeSantis, Lucky's Adventure by Elizabeth Macy, and Puppy Comes Home by Diane Capogna, all of which were illustrated by the prolific Anthony Richichi! All of these books explore and celebrate the bonds between humans and their four-legged friends. From a story and character point of view, this book is most like the story of Po, the rescue cat from Santa, Elves, and Magical Bells by Julie Chapman, illustrated by Richichi. Both are found and rescued from abandoned houses, elevating the lives of their owners and bringing joy to their households. This book is very easy for kids to follow. It's a lot less wordy than other similar works, and it flows relatively well. One thing that helps is the parallel structure between Chrissy (the dog) and Crystal (the human). You can really tell that they are similar characters in parallel circumstances. You can really tell that they help complete each other, filling gaps that were otherwise there. It's never confusing in that sense. It also helps that similar ideas area carried forward and built upon. For example, Chrissy faces new yet understandable challenges like dealing with a foster parent with loud music that startles her, dealing with a foster parent with a wild kid who chases and scares her, and dealing with a foster parent with a much bigger, intimidating dog. One thing that also needs to be applauded is how this book doesn't just give us one big generic happy ending in which Chrissy is adopted and everything is sunshine and rainbows (i.e "perfect"). Yes, Chrissy licks Crystal's tears away in one of the books best scenes and illustrations, but Chrissy is also still a doggy, and doggies sometimes do doggy things like knock stuff over, dig up the yard, chew up furniture, and find ways to make a mess! That's illustrated and presented in a humorous and charming way. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 94+/100 (9.4+ out of 10)
Are you ready for a grand continent-hopping adventure? Serendipity on Wheels by Karen Shane is one of the grandest travel memoirs of them all! The book follows Karen & her husband, John, as they essentially travel the world—well, quite a bit of it. Together they turned retirement into excitement: a long-running experiment in curiosity, freedom, and reinvention. T The book opens by grounding everything in their marriage and shared history, then moves through a series of adventure chapters involving rafting the Grand Canyon, piggybacking an RV across Copper Canyon in Mexico, extended travel in South Africa, life aboard a narrowboat in England, and years roaming the American West in a motorcoach. The through-line is not just travel, but the way John’s mechanical skill and calm problem-solving made their unusual life possible. Other than the great sites and animals they encounter and experience, what we liked most is the portrait of marriage underneath the travel stories. Karen is often candid about being the more anxious or impulsive half, while John is the engineer, fixer, and stabilizer. That dynamic gives the memoir warmth. The dedication to John and the repeated focus on his ingenuity make the book read, in part, like a love letter to a husband who made an adventurous life possible. The ending note about flashing lights to a pilot and feeling grateful for the freedom they had been given lands because by then the reader understands that “freedom” is really the emotional subject of the whole memoir. We also appreciated that this memoir is not trying to be artificially dramatic or overly literary. It is confident in what it is. Karen knows these stories are interesting. She knows the lifestyle is unusual. And she wisely lets the real-life predicaments, close calls, beautiful places, and relationship dynamics do the heavy lifting. That gives the book an easy, welcoming charm. You feel less like you are being lectured about travel and more like you are sitting across from a seasoned traveler hearing the best stories over lunch. John, in particular, becomes one of the book’s secret weapons. Again and again, he is the guy solving problems, fixing vehicles, navigating absurd situations, and charging into difficult tasks with his memorable attitude of, “What’s the worst thing that can happen?” That line alone tells you a lot about the energy of this book. It is adventurous, yes, but never in a hollow Instagram-inspirational way. It is adventurous in the real sense, where things go wrong, people have to improvise, and the trip becomes more memorable because of it. We also found something quietly moving underneath all the travel. This is, in a very real sense, a love story. Not in a gushy or melodramatic way, but in the way long marriages sometimes become most beautiful through shared purpose, trust, and accumulated memories. Karen and John are not just seeing the world. They are building a life philosophy together. Retirement, in this book, is not framed as retreat. It is framed as expansion. Ok, enough of the mushy stuff... With that out of the way, let's get