The Beast Heart Series Book #2 Wolf Warrior

The Beast Heart Series Book #2: Wolf Warrior by Erin Tunney

Reviewed by Lily Andrews

“Her smile only grew wider as Duke Averance turned his attention to her. “I have a proposal. I know a good way to silence Clara permanently. I suppose a trip to the Reptilia Kingdom is in order.”

After escaping Dark Elf Territory for Snowdrop Village, Clara thought she’d finally earned a break. But that had only charged her enemies to change tactics. This time, they won’t try killing her. Instead, they will go after the people most dear to her. “The Beast Heart Series Book #2: Wolf Warrior” by Erin Tunney follows her as she fights an enemy who knows she’s bonded to two beasts and has Thread Sight, which helps her detect anything.  Purchase Here.

Clara has the power of the Wild Shepherdess. But her life has been one near-death experience to another. Her parents were killed. She survived the Empty- shapeless creatures that would break apart life threads to feel whole. When the Selkies appear unexpectedly, their glow and spears trigger the same dread the Empty did. But the Selkies are not the Empty. They have a queen, and they want Clara to save her. They arrive when her trauma has barely healed. They put her friends to sleep, leaving her alone and outnumbered. They further bind the Wild Kin and seize Twitch. They ask her to trust the sea. Clara has to bargain to keep her people safe. The math of the situation forces her: resist and lose everyone, or comply and keep them alive. That’s the trap, and she has to walk right into it with her eyes wide open.

Many fantasies measure a new threat against something generic like a dragon, or even death.  But this novel refuses to do so. Instead, it uses a monster from book one, rewarding the readers who’ve been here before. These are also readers fresh from the Prologue, where a trap is already set. When a new threat appears, they see the misdirection. The book allows them to. It lets them think they are ahead, then throws them off again. That’s a book that uses the genre’s oldest trick: the scariest weapon isn’t the one on the page, but the one in the reader’s mind. A lesser book would spend time explaining why the new threat is or is not scary. Here, the reader’s mind does the heavy lifting. As a result, the book doesn’t scare them.  Instead, they scare themselves. They then laugh, a laughter that collapses their fear, relief, and admiration of the book’s wit into one moment. And that’s the trick- to make them willing participants in being fooled. This book succeeds at it.

“The Beast Heart Series Book #2: Wolf Warrior” by Erin Tunney is your go-to if you like fantasies that seize your senses and never quite let go. It reads clean, confident, and controlled, with themes that hit close to home – found family, chosen loyalty, trauma, and resilience. Lovers of fierce heroines, political scheming, and animal companions who feel like characters in their own right will also find plenty to love in its world, characters, and refusal to take the easy road.

Prodigal Ghost

Prodigal Ghost: A Big Ray Elmore Novel by Thomas Holland

Reviewed by Ephantus Gold

“Prodigal Ghost: A Big Ray Elmore Novel” by Thomas D. Holland is a Southern murder mystery set in Split Tree, a small Arkansas town. It follows Chief of Police Big Ray Elmore as he tries to uncover the identity of a stranger who rolls into town claiming to be the long-dead son of Boy and Elizabeth Crawford, an elderly couple found dead after a suspicious fire engulfs their house.  Purchase Here.

Joe Darby had a serious falling out with his father right before he left home- never to return. He’s been a ghost in the town’s memory for over three decades, even among people who knew his family. Until now. Sheriff Ben Cooper thinks he saw the young man recently. Several other residents quickly confirm his claim. Big Ray, however, thinks the timing is too perfect. He knows that Darby died in WWII. The military confirmed it. As he begins looking into him, he learns, to his shock, that the mystery man knows about him. The man also visited the town’s library, specifically looking for books about families. Nothing about him makes sense. To Big Ray, it all reeks of a setup.

Meanwhile, Big Ray is facing an accusation by the feds that he beat up a Black preacher. If he’s arrested or suspended, he can’t work the Crawford’s case. His friend, the city’s attorney, buys him a week to investigate the fire. He thinks the worst that can happen to Big Ray is losing his job. He’s, however, working with incomplete information. Big Ray is already in the crosshairs of people willing to do anything to get what they want. The week feels like a lifeline. But it’s also a countdown. It’s short, but Ray’s enemies have been waiting longer.

