Editorial Reviews for Nominees
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 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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 Score: 94/100 (9.4 out of 10)
Imagine living in a peaceful, secluded island utopia for over 500 years. You have your family, your traditions, and a sense of enduring safety, only to discover, almost out of nowhere, that your very existence is considered an apocalyptic threat by the rest of the world, and that a secret war of extermination is already at your doorstep. That is the staggering premise at the heart of Children of Angels by Faith MacGregor. A lot has been said and written for centuries about the biblical flood and the events surrounding it, but what if things didn't exactly happen and end the way we originally thought? What if certain flood survivors carved out their own unique paths, unwritten and unchronicled, largely lost to history? And what about the Nephilim, the legendary, infamous giants of old—the alleged children of rebellious angels? These are the kinds of massive, loaded, and fascinating questions at the heart of Children of Angels, a bold fantasy novel that reaches into contrarian biblical lore and dares to imagine what might have happened in the long shadow of Genesis. This is not a book content to play small. It deals in kingdoms, bloodlines, war, memory, survival, legacy, and the lingering consequences of an ancient world-shaping catastrophe. MacGregor takes ideas that have fascinated theologians, historians, storytellers, and curious readers for generations, then uses them as the foundation for a sprawling fantasy saga centered on family, identity, and conflict. To set the scene, the geography is crucial. In the north, we have the Island Kingdom, centered on places like Epion and Selenea, ruled by King Tiras and Queen Luna. This is a post-cataclysmic setting, one shaped by a world-destroying flood and a surviving people who worship the Allfather. That distant antediluvian (post-flood) history is not just background lore. It shapes the politics, fears, and identity of the world of this book. That caution leads others to act. Artemis, one of the highlights of the book, is sent south to investigate the trade station, accompanied by Kalanthe, Captain Ariston (another highlight), and a small scouting party. They sail on the Odyssey and the Thalassa Diablos, expecting answers and instead finding horror. The station has been destroyed. Samuel, a traumatized survivor from the opening prologue, is found alive. The enemy presence is not random piracy. It is organized, deliberate, and deadly. When enemy ships close in, Artemis and her people are forced into a desperate retreat and hasty pickup. Captain Ariston makes a harrowing decision that really makes you think: do the people who are often labeled as the "abominations" or the "bad guys" sometimes do things that some would consider Christ-like, like self-sacrifice. In this book, many of the figures and characters who are traditionally vilified (in The Bible in particular) like Nephilim and Nimrod (who is said to have built the Tower of Babel) are fleshed out and given reasons and back stories. Captain Ariston, King Tiras, and, to an extent, even Nimrod are not portrayed as bad, evil, mustache-twirling figures without noble motives or purpose. In fact, many of their actions and decisions feel understandable within the world the novel has built. Nimrod, for instance, is not simply chasing power for power’s sake. He believes he is protecting civilization from an apocalyptic future, preventing the return of a bloodline and force that his culture has been taught to fear as an existential threat. In Nimrod's mind (and in the minds of our modern understanding), the Nephilim with the seed of demons—something to fear and something to get rid of. On the other end of the spectrum, Tiras just wants to protect his family and their future, which almost everyone can relate to. It's interesting that neither Nimrod or the Nephilim are painted in a positive light in Abrahamic texts, yet here they are. This is a book that deals with issues like inherited guilt, prejudice, exile, war, legacy, and the burden of being feared for what you are before you have even had the chance to decide who you want to be. It also wrestles with questions of kinship and belonging, especially as characters are forced to confront old grudges, accusations of tainted blood, and the terrifying possibility that the past is not really past at all. It is dense, for better or for worse. And we found ourselves a bit tangled up in knots at times thanks to this density. Another thing we couldn't shake is this angle that seems to contradict or outright go against our Abrahamic belief systems, and that's perhaps the point. We mentioned Captain Ariston and Artemis being highlights of this book, and that's indeed true. Right from the beginning, Captain Ariston gripped us. He's such a likable and charismatic figure. You're even told this back story that his voice is raspy, sea-weather voice because he saved the king from a kraken attack back in the day, injuring him. So, we know he's loyal, tough, wise, and trustworthy, the kind of guy all of us would love to have around. Artemis is cool in a tough, no-nonsense, strong-and-capable sort of way. She carries herself like someone who can handle danger, make hard decisions, and keep moving when others would freeze. We also noticed how clever she is. When she and the others approach the southern trade station, she immediately recognizes the tactical value of Kalanthe’s suggested landing spot because it gives their approach camouflage and secrecy, then she organizes the search party into two teams and sets a rendezvous point rather than just charging in blindly. Later, during the naval escape, she keeps her head under pressure, orders the rowers into sync, and tells the captain to follow the coastline through a narrow channel so they can try to lose the pursuing ships among the smaller islands. And when the enemy is landing, she shows that same quick-thinking instinct on land. She assesses the beach fast, splits her limited force by sending thirty archers to the ridge, and orders the rest to attack one boat at a time so the enemy cannot gather in strength all at once. Even in the middle of that chaos, she is still adjusting tactics on the fly, redirecting guards toward boats on the beach and then pushing with Kalanthe toward the docks. That helps make her feel like more than just a tough fantasy heroine. She is a tactician. By the way, there's a lot of seafaring in this book. A lot of marine-action, which is fitting considering this comes after the flood in which most of the survivors were traveling between islands, essentially. Another highlight of this book are the action scenes. The southern trade station sequence is a great example. Artemis and the others arrive expecting answers and instead find devastation, then almost immediately have to pivot into a frantic escape as enemy ships close in. The whole “hasty pickup” sequence works because it is not clean or glamorous. People are scrambling, jumping onto moving ships, rowing for their lives, and trying to stay calm while everything is falling apart around them. The beach defense is another standout. Artemis does not just rush in wildly. She scans the battlefield, places thirty archers on the ridge, orders her smaller force to hit one boat at a time so the enemy cannot fully assemble, and then leads the charge herself, driving straight into the landing force with spear in hand. That scene has motion, tactics, and impact. It helps that Kalanthe is right there with her, firing arrows and adjusting on the fly. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 92/100 (9.2 out of 10)