to what we REALLY enjoyed: the traveling and animal encounters! Karen and John encounter a range of exotic creatures including elephants, giraffes, zebras, baboons, hippos, rhinos, crocodiles, ostriches, and more, and those sections add a real sense of wonder to the memoir. There is something especially fun about watching the book widen from American road-and-river adventure into full-on wildlife travel writing. Suddenly, this is not just about RVs, rails, and repairs. It is about being out in the world face-to-face with creatures and landscapes that feel almost mythic. Their South African excursion seems to stand out for all the animals they see. There are a lot of shenanigans involving all the silly monkeys who just show up whenever they want and take whatever they want. They also see whales on the coast. Also, thank you to Karen and Shane for giving readers a heads up about the unsavory aspects of each journey. For example, we didn't know that Rome was the pick-pocket capital of the world and that petty theft is such a problem there. We also didn't realize monkeys and snakes just show up at your camp in parts of Africa. That sounds both exciting and scary! Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 92/100 (9.2 out of 10)
Some houses are creepy because they creak. Some houses are creepy because they have ghosts. And then there are houses like the one in Mirror Image, which seem to inhale the second you walk in and quietly decide they are not done with the past yet. Kay Brooks gives us a romantic suspense novel with a strong haunted-house hook, a murder mystery simmering in the background, and a heroine who finds herself staring into the face of a ghost who looks disturbingly, impossibly like her. That is a good pitch. A very good pitch. And thankfully, the book understands that it has a juicy premise and leans into it. The story opens with a nasty jolt: a killer dumping a young woman’s body on the side of the road, establishing early that this is not just going to be a cozy tour through antiques and old family secrets. This has to be one of the better openings in this contest, but can the author keep up the momentum? From there, the book shifts into the orbit of the White house, a grand old property in Edmondsville, Virginia, that practically becomes a character in its own right. The early descriptions of the mansion, its polished beauty, its antique-filled rooms, and its odd, unsettled atmosphere do a lot of heavy lifting and pull the reader in fast. Brooks clearly enjoys this setting, and that enthusiasm comes through on the page. One of this book's greatest selling points is also one of its biggest weaknesses. It seems to stretch itself too thin and, as a result, really becomes clunky and meandering. This is part ghost story, part romantic suspense, part family-secret mystery, and part small-town danger story. Abby Adams and TJ Bennett have the familiar bickering, history-soaked chemistry that romance readers tend to eat up, and the novel benefits from that built-in emotional tension. They already know each other. They already push each other’s buttons. So when the emotional temperature rises, it feels earned enough to keep the romance moving. To be perfectly honest, the relationship between Abby & TJ got on our nerves. We get that the author/narrative is trying to establish that there are stakes with a mortal danger potentially lurking over Abby. Obviously, when you love someone, you don't want them to get horribly murdered by, well, a murderer. However, Abby & TJ often feel less like a swoon-worthy romantic pairing and more like two people trapped in an endless cycle of irritation, stubbornness, and repetitive friction. There is a difference between tension and chemistry, and this book does not always land on the right side of that line. At times, their dynamic feels more draining than exciting, as if the novel keeps circling the same emotional beats without quite deepening them in a satisfying way. That does not mean the relationship is without value. Their shared history, family closeness, and mutual concern at least give the romance some foundation, which is more than can be said for a lot of thinner suspense novels that force attraction out of nowhere. But for us, Abby & TJ were more of a functional couple than a compelling one. They help move the story along, yet they are not the main reason this book works. Ok, let's be blunt: we didn't really care for the relationship between these two characters. They were like a commercial break to the more interesting and exciting things in this book. As an aside, when it came to her relationship with TJ, Abby was really frustrating and annoying. There were times when she went from your standard "I love you" partner to entering this passive aggressive, I'm-hiding-something/I-don't-want-to-talk-to-you-and-solve-this-easily mode. Yes, it makes Abby seem a bit more human, but it also made her come across as frustrating and annoying. Frankly, the haunted-house mystery, the