When we were Real by Daryl Gregory (2026)

This Nebula Award nominee is another disappointment for me. I have always enjoyed stories about layers of simulation, where our universe runs inside another simulated universe, which itself may be running inside yet another. That idea goes back at least to fiction and non-fiction by Stanisław Lem, especially Non Serviam (1961), and for me the best treatment remains David Brin's Stones of Significance (2000). Daryl Gregory’s version feels as though he never read those stories or explored the idea very far. The science and software are so terrible that reading parts of the book hurt. The arbitrary supernatural events feel like obvious plot devices or symbols rather than consequences of the simulation premise.

That failure frustrated me because I have a soft spot for stories built on the pilgrimage structure of The Canterbury Tales. I loved Hyperion for exactly that reason. Gregory uses the same device well here. A bus full of colorful characters who don't know each other is stuck together and forced to interact. That setup creates friction, revelation, and momentum. Gregory writes rich characters with big-hearted character arcs. The twisting story holds the reader's interest. And the mysterious teleporting traveler adds genuine intrigue.

The whole book would have worked far better as high fantasy with an arbitrary magic system. At least then I would have known to avoid expecting coherent science fiction.

Entertaining in places, often warm and engaging, but conceptually hollow. 2/5 stars.

The Faith of the Beasts (Captives, Book 2), by Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck, writing as James S. A. Corey (2026)

This second volume in the Captives series does not disappoint! Abraham and Franck have built another immersive fantastic universe that rivals the scale and atmosphere of The Expanse (failed board game, book series, tv series, . . .). The setting blends survival, mystery, and cosmic awe with strange alien life, inscrutable overlords, and background technologies that remain just opaque enough to sustain awe-and-wonder.

The story expands the series’ central tensions without losing focus. The characters remain heroic without becoming simplistic. Their choices carry weight, and the plot develops through strong arcs that deepen both conflict and mystery. The pacing stays sharp, and each revelation broadens the scope without undermining coherence.

What works best is the balance between the immediate struggle for survival and the larger unanswered questions lurking behind the setting. That balance gives the book both momentum and scale.

This book is an engrossing and satisfying continuation of an excellent series. 5/5 stars.

Slow G-ds by Claire North (2025)

As a Locus Award nominee, this novel sounded intriguing, and its premise delivers imagination. North builds an unusual universe shaped by a distinctive fantasy-like system of power rather than scientific speculation. The setting is inventive. The characters are well sketched. The conflicts hold interest. The plot moves through enough twists to keep the pages turning.

The book falters in execution. The speculative framework has little scientific coherence, which weakens the setting for readers who expect rigor from science fiction. The alien races feel arbitrary rather than convincing. The ethical questions raised by the two god-like civilizations remain shallow and underdeveloped despite their central role in the story. Repeated digressions into gender discourse also feel intrusive and distracting rather than organic to the narrative.

The imagination is real, and the storytelling has momentum, but the weak conceptual foundation undermines the experience. 2/5 stars.

The Marginal Revolution by Tyler Cowen (2026)

I followed a link into this book and kept reading for reasons I still do not fully understand. The subject never matched my interests, yet the argument pulled me through. Cowen traces the history of marginalism, the economic idea that value emerges at the margin rather than from some fixed intrinsic worth. He explores how that framework shaped pricing theory, resource allocation, and modern economic reasoning. He also examines the recursive question of applying marginal analysis to the use of marginal analysis itself, which gives the book its most interesting philosophical dimension.

The book is dry. The prose is dense. Much of the historical detail feels academic rather than engaging. My interest flagged often. The subject matter rarely rose above abstraction.

The most interesting sections explain how AI-driven economic modeling has revived forms of marginal pricing that had fallen from fashion. That argument gives the book some contemporary relevance.

I am not especially interested in economics, and the book did little to change that. Still, the intellectual structure is sound enough that I kept turning pages. 2/5 stars.

Circle of Days by Ken Follett (2025)

When my family was visiting Vancouver in 2024, we saw a new-at-that-time traveling Stonehenge exhibit that had great displays of the latest archeological information about its construction and the life & times of the people who lived in Bath at that time. Follett builds a setting around early communities near Stonehenge, tracing labor, belief, and conflict as the monument takes shape. The story follows a small group of protagonists whose lives intersect with power, survival, and ritual in a harsh landscape.

The book shows familiar Follett patterns. The moral lines between good and bad characters are stark, with motives that can feel simplistic. Several antagonists act from flat impulses rather than complex drives. The portrayal of women lacks the depth given to many male characters.

Even with those limits, the narrative holds attention. The setting feels grounded in current archaeological ideas. The protagonists earn investment, and the plot sustains momentum. An engaging historical novel with uneven characterization. 4/5 stars.

