A Book A Week

To say Kat and Cleo's relationship is complicated would be an understatement. After all, what mother-daughter relationship isn't? Kat has always strived to provide Cleo the best life possible, going above and beyond to fulfill her dreams. However, Cleo sees her mother's efforts as overbearing and suffocating. As a college student, Cleo has often found herself in trouble, most recently with a trust fund brat turned drug dealer who involved her in his illicit activities and became physically abusive. Their relationship ended in an explosive confrontation, and Cleo suspects that Kat might have had something to do with it. Now, though, Kat is determined to rebuild their broken relationship.

When Cleo arrives late for dinner at her parents' home, she is met with a disturbing scene. The meal Kat was preparing is left forgotten in the oven, overcooking—something her perfectionist mother would never allow. Cleo finds no trace of her mother while searching her childhood home. The closet upstairs holds only her mother's clothes, with no sign of her father's belongings. Cleo's unease turns to alarm when she discovers Kat's bloody shoe under the sofa. Something terrible has happened. Kat, the embodiment of perfection—a happily married corporate lawyer with an idyllic life—has disappeared, and Cleo realizes that things are far from what they seem.

"A problem that starts with people usually has to end that way, too. And your mom is good with people. Very good. Just like you."

In Like Mother, Like Daughter, Kimberly McCreight crafts a mystery novel that delves into the intricacies of a parent-child relationship. Parents often aim to provide the best for their children but sometimes overlook that their child has their own unique desires and dreams. There's a fine line between wanting the best for a child and imposing one's own idea of what's best. McCreight explores this gray area, balancing the desire for a better future with the need to atone for a parent's past mistakes, adding a depth that elevates the story beyond a typical summer thriller.

As the novel progresses, McCreight expertly reveals small pieces of information, gradually uncovering the truth behind Kat's disappearance. I was impressed with how she unraveled the story, alternating between Cleo and Kat's perspectives. Kat's sections unfold in the days leading up to her disappearance, while Cleo's occur in the aftermath. These dual timelines converge in a conclusion that, while not the most shocking, brings both the mystery and the mother-daughter relationship to a satisfying resolution.  Like Mother, Like Daughter is a gripping summer read that captivates with its intriguing mystery while offering a poignant exploration of a mother-daughter bond.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2024, 58)

Good stories linger in our minds, prompting us to reflect on their themes, characters, and the emotions they evoke. Some of the most memorable stories for me come from the horror genre. Great horror does more than just scare; it challenges us to consider concepts like good and evil and the complexities of humanity. The best stories are driven by compelling characters, regardless of genre, and resonate with us long after we've finished reading. Paul Tremblay is a master at blending terrifying scenarios with intricate characters. He has captivated readers with genre-defining works such as A Head Full of Ghosts and The Cabin at the End of the World. Now, he returns with his latest tale, Horror Movie, a chilling story of nostalgia, regret, and second chances.

Sometimes, you can just sense when a project is destined to be magical. For the cast and crew of Horror Movie, that feeling is unmistakable. It's the summer of 1993, and they are pushing the boundaries of guerrilla filmmaking. Their art-house approach embraces the rawness of each scene. Lacking a substantial budget, they depend on their setting—an abandoned school—their script—an evolving document only fully known to the director and screenwriter—and a cast deeply immersed in their roles. The standout of this ensemble is the film's monster, "The Thin Kid," portrayed by a wiry misfit with no previous acting experience. To keep him fully engaged in his character, the filmmakers instruct him to always wear his mask on set and avoid speaking to the other cast and crew. This method results in true cinematic magic. Oddly, though, the completed movie is never released. Only three scenes ever make it to the public. Over the years, curiosity about the final film and the mysterious events on set turn Horror Movie into a legend. Devoted fans yearn to see the entire film and experience its enigmatic terror.

Decades later, the actor who played "The Thin Kid" is the only surviving member of the original cast. Curiosity about the unreleased project has reached a fever pitch, and a major movie studio is eager to capitalize on the buzz. They plan to remake Horror Movie, using the original script and hiring the actor to produce and reprise his legendary role. He is excited to finally complete the project, and the substantial paycheck is an excellent incentive to do it. As production gears up, though, the past comes crashing back in. He'll have to confront the secrets buried within the original screenplay, face the reality of the unconventional events of the filming, and avoid crossing the same dangerous lines that led to an unspeakable tragedy. 