“Prodigal Ghost” is a slow-burn that takes its time. It doesn’t hit the gas on page one. Instead, it lets its protagonist sit on his porch, rambling and telling you about his bad leg. He’s not just a detective; he’s a storyteller, too. His voice moves at the speed of the small town, a town where nothing happens fast. He inquires like he’s genuinely in the dark. He lets people talk. His questions build the novel’s world. We learn about the town, the history, and the culture.

The mystery isn’t aggressively concealed. The clues are there. But the concealment isn’t in what’s hidden. It’s in what everybody’s too comfortable to see. That’s not just clever plotting; it’s the kind of storytelling that indicts and leaves the reader complicit, because they, too, were too comfortable to look closer.

One of the novel’s most outstanding elements is its use of death as a frame. It opens with death and closes with a burial. This approach inverts the genre’s usual structure, where a resolution usually closes the book. “Prodigal Ghost” doesn’t do that. It ends with a funeral. And that’s what makes it so relatable. Life often ends with the people left behind holding a photograph of someone they could have paid more attention to, trying to make sense of what just happened. That’s what makes “Prodigal Ghost” hit so hard – its honest portrayal of how the world really works.

 

Twas the Night

Twas the Night by Kevin Johnson

Reviewed by Ephantus Gold

In ‘Twas the Night” by Kevin Johnson, Halley Belanger, a journalist at an online publication called Ambush News, is investigating several cases of children who have strangely disappeared without a trace in every place in Maine, except in one village called Yule. Upon talking to several Maine residents, their reactions have left her shocked and more confused. They all seem to freak out, especially when she mentions that one particular village, a village she later comes to learn that not even the biker gangs of Maine dare to talk about. Her curiosity and desperation for answers send her on a journey to the village, a place she sees as “a little patch of civilization that’s tucked away… a place of whispers and guarded secrets.” But shortly after her arrival, she realizes that she is being closely watched, not by someone but by everything, including snowmen who seem to move closer with every passing hour to the Black Duck Inn, where she is staying.  Purchase Here.

One day while in her room, Halley spots a little girl playing around the snowmen. The girl looks familiar. Their encounter leaves Halley deeply convinced that she was supposed to find this village for some reason. But the Inn owners won’t allow her to find out more. They demand that she always stay inside and ignore anything and everything she sees or hears during her stay. But their rules only fuel her curiosity, and one night they turn her into a silent, beanie-clad shadow drifting between houses like a ghost, in a moment that nearly ends her life.

What makes the story even more intriguing is that you realize something bad is about to happen. You can feel it even when the characters try to ignore it. Johnson doesn’t lean on big dramatic scenes; he uses that familiar itch people get when they’re told to leave something alone. Every time Halley hears a warning, it only makes you want her to keep going. The rules come off more like odd hints than anything meant to stop her. Before long, you’re following her curiosity without thinking about it. And, like Halley, you end up wanting to know what Yule is really hiding.

The protagonist is blunt, probably cynical, and doesn’t shy away from calling an old woman “an old bag.” In a genre that normally romanticizes the elderly, this is honestly different, priming the reader for a story that doesn’t hold back. She also uses the “smelling like prison spaghetti” description, which, among other things, doesn’t come across as just another generic one but as specific, odd, and evocative, suggesting a world the reader may not know about but can instantly imagine and feel.

‘Twas the Night” by Kevin Johnson has taken the well-known Christmas carol’s words “You better watch out. You better not cry” and from them crafted a threat that is not merely a playful warning about Santa’s naughty list, but a genuine, deeply chilling warning about survival. As you read on, you sense the usual Christmas tropes being weaponized into something dark, through a religious devotion far more dangerous than simple belief. This is one of those rare books that take something very familiar and make it alien and horrifying. It all feels deeply and profoundly wrong, but that’s precisely why the reader can’t look away.

 

I Should Have Known Better

I Should Have Known Better by Larry Lentchner

Reviewed by Tierney Reardon

Psychologist Larry Lentchner’s new novel, I Should Have Known Better, takes readers on a journey spanning more than fifty years. This book is a fictionalized memoir of protagonist Phil Green’s chaotic, eventful life. Phil has had one true constant throughout his life: he overthinks everything. From love affairs in his youth, to marriage and fatherhood, to battling illness – no life event, mishap, or ‘could have been’ is too small – Phil dissects it all. As he goes through countless changes, his youthful idealism starts to fade, but his hope, kindness, and drive to improve himself remain strong. The one main source of anxiety hanging over Phil’s head is one that we’ve all felt from time to time – the feeling of guessing your way through life. Are we doing this right? Should we have known better? Is overthinking any of this really helping? Through a series of journal entries, Phil attempts to find the answers that will finally put his mind at ease.  Purchase Here.