Well, this was interesting! And a bit unexpected. Recently, there's been a morbid fascination with serial-killers and murderers in pop culture. They dominate Netflix documentaries, true crime podcasts, YouTube breakdowns, Reddit rabbit holes, and all those late-night "what really happened?" conversations people probably should not be having right before bed. But what if science could one day identify a genetic mutation linked to violent, psychopathic behavior before it fully manifests? Would it be moral? Ethical? Intrusive? Not much different from racial profiling? Do the ends justify the means? And could it actually work? That unsettling idea gives The Killing Gene its hook, blending serial killer intrigue with speculative genetics and turning the novel into a thriller about not just who kills, but whether evil itself might be hiding in the human code. Furthermore, if we have the means to intervene, should we? Why wouldn't we? The Killing Gene by Victer Hugo Basurco is a science-driven crime thriller. At the center of the story is Dr. Howard Kensington, whose life is shattered by repeated family tragedy. He and his wife lose both of their children to cancer, and then his wife dies by suicide. That grief becomes the engine for his career. Howard throws himself into genetics research, becomes wealthy, and founds the company Genican, hoping scientific breakthroughs can spare other families similar suffering. But in building Genican, he also invites investors and power brokers into the project, including the influential Lynn family, whose money and reach quietly shape the company from the inside. One of Howard’s key employees is Tatyana Mirzo, a brilliant but emotionally complicated scientist with a reckless, messy past. Her chapter gives the novel a lot of personal texture. She is ambitious, wants to be taken seriously for her mind rather than her looks, and carries lingering trauma from her youth. Her backstory matters because it eventually intersects with the murders in a way that feels both personal and thematic. The novel then spends a great deal of time tracing the history of the Lynns, particularly Malcolm Lynn, whose past is crucial. Malcolm is shown as wealthy, entitled, violent, and warped in his view of women. A formative incident in Alaska, involving a sex worker named Winnie and a brutal retaliatory attack, effectively serves as the origin point for the family’s long shadow of violence. Malcolm escalates from there into murder, cover-up, and predation, while the family’s power and money help bury consequences. His servant and fixer, Mr. Beavers, becomes an accomplice-like presence in this hidden world. The book actually doesn't keep Malcolm's villainy a secret or a mystery for long. We actually follow him as he commits heinous murderers and sexual assaults. The story then shifts to Kevin Lynn, who works at Genican and is tied to Howard’s research team. Kevin is cold, socially strange, misogynistic, and shaped by a poisonous upbringing. He grows up absorbing Malcolm’s worldview and the family’s rot. Yet the novel complicates him by making him both suspicious and, eventually, not exactly what he first appears to be. He looks like the obvious answer to the murder mystery for much of the book, and the novel leans into that suspicion heavily. Parallel to all of this is the ongoing serial murder thread, centered on the Red Hook murders. Victims, many of them women, are found with a recurring pattern of violence that includes attacks involving the mouth and missing teeth. The murders echo Malcolm’s earlier brutality and create a genealogical and symbolic trail from his crimes to the present. The book gradually links scattered attacks, old crimes in Alaska, and Red Hook-era killings into one sprawling web. As Genican’s research progresses, Howard and his team edge toward identifying what they call the “killing gene.” At the same time, journalist Maggie Rally starts digging into both Genican and the Red Hook murders. Maggie is not just there to move the plot. She becomes one of the book’s moral and investigative engines, pushing questions the scientists and police either cannot or will not ask. She sees both the promise and terrifying misuse potential of the discovery, including the idea that genetic science could be weaponized socially, politically, or even militarily. We know that Kevin and Howard get a lot of the credit and attention as protagonists, but Maggie is really the main protagonist of the book when you really stop to think about it. Maggie is the one trying to solve these murders and stop people from dying. In most other mystery novels, she'd be the detective who cracks the case. The murders in this book are extremely violent and disturbing. A lot of this features nails and other objects jabbed down peoples' throats, mostly women. We are no strangers to fiction and non-fiction featuring extreme violence and brutality, but this was a bit shocking considering how the Introduction seemed to be buttering us up for something a bit more wholesome: a scientific discovery that might benefit mankind. This is almost like saying, "Hey, everyone, I have this cool discovery that will improve the American diet" then mutilating a living animal in front of us to extract a health-containing substance from it. Wouldn't that be jarring? Perhaps an introduction like this should probably be excluded and be left at the end of the book (in the Afterword ). There's also a ton of sex and sexual violence in this book as well, including featuring some of the major characters like Tatyana. We get that this somewhat follows the thinking that there's a genetic predisposition for certain people to just be psychotically sadistic and kill-crazy. Well, it is morbidly fascination. There's just something about it that doesn't sit well with us. We don't know if it's just how matter-of-fact or routine these murders and assaults are portrayed or what. Perhaps that's the point. Malcolm is portrayed as being pretty much programmed to this, desensitized to it. Oh, by the way... there's some really odd framing and weirdness with this book. It's hard to explain. So, like, there's a scene in which Malcolm gets the top of his p*nis bit off by Winnie. It's kinda a big deal for a couple of pages. The town doctor then jokes, "Looks like you got a little trim off the top." That's admittedly a good one. However, it almost seems like this p*nis biting thing gets swept under the rug and forgotten. Like, Malcolm barely sells it afterward. He's not hobbling in pain, icing it, or anything like twenty pages later. It's like he stubbed his toe or something, nothing more. It's somewhat bizarre. Also, you know what else is bizarre? Why is this book in present-tense? It reads... weird. That choice gives The Killing Gene a strange, sometimes unstable feel. On one hand, present tense can make a thriller feel immediate, like everything is unfolding right in front of us in real time. On the other hand, this book is constantly jumping through backstory, family history, murder history, scientific exposition, and generational trauma. So instead of making the story feel sharper or more urgent, the present tense sometimes makes it feel oddly floaty and unnatural, like we are being told a gruesome family dossier in the tone of something happening live on the evening news. That mismatch is part of what makes the book feel so unusual. Also, there are sections of this book that switch from prose and dialogue to something more akin to a script. Out of nowhere, clipped speaker labels will pop up in exchanges that feel less novelistic and more like blocking on a page. It is not constant, but it happens enough that we noticed it. Ethan Richards would occasionally do this at the beginning of his books, and we don't tend to be fans of that style in a novel. To be fair, that approach can occasionally speed things up. In confrontation scenes, it can create a brisk, back-and-forth rhythm. But more often, it makes the book feel less polished and less immersive, as if it cannot quite decide whether it wants to be a crime novel, a television treatment, or a rough dramatic transcript. This is not a sleek, elegantly controlled thriller. It is jagged. It is tonally erratic. It is sometimes lurid, sometimes thoughtful, sometimes awkward, and sometimes genuinely gripping. But it absolutely has a hook, and it absolutely has nerve. We may not love every stylistic choice Basurco makes, but we cannot accuse him of playing it safe. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 94/100 (9.4 out of 10)