Horror Movie sees Paul Tremblay craft a terse, visceral novel that chilled me to my core. The book unfolds through shifting perspectives: the unnamed actor's audiobook recollections, past and present, and excerpts from the original screenplay. It took me a moment to fully grasp the structure, but I quickly fell into the story's rhythm and was utterly captivated. Tremblay's terror works on multiple levels. First, there's the mystery of what happened on the film set. It's shrouded in secrecy and gradually revealed through flashbacks. Concurrently, the novel presents an actual horror movie as a screenplay, immersing us in a retro horror vibe that reflects our nostalgia and expectations. Further still, the novel critiques reboot and sequel culture, highlighting Hollywood's tendency to recycle ideas and extend franchises far beyond their natural shelf life. Tremblay brings the ramifications of this creative stagnation to a fittingly horrific conclusion.

Finally, and perhaps most effectively, Horror Movie works on an unconscious level. Three-quarters of the way through, I began to feel a growing sense of unease that had been building since I started reading. I began to piece together the clues, realizing how a perfectly laid path had been set out, leading me, the unsuspecting reader, to a shocking yet inevitable ending. It was a gut punch of a revelation that only the best horror can deliver. Ultimately, Horror Movie is a masterful showcase of the power of this genre and an homage to all the great horror stories that have come before it. The novel further cements Tremblay's position as a storyteller at the peak of his craft.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2024, 57)

Electing a new leader inevitably involves drama. You need only look at the last two weeks of the American Presidential race as evidence. Conniving, opportunism, and tumult are integral to the political process. Even campaigns championing hope and change eventually resort to some negativity. When it comes to electing a new Pope, the leader of the Catholic Church, one might expect a more solemn procedure. The ancient ritual of The Conclave, where the church's cardinals gather under holy seal to select their next leader, is among the most sacred traditions in the church. Nonetheless, it remains a political operation. In his novel Conclave, author Robert Harris delves into the inherent drama of this process, exploring the tension between men's ambition and their sacred duty.

The Pope is dead! The news of the Holy Father's passing spreads rapidly through Vatican City, bringing shock and sorrow to all who hear it. As Dean of the College of Cardinals, Cardinal Lomelli has worked closely with the Supreme Pontiff. Despite the somber news, Lomelli has little time to grieve. He must take on the day-to-day tasks of the Church as the people mourn and attend the Holy Father's funeral. Most crucially, Lomelli must initiate the Conclave, gathering all one hundred and eighteen cardinals to the city to cast their votes for a new Pope.

Behind the closed doors of the Sistine Chapel, the most secretive election in the world commences. These are holy men, bound by their commitment to serving the Lord. Yet, they are still human, burdened by the same failings they preach against. Whether they admit it openly or not, ambition has played a part in their journey. As the first ballots are cast and the race for the papacy heats up, secrets and past indiscretions begin to surface. The future of the faith rests in their hands, and within mere hours, one of them will become the most powerful man in the Catholic Church.

You might not expect a story about electing a new Pope to be completely absorbing, but in the deft hands of Robert Harris, it is precisely that. Harris crafts fully realized characters, each cardinal driven by distinct motivations. Like any political campaign, factions emerge, and alliances form, with differing opinions about the future of the Church fueling the conflict. The interplay between personal ambition and religious duty adds layers of complexity to these men. Can one follow the tenets of their faith while seeking to fulfill personal desires? This question is at the heart of Conclave. Just when you think you know where the story is headed, Harris takes it in a new direction. The ending, in particular, calls into question everything you thought you knew about these men, suggesting that only God can know His true intentions and any man who attempts to speak on His behalf does so in vain. This novel's political and spiritual intrigue thrills not through action but through intellectual contemplation, making for a surprisingly compelling and satisfying read.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2024, 56)

I'm very late to the party with this one. A.J. Finn's debut novel, The Woman in the Window, took the book world by storm when it was released in 2018. Naturally, it became one of those "must-read" books I procrastinated on until all the hype died down. The author later faced controversy for exaggerating and misstating details of his personal past and credentials. Now that the dust has settled and Finn has released a new novel this year, albeit without the same fanfare as his debut, I decided it was time to finally dive into The Woman in the Window and see what all the fuss was about.

As an agoraphobic, Anna Fox has lived a life of isolation, unable to venture outside her New York City home. She spends her days drinking wine—sometimes a lot of wine—watching classic movies, and reminiscing about the days before her anxiety confined her to her house. And, of course, Anna watches. She watches out the window with intensity, observing the comings and goings of her neighborhood. Some might call it spying, but Anna wouldn't go that far. She's just being observant, as she believes all neighbors should look out for each other. As the days blur together, Anna creates little stories about the people in her neighborhood, drawing inspiration from the classic noir films she consumes daily.

When a new family, the Russells, moves into the house across the street, Anna watches them keenly. She sees the mother, father, and son slowly unpack their belongings and make the home their own. Who are these people? What is their life like? Something terrible happens as she starts to weave fiction about their lives. Anna witnesses something horrific—or does she? The combination of Merlot and prescription pills for her ever-increasing anxiety makes her question everything. What is real, and what is imagined? The truth may be more dangerous than any fiction she could conjure.

The Woman in the Window unfolds just as I expected. A.J. Finn's protagonist perfectly embodies the unreliable narrator, blurring the line between fiction and reality and offering thriller enthusiasts plenty of enigmas to unravel. It reminded me of other thrillers with "Girl/Woman" in the title, such as The Girl on the Train or The Woman in Cabin 10. In those novels, the narrators grapple with personal demons while navigating potentially perilous situations, much like in this book. It is a trope that clearly works for many thriller authors and works just fine here, too. 

While I was intrigued by what Anna may or may not have witnessed, I couldn't help but feel that much of her misfortune was self-inflicted. This is my ongoing issue with unreliable narrator thrillers, and The Woman in the Window falls into many of the same traps. The book is undeniably a page-turner, serving as both a thrilling mystery and an homage to the classic noir films that clearly inspired it. Still, as I reflect on it, I can't say it left a lasting impact on me. It's a twisty, compulsively readable story, but it won't rank among the best thrillers I've ever read.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2024, 55)

It seems fitting that my latest read features the threat of a hurricane barreling toward the setting of this thriller. This week, I’ve been working on returning to normal after Hurricane Beryl disrupted everything. I much prefer reading about hurricanes than living through them! Jaime Day’s latest thriller, One Big Happy Family, provided a welcome escape from the stress of returning to work while dealing with the hurricane’s aftermath. This was my first book by the author, so I had no preconceived notions going in, and I think that’s the best way to approach this one.

Charley is doing her best to keep everything together. At nineteen, it feels like the weight of the world is on her shoulders. With her mother out of the picture due to a life of addictions and a series of bad romantic partners, Charley is left to care for her maternal grandmother, who is slowly succumbing to dementia. Struggling to afford her grandmother's space at an elder care facility and facing a rent increase, Charley is under immense pressure. To make ends meet, she works as a maid at The Precipice, an eccentric family-owned hotel on the rocky coast of Maine. The family patriarch has just died, leaving the future of the hotel uncertain.

With a hurricane threatening to land near the property's coast, most of the rooms are vacant. Charley decides to allow Bree, a stranger in need, to stay at the hotel for free as she tries to evade her abusive boyfriend. She knows this act could get her fired, but she believes in helping someone in need, hoping for some help in return.

The entire Bishop family is descending upon the hotel for the reading of their father's last will and testament. The Bishop sisters, Iris, Vicki, and Faith, are each driven by their own selfish motivations, and each sister wants their fair share of the family fortune. As the storm begins to overtake The Precipice, tensions build to a breaking point. The will is read, and someone ends up dead. Is it the result of a horrific accident or something more sinister? Cut off from the rest of the world amidst the raging winds of the storm, it will be up to the staff and family to uncover secrets and make it out of the hotel alive. 

One Big Happy Family sees Jaimy Day craft a soap opera of family drama packed with twists and turns. The story employs a kitchen-sink approach, throwing in every possible thriller trope, including family secrets, murder, money, and even a touch of the occult. Typically, this wouldn't be my cup of tea. Only some elements work in this story. Many plot points fail to reach a satisfying conclusion, the red herrings are often glaringly obvious, and none of the characters are particularly likable. Still, I'd be lying if I said I could pull myself away from all the over-the-top drama. The book reads like one of those trashy reality shows that you're embarrassed to admit you watch. One Big Happy Family isn't the best thriller I've ever read, but it doesn't try to be. It's silly, twisty, fun, and perfect for some light summer reading.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2024, 54)

Many of my most anticipated reads this summer are set in the woods. Something about the rugged wilderness instantly adds mystery and suspense to a story, so it's no surprise that so many authors are choosing to have their stories unfold in this setting. Add Wilderness Reform, the second novel by Matt and Harrison Querey, to the list. Fans of their smash horror debut, Old Country, have been eagerly awaiting this release. Fortunately, their publisher generously provided me with a copy, and I quickly dived in.

Life hasn't been easy for thirteen-year-old Ben. Under the guardianship of an abusive aunt, he has turned to petty crime to fill his days. When he's caught trying to escape the scene of his latest misdeed, Ben is arrested and taken to court. Rather than sentencing him to a juvenile detention center, the judge sends him to a wilderness camp, promising that the experience will teach him the discipline and survival skills he needs to turn his life around. Upon arriving at the remote Montana camp, Ben is greeted by overly friendly counselors who seem too good to be true. From the start, Ben senses something is off. There's an undercurrent of menace throughout the camp, and as he delves deeper into its history, he uncovers a terror beyond his wildest imaginings.

After thoroughly enjoying Old Country, I approached Wilderness Reform with high expectations. The remote campground setting and the protagonist's redemption arc promised a compelling horror read. Brothers and writing partners Matt and Harrison Query start this new novel with a terrifying bang, one that left me breathless and eager for more. Unfortunately, that gripping opening scene turned out to be the best part of the book. The page-turning prologue gives way to a slow burn that struggles to gain momentum. While I appreciate the importance of building tension and developing characters, this book fails to do so effectively. The characters lack depth beyond their superficial roles, and the spooky undertones never develop into anything frightening or thought-provoking. Instead, Wilderness Reform became a tedious read that left me underwhelmed. It's a surprising miss from a duo who previously delivered a highly entertaining novel.

For more information, visit Amazon and Goodreads. 

(2024, 53)

The past couple of weeks have been a whirlwind. We finally began repairing and renovating our home, addressing some storm damage from April and updating a few other things. Just as all this work wrapped up, Hurricane Beryl hit, leaving us to deal with days without power, downed limbs, and some new damage. Thankfully, we are safe, and the damage is minimal this time. Although I've been less active on the blog amidst all this chaos, my reading hasn't slowed down. With that in mind, I'm excited to finally return with a review for one of my most anticipated reads of the year.

Liz Moore's 2020 novel, Long Bright River, was a standout for me. The dark and visceral mystery captivated me with its deeply drawn characters, grounded realism, and compelling plot. It wasn’t an easy or light read, but it stayed with me long after I finished it. After four long years of eagerly waiting for something new from Moore, I was thrilled to receive a copy of her latest novel, The God of the Woods, from her publisher. Like her previous work, this novel centers on a missing person's case, but this time, it unfolds across multiple characters and timelines. Moore's unique, gripping, and thought-provoking writing style shines in this novel, exploring different themes and subjects while seamlessly weaving together another compelling read.

The sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon at an Adirondack summer camp when a counselor notices an empty bunk. It's 1975, and Barbara Van Laar, the camper who should be there, is missing. The counselor, Louise, doesn't initially panic. After all, each cabin is dutifully monitored by one of Camp Emerson's counselors. Surely, they'll know where Barbara is. When Louise discovers the hungover counselor, who very obviously didn't spend the night ensuring the safety of her charges, the reality of the situation begins to set in. Barbara isn't just any camper; she's a member of the Van Laar family, one of the region's wealthiest and most prominent families. The Van Laars own the camp and employ many of the local residents who run it. This is a disaster. 

The urgency to find Barbara is heightened by several other alarming factors. News of an escaped killer has broken, and he is suspected to be hiding in the very woods surrounding the camp. Even more concerning, this isn't the first time a Van Laar has vanished in these woods. Decades ago, Barbara's older brother, Bear, disappeared among these trees, sending his parents, Peter and Alice Van Laar, into a tailspin. With Barbara now missing, locals fear history may be repeating itself. Could these two cases be related? Can Barbara be found alive?

In The God of the Woods, Liz Moore delves into the complexities of wealth, expectation, and legacy through a multifaceted missing person's case that will keep readers guessing until the very end. The story's intricate structure takes time to settle into as Moore alternates between various characters' perspectives across two different timelines. The past, set in the 1950s, revolves around Bear's disappearance, while the present, set in the 1970s, centers on Barbara's. This nonlinear narrative gradually reveals each character's motivations, withholding their true intentions until the story's climax. While this approach can initially feel tedious, I was utterly absorbed in the mystery by the halfway point, captivated by Moore's narrative craftsmanship.

The richly portrayed setting further enhances the story's allure. The woods become almost a spiritual realm, providing the perfect backdrop for Moore's intricate narrative. The grandeur and mystery of the forest create a constant, grounding presence amidst the shifting perspectives. This setting, combined with the complex characters and central mystery, makes the story's narrative acrobatics more engaging. The conclusion is both tragically poetic and deeply satisfying, delivering final revelations that feel both shocking and inevitable. The God of the Woods is another standout work from Liz Moore. It offers an unconventional take on the mystery genre that encourages contemplation of its deeper meanings while enthralling readers with its compelling story.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2024, 52)