There’s a very sharp sense of humor that permeates I Should Have Known Better – Lentchner’s witty insights deliver a very dry and clever look into Phil Green’s life. The dialogue is intelligent and fast-paced, and the one-liners are quick and genuinely funny. With a conversational narration style that feels like reminiscing with a friend, this book is a deep dive into little moments in time that many readers will relate to. His anecdotes of romantic encounters, allusions to struggles with addiction, and his ever-changing relationship with his family all paint Phil as a very human and realistic character.

With a narrator who uses such a constant stream-of-consciousness style of storytelling, it’s impossible not to connect with Phil as a person. He’s highly relatable, and some of the opinions and anxieties he shares are sure to resonate with readers. Phil and his inner self-critic (his ‘inquisitor’, as he likes to call it) share every detail, leaving nothing out – the highs and lows, the highlights and darkest moments. All these are laid bare in this memoir, accompanied by a constant stream of witty quips and dry self-deprecation. “I’m not very good at rationalization,” he admits. “People who have an inquisitor never are.” In particular, his accounts of becoming a father stand out as strong entries in this memoir.

Overall, I Should Have Known Better holds value for readers at all stages of life; at one point, we’ve all looked back and thought, “I should have known better.” Equal parts hilarious and philosophical, this book encourages readers to stay hopeful and see the value in taking a step back to reflect. Anyone who loves a nostalgic memoir, a satirical commentary on the world, and a witty narrator will thoroughly enjoy Larry Lentcher’s new work.

 

 

Retribution

Retribution: Chronicles of Reaper Book II by J.R. Lightfoot

Reviewed by Christine Kinori

J.R. Lightfoot returns with the second installment of the Chronicles of the Reaper, and it definitely breaks the mold even further. In the second book, Retribution, co-authored by Bernard Lightfoot, we reunite with Jaml as he tries to save a wayward prince. If you love a morally gray character rushing to save humanity from itself, this is the book for you.​  Purchase Here.

The second book doesn’t waste time and picks up right after that messy tragedy that left Colley shaken to its core. Unfortunately, Jaml is going through it and struggling with the horrors he witnessed. His mental state is fractured, and he is a bit broken.

​The authors do a good job of capturing the evolution of his trauma and the paradox of his existence. This was the right decision, as the character stands out from the same old cookie-cutter dark fantasy protagonist we are used to, especially in this genre.

As Jaml, our battle-weary holy soldier, tries to piece his sanity together through strict discipline and prayers, he is summoned to track down a missing prince. But what should have been a routine mission turns into a bone-crunching, gritty adventure that leaves you invested in what happens next.

What makes this fantasy book stand out is how the villains are written. Ideally, you expect demons and other evil creatures of the underworld to be easy to spot. You know a horn here, a tail there! However, Retribution takes a bold twist by making them take a human form.

​This adds tension to the story, as Jaml realizes that the humans he swore to protect have become malicious beings driven by their dark desires. The brutal psychological warfare he endures sets the stage for the book’s overarching themes of impossible choices vs. morality, tested faith, and pre-ordained destiny.​

The book also excels at making Jaml an easy protagonist to root for, even though he is not perfect. Is anyone perfect, though? His journey makes for an impactful reading that forces readers to reflect on their own moral beliefs. His relatable struggle with faith is something most people can relate to.

​The high-stakes fantasy also adds another attractive element that elevates this book. The combat scenes are well written, balancing visceral action with narrative stakes while conveying the story’s emotional weight. As a reader, you will quickly come to appreciate the realism of the cool divine weapons as described in the book.

Unfortunately, the characters lose a tad of momentum as they dive into long, intensive philosophical debates. However, this is just a minor speed bump in an otherwise awesome cinematic piece.​

The authors generally do a remarkable job of maintaining the narrative momentum. To be fair, striking that balance isn’t easy, but Retribution hits that sweet spot. In the end, the book is not bogged down by its own lore.

​Overall, Retribution is a worthwhile follow-up to Reaper. It heightens the stakes, expands the Reaper universe, and avoids the second book slump. The deepening of the main character’s arc is also extremely satisfying. It delivers meaningful character development that feels natural, and Jaml’s growth feels earned. The ending also leaves the door wide open for another sequel, and yes, we are here for it!

