The Betrayed: Galaxy's Edge S03E02 by Jason Anspach & Nick Cole (2026)

The brutal close-quarters combat and relentless action live up to the high expectations established by the earlier books in this universe. Although this novel takes place much earlier in the overall timeline, it adds useful background for later events rather than advancing the primary story. In that sense, it feels more like a filler volume than an essential installment.

The story focuses on the Legion during one of its darkest periods, when Legionnaires turn on one another without mercy. The fratricidal warfare becomes a recurring theme throughout the novel and gives many of the battles a grim, tragic tone. The combat scenes are intense, well choreographed, and consistently engaging.

My principal criticism concerns the increasingly prominent fantasy elements. The Star Wars-like magic system never appealed to me, and I prefer the more grounded military science-fiction aspects of the setting. Even so, those supernatural elements are not surprising because they already play an important role later in the chronology.

Despite those reservations, I became caught up in the battles, the action, and the characters. The novel succeeds as an entertaining military adventure, even if it is not among the strongest entries in the series. 4/5 stars.

Demon in White by Christopher Ruocchio (2020)

The breathless, nonstop action continues. With each volume, the Sun Eater series expands its scope, and Demon in White raises the stakes dramatically. Hadrian Marlowe moves from the edge of imperial affairs to the very center of power, interacting directly with the Emperor, the imperial court, and the political forces that shape the fate of the galaxy.

The novel delivers everything I enjoy about grand space opera: fleet engagements, massive ground battles, ancient mysteries, alien civilizations, and political intrigue on an immense scale. The story continues to surprise me, and the character arcs remain among the series' greatest strengths. Hadrian and the supporting cast continue to grow in believable and interesting ways.

My principal criticism remains unchanged. Ruocchio continues to introduce new superpowers, miraculous abilities, and increasingly strange physics. Those additions make the underlying magic system feel inconsistent and reduce the sense that the universe operates according to coherent rules. I found those developments distracting because they weaken the otherwise excellent world-building.

Fortunately, the story is compelling enough that I was willing to suspend my disbelief. The characters, political drama, and relentless pace more than compensate for the increasingly elastic rules of the setting. I finished the book eager to continue the series. 5/5 stars.

The Sunborn by Gregory Benford (2005)

I expected The Sunborn to continue the story of The Martian Race and to explore the fascinating Martian microbial ecosystem in greater depth. Instead, Benford merges that setting with one of his earlier ideas: intelligent plasma life inhabiting the Sun, a concept that traces back to his fiction from the 1980s. The result surprised me, but it works remarkably well as a standalone novel.

The story shifts much of its attention to the outer Solar System and humanity's expanding presence there while introducing enigmatic plasma beings with their own cosmology, religion, and immense lifespans. Those aliens are genuinely alien in many respects, and Benford preserves enough mystery to maintain a satisfying sense of awe and wonder.

My principal criticism concerns the plasma beings themselves. Although their biology is imaginative, they sometimes react in ways that feel too human. The anthropomorphism occasionally weakens the illusion that they are truly incomprehensible forms of life.

The human side of the story is excellent. The politics and relationships among the people living throughout the Solar System feel authentic, the characters are well written, and the plot is tightly constructed. The story moves from one surprising development to the next without losing momentum. Although the novel was not the sequel I expected, I enjoyed it enormously. 5/5 stars.

The Life of Chuck (2025)

I did not know what to expect when I picked up The Life of Chuck, and I came away a little disappointed. Stephen King's craftsmanship is unmistakable. Every page reflects the confidence and polish of a master storyteller. Unfortunately, the story itself never captured my interest.

The book unfolds as three interconnected vignettes presented in reverse chronological order. Beginning with the apparent end of the world and working backward through Chuck's life, the narrative gradually reveals how the three sections fit together. The structure is unconventional and intentionally disorienting, emphasizing memory, mortality, and the significance of an ordinary life.

I admire King's writing, but I never became invested in the characters or the events in this book. The reverse chronology and fragmented structure kept me at a distance from the story rather than drawing me into it. I appreciate what King was trying to accomplish, but the novel's emotional impact never reached me.

I admired the execution more than I enjoyed the experience. 2/5 stars.