Order of Light by W.D. Kilpack III is the hotly-anticipated sequel to Crown Prince! That's a tough act to follow! Crown Prince (Book #1) was our 2025 Fiction Book of the Year. It was impactful, hard-hitting, tactful, tense, and fascinating. It really embodied everything we love about epic fantasy: action, adventure, romance, magic, mystical creatures, political intrigue, world-building, etc. And it struck that balance so well. An argument could be made that Crown Prince was the best romance novel of the year (or at least in contention). The bond between Natharr and Darshelle was so powerful and beautiful to see, elevated by their mutual desire to love and protect Nathan. What was also fascinating about that book was the conflict involving the War of Succession, King Valane, and Brandt the Usurper/Brandt the Green. Crown Prince was a top-notch epic fantasy novel! So, how does the sequel fare with such big shoes to fill? Well, admirably. Crown Prince gave us the war, the hot romance, and the birth of Nathan. Order of Light gives us the consequences--the slow-burn resistance, the cosmic lore, and a coming-of-age arc that is way more dangerous than just “kid learns to swing a sword.” Everyone has grown and evolved at this point, showing progress, which is nice to see from a character perspective. You want to see character development, and you definitely get that here. At the same time it's natural and normal to get nostalgic for the way things used to be. Nathan, in particular, isn't a cute little guy anymore. He's grown now. And part of that hurts in a deeply human way. It's like the innocence is dead. Then again, it pretty much was by the end of the previous book. Anyway... We open in Snowcrest, a cold northern town under Maarihkish rule. Martice runs the Eyes of the Radiant inn, which is officially a place for food, ale, and gossip, and unofficially the cover for a surviving chapter of the Knights of Ril. These are not shiny paladins. They are tired ex-garrison soldiers and locals who once rose against Brandt’s regime, got crushed, and now pretend to be harmless while quietly recruiting and watching. Natharr arrives there with Ellis the Elder, operating under one of his many “I am totally just some guy” personas. Of course, it does not take long for the Knights to realize he is the Guardian of Maarihk, the same living legend whose stories they grew up on. Ellis has already been nudging them from the shadows. Together, he and Natharr formalize what was just a bitter little resistance into something bigger: the Order of Light. Under the inn, they hold chapter meetings, debate oaths, and put Natharr through an initiation to see if this mythic figure can actually live by their rules. He agrees, though he warns them that any road that runs through him also runs straight into blood and chaos. The Knights do not back down. In their minds, they have already been crushed once. If the Guardian can give them a real chance to do more than die uselessly, they are in. And it immediately becomes apparent that this book is DENSE. It's one of those books--rich with lore and world-building. On the other side of town, Lieutenant Tavish is the Maarihkish hammer waiting to fall. He is ambitious, ruthless, and not nearly as dumb as most fantasy garrison commanders. He notices that the same “unemployed” veterans keep drinking at Martice’s inn. He notices that some of them suddenly have money and muscle again. He notices that Martice is in the middle of everything. His suspicion builds until it becomes inevitable. Snowcrest is going to get swept. The inn will be searched. Someone is going to burn. Natharr and Ellis see it coming. Ellis has what is basically a cheat code: a black circle of cloth that becomes a literal trap door into his private white realm. When Tavish finally moves, sending soldiers to raid and ultimately torch the Eyes of the Radiant, the key members of the Order are already gone - dropped through the trap door into an endless white nowhere. The bodies and burned-out inn Tavish finds are a cover, not the end. From the world’s point of view, the Snowcrest problem is solved. From the Order’s point of view, this is just the beginning. Ellis’s white realm is one of the coolest and weirdest parts of the book. It is not heaven, not hell, just an endless white expanse where you can stand, sit, and build furniture but never see walls, horizon, or sky. There is no sun. No night. No stars. Time is more suggestion than law. At first, the Order uses it like a safehouse. Need to move families without marching them past hostile border posts? Use the trap door. Need to stash weapons or food away from garrison eyes? White realm. But then something frightening happens: once they stay there long enough, they stop needing sleep. They do not age. They can train for hours and never really get tired. It is a dream for warriors and a nightmare for minds. Natharr remembers what the Wise Ones said in the Ancient Wood about time being flexible. Ellis starts talking about the “Time of New Blood” instead of a neat calendar year. The men lean into it. If they cannot get out yet, they will at least become the most disciplined, well trained fighting force to ever step back into the world. Swords, spears, languages, medicine, tactics - they spend what might be months or years sharpening everything. Ellis keeps testing new trap doors, opening routes to other worlds. Some of these tests go very wrong. There is a genuinely creepy scene in which he opens a door into an underwater nightmare full of parasitic tentacles and only escapes because Natharr and the others literally anchor him by the legs. Another test ends up in a place that feels spiritually rancid, so they cut that door too. Bit by bit, Ellis learns how not to die when poking holes in reality. The cost is that for a long stretch, everyone is trapped in the white realm, living in invisible “houses,” training, and trying not to go insane. We get a lot of our adventure-fix from this section of the book. While Natharr is playing cosmic chess in Snowcrest and the white realm, Darshelle is still in the Ancient Wood raising Nathan. To outsiders, that sounds peaceful. It is not. Nathan is no longer the baby or tiny child from Crown Prince. He is a young man now, larger, faster, and more gifted than any normal human. He has trained with his father, hunts in the forest, and spars with Great Beasts. He also has dreams that show him strange places and people he has never met, including a pale, white haired man and a red haired woman whose presence feels dangerous and magnetic. The Ancient Wood