​If you love gritty, atmospheric fantasy like The Witcher but want a story with a bit more soul and intellectual bite, you should absolutely go pick this one up.

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A Stairway to the Stars

A Stairway to the Stars by M.W. Shryock

Reviewed by Lorena Padureanu

I started reading this book right at the beginning of my holiday, and instead of actively enjoying the beautiful weather, I found myself completely immersed in this wonderful story. The combination of adventure, mystery, suspense, relationships, and humor kept me fully engaged.  Purchase Here.

A Stairway to the Stars begins like a whimsical fantasy story that gradually reveals itself to be deeper, darker, and more emotionally powerful than I expected.

Set in the early ’90s, the story is told through Mariana, a witty, intelligent, and awkward 15-year-old, as she recounts how a series of heartbreaking events uprooted her family from their comfortable life in Chicago and brought them to a monotonous existence in rural Virginia.

Everything changes when her grandmother’s old book and beautiful carpet become the gateway to an extraordinary adventure. Alongside Whammy, her beloved family dog, Mariana discovers a golden spiral staircase hidden inside a mysterious tree that suddenly appears in her house. This frightening, yet mesmerizing appearance becomes the portal to Apokalon, a strange planet filled with unfamiliar landscapes, strange beings, and dangers Mariana could never have imagined.

What starts as a desperate attempt to return home gradually becomes a whirlwind journey. Soon, she discovers her arrival wasn’t accidental and that she has a mission to accomplish. This takes her through a world she does not understand, forcing her to make difficult choices, confront danger, form unexpected relationships, and ultimately fall deeply in love.

What initially feels almost playful and magical slowly becomes a fight for survival, and the closer she and Whammy come to the merciless emperor, the more the story shifts from lighthearted fantasy into something genuinely grim and tense.

The adventure takes Mariana and Whammy through dark tunnels, wild waters, strange landscapes, and perilous encounters. Along the way, they meet Kyran, a brave and handsome young man who becomes an important part of Mariana’s life. Their relationship adds another layer to the adventure, bringing romance, trust, and heartbreak to a journey already full of uncertainty. Mariana must face not only the dangers of Apokalon but also the complicated feelings and difficult decisions that come with growing closer to others.

One of the book’s greatest strengths is the warmth of its characters, whose immense help makes Mariana’s extraordinary adventure feel vivid and personal. Among them, the most endearing is undoubtedly sweet, loyal Whammy. He is no longer an ordinary family dog, but a talkative, wise, and perceptive companion. His patience and devotion provide hope and reassurance even in the darkest moments. More than a sidekick, he becomes her moral compass and trusted guide, often recognizing dangers she overlooks and encouraging her to think before acting. Their love for each other is one of the most emotional threads running through the book. He represents something familiar and grounding in a world where almost everything else is strange and frightening. His presence, his familiar smell, and the simple reassurance of having him beside her give Mariana a comfort that makes her determination to protect him even more moving.

Underneath the adventure, the book is a coming-of-age story. As Mariana’s journey unfolds, her understanding of what she is fighting for gradually changes. At first, her world is relatively small; she is desperate to get home largely because she wants to return to the people and things that make her feel safe. But as the journey continues, that concern grows outward. As she encounters new people and develops deeper relationships, including a new love, her circle of care expands. She begins to recognize that other people’s lives and happiness matter to her just as much as her own. And the more people she comes to love, the more courage she finds to continue this fierce and increasingly dangerous journey.

In this sense, Mariana reminded me of so many wonderful characters whose adventures are also journeys of inner transformation. There are echoes of The Arabian Nights, particularly in how the adventure begins; Spirited Away; and The Wizard of Oz—a connection Mariana herself repeatedly makes—as well as something of the larger, more perilous journey of The Lord of the Rings. Like those stories, the physical journey is closely connected to the transformation of the person making it. And yet, the story here has its own particular emotional evolution.

Both the initial descent into Apokalon and the later descent into the ominous grounds of the ruler Dyfel-Epf carry symbolic meaning. As the Oracle tells Mariana, you need to go down in order to go up, and that becomes almost a blueprint for her entire journey. Before the magic carpet and the mysterious book, Mariana is a rough-around-the-edges, anxious teenager who hides inside her books, her music, and her isolation. She is intelligent and witty, but also guarded and afraid. The descent into Apokalon forces her out of the comfort zone she has created. In this harsh and unfamiliar world, she cannot simply retreat into a book or wait for help to arrive. She has to act, make difficult choices, trust people, and keep going even when she is terrified.