Queen Amid Ashes by Christopher Ruocchio (2024)

I am reading the Sun Eater books in story order, and this novella reads much like an expanded writing exercise that Ruocchio used to discover Hadrian Marlowe's inner voice. The story explores the burden of Hadrian's growing political power and the ways authority begins to challenge his idealism. In that sense, the novella adds useful context to the larger series even though its stakes are relatively modest.

The plot follows Hadrian through a political crisis that tests both his principles and his leadership. The focus is less on galaxy-spanning events than on character, responsibility, and the compromises that accompany power. Readers invested in Hadrian's long character arc will find the additional perspective worthwhile.

The novella's weaknesses are also apparent. The antagonists are one-dimensional, and the plot is predictable. The villains feel like cardboard embodiments of evil rather than fully realized people with understandable motives. Compared with the major novels in the series, the conflict lacks complexity and emotional weight.

Even so, I enjoyed the glimpse into Hadrian's development. The novella succeeds as a character study, even if it falls short as a standalone story. It is interesting, but it is not among the strongest entries in the series. 3/5 stars.

Orphan X by Gregg Hurwitz (2016)

Several people recommended the Orphan X series to me as one of the best modern thriller series, so I bought the first book to see what the enthusiasm was about. They were right. This novel is a genuine page-turner.

The story follows Evan Smoak, a former government assassin who escaped a secret off-the-books program and now uses his extraordinary skills to help people with nowhere else to turn. The novel combines espionage, meticulous tradecraft, and relentless action with enough character development to make the stakes feel personal rather than merely spectacular.

I was quickly drawn into the world, the characters, and the story. Hurwitz's writing has excellent texture and momentum, and the settings feel authentic and lived-in. The novel reminded me of Ghostman by Roger Hobbs, but with even better continuity and narrative flow. I particularly enjoyed the attention to detail. The 2016-era surveillance technology, spy gear, martial arts, firearms, and operational planning all contribute to a convincing portrait of a highly trained professional.

The result is an engrossing thriller that rarely slows down and never loses sight of its protagonist. I will definitely continue the series, and I expect to read more of Hurwitz's work. 5/5 stars.

Suicidal Empathy by Gad Saad (2026)

I approached this book with relatively low expectations. Based on Saad's public persona, I expected a stream of rants, sarcasm, and emotional appeals. I was pleasantly surprised to find a more substantive book. Beneath the polemics lies a considerable amount of scholarship, well-reasoned argument, and accessible popular sociology.

Saad argues that societies can undermine themselves when empathy becomes detached from prudence, reciprocity, or long-term consequences. Drawing on evolutionary psychology, history, and contemporary cultural debates, he critiques ideas and policies that he believes place moral signaling ahead of practical outcomes. The central thesis is presented clearly and supported with far more evidence than I expected.

The book still contains plenty of the sarcasm and rhetorical flourishes that characterize Saad's writing. I had hoped he would provide more practical guidance. After diagnosing what he sees as serious cultural problems, he offers relatively little advice about how to persuade skeptics, overcome conspiracy thinking, or change public policy.

Even so, I enjoyed the book. It is concise, well researched, and thought-provoking. I found the strongest sections careful enough to merit serious consideration. 4/5 stars.

Oracle Bones by Peter Hessler (2007)

My daughter, a Chinese scholar, gave me this book for my birthday. I looked forward to learning more about the oracle bones, the inscribed turtle shells and ox scapulae from the late Shang dynasty, whose inscriptions have transformed our understanding of early Chinese history. I expected a history of the archaeology and scholarship surrounding those remarkable artifacts.

The book is something quite different. Hessler uses the oracle bones as a thread connecting a memoir of his years as a journalist in China with the country's rapid transformation after the Cultural Revolution. He weaves together his own experiences, the lives of Chinese friends and students, the stories of emigrants, and the history of the archaeologists who deciphered the oracle-bone inscriptions. The result is part travel narrative, part journalism, part history, and part memoir.

I found the modern history particularly interesting. Hessler's eyewitness accounts of a society still emerging from the devastation of the Cultural Revolution, with its 2 million deaths, persecution, destruction of cultural heritage, and profound social upheaval, are often insightful. The archaeological passages also provide fascinating glimpses into the Late Shang world.