has its own regulars: Ulla the Atomie, Talika the lion-woman, Quiet One the mud-man (who especially plays a big role in this book), and Darshelle herself trying to be mother, teacher, and emotional glue. Nathan feels trapped. In one heartbreaking moment, he admits his only friends are essentially his parents and the Beasts, because he cannot leave and cannot know anyone else. The boy who was born to be crown prince has grown up in a cage that looks like a forest. Then Quiet One leads him into something no parent would ever call safe. He has Nathan capture a young Dragon, bleeding from a brutal wrestling match. Instead of finishing it off, they lay out a copper bowl, fire, and a clay figurine. Quiet One has Nathan slit the Dragon’s throat so its blood runs into the bowl and the flames, chanting words that feel too old and heavy for a teenager’s mouth. The clay figurine drinks the flames, moves, breathes, changes. By the end of that scene, Nathan has performed a forbidden Rite and created Vikari (later called Bu) a red haired Dragon woman with fangs, a tail, and a very literal thirst for his blood. Bu is in this book A LOT, for better or for worse. Bu almost kills him on the spot, driven by hunger and the magic of the ritual. Quiet One orders Nathan to stab her, to end her before she consumes him. Nathan hesitates. He sees that she is alive, afraid, and weirdly beautiful. Instead of killing her, he spares her. It nearly costs him his life. There's a lot of family/household drama. Oh, and there's this interesting section with Korrik and the plains of Qaan, which happens to be where Darshelle is from (as we learned in the previous book). Once again, you really get the impression that the people of Qaan are very superstitious, spiritual people based on their myths, legends, and lore. To be honest, although it can be a bit much (since it makes a dense book denser), it's still pretty fascinating and commendable. This book really struggles with two key issues: 1. Having to follow one of the best fiction books of the past year and try to stand out in its own right. 2. The fact that this book always feels like its holding back and holding out. It always feels like it's building to something without release or relief. It can make the average reader incredibly impatient. It can even be frustrating. Perhaps that's part of being the second (and middle) book in a larger series. The fact of the matter is: this isn't the main event, the main event is still to come. It's like night one of WrestleMania. Most people don't look forward to it as much. With that said, this is still a good fantasy book with superb, lovable characters. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 94/100 (9.4 out of 10)
There are certain books that just come to our attentions at the best possible time: books that speak to us when we needed it most. Rich Without the Rush by R. Lee Vanh is one of those books. We don't make an awful lot with the Outstanding Creator Awards. $85 entry fees get whittled down with numerous expenses. It also takes a lot of time and energy, which can often make one feel like it's not worth the personal or business costs. Well, it is. We run OCA because we love books, we love literature, we love authors, we love artists, we love the freedom of expression, and we love encouraging creative expression. We love helping give a voice to the voiceless and to shine a spotlight on those who've been overlooked. It's personally fulfilling. It gives us purpose. And that almost perfectly exemplifies what R. Lee Vanh is talking about in this book. Being rich isn't all about having a ton of money. Being rich is having enough money to afford enough of what you need to allow you to pursue the things you love and that bring you joy. It's about having the ability to provide for yourself and those you love while helping bring light into the world. Now, that's not to say that this book discourages you from being financially wealthy. Instead, it encourages you to view the idea of being rich differently, and not falling into the trap of feeling like you need it all now. Rome wasn't built in day. Babies aren't conceived, then pop on out the next morning. So, why rush? Why feel so behind? Rich Without the Rush is a 2025 Christian personal-finance book built around the idea of “getting rich slowly” and staying calm while doing it. It is organized into four parts, Direction, Discipline, Distraction, and Practice, with chapters on the Peace Index, Enough Number, automated generosity, slow money systems, the comparison trap, sandwich-generation pressures, and a 10-year retirement runway. This book does something very well and very powerfully: it levels with the reader. It stares into your eyes, reaches into your heart, and holds your soul in its hands, saying, "It's okay." We know that sounds cliche, but... we needed that. Money and finances are top of mind for many. As this book makes clear, it's a leading cause of disputes and arguments, it's a leading cause of divorce, and it's a leading cause of depression and anxiety. Peoples' lives revolve around money. They check their bank accounts and investment portfolios all the time. They worry about when it will come and where it will come from. They worry about when and where it will go. That's not living, that's being a slave to money. The core message is that most people, especially those in midlife, are exhausted because they are running someone else’s financial race. Vann argues that the real problem is not simply low net worth, but a lack of peace. He frames this through a recurring example character, Mark, a 52-year-old man squeezed by retirement anxiety, adult children, aging-parent costs, and the emotional wear of feeling “behind” despite outward stability. The book insists that real wealth is measured less by pace and portfolio size, and more by peace, clarity, and sustainable progress. One thing we really appreciated about this book is how this book makes a distinction between what it means to be rich versus what it means to be wealthy. They aren't the same thing! The book’s main biblical foundation is Proverbs 13:11, “wealth… gathered little by little will increase,” which Vann treats not just as a warning against get-rich-quick schemes, but as an entire philosophy of life. He contrasts the noisy, anxious “Hare” approach to money with the quiet, steady “Tortoise” approach. He argues that impatience, comparison, trend-chasing, and panic are what make people lose financially and emotionally, even when they are earning and saving. From there, the book builds its main framework, the Tortoise Formula: wealth equals Direction × Discipline ÷ Distraction. “Direction” means knowing what matters and defining your own destination. “Discipline” means building automatic systems so good choices happen without constant willpower. “Distraction” is the comparison, anxiety, trend-hopping, and fear that erode peace and sabotage progress. The point is that someone can improve their financial life dramatically, at least in felt stability and clarity, even before their balance sheet changes much. In the middle of the book, Vann gets more practical. He pushes automated generosity, automated investing, and a “Margin Budget” with broader spending boundaries rather than obsessive tracking. He wants money systems that create calm instead of surveillance. Later chapters focus on defending that calm against comparison, legacy pressure, and the urge to keep moving the goalposts after you have already reached “enough.” The “Enough Rebellion” chapter especially argues that choosing rest over endless accumulation is not settling, but wisdom. This book really speaks to the heart. It encourages, motivates, and inspires. At the same time, the book is more philosophy-and-framework driven than rigorously technical. It is not trying to be a deep investing manual, tax guide, or advanced retirement-planning text. Even though it includes worksheets and action steps, the financial advice is intentionally simplified and filtered through a Christian worldview. So readers looking for highly detailed modeling, broad secular sourcing, or more nuanced treatment of investment complexity may find it light in those areas. The front matter also explicitly says it is not financial advice and that readers should consult qualified professionals. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 94+/100 (9.4+ out of 10)