eerie resemblance between Abby and Isabella, and the slow uncovering of the house’s buried secrets were much more compelling than the romance. Those elements gave the novel its real pulse. The relationship was there. It served a purpose. But the ghostly family mystery is what actually made us want to keep turning pages. More importantly, the supernatural angle actually gives the book its identity. Isabella is not just some decorative ghost floating around in the wallpaper for vibes. She matters. Her resemblance to Abby gives the novel a strong central mystery, and her emotional connection to the house, to Anthony, and eventually to Abby herself gives the story a surprisingly tender core beneath the suspense machinery. There are moments where Isabella comes across as protective, mischievous, and even touching, and those moments help the novel stand out from more generic romantic suspense fare. We also liked that the book is not content to give readers only one mystery thread. There is the present-day danger, the missing assistant, the strange artifacts and hidden clues in the house, the buried history of Isabella and Anthony, and the larger question of how Abby fits into all of it. That gives the novel momentum. There is usually something happening, something being discovered, or something being threatened. The story has enough moving parts to keep readers engaged. That said, this is also where the book gets a little messy. At times, Mirror Image feels like it is trying to be several books at once. Haunted-house mystery. Romance. Serial killer thriller. Generational secret saga. Missing manuscript intrigue. Hidden attic menace. It is all interesting, but not all of it is equally sharp. Some threads feel stronger than others, and the book occasionally gives the impression that it is more excited about opening doors than closing them. Readers who prefer a very tight, highly polished mystery with crisp payoffs everywhere may find this one a little overextended. The prose itself is solidly readable and often effective, especially in descriptive passages involving the house, the antiques, and the ghostly atmosphere. Brooks is best when she is letting the setting breathe or allowing the emotional eeriness of Abby’s connection to Isabella to take center stage. On the other hand, some dialogue and transitions can feel a bit familiar or slightly melodramatic, and the book does not always trim as ruthlessly as it could. A little tightening here and there would have made the suspense hit even harder. Still, there is something undeniably appealing about this novel. It has heart. It has intrigue. It has a big old house full of secrets. It has a heroine pulled toward a mystery she can feel in her bones. It has a love story with enough friction to keep it lively. And perhaps most importantly, it has that page-turner quality where you want to know what is in the attic, who is hiding what, what the ghost knows, and whether Abby is walking toward answers or straight into disaster. We would call Mirror Image a satisfying and promising series opener. It may not be flawless, and it does leave a sense that there is more waiting around the corner, but it absolutely has enough atmosphere, mystery, and romantic tension to justify a strong score. Readers who enjoy haunted estates, family secrets, protective ghosts, and romantic suspense with a paranormal edge should have a very good time here. This is the kind of book that knows an old house is never just an old house. Sometimes it is a crime scene. Sometimes it is a love story. Sometimes it is a grave that has not finished speaking. And in Mirror Image, it is all three. One last thing we really would've loved is for the main criminal in this book to actually face full justice and for the mystery to be fully resolved. We get that the author wanted to create a series with a sequel. Ok. But... there's so much build-up in this book. There's so much will-they/won't-they. There's so much whodunit. It's so... drawn out. You can't (or shouldn't) build up all of this only to leave us on a cliffhanger. We honestly felt a bit cheated and unsatisfied by that. Still, this was still a book that did a lot right. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 92/100 (9.2 out of 10)