Even so, the book never became the history that I had hoped to read. I cared much less about Hessler's personal adventures than about the archaeology and ancient history. Although several anecdotes are poignant and memorable, Hessler's writing style never quite clicked with my taste. I admired the book more than I enjoyed reading it. 2/5 stars.

Xeelee Redemption by Stephen Baxter (2019)

I am frequently overwhelmed by science-fiction authors who manage to pack the equivalent of one or two Ph.D. dissertations into every chapter. Death's End, the concluding volume of The Three-Body Problem trilogy, comes to mind. Even so, no author I have read rivals Stephen Baxter when it comes to world-building on the largest conceivable scales.

Xeelee: Redemption spans billions of years and unimaginable distances while exploring exotic cosmology, black holes, the limits of general relativity, and strange methods of sending information through time without violating causality. The novel is less interested in conventional adventure than in examining what the universe itself permits. Every few pages Baxter introduces another astonishing physical idea, and I never knew where the story was heading next.

The characters are engaging enough to anchor the narrative, but they are not the principal attraction. The plot occasionally feels contrived, as though it exists primarily to carry the reader from one breathtaking scientific concept to the next. Several narrow escapes and apparent resurrections also stretched my suspension of disbelief.

Those shortcomings hardly diminished my enjoyment. Baxter's universe remains one of the grandest achievements in modern science fiction. The sense of cosmic scale and intellectual awe is unlike anything else I have encountered. 4/5 stars.

We are as G-ds by Peter Diamandis and Steve Kotler (2026)

We Are as Gods, by Peter H. Diamandis and Steven Kotler (2026)

I do not remember reading any of Diamandis's earlier books, although I have read thoughtful criticisms of his worldview, particularly More Everything Forever by Adam Becker. I approached this book with some skepticism and came away pleasantly surprised. The book is short, dense, and an enthusiastic romp through the idea that humanity is entering a technological singularity driven by AI, biotechnology, robotics, energy, space exploration, and other accelerating technologies.

Much of the book resonates with my lifelong love of optimistic science fiction. Diamandis paints a future that resembles the post-scarcity civilizations of Star Trek or Culture series, except that he argues many of those ideas are becoming practical engineering problems rather than distant fantasies. I found that perspective both entertaining and thought-provoking.

I am not quite as optimistic as Diamandis. Conversations with my children also highlighted an important omission. The modern "abundance" movement often underestimates the contributions of governments, universities, and publicly funded scientific institutions that create the fundamental discoveries upon which private innovation depends. I also noticed a strong bias toward the "great man" theory of history. The book celebrates visionary entrepreneurs but pays much less attention to the institutional labor and collaborative research that make many breakthroughs possible. Diamandis acknowledges several risks associated with rapidly advancing technology, including unequal access and misuse, but other challenges receive much less attention than I would have preferred.

Even so, I enjoyed the book enormously. The optimism is infectious, and many of the futuristic ideas are genuinely tethered to technologies that already exist or are emerging today. For readers who enjoy thoughtful science fiction, the book often feels like hard science fiction that has escaped into the real world. 5/5 stars.

Head On by John Scalzi (2018)

This book  is a satisfying continuation of the Lock In series and the adventures of FBI agent Chris Shane. Having established the fascinating setting in the first novel, Scalzi lets the sequel focus on the characters, the mystery, and the political tensions that naturally arise from his near-future world.

The story centers on the investigation of a suspicious death connected to Hilketa, the violent robotic sport that has become a cultural phenomenon among Haden's syndrome patients. The murder mystery unfolds against a backdrop of corporate interests, political maneuvering, media attention, and the continuing social consequences of the pandemic that reshaped society.

I enjoyed both the mystery and the politics. I was especially delighted by Leslie Vann, whose irreverence and relentless antics provide much of the novel's humor while never undermining the seriousness of the investigation. The partnership between Vann and Chris Shane remains one of the series' greatest strengths.

The plot moves at a brisk pace, the characters continue to grow, and the action never overwhelms the detective story. I finished the book eager to continue the series. 5/5 stars.