Classic Science Fiction short stories (2026)

This collection gathers mid-20th-century science fiction, largely from the 1950s, with a focus on ideas over character depth. The stories explore familiar themes from that era: Cold War anxiety, hidden infiltration, first contact, and the social impact of emerging technologies. The tone reflects the period’s optimism about science mixed with unease about its consequences.

I had read Let's Get Together in 1968. The reread was not worthwhile. The rest of the collection was new to me and generally solid. However, stronger stories from the same period exist, and this selection does not represent the best work of 1957. 4/5 Stars.

Empowered by Marty Cagan (2020)

I read this after Transformed when I realized I had skipped the second book in the series. It holds up. Cagan focuses on the behaviors, priorities, and methods of strong product teams. He argues that ordinary people can perform at a high level within the right system. Success does not require the “smartest person in the room.” It requires clear roles, strong coaching, and disciplined execution.

Cagan contrasts empowered product teams with feature teams. He defines product, design, and engineering responsibilities. He emphasizes coaching, strategy, outcome-based measures, and trust across functions. As in his other books, he details the friction, pain, and failure modes that appear during any transition. That focus on difficulty gives the guidance weight.

The extended case study of a job placement company feels overlong and, at times, irrelevant to the core argument. It slows the pace without adding much insight.

The rest of the book is sharp, practical, and consistent with his broader framework. 5/5 stars.

Murder on the Leviathan, by Boris Akunin (1998)

I am enjoying the Erast Fandorin series, and this third entry is wonderful. The novel places a classic closed-circle mystery aboard a luxury ocean liner traveling from Europe to Asia. A small group of passengers becomes the focus after a violent crime, and the confined setting drives suspicion, interrogation, and deduction in the style of a Golden Age puzzle.

The characters are deliberately melodramatic, almost satirical in tone, which fits the homage to Agatha Christie. The familiar trope in which the least likely figure (a baby) becomes central to the crime appears here as well, handled with humor. The clash of cultures among nineteenth-century Europeans is sharp, including the period’s prejudices and stereotypes. Akunin’s expertise in Japanese history adds texture through a well-drawn Japanese character, which broadens the cultural context of the story.

This book is a  fun and entertaining mystery with strong character work and a playful structure. 5/5 stars.

Empire of Silence (Sun Eater, Book 1), by Christopher Ruocchio (2018)

I really like this book. The world-building is rich and coherent. The galactic empire, ancient technology, and enigmatic aliens deliver classic space-opera scale. The close combat sword fighting adds energy. The politics hold interest. The plot moves with purpose.

The story follows Hadrian Marlowe, a noble-born son in a far-future human empire that spans many star systems. The narrative frames his life as a retrospective account of how he becomes a figure of legend. Early events push him out of privilege and into exile, forcing him to navigate new cultures, harsh environments, and shifting power structures. The setting blends feudal hierarchy, interstellar travel, and remnants of lost technologies, while an alien threat lingers at the edges of human expansion.

The weaknesses sit in the ideological framing. The official religion, with its bureaucracy, leaders, and zealots, reads as one-sided, with no spirituality, piety or internal complexity. The protagonists have no empathy for competing worldviews outside their Humanist, Enlightenment core value. That narrow lens limits the moral tension the setting could support.

Even with these limitations, the story works. The setting carries weight. The narrative sustains momentum. I am glad I found the series. 5/5 stars.

Transformed by Marty Cagain (2024)

I always enjoy Marty Cagan’s books. He does not just describe features, benefits, and processes. He explains the reasoning and data behind them. More important, he dwells on the friction, sabotage, and failure modes teams face when they try to adopt his methods. That pattern continues here. The book is clear about the pain required to move from output-driven delivery to true product organizations.

Cagan lays out the core ideas in practical terms. He contrasts empowered product teams with feature factories. He defines the roles of product, design, and engineering. He explains continuous discovery, product operations, and leadership responsibility for creating the right environment. The goal is an organization that can learn, adapt, and ship valuable products at speed.

He is also blunt about talent. Success depends not only on skills and experience but also on innate talent, intelligence, capability, and capacity. He treats those factors as prerequisites, not optional enhancements. That stance is rare in management books and central to his argument.

The transformation focus is where the book stands out. He catalogs blockers in detail: legacy processes, weak leadership, misaligned incentives, and cultural resistance. He describes how teams will struggle, stall, and sometimes fail. That warning is credible because it matches the reality most practitioners face. His vision remains aspirational, but he does not hide the cost of reaching it.

The timing matters. Large enterprises are under pressure to adopt generative AI as a baseline capability. Cagan’s framework helps organizations build the product discipline required to absorb that shift, even though the book is not about AI mechanics.

I value Cagan's clarity, his honesty about difficulty, and the insistence on high standards.

5/5 stars.