We LOVE Tyrel Nelson's travel books! Nelson truly brings these international adventures to life in a warm, heartfelt, and fascinating way! Well, Those Darn Stripes is quite a bit different. Yes, this book still follows Nelson's travels with habitat for humanity (like Travels and Tribulations, the author's previous book); however, they seem much more concerned with his personal life and relationships with people. And that's not a con, it's actually good thing. So, this isn't just a travel memoir. It's actually a bit more like a mosaic memoir: 25 short autobiographical pieces, framed by photographs (which really liven things), that capture roughly thirty-one months in the author’s life as he processes grief, memory, family, friendship, love, depression, and self-understanding. At the heart of the book is his father, Jay. The opening piece, “Not a Plain Jay,” is basically the emotional key that unlocks everything else. Jay is introduced as a rough-edged, blue-collar ironworker: tough, stubborn, heavily scarred, routine-driven, profane, and fiercely independent. But Nelson keeps peeling him back until the image becomes much richer. Beneath the gruffness is a deeply loving father who checks on people, supports his ex-wife, encourages his sons, and quietly lives by loyalty rather than performance. The father’s quote near the front of the book about accepting “those darn stripes” also gives the memoir its philosophical center: be what you are, honestly, empathetically, and without pretending to be something else. We learn that Nelson's father is also his "best friend." And some of the most powerful parts of this book are Nelson trying to do right by his father as he battles and slowly succumbs to pancreatic cancer. The post powerful part of this entire book—which spans continents and times—is simply Nelson and his father exchanging "I love you." There's a photograph that the author presents of his "father's favorite tree." With that context, this simple photograph just hits so much harder. His father's words echo throughout this book, especially "Appreciate those who love you." At the same time, the memoir is not only about loss. It is also about the people who keep the narrator afloat. The later section on Megan and Andra makes that plain. Nelson frames their friendship not as a side note, but as something he is profoundly grateful for, almost beyond what the book can hold. That matters because it keeps the memoir from collapsing into darkness. Even while grieving, he is still noticing kindness, companionship, and the people who helped him endure. Some of our favorite parts of the book involve Nelson's relationships with women. It's very... cute and endearing. Of all of Nelson's books, this is probably the most romantic. Amanda was the author’s girlfriend, introduced in the chapter “Amanda and the Arboretum.” Their chemistry is playful and lived-in. She is introduced as a “blonde spitfire” who teases him for the missed exit and imitates his complaining, and he plainly loves that she can put him in his place. That dynamic is a big part of their spark. She is energetic, sharp, and fun, while he seems amused and steadied by her. Some of their best moments are at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum. They roam the gardens together, admire flowers and trails, tackle the giant mazes, and she repeatedly races ahead calling him “slowpoke.” What stands out is how much her personality animates the whole afternoon. Even when the drive there was tense and the traffic home was awful, she refuses to let the day sour. She sings along to her CD in the car, and he ends the chapter by saying that was “classic Amanda,” always enjoying the ride and always by his side. That is really sweet chemistry. It feels like the chemistry of a couple who know each other’s flaws and still genuinely enjoy being together. Alyssa is the book’s biggest female presence and most likely the relationship you were especially remembering. She is the author’s girlfriend later in the memoir, and she shows up across multiple chapters. Even the front matter notes the author photo is by Alyssa, which is a nice little sign of her importance. Their chemistry feels very immediate, affectionate, and natural. In “A New Dawn,” they bond during the miserable twenty-six-hour airport/travel ordeal on the way to Guatemala. Instead of the delay ruining things, it becomes a kind of accidental romantic origin story. They joke, take silly pictures, talk easily, and she playfully comments that his veins would be good for starting IVs. That little moment is oddly specific and charming, the kind of thing that makes real chemistry feel real. He leaves that chapter thinking the chaos was memorable because he experienced it with someone who made it memorable. In “Lucky Man,” their chemistry becomes even more obvious. They spend the day at Minnehaha Falls, making a game out of muddy trails and puddles, holding hands, teasing each other, singing, ruining each other’s tunes, and taking goofy selfies with the camera held over their heads. That is one of the book’s best relationship snapshots because it shows them not in some grand cinematic romance, but in something better: two people who genuinely have fun together. He ends by reflecting on how incredible it is that they met in those airports and saying he cannot imagine being without her. In “On Call,” the chemistry deepens because it shows how he learns to love not just Alyssa the person, but Alyssa’s demanding life. She is a cardiovascular technologist who can be paged away at any hour, and the chapter shows him trying to understand her work, her schedule, and her stress. He admits it was hard at first to adjust to her disappearing suddenly, but he