The Martian Race by Gregory Benford (1999)

I first encountered Gregory Benford through his short stories in the science-fiction magazines of the 1960s and 1970s, and I enjoyed many of his novels throughout the 1980s. I am not sure why he fell off my reading list, but I have recently started catching up on the books I missed.

The novel follows an ambitious privately funded expedition to Mars in the near future, blending engineering, exploration, political maneuvering, and the search for indigenous Martian life. As usual, Benford grounds the story in solid science while leaving room for the sense of awe and wonder that has always distinguished his best work.

Benford's treatment of biology is particularly imaginative. I still remember how much I enjoyed Blood Music, and the same fascination with biological systems appears here. I was less convinced by the Martian anaerobes. Their extraordinary strength and speed felt more like superpowers than plausible evolutionary adaptations. Even so, the broader ecosystem is imaginative and internally consistent enough that I was willing to suspend my disbelief.

The spacecraft, engineering, and technology are equally satisfying, and the characters feel like real people rather than stock adventure figures. The combination of believable science, engaging characters, and an exciting story made this an excellent read. I am looking forward to the second book in the series. 5/5 stars.

War and Remembrance by Herman Wouk (1978)

War and Remembrance, by Herman Wouk (1978)

This is the most powerful and best book I have read so far this year. I have not been moved or cried this hard since reading A History of the Jews by Paul Johnson in 2015.

War and Remembrance follows several families through the darkest years of the Second World War, weaving fictional characters into actual historical events. The novel spans the European and Pacific theaters, the Holocaust, naval warfare, diplomacy, and the personal costs of global conflict. Wouk's meticulous historical research gives the story an authenticity that few historical novels achieve.

I was already familiar with most of the historiographic facts behind the events in the novel. Even so, I became increasingly invested in the characters and their intersecting story lines. By placing ordinary people inside real history, Wouk transforms familiar historical events into something immediate, visceral, and emotionally devastating.

Wouk's prose is crisp and clear. His dialogue flows naturally and exemplifies "show, don't tell." The conversations, relationships, and quiet moments allowed me to visualize the characters and their struggles with remarkable clarity.

Despite the horrific subject matter, I enjoyed this novel enormously. It is one of the finest works of historical fiction I have ever read, and I recommend it without reservation. 5/5 stars.

Squad Kill by Jack Campbell (2026)

I came to Squad Kill with considerable goodwill; Jack Campbell's military science fiction has often satisfied my craving for tightly structured campaigns, coherent operational thinking, and protagonists navigating institutions under pressure. Squad Kill, however, left me more frustrated than engaged. While Campbell's earlier work frequently balanced tactical action with a convincing sense of scale, this novel struck me as formulaic; plot developments arrived with such regularity that I often found myself predicting major turns long before the narrative reached them. This predictability might have been less damaging had the prose compensated through atmosphere or characterization, yet the writing rarely generated the momentum I associate with Campbell at his strongest. Scenes moved efficiently from one objective to the next, but efficiency alone cannot sustain dramatic tension. Instead, many sequences felt functional rather than immersive; the narrative communicated events without fully animating them.

My greatest difficulty involved the novel's central speculative premise concerning the alien antagonists and their genetically inherited memories and skills. Science fiction regularly asks readers to accept improbable assumptions, but successful speculation usually establishes an internally persuasive framework. In Squad Kill, I never found that framework convincing. The notion that complex competencies could be transmitted through genetic memory functions less as an extrapolation from biology than as a narrative convenience designed to explain alien capabilities. This premise repeatedly pulled me out of the story because I spent more time questioning the mechanism than considering its implications. Science fiction does not require strict realism; it does benefit from speculative foundations that encourage reflection rather than skepticism. Compounding that issue, the broader plot unfolds along familiar lines. Narrative reversals rarely surprised me, and several conflicts seemed constructed to arrive at expected outcomes rather than emerging organically from character decisions or strategic constraints. As a result, the campaign lacked the uncertainty that military science fiction often depends upon.