A Stairway to the Stars is an adventure about finding courage through love and discovering an identity beyond others’ expectations. Mariana’s journey reminds readers that becoming yourself is not about looking different or proving your individuality to a crowd. It is about learning what matters, caring deeply, and finding the strength to keep moving forward—even when the path ahead is frightening and unknown.

I recommend this book to teenagers and adults alike, to anyone looking for a captivating adventure and, perhaps more importantly, a story that invites us to reflect on how much of who we are is truly our own. Maybe, along the way, you too will discover what Mariana does:

“I had been stripped of this superficial, meaningless sort of conformity masquerading as individuality. I had discovered the strength inside myself.”

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I'm Sorry You Feel That Way

I’m Sorry You Feel That Way: A Novel by Rebecca Wait

Reviewed by Ephantus Gold

“So . . . Where is she?” Alice says, “In the coffin at the front. They already brought her in.” Hanna gives a sharp laugh. “I meant our mother. Don’t get my hopes up.”  Purchase Here.

This early conversation in “I’m Sorry You Feel That Way” by Rebecca Wait is between Hanna and Alice, two sisters who haven’t seen each other for a long time. They meet at Aunt Katy’s funeral where Alice has been nervously welcoming guests while trying not to sweat through her black dress, a dress she compares to a dark sack befitting a penance performance in Biblical times. Hanna jokes about hoping their mother is in the coffin using the words above, words that sound a warning to the reader about the weight of an ongoing family circus whose axis revolves around their mother, Celia, and her unseen presence in every conversation even when she is not in the room.

Celia, Alice, Hanna and their brother Michael are people who have lived together, shared the same house and eaten at the same table yet, they have always felt like strangers around each other. Michael is the mother’s favorite- her golden goose- a child who never goes wrong. Even when as a child he got caught stealing, Celia defended him, “My son… is not a thief.” Alice is the dutiful one and the most like Celia in both temperament and looks. Celia however expects her to take care of her, not to pursue her own needs and desires. Hanna on the other hand is the least loved child and she knows it. Celia sees her as volatile and impossible to control. Even when Hanna is diagnosed with depression, Celia believes that a family curse has fallen on her. But the mother’s belief, it turns out, is just another story.

Wait’s genius shines especially in how she presents a relatable picture of how family members identify each other based on rumors, assumptions, and errors of the past. The family rumors in this story are never fact-checked, and we as readers falls for them too. Wait surprises us and makes us realize we are too quick to judge. She has structured the story like a tragedy wearing a comedy mask, a comedy that highlights the pain instead of making you forget it. You could cry or become deeply saddened by the relatable family dynamics, but instead, Wait gives you moments to laugh, to shake your head and roll your eyes just before she draws the tears again when you have let down your guard.

If you have ever been sidelined or side-eyed in a family setup, this book will feel like a support group in novel form. And if you have ever felt like the difficult one, the story will be a major confidence booster, revealing to you that most times, the ones who don’t fit in, are the ones who see things more clearly. In a world that often asks us to choose between drama and comedy, this book allows you to feel both at once, in the end, leaving you with the recognition that life is messy, and the only way through it is to laugh and cry, often at the same time.

 

Bad Americans Part II

Bad Americans Part II by Tejas Desai

Reviewed by Christine Kinori

What if, during a global lockdown, a reclusive billionaire invites 12 people to a luxurious Hamptons mansion for an elite dating app competition? Better yet, they cut off the Internet and force the group to share stories every night to survive the social isolation. Well, that is the premise of Bad Americans: Part II.  Purchase Here.

The book is basically the literary equivalent of a reality TV reunion show, if a mastermind of psychological satire and dark humor directed it. While Book I was a critically acclaimed slow burn, Book II amps up the psychological tension until everything comes to a head in the climactic finale.

The book plays out like a modern, hyper-realistic Decameron. During the day, it is all about flirting, gossiping, and dining while actively plotting your arch-nemesis’ takedown. However, the real tea is served at night when the storytelling begins. Each tale acts as a catalyst, sparking fiery arguments, massive debates, and shifts in people’s perspectives on many issues.

What I love about this sequel is that Desai remains unapologetic and true to himself as a writer. His experimentation with style is clear in this book. He doesn’t stick to one prose style. In one chapter, he uses neurotic noir to highlight the frantic, hilarious romantic comedy that some of the characters are experiencing.