chooses empathy. That gives the relationship weight. It is not just flirting and dates. It is adaptation, respect, and love. Then there is “Rose Garden,” which may be the most emotionally revealing Alyssa chapter. She is away in Europe, and he is absolutely miserable without her. He notices tiny details about her, like how she reaches for forks from the bottom of the drawer so they all get used. That is such a good intimacy detail. It tells you he is paying attention to her habits because he loves her. He wanders around feeling hollow, visits the rose garden for comfort, and finally gets a call from Austria. That ending says a lot. Their chemistry is not just banter anymore. It has become longing. Megan and Andra are also in here. These two are not romantic interests, but they are absolutely among the most important women in the book. They are close female friends, and their chemistry with the author is strong in a different way: witty, loyal, emotionally safe, and grounded in real support. He meets them through VISTA, the first conversation is awkward, but the friendship quickly clicks during training in Indianapolis when they bond over burnout, sarcasm, travel, and shared values. Their highlight moments are less flirty and more meaningful. He says they were among the few people who truly showed up for him after his father’s diagnosis. They reached out, emailed encouragement, got him out for coffee, listened to him, talked to him directly when others avoided him, hugged him at his father’s funeral, and remained supportive afterward. That is powerful chemistry too, just in friendship form rather than romance. He is very clear that they mattered enormously and that he owes them a lot. Oh, and all the mushy stuff should not completely overshadow Nelson's adventures. We still get plenty of the travel writing and lived experience that made us enjoy his work in the first place. There are memorable snapshots involving Habitat for Humanity, international travel, illness on the road, near-misses, nature, and those little unpredictable moments that make real life feel fuller than fiction. One minute, Nelson is reflecting on grief or romance, and the next, he is dealing with food poisoning in Antigua, dangerous driving conditions, or the kinds of small travel mishaps that become legendary stories later. That balance helps the book a lot. We also like that Nelson is willing to show unflattering emotions. He does not try to present himself as endlessly wise, noble, or emotionally composed. He shows frustration, loneliness, depression, awkwardness, and vulnerability. That honesty gives the memoir credibility. It feels like a real person trying to make sense of real pain, not someone polishing their life into a fake inspirational product. The fragmented structure may not be for everyone. Readers looking for one long, tightly-plotted story may find this more scattered than Nelson's more straightforward travel-focused books. But we actually think that structure works for the subject matter. Grief, memory, friendship, and love often do come back in flashes, places, photographs, and moments. This book understands that. At its best, Those Darn Stripes is about learning to appreciate the people who love you before it is too late. That idea echoes through the entire book, especially in the sections involving Jay. There is something deeply affecting about how much this memoir values ordinary human connection: a father checking in, a girlfriend singing in the car, friends showing up for coffee, a phone call from Austria, a simple "I love you." Those moments are not treated as small. They are the book. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 94+/100 (9.4+ out of 10)
Pardon the pun (as this is a book about time travel), but give this book time... it's a slow build but it's worth it! Initially, we were disarmed and perhaps even bored by the opening chapters. Yes, there was the teleporting-the-watermelon-through-time thing. Yes, there was the really awkward budding romance between Dr. Tom & Dr. Lori (in which we pretty much get a "you're like a brother to me" moment). Ok, to be fair, Tom & Lori do have a little bit of chemistry that gets stronger later, and they do make each other smile and laugh with their cheesy researcher jokes. Anyway, this book REALLY picks up once the researchers find themselves locked out of the lab and their workplace following the breakthrough. All of us have been there: unceremoniously having our key cards or account passwords voided due to layoffs or some dumb reason, causing the expected feeling of betrayal and the question, Why not send me a text or email? Why not call me? Why waste my time making me come all the way to work just to have me discover I'm locked out all of a sudden? That's a relatable frustration! And that's when Tom breaks out from being a dead-in-the-water, lame-duck protagonist into being a force of nature. Fuming, he goes to Raphael Barrington, the CEO funding his time travel research, and