The characterization proved equally disappointing. Many figures felt defined primarily by recognizable archetypes rather than by distinctive personalities, motivations, or contradictions. Instead of encountering individuals shaped by competing loyalties, fears, and ambitions, I frequently encountered characters who seemed to exist in service of specific narrative functions. This characterization problem was particularly noticeable among supporting cast members, whose dialogue and reactions often reinforced existing expectations rather than challenging them. The alien adversaries suffered from a similar simplification; rather than developing into a complex civilization with its own internal tensions and logic, they remained largely defined by the genetic-memory concept that underpinned their abilities. Consequently, their presence generated limited curiosity and even less dread. I would not rank Squad Kill among my favorite Jack Campbell novels. The predictable plotting, stereotypical characterization, unconvincing speculative biology, and uninspired prose combined to create a reading experience that never fully captured my attention. 2/5 Stars.

The Proving Ground by Michael Connelly (2025)

I enjoyed the The Lincoln Lawyer adaptation, and my wife read the entire series, so I decided to start here. I am glad I did. The book is excellent.

Connelly's writing is sharper and more engaging than many legal thrillers. I enjoy John Grisham, but Connelly's characters feel richer and more complex. The story quickly pulled me into the drama. I cared about the people involved, and I was eager to discover the next twist in the case. The courtroom strategy, investigation, and personal stakes all work together to create genuine tension.

The plot centers on a legal battle that emerges from the collision of artificial intelligence, intellectual property, corporate power, and the enormous sums of money flowing into the current AI boom. The story feels remarkably timely because many of the underlying questions already dominate business headlines. Who owns AI-generated work? Who benefits from the technology? How much power should a handful of companies control? Connelly uses those questions as the foundation for a compelling legal thriller rather than a technology lecture, which keeps the story relevant without becoming preachy.

The strongest aspect of the novel is its cast. The hero and his team are competent, determined, and easy to root for. Their relationships feel authentic, and their victories feel earned. My only criticism is that the moral landscape can be a little too simple. The heroes are almost too admirable, while the villains are almost too greedy and corrupt. A few more shades of gray would have made the conflict even stronger.

That criticism is minor. The story is engrossing, the characters are memorable, and the pacing rarely lets up. I thoroughly enjoyed the book and expect to read more of the series. 5/5 stars.

Lock In by John Scalzi (2014)

Scalzi writes a remarkable number of books, and I was pleased to stumble across this series in the library. This first volume is fantastic.

The novel is set in the aftermath of a global pandemic that leaves millions of people fully conscious but unable to move their bodies. Society adapts through advanced robotics, neural interfaces, and new forms of identity and communication. The result is a compelling near-future setting that feels both imaginative and plausible.

One feature I particularly appreciated was the collection of appendices at the end of the book. Those sections provide a rich history of the setting, explain the technology that underpins the story, and describe the political and social changes that led to the novel's present day. Many authors would have buried that material in exposition. Scalzi presents the information separately, allowing the story to move at a brisk pace while still giving interested readers a deeper understanding of the world.

The setting is excellent. The characters are engaging. The mystery is well constructed. Most importantly, the speculative ideas serve the story rather than overwhelming it. I became invested in both the people and the world they inhabit.

I am delighted to have discovered this series. 5/5 stars.

Arsène Lupin, gentleman-cambrioleur par Maurice Leblanc (1907)

My local library had the complete ten-volume series in the foreign-language section. After skimming a few pages, I noticed that the prose was simple enough for my limited French, so I decided to give the books a try. My curiosity was also driven by the excellent Netflix adaptation, Lupin, which my family enjoyed.

This first collection of Lupin stories introduces the famous gentleman thief through a series of clever capers, disguises, and reversals. The plots are light, fast-moving, and often amusing. I particularly liked Lupin himself. He has a mischievous charm and a surprisingly big heart that make him easy to root for despite his criminal profession. The plot twists are also entertaining.

Unfortunately, much of the rest of the book did not work for me. The characters often feel cartoonish, and I found the values, mores, and social customs of the setting unappealing. The constant displays of status and ostentation grew tiresome. I was also frustrated by the way Lupin's henchmen and allies appear whenever the plot requires them and then vanish again without much explanation. The device reminded me of the worst Batman films, where a supervillain somehow commands an army of loyal followers without any believable organization, motivation, or planning behind the scenes.

The book was mildly entertaining, but I never became invested in the setting or the supporting cast. I am glad I tried it in French, yet I do not expect to continue with the rest of the series. 2/5 stars.