Realigned by Jason Jacobus asks a hard question right out of the gate: are you actually living the life God called you to live, or just the life you slowly slipped into? We were meant to live for so much more. God created us with purpose and intention. It is easy to drift without realizing it. One day, you look up and wonder how a life full of motion ended up feeling so misaligned. It might be time to correct that course or change directions entirely. Realigned is a Christian life-and-family discipleship book built around one central idea: people often drift away from the life God actually wants for them, not always through open rebellion, but through busyness, pride, distraction, performance, comfort, and misplaced priorities. We get it. Huge transitions in life can easily do this to a Christian: moving, getting married (or divorced), starting a new career (or having one ended), or having children. These things can often dominate our thoughts, focus, attention, time, energy. They can become all-consuming. What often suffers are our relationships with God and those closest to us. For example, our careers can often take us away from our significant others and children. Our personal failures and disappointments can lead us to resent or turn away from God. Jason Jacobus frames the book as an invitation to stop, take honest inventory, confront the lies shaping your life, and realign your faith, marriage, parenting, health, and finances around Christ rather than around worldly definitions of success. This is going to sound a bit weird, but this kinda reminded us of a Christian mindfulness book. We get a lot of mindfulness and meditation books that often read a bit like this. However, it's still refreshing to see this through the lens of Christianity and a focus on the one true God. It also seems to fall into a few other categories: self-help and motivational/inspirational books. This book actually has a strong motivational/inspirational backbone. One of us compared it to being picked up by your lapels and getting a talking to by a parent—a tough-loving pep talk, if you will. This book really does feel that way. Jacobus seems to have a real traditionalist/Christian fundamentalist leaning that is either going to jive with you or it's not. For example, he talks a lot about the traditional roles of husbands and wives as well as men and women in general. There's a rather uncomfortable part of this book in which he seems to argue that a man's primary responsibility on earth is to his wife (and vice-versa) rather than their children or parents. There's even a part when Jacobus talks about explaining this to his kids, like (to paraphrase), "If I'm prioritizing your mother, it's not because I don't love you, it's because it's in the best interest of all of us." That's chivalrous and all, but that seems more grounded in experience and stubborn idealism rather than biblical principle or practicality. Like, maternal instinct is a thing. One final thing that bothered us was the author insisting that reader constantly be around their significant other and always do things with them. That sounds great on paper, but doesn't that lead to clinginess and dependency? We found that you actually cause a lot less drama and tension by giving your partner space. You don't have to be all up in their business. You don't have to be around them all the time, in our opinion. That's part of trust. You should trust God to take care of them and trust them not to be out cheating or hiding stuff without hovering over them all the time. We feel that just comes across as possessive and clingy. The author, in what seems like a really Boomer-ish approach, really seems resistant to technology (like smartphones) and social media. We agree that technology and social media have their cons and can be distracting, but it also allows us to publish these ebooks, share our thoughts, and reach thousands of people. The author seems really concerned that technology and social media are replacing genuine human interactions, and we get that. Disagreements aside, we were able to get behind most of this book. Its heart is in the right place, and the author seems to genuinely want to help people while serving as an inspiration and doing right by God. One way in which this book shines is the writing. The author does an excellent job at using analogies, metaphors, and idioms. This is great at eloquently getting different points across. For example: “What’s in the well comes up in the bucket” "...sometimes the most gracious thing God can do is let the house you’re building collapse before it collapses on you and those you love." "You are being formed by something every day, so let’s choose what we consume with care, because the goal isn’t just to avoid the rock on the trail. The goal is to follow the line that leads to life." "When I walk with self-control, my kids learn to do the same. We aren’t thermometers reacting to the temperature of our homes—we’re thermostats setting it." "We’re grinding through life with a dull blade, too busy to pause and sharpen the very tool we’re relying on. However, if you don’t make time to sharpen the saw, the work will get harder and the results will get weaker. We have to prioritize sharpening our saw—resting, recharging, and building rhythms into our lives that allow us to swing the blade with strength, clarity, and consistency." "You weren’t meant to row alone. Invite your spouse into the boat with you, and hand them a paddle." Some of these passages are outstanding! A major thread running through the book is Jacobus’s belief that the “keystone lie” behind many other problems is tying worth to achievement. He roots that in his own childhood, especially the emotional impact of growing up in a divorced household and internalizing the idea that if his family was broken, he must be broken too. From there, he describes how sports, work, hustle, and performance became ways of chasing approval and trying to secure identity through accomplishment. What the book is really doing, then, is moving from diagnosis to application. The diagnosis is drift through lies, self-reliance, passivity, and misplaced values. The application is daily realignment through Scripture, confession, repentance, disciplined self-assessment, and reordered priorities. Jacobus pushes readers to stop comparing themselves to other people and instead ask whether they are aligned with God’s standard. He especially presses this in family life, arguing that children absorb what parents repeatedly model, not just what they say. Realigned is a thoughtful, heartfelt, practical Christian encouragement book with a strong family-centered focus. It is strongest when Jacobus is honest about his own distortions, idols, and habits, and when he translates those confessions into concrete challenges about marriage, parenting, presence, and priorities. Readers looking for deep theology or radically original ideas may not find that here, but readers wanting a sincere wake-up call and a structured invitation to examine their lives probably will. Check it out on Amazon! Review of "Nurse Dorothea Presents: Not Taking People and Things for Granted" by Michael Dow4/5/2026  Score: 90/100 (9.0 out of 10)