let's him have it. And, finally, he had us on his side. Tom then learns a sobering truth from a mysterious man named Don Rivendell: Tom is not the first person to successfully send something back through time. Rivendell—who seems trustworthy initially—convinces Tom that history was tampered with decades earlier to protect oil interests and sabotage a cleaner future centered on electric vehicles and solar power. In order to avoid this dark fate for humanity, Tom is convinced that he must stop the rescue of a mysterious girl in the past, creating what should be an enormous moral dilemma. Now, honestly, this is simultaneously one of the best and worst aspects of this book. It's awesome in the sense that it pushes the plot forward and, ironically, allows the protagonist to embark on his exciting and entertaining adventure to the past. It's somewhat terrible because our heroic protagonist seems to do this without much qualms about what he'd actually be accomplishing: the death of an innocent person to save the many. We think this was probably meant to be a bigger moral dilemma in the book, but it seems to not faze Tom at all. Like, he literally doesn't care until another major development near the end. Tom seems 1000% committed to letting some innocent girl die just to stop global warming, in his mind. That kinda disturbed us. How is that any different from Walter White letting Jane die from an overdose in Breaking Bad? In fact, it's a lot worse. At least Walter White had personal reasons to let Jane die: she was turning Jessie against him and also getting him readdicted while also knowing White's dirty secret with the meth business. Tom, on the other hand, is willing to let someone die who did absolutely nothing wrong to him. It almost makes you think: are these climate change activists a bit desensitized to the side-effects of their actions? Like, they might be fighting for cleaner air and the environment, but what about the economic factors, political instability, and the wars that follow when countries pursue, say... nuclear energy? The sneaking-into-the-lab sequence is both exciting and a bit cheesy. There's the whole bit with the dumb CCTV security guard, who happens to share the same name as the Ukrainian president. But it is kinda cool to see Tom and Lori be such a dynamic duo. However, we really felt this scene was mostly just a way to get from point A to point B. Anyway... when Tom goes back to the year 1904 to accomplish his mission, this book really becomes fascinating and fun! It's especially fascinating and fun to read about how different the world was back in 1904. And it's funny how Tom keeps stating anachronisms and committing little social and cultural missteps that remind us just how out of place he really is. He talks about Coke/Coca-Cola before it gained the distribution and popularity the beverage has today. He talks about little league baseball before such a thing gained steam. When his train is delayed, the workers tease him by essentially saying he won't get to Washington DC on time unless he can sprout wings and fly there (because planes weren't invented yet). A few cents could buy you a lot. 45 cents gets you a cab ride. $213 is a small fortune that would allow him to live in comfort for at least a week. There are no seatbelts in cars and barely any traffic laws or regulations. Operators still connect your calls. DC, Chicago, and the rest of America was different. The universities and colleges out west sound like they weren't as respected as they are today. Reporters weren't these rude, forceful, demanding, gaslighting people they are today. There was decorum. Oh, and as the book reminds us many times, women were still fighting for the right to vote. Anyway... the real highlight of 1904 and the second half of this book is one person: Emma. Emma Fitzgerald Livingstone is one of the most wonderful, charming, endearing, lovable, and likable characters we've encountered this year. She's cute, funny, beautiful, kind, spunky, and motivated. She's actually quite a bit of an activist, vouching for women's suffrage. Funny enough, it almost seems like Tom finds her slightly annoying, especially due to her devotion to her cause, but she really grows on him. The two develop the most beautiful relationship that verges on romantic to father-daughter/sister-brother. They genuinely seem to care about one another. Tom tickles her and calls her the "cutest alarm clock" he ever had and talks about needing to find her snooze button, which confuses her. One thing we found somewhat repetitive and redundant is that it seems like the characters are constantly being captured and tied up, being put in peril. Like, it happens with both Tom & Emma as well as Tom & Lori. We almost wonder if maybe scenes got conflated in later drafts or something because we kept getting a sense of deja vu from these. Perhaps that's the point with a book about time travel. Check it out on Amazon! |
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