 

Sun Eater: The Lesser Devil by Christopher Ruocchio (2020)

I am reading the Sun Eater books in story order rather than publication order, and this novella appears between the first and second novels. The placement immediately suggests what the book is: a side quest rather than a major installment in the central narrative.

The story follows Crispin Marlowe, the brother of Hadrian Marlowe, as he becomes involved in an assassination plot. The novella expands the setting, provides a different perspective on the Sollan Empire, and adds depth to characters who are likely to become more important later in the series.

While reading it, I was reminded of writing exercises that authors sometimes use to discover their characters. Such exercises place a character into a difficult situation and explore how that character thinks, reacts, and changes. I remember completing similar assignments during my own misspent youth writing unpublished fiction. The Lesser Devil often feels like that sort of exercise. The story helps Ruocchio flesh out personalities, motivations, and relationships that exist outside Hadrian's immediate experience.

The novella is enjoyable enough, but its scope is narrow and its connection to the main story arc is limited. Readers invested in the larger series will appreciate the additional context and characterization. Readers looking for major developments in the central narrative may find the book somewhat incidental.

I am glad I read it, but I would not consider it essential. 3/5 stars.

Far Futures edited by Gregory Benford (1995)

I enjoyed several of Benford's earlier novels and loved his award-winning Timescape. I never connected with Great Sky River, however, and after reading that book Benford largely fell off my radar. When I came across a shelf of his books that I had never read, I picked up this anthology and decided to give him another try.

The collection explores the classic science-fiction question of humanity's distant future. The stories range from interstellar civilizations and post-human evolution to cosmic-scale speculation. As with many anthologies, the quality varies considerably from story to story.

Two stories are fantastic and justify reading the collection by themselves. One story is terrible. The remaining stories fall into the broad middle ground of competent but unremarkable science fiction. None of those middle-tier entries are bad, but few left a lasting impression.

The result is an uneven anthology that never becomes boring but rarely achieves greatness. I am glad I read it, mostly because of the strongest stories, but I would not place it among the essential science-fiction collections of the era. 3/5 stars.

Citizen of the Galaxy by Robert A Heinlein (1957)

I read several Heinlein novels in the 1960s and 1970s. Some were great fun. Others felt tedious. I enjoyed this one because it captures Heinlein while he was still refining his voice and honing his craft. Many of the themes that would later define his work are present, but they appear here in a more focused and disciplined form.

The story follows a slave boy named Thorby who is purchased by a beggar on a distant world and gradually discovers that his place in the galaxy is far more complicated than he imagined. The novel combines a classic hero's journey with exploration of commerce, family, citizenship, slavery, and personal responsibility.

The world-building is particularly strong. The economics make sense. The politics and social dynamics feel plausible. I especially enjoyed the influence of Heinlein's World War II naval experience. Many of the merchant-spacecraft crews behave like competent naval professionals, and the resulting social norms, traditions, and hierarchies give the setting a sense of realism that many space operas lack.

The story is engaging, and the social commentary remains surprisingly relevant. Beneath the adventure lies a thoughtful examination of freedom, obligation, and belonging. The result is a classic Golden Age science-fiction novel that still holds up remarkably well. 5/5 stars.

Elon Musk: Tesla, SpaceX, and the Quest for a Fantastic Future by Ashlee Vance (2015)

I enjoyed the later biography by Walter Isaacson and picked up this earlier book because it was neither edited nor authorized by Elon Musk. I expected a more critical perspective, perhaps closer in spirit to accounts that emphasize Musk's flaws, conflicts, and darker traits. Instead, I found a surprisingly balanced portrait.

The book traces Musk's early life and follows the chaotic beginnings of Tesla, SpaceX, and SolarCity. Much of the core narrative aligns with Isaacson's later account, but Vance benefits from interviews with a broader range of friends, family members, colleagues, and critics. Those perspectives add depth and help illuminate both Musk's strengths and his shortcomings.

I was also surprised to discover that many of the controversies surrounding Musk appeared less severe in context than I had expected. The book does not ignore conflicts, management problems, or personal flaws, but it presents them alongside the extraordinary risks and pressures associated with building multiple companies simultaneously.