Nurse Dorothea Presents: Not Taking People and Things for Granted is a gentle, classroom-style mental health book built around Nurse Dorothea leading an after-school discussion on what it means to take people, relationships, nature, daily life, and ordinary blessings for granted. The book frames that behavior not just as a manners issue, but as something tied to emotional well-being, because feeling overlooked, unappreciated, or taken for granted can genuinely hurt and disrupt a person’s mental equilibrium. It is organized into four parts and presented as an interactive experience, with discussion prompts, student responses, poems, reflection, and practical ideas for showing appreciation. At its core, the book argues that gratitude has to be active. Nurse Dorothea defines taking something for granted as assuming it will always be there, failing to show gratitude, or accepting it thoughtlessly as a given. From there, the book explores examples of people taking friends, love, support, nature, and even the Earth itself for granted. It also spends time on signs of unappreciation, like taking more than one gives or expecting favors without reciprocating. The later sections move into solutions. The students and Nurse Dorothea discuss ways to resist this mindset, such as cherishing moments, focusing on what is within one’s control, avoiding constant complaint, practicing gratitude, doing self-care, seeing the good in people and situations, using coping skills, finding joy in ordinary life, and trying to view life as something miraculous rather than routine. The ending leans inspirational, closing with gratitude quotes and a reminder to care not only for your own mental health, but to help others on their journey too. Like with a lot of things we've reviewed by Dow, the concept is actually very good, however, the execution is messy, clunky, and dry. Dow continues to struggle at presenting characters who seem like real people—or even, well, three-dimensional characters—instead of just talking heads to further a point. These student characters have almost no depth beyond having a name and a brief thing to share. Nurse Dorothea herself doesn't seem to have much depth beyond perhaps liking poetry and meaning well. By the way, why is Nurse Dorothea teaching a classroom? Teachers make about $10K-$20K less than nurses do every year. We get doing it for the love of the game, but Nurse Dorothea is technically losing money being a teacher. You could argue that this is an afterschool "Mental Health Club", however, that prompts the issue: Why are there seemingly dozens of students in this Mental Health Club? How bad have things gotten in society that dozens of students are literally joining a club exclusively about mental health rather than playing sports or joining the Girl Scouts/Boy Scouts? However, our main issue with this book is this: the writing is so... unnatural and inorganic. We kept asking ourselves: Who talks like this? Here's an example: when was the last time you witnessed a child raise their hand and say, "I feel I have taken for granted our healthcare system like our system of vaccines. I know vaccines can protect me from developing a dangerous illness that would affect the quality of my life as well as possibly being life-threatening. So much work has gone into researching vaccines and how to make them." You know what would've fixed this? If instead of this one random kid giving this speech, Nurse Dorothea had a Socratic discussion with him leading to these conclusions instead of him just spurting them out. Like, she could've prompted him with questions such as, "In what ways do vaccines help us?" This has been an issue with a lot of Dow's books, mainly the Nurse Florence series. The prose and dialogue often feel overly scripted rather than lived-in. Instead of sounding like real conversation, it sounds like a lesson plan being recited aloud. Characters do not really speak with rhythm, personality, spontaneity, or emotional texture. They often sound like mouthpieces for a message. The writing sounds really choppy and bland. There's little to no variety in language or sentence structure. Almost every sentence sounds the same when read aloud. The cadence rarely changes. The phrasing keeps falling into the same kind of this-and-that, that-and-this, don't-do-this, don't-do-that, point-A-point-B construction, which makes the prose feel formulaic instead of fluid. It is so vanilla, flat, and basic that even when the book is talking about meaningful things, like gratitude, appreciation, and emotional well-being, the language drains a lot of the life out of those ideas. That is the frustrating part. The book is not empty. It actually has heart. It has a lovely purpose. It wants to encourage reflection and healthier ways of thinking. But the actual writing keeps getting in its own way. Rather than drawing us into a believable classroom full of distinctive students, it often feels like we are reading bullet points that were stretched into dialogue. The result is a book that is admirable in intention but underwhelming in execution. Let's count how many times the same words and phrases are reused in this 279 page book: Let's start with the big one: “for granted” appears 133 times. One-hundred and thirty-three times! Almost every page (with text) and like half the paragraphs include the phrase "for granted." It plays over and over again like a broken record. The most frustrating thing is that it sometimes even occurs in the exact same paragraph. On page 11, the phrase shows up three times in one paragraph: first in “not taking people and/or things for granted,” then again in “when you were taken for granted,” and then again in “taking people and things for granted affects your mental health.” That is a lot of repetition for one short introductory passage. On page 29, it becomes even more egregious. Dimitry says, “I feel I have taken nature for granted,” then later in the same paragraph says, “that’s why I took it for granted.” Nurse Dorothea then follows that with “not take things for granted” and “not take things for granted” again in the very next paragraph. So that page hits the phrase four times in a very small space. But that's not the only phrase that's repeated over and over again. “Nurse Dorothea calls” appears 73 times “raises her hand” or "raises his hand" appears 73 times “calls on him to talk” or "calls on her" appears 73 times So, practically every scene or conversation in this book flows this exact same way and include these three phrases. This makes the book seem really repetitive and formulaic. By the way, "mental health" and "mental" are also repeated multiple times on the same page (17). Also, kicking this off with Nurse Dorothea reciting not one, not two, but THREE POEMS comes across as really strange and unnatural. Who does that? What teacher just recites three different poems in a row to a bunch of grade school students? It should really only take one quote from one of these poems to make the point that Dorothea was trying to make. Phew... well, let's talk about one way in which the book shines beside its valuable overall message. The illustrations are above average, especially for a Dow book. Lindsay Roberts, the illustrator, really did a high-effort, spirited job at producing about a hundred pages worth of illustrations! Wow! And many of them are actually quite good. They're like the art over at Chicano Park or Denver International Airport. There's a little bit of an uncanny valley in the appearance of these characters, but it is what it is. We question if the abstractness of some of this art is really appropriate for kids. There's a lot of symbolism and strangeness like a bloody hand in the middle of a clock, the use of the Yin & Yang symbol, and tons of hand gestures that make us wonder if this was originally supposed to double as a sign language book or something. Anyway, the intentions behind this book were good. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 94+/100 (9.4+ out of 10)
Early mornings can be wild... Sometimes, you're trying to sleep, then someone downstairs, outside, or in the room next to you is making a racket! It can sometimes seem like there might be a rhinoceros around! There's a Rhinoceros in My House! by Jack DiSanto is a cute, light, family-centered children's book with a simple comic premise: a sleepy mom hears a huge crash in the house, assumes there is a rhinoceros stomping around downstairs, and then gradually discovers that the “rhinoceros” is really just her loud husband making breakfast. Along the way, the book turns ordinary morning sounds into exaggerated chaos, with the “rhinoceros” thudding, scraping, flipping pancakes, vacuuming, and washing dishes before the joke is finally revealed when Mom puts on her glasses and sees Dad holding a stack of pancakes. While relatively simple in story, characters, and premise, this book works in so many ways! First of all, it's relatable. Like we alluded to in the introduction, we've all been there. We've all been woken up by someone who decides to be a loud "rhino" in and around the house. So, it's actually easy to follow and understand the characters and how they feel, especially the mom who is woken up. It's also easy to relate to the husband, who is just trying to get things done and be a helpful, productive husband while being a bit clumsy and abrasive. We've been there too! It's hard trying to get cooking, cleaning, and daily tasks done when every works and sleeps at odd hours during the day. These characters are so likable, lovable, and relatable! Secondly, this book is so humorous and funny. It's impossible not to smile and laugh while reading it. Seriously! The illustrations of the rhinoceros going around the house doing everyday household tasks (like dusting, cleaning dishes, cooking pancakes, and vacuuming) had us smiling and laughing the whole time. A ton of credit has to go to illustrator Alana McCarthy for bringing these fun characters to life. Mom's reactions throughout the book are priceless. They range from shock and surprise to glee and contentment. In the afterward, the book actually shows the painstaking process of crafting these scenes and illustrations by hand! It really is nice to see hand-drawn, hand-colored illustrations like this. We love that the dad isn't portrayed as some hunky hunk with perfect hair, clothes, and a chiseled body. Instead, he's a plain ole' dad with a dad bod, a t-shirt, and pajama pants. That actually just makes us love and relate to him more! He's a normal guy just trying his best, not some superhero with superpowers, not some perfect guy. The other thing we wanted to briefly touch on is what a great interactive experience this book could be when read to kids. They can engage with the fun/funny rhinoceros as well as the various sounds the book highlights (like "splash" and "clang"). Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 93/100 (9.3 out of 10)
Holiday Spirit: Destroy All Monsters picks up months after the Vermont chaos of the first book. Killington has mostly gone back to normal, but the “monster crew” has vanished and become global fugitives. Emma, Annie, and Pete head to Paris on a school trip, where they quickly realize that their old allies Dracula, Aoife, and Saul Frankenstein are being hunted as terrorists across Europe. Across Paris and London, a whole rogues’ gallery assembles: Ralph Ellison (the Invisible Man and our personal highlight of the previous book), a tormented Henry Jekyll and his brutal alter ego Hyde, a righteous but murderous Quasimodo, a gleefully sadistic Jack the Ripper, and an evil witch building a “new crew” of monsters for an ominous plan centered on London. These villains stage spectacular atrocities: blood rain and insect swarms at Paris Fashion Week, a demon goat named Djali lighting people on fire, Kong’s public execution at a show that turns into carnage, and a bombed out Notre Dame wedding that kills clergy and shatters Saul and Lorna’s big day. Eventually the core trio of monsters are captured and taken to Moreau’s institute, where the staff treat their supernatural identities as psychiatric delusions while running horrific experiments in the basement “House of Pain” on animal human hybrids locked in cages. Saul is prepped for a head transplant onto a gorilla body. Aoife is pumped full of oxytocin so she will go into labor on Moreau’s timetable. Dracula is used and studied as an immortal specimen, even as he quietly plots and broods about the threat to his unborn children. While this book is a lot less dark and disturbing than the previous one, this particular part of the book is quite violent (somewhat comically so). It is a bit like the animal experiments scene from Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 3. We noticed that a lot of this book (especially the first half) actually focuses on King Kong and his persecution alongside the wider “monster problem” in Europe. Those sections almost feel like an animal-rights parable wrapped in a kaiju tragedy. Kong is chained, sedated, poked, prodded, and paraded as a freak for human amusement, all so that a bloodthirsty crowd and a cynical system can feel safer and more righteous after killing something they never bothered to understand. The big show that is meant to be his public execution turns into one of the book’s most chaotic, violent set pieces, and it drives home one of the series’ key themes: the worst cruelty often comes from the humans who insist they are civilized. This actually makes this book a little bit of a courtroom drama which then leads into a lot of social commentary. Like the first book, the monsters are actually treated a bit like illegal immigrants and/or minorities, with people blaming them for society's ills via protests and such. This book does a lot more to humanize the monsters. For example, Kong himself isn't just presented as a monster born to be a monster, he actually has gigantism and also scoliosis. Similarly, Quasimodo is presented as probably having a genetic condition like kyphosis rather than outright being a monster. Likewise, Dorian Gray is sickly, having a medical condition, and—as you might expect, he has a portrait which essentially keeps him alive. In a lot of ways, this entry leans even harder into that moral inversion. The so-called monsters are the ones who show loyalty, compassion, and self-sacrifice, while many of the humans (Moreau, Jack, the witch, even Maria by the end) become the real monsters. We especially liked how Ralph Ellison remains a kind of conscience of the group, and how Saul and Lorna’s relationship gives the story a tender, almost domestic center in between all the carnage. Actually, on that note, this book is a lot more emotional and sweet than the previous book, largely because of the romantic angle. We're not sure if it'll make you shed a tear, but it is warm at times. Aoife’s pregnancy and eventual delivery of the twins might be the