In another chapter, he uses Sylvania’s unfiltered nature to deliver a brilliantly sharp, satirical look at identity and transformation that leaves you laughing while also making you truly contemplate these issues.

The highlight has to be the “Dope Double Ditty” chapter featuring a rap challenge battle. It is the absolute crown jewel of stylistic fun, as Angela and Darnell use rhythm to tackle heavy topics like community friction and structural racism without ever losing their entertainment value.

It is impossible to discuss this book without mentioning the realistic dialogue. Desai outdoes himself in how well he makes all these 12 characters seem as authentic as possible. He perfectly channels real-world observations of urban tension, micro aggressions, cultural pride, and linguistic rhythms straight into the characters.

Thanks to this unique style, the conversation and intense debate between the characters feel like real, messy human discourse. For a second, it takes us back to those family dinners that feel like a minefield, as everyone has different perspectives on life and experiences.

In this sequel, Desai completes the narrative arc, which mirrors the entire 2020 pandemic lockdown experience. Together, the two books form a singular “masterpiece” of social commentary. Unsurprisingly, this second book is unflinching and unforgiving in how it magnifies the underlying fractures of modern America.

In its essence, Part II is a riveting masterclass in the psychological toll of social isolation. The book unmasks how pandemic-driven social claustrophobia changes how we interact with each other.

As a reader, it was fascinating to watch the dynamics between the characters shift during dinners. The dinner debates play out like an ideological boxing ring where one statement can deliver a knockout punch.

The book perfectly captures the political and social polarization we are currently witnessing in our society. It truly proves that some of these deep ideological divides aren’t just internet talk.

In his own style, Desai uses these characters to expose America’s fractured identity. The book effortlessly exposes the emotional and psychological toll of the immigrant experience.

Simultaneously, it directly confronts structural inequalities, racial tensions, and class barriers many Americans currently face.

Bad Americans: Part II feels like a deliberate channel for literary voyeurism. Through its reality-TV surveillance structure and the confessional nature of the stories, readers feel like flies on the wall, prying into private human chaos.

The book exposes all the human vulnerabilities, flaws, and the disintegrating social and moral decorum that people normally try to hide from the public eye. Ultimately, Desai uses this voyeuristic format not just to entertain us, but to call us out.

Overall, we can’t help but praise Tejas Desai’s mastery. It takes mad skills to write a high-concept book that is deeply intellectual, fiercely critical of modern American subcultures, and yet consistently, wildly entertaining from start to finish.

Once again, Desai proves that he is a literary chameleon who uses dark humor and sharp satire to push the envelope and provoke readers to confront uncomfortable societal mirrors.

 

 

 

To All the Men I've Killed Before

To All the Men I’ve Killed Before by Katy Brent

Reviewed by Ephantus Gold

“We’re here for revenge. And the revenge I have in mind isn’t going to be sweet. It will be brutal.”

This phrase in “To All the Men I’ve Killed Before” by Katy Brent, introduces the reader to a story heavily driven by the desire for retribution, by characters who do not forgive easily – in fact, who do not forgive at all. The phrase further primes the reader for a journey that will keep them on the edge, turning pages, while remaining conflicted about the character’s central morals.  Purchase Here.

Kitty Collins, a thirty-year-old serial killer who kills only the “worst men who absolutely deserve it,” and her twenty-year-old half-sister Antoinette, arrive in Los Angeles to find and kill Aidan Ward, a British therapist who beat Kitty’s friend Tor almost to death, before fleeing to LA. Tor barely survived and was left with a swollen face, a closed eye underneath a couple of bruises, and a lingering trauma that makes her unable to sleep. But as Kitty and Antoinette settle in and search online for Aidan, Antoinette comes across information regarding a serial killer right at the heart of Los Angeles who is brutally murdering women who are found sexualizing themselves, women who, according to Kitty, are only exercising agency over their own bodies. Antoinette wants Kitty to hunt down the Los Angeles serial killer as well, especially because the police have not so far acknowledged his presence, even as the number of those slain continues to rise.

The story also captures the interruption of the sisters’ evening meal at a restaurant in West Hollywood by an A-lister movie star who wants them to join him for a “little party” in his room that night. Kitty recognizes him, remembering that several women have previously sued him for sexual misconduct, although the cases were dropped for lack of evidence. After dismissing him, Antoinette hisses across the table that they should kill him, too. But Kitty doesn’t realize the weight of Antoinette’s words until the following day, when she finds her resting her feet on the dismembered naked torso of a man right there at the center of their room.

This story involves two protagonists whose discovery that they share a parent felt, to me as the reader, like a nuclear bomb of a plot point. This was made worse, especially by my discovery that one of them had committed an unforgivable act against the other’s family, raising the question in me of whether she was justified or merely monstrous.  Kitty – the main protagonist’s repetition that she had killed a lot of people, most especially primed me for a journey that initially felt wrong, but gradually emerged as more complicated than I thought, a journey that made me question what I thought about right and wrong. But what made the story deeply engaging was the half-sister’s involvement as Kitty’s “an assassin-admin assistant.” Her entrance pointed to a coordinated, systematic operation that was ideologically driven by individuals who saw themselves as avengers for women wronged by men.

Brent used humor that made the dark violence not just palatable, but engaging and almost enjoyable. For instance, she told of a jaw that hung out like a scream mask, a massacred movie star who looked like a sad, aging pirate – specifically like Captain Hook but in need of a midlife health check, and a lip-less, dead individual who the main protagonist thought was looking at her. This humor allowed me to break the tension, made the protagonists more relatable, and, at times, made me question my moral responses. “To All the Men I’ve Killed Before” by Katy Brent is a book I would recommend to readers who enjoy dark, morally complex thrillers served with a side of sarcasm and humor, as well as to readers who enjoy books about complex family dynamics. Kitty and Antoinette are exactly the kind of characters these readers will enjoy, even though they know they probably shouldn’t.

 

 

Looked Down Upon

Looked Down Upon: The Exiled Kin by Jordan Lopez

Reviewed by Lily Andrews

“Looked Down Upon: The Exiled Kin” by Jordan Lopez follows sixteen-year-old Lucas “Luke” Ramirez, who lives in an old, small cottage at the heart of Blackroot town, Tennessee, together with his thirty-seven-year-old mother, who is a nurse, and his seventy-two-year-old grandmother. He has autism, a condition that makes it extremely difficult for him to make friends or cope with change. His grandmother, on the other hand, is fighting liver cancer as well as COPD, an illness that affects her lungs, requiring her to rely on an oxygen tank for breathing. Luke grows up knowing that his father, a successful mechanic, died in a car accident when Luke was three. He was told his father wasn’t big on taking pictures, which is why there are no photos of him in their house.  Purchase Here.

Luke starts his sophomore year at Princeton County High School and almost immediately notices Natalie Brown, a new student. He keeps to himself, but with Brown, he feels different. They meet over lunch. But some bullies, led by Rob, interrupt their warm conversation, creating a scene by mocking Luke’s condition and leaving him deeply shattered. He imagines having beautiful times with Brown. But we know that underneath all that lies a chilling, recurrent nightmare that involves a masked haunter who lunges at him in his sleep, sometimes mocking his worth and reminding him that he doesn’t deserve to be loved.

Luke’s story explores, among other themes, identity and self-acceptance. This theme ideally forms the backbone of the story. Self-acceptance, especially, emerges as an often painful struggle, worsened by constant reminders that you are different; this often leads the victim to hide their authentic self, even as they believe they are broken or that a large part of them is out of sync with the world.

“Looked Down Upon:  The Exiled Kin” is a story where the hero spirals, cries, withdraws, and tries to fight back, showing us how deeply he is hurting. His struggles pull us right into his world, a world where systems meant to protect him often fail, and where survival seems like a daily battle for someone like him.  By writing Luke’s story, two-time published author and autistic self-advocate who was often misunderstood in his tender years by many of his peers and teachers, Jordan Lopez manages to show us that autism doesn’t place any limit on an individual’s purpose. His writing style keeps emotions close to the surface, so you don’t struggle to feel the story as it happens. The mystery of the masked haunter is one of his most compelling creations and a major source of psychological unease that keeps you guessing and turning pages as you wonder what that creepy figure is all about.

“Looked Down Upon: The Exiled Kin” is without a doubt a story that anyone who has ever felt like an outsider will resonate with. It is a book that offers insight into what it is like to raise or support an autistic child. It makes you understand autism easily, and on the other side, the impact of bullying and how it can shape a child’s self-worth. This makes it a great read for parents, teachers, and caregivers. Readers who love stories about courage and justice shouldn’t miss it either.

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