The result is a broader and, in some ways, more intimate portrait than I anticipated. Readers familiar with Isaacson's biography will find much familiar territory, but the additional voices and perspectives make the book worthwhile on its own merits. 4/5 stars.

Platform Decay by Martha Wells (2026)

The Murderbot Diaries keep getting better. I laughed out loud repeatedly while reading this eighth installment, which is something few science-fiction series manage after so many volumes. Wells continues to balance humor, action, and character growth with remarkable consistency.

The story expands the relationships and personal arcs that have developed throughout the series. Murderbot remains as entertaining as ever, but the supporting characters also continue to gain depth and complexity. The emotional stakes feel earned because the characters have evolved over multiple books rather than remaining static.

I was also pleased to find a renewed sense of scientific wonder. The novel delivers several moments of genuine science-fiction awe that complement the humor and adventure. Those moments broaden the scope of the story without overwhelming the character-driven narrative that makes the series work.

Wells writes with clarity, wit, and confidence. The result is an engrossing novel that succeeds both as a standalone adventure and as another strong chapter in a long-running series. 5/5 stars.

The Turkish Gambit by Boris Akunin (1998)

I am enjoying the adventures of Erast Fandorin enormously. With each book, the mysteries become more intricate, and the historical backdrop becomes a larger part of the appeal. In this installment, Fandorin finds himself amid the Russo-Turkish War of 1877–1878, where espionage, military maneuvering, and political intrigue intertwine with the central mystery.

One of the series' greatest strengths is Akunin's ability to weave fiction into real history. The military campaigns, personalities, and political tensions feel grounded in the historical record without slowing the story. As a result, the novel works both as a mystery and as an engaging introduction to a conflict that receives little attention in most Western histories.

My only reservation concerns the antagonist. Much like the villain in the second Fandorin novel, the mastermind occasionally stretches my suspension of disbelief. The character's capabilities sometimes seem too convenient for the plot.

Even so, the story is entertaining from beginning to end. The cast is colorful, the mystery is clever, and the historical setting is fascinating. I finished the book feeling as though I had enjoyed both a mystery novel and a history lesson. 5/5 stars.

The Magician of Lublin by Isaac Bashevis Singer (1961)

This novel echoes many of Singer's familiar themes: temptation, faith, guilt, desire, and the tension between religious obligation and worldly ambition. The story follows Yasha Mazur, a traveling magician whose charm, talent, and appetite for risk gradually draw him into moral and personal crisis. The resulting arc has more than a hint of Crime and Punishment, and that aspect of the novel is compelling.

As in much of Singer's work, the greatest strength is the immersive slice-of-life portrait of Jewish life in nineteenth-century Poland. The setting feels authentic and lived-in. What distinguishes this novel from some of his others is the treatment of the non-Jewish characters. They feel more fully realized and three-dimensional, which broadens the world and makes the social interactions more interesting.

I admired the writing more than I cared about the characters. The emotional struggles and personal dramas never gripped me as strongly as those in more contemporary fiction. Even so, Singer's prose, insight, and historical atmosphere kept me engaged throughout.

I enjoyed the novel, but I admired it more than I loved it. 3/5 stars.

All that we see or seem by Ken Liu (2025)

This book is fantastic. Ken Liu combines believable near-future technology with a thriller that never loses sight of its characters. The novel explores advanced AI, synthetic media, identity, and the evolution of the criminal scam-compound industry that has already emerged in parts of Southeast Asia. Unlike many AI novels, the technology feels grounded in current trends rather than speculative magic.

The setting is vivid. The characters are beautifully crafted. The plot moves quickly without sacrificing emotional depth. Liu captures both the promise and the danger of increasingly capable AI systems while keeping the focus on the human consequences of those technologies.

I was particularly impressed by the treatment of modern AI and the plausible extension of today's scam-farm operations (that already use over 100,000 slaves to fake product reviews, scam people, etc.) into the near future. Those elements felt uncomfortably realistic. The central dream-related premise is more speculative, but it never undermined my enjoyment.

I was also happy that Liu largely avoided the fantasy elements that sometimes appear in his fiction. The result is a focused science-fiction thriller with strong technical foundations, memorable characters, and relentless momentum.