emotional high point of the whole book, giving us a rare moment of genuine joy and hope in the middle of alarms, fire, and escaping experiments. At the same time, this is a very crowded book. Between the Killington kids, the returning “monster crew,” Kong, the London villains, Maria and her family, the hybrid experiments, and the whole staff of Moreau’s institute, there are a lot of moving parts. Most of them are interesting, but the sheer number of characters and subplots can make the pacing feel a bit lopsided. The first half lingers a long time on Kong and the buildup to the various spectacles, while the second half has to juggle the institute, the House of Pain, Dracula’s fate, Maria’s breakdown, and Aoife’s birth in relatively quick succession. Readers who prefer a tighter, more focused narrative may feel a little overwhelmed. Quasimodo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame (who we mentioned before) also gets a lot of attention in this book. It's similar to how Erik from The Phantom of the Opera got a lot of attention in the previous book, but sometimes seemed squeezed in. It sometimes seems like, throughout this series, the author has wanted to throw everything and the kitchen sink at the reader. We also felt a bit of tonal whiplash at times. The series’ voice is intentionally snarky and self-aware, and a lot of the gallows humor really works. There are great one-liners and absurd images that help to keep the story from collapsing under the weight of its own brutality. But there are moments, especially around Ivy’s death and Dracula’s final scenes, when the quick cut from horror or heartbreak to a joke can feel jarring. Some readers will love that “monster movie meets edgy comic book” rhythm. Others might wish the story sat in its grief and horror a bit longer before reaching for a punchline. Speaking of punchlines, this book is actually a lot more lighthearted and comedic than the previous book, even with the messed up stuff still happening from time to time. Characters are constantly joking, and there's a lot of self-aware humor as well. In a strange way, this book actually made us feel better than the previous book. It might not be as dramatic, tense, or suspenseful, in our opinion, but it is a solid book. Also, this might sound a bit weird, but we loved the title (which was inspired by ignorant statements protestors made int he previous book). "Destroy All Monsters" reminded us of the Godzilla Sega Dreamcast video game. Ahh... those were simpler times. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 92+/100 (9.2+ out of 10)
Megalodon is another thrilling creature feature by Ethan Richards! Let's face it: there are few prehistoric creatures who have gone more viral and meme-worthy in recent years than the megalodon. This SUPER SHARK has become a pop culture juggernaut. It has become the stuff of documentaries, clickbait debates, oversized shark graphics, and "what if it still existed?" nightmares. It is one of those extinct animals that somehow still feels weirdly alive in the public imagination. So, taking on a creature like this comes with both a built-in advantage and a built-in risk. The advantage is obvious: people are already fascinated by it. The risk is that the concept can easily become cheesy, repetitive, or just an excuse for shallow spectacle. Thankfully, Ethan Richards does not just give readers a giant shark chomping random people for 200 pages and call it a day. This book has actual atmosphere. It has tension. It has blood in the water, yes, but it also has paranoia, corporate secrecy, ecological dread, and a strong sense that something is deeply wrong long before the full scale of the horror becomes clear. We appreciated that the novel does not merely present the megalodon as a large animal with a big bite radius. It presents it more like an event. A force. An ecosystem-level nightmare that distorts the behavior of everything around it. That angle gives the book more weight than a standard B-movie creature feature. One of the smartest things this novel does is build intrigue before fully cashing in on the monster. The early material involving unusual bull shark behavior, strange migration patterns, and the sense that even apex predators are afraid creates a strong "uh oh" effect. The book understands that anticipation matters. A monster is often more effective when readers first feel its shadow before they fully see its teeth. That slow widening realization that something larger is driving everything else inland helps give the story genuine momentum. Ebenezer "Eerie Eb" Edwards is back! We remember him as the Joe-Rogan-esque cryptid podcaster from Maryland Sasquatch Massacre, one of Richards's better works. Eb is actually still carrying some of the memories, weight, and trauma of that event into this book, which is nice to see. It provides some continuity. He also brings his skepticism. That makes him a fitting protagonist for a story in which the danger is not only physical but informational. He is surrounded by people and systems that are constantly trying to shape the narrative, soften the truth, or weaponize perception. So, his role in the novel is not just "survive the shark." It is also "figure out what is actually happening while being manipulated from all sides." You can tell that there's a lot more going on than just a seamonster on the loose, there are people pulling the strings and trying to manipulate events. That brings us to one of the other highlights of the book: the SeaGate material. We liked that there is a conspiratorial, quasi-corporate, quasi-paramilitary energy running through this novel. The expedition does not feel clean, heroic, or reassuring. It feels off. The people involved often seem like they know more than they are saying, and that creates a strong undercurrent of mistrust. Wen Li is especially effective in that regard. She helps give the story that polished-but-dangerous corporate sheen, where everything sounds controlled and professional even when the reality underneath is chaos and death. There is also a nice satirical edge to some of the characterization and dialogue. Reverend Harlan Creed, for example, adds a strange ideological flavor to the book with his weird mix of pseudo-spirituality, corporate alignment language, and self-justifying philosophy. Characters like that help the novel feel a bit more distinctive. Without them, this could have been a much more straightforward "boat crew versus monster" story. Instead, there is a whole layer of human absurdity and manipulation floating on top of the creature horror. When this book wants to get nasty, it gets nasty. There is ripped flesh, panic, chaos, blood-frenzy violence, shattered bodies, torn-apart vessels, and the kind of maritime carnage that reminds readers why the open ocean is such a perfect horror setting. The sea is already intimidating enough without adding a prehistoric apex predator the size of a nightmare. Ethan Richards clearly understands that. Some of the most effective scenes are not even the most action-heavy ones, but the ones that emphasize helplessness: the sense of being on unstable water, surrounded by something you cannot properly track, measure, or stop. There always seems to be that one OMG-they-killed-Kenny death in these books. We think it's supposed to come across as sad and tragic, but it's often humorous. Eb and company show a lot of guts in the midst of this danger, and Eb takes a lot of damage throughout. Characters can die or be horribly maimed at any time. So, there's some suspense there. Check it out on Amazon! |
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