This novel is a genuine page-turner. I was engrossed from beginning to end. 5/5 stars.

The Bing U by Neal Stephenson (2001)

This is one of the rare Stephenson novels that has not aged well. The book remains funny, energetic, and inventive. The characters are fantastic; the satire is sharp and many of the themes that would later appear in Stephenson's mature work are already visible.

The story takes place in a sprawling university that has become a self-contained society, complete with factions, bureaucracies, eccentric subcultures, and escalating absurdity. The novel skewers academia, intellectual fashions, student life, and institutional dysfunction with relentless enthusiasm. I particularly enjoyed the old computer technology, the role-playing game references, the mass driver, and the bursts of goofy science fiction.

The problem is not the craftsmanship but the tone. Much of the novel treats violence, wild sex, alcoholism, and other typical campus behaviors as funny. Today, many scenes land differently. I found it difficult to detach from the story and laugh at events involving murders, gun violence, gang rape, and other common activities of that era. 

Even so, I enjoyed the story, 3/5 stars.

The Folded Sky by Elizabeth Bear (2025)

I am often baffled when authors interrupt strong stories with shrill moralizing about fashionable social themes. That problem appears here; it is frustrating because the underlying setting is excellent. Bear’s “White Space” universe remains imaginative and strange in the best way. Humans are projected star trek style into bizarre alien bodies, synthetic forms, and hybrid identities across a colorful interstellar civilization. The setting feels wondrous, immersive, and alive.

The strongest science-fiction elements work well. The aliens are memorable. The mystery holds together. The atmosphere of exploration and transformation gives the story momentum. The writing itself is strong.

Several elements weakened the experience for me. The obsession with gender identity, both human and alien, becomes distracting. The inter-species relationships and tentacle-sex themes often feel inserted for provocation rather than narrative necessity. Some parts of the quasi-magical technology system also strain disbelief because they are inconsistent.

The largest conceptual problem involves the pirates and their economics. Their politics resemble familiar warlord societies where we see mass murders, rapes, etc. such as the Democratic Republic of Congo, Nigeria, Mali, Burkina Faso, etc. So these political evils are believable enough; but their economic model makes no sense inside a post-scarcity civilization that can fabricate anything on demand. The setting’s material abundance undermines the plausibility of the pirate empire.

Despite these shortcomings, I enjoyed the book. The setting is imaginative, engrossing, and frequently awe-inspiring. The characters work. The mystery works. The story remains fun to read even when the thematic obsessions detract from the experience. 4/5 stars.

Zodiac by Neal Stephenson (1988)

Neal Stephenson is currently my favorite English-language author, and since he cannot write books as fast as I can read them, I have been working backward through older novels I missed. I found Zodiac on a shelf and remembered that someone else in my family had read it years ago and gushed about its portrait of the early environmental movement and the public pressure that eventually drove real progress through education and regulation.

The novel follows an environmental activist who doubles as an industrial troublemaker while he uncovers toxic dumping and corporate corruption in Boston Harbor. The story mixes ecological science, political conflict, and thriller pacing in a way that already shows many of Stephenson’s strengths.

I enjoyed the colorful characters, the melodrama, and the constant forward motion of the conflict. The science is excellent, as always with Stephenson. The historical setting is equally compelling. The novel captures 1985 Boston as a vivid slice of life, with enough texture and local detail to make the whole world feel immediate and lived-in.

The book lacks some of the scale and conceptual ambition of his later work, but the energy and intelligence are already there. It was a pleasure to see an early Stephenson novel working so well on its own terms. 5/5 stars.

The history of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire vol 1 by Edward Gibbon (1776)

I saw this blog post by Neal Stephenson and was sold on trying Gibbon’s immense seven-volume magnum opus on the long decline of the Roman Empire, beginning with imperial Rome at its height in Italy and Western Europe and tracing the political, military, and cultural decay that would eventually leave the surviving empire centered in Constantinople and Eastern Europe. I was curious whether a work with such a reputation could still command attention across nearly two and a half centuries. In some ways, it does.

I enjoyed Gibbon’s prose. The style often reminded me of Dickens, and at times even of Stephenson himself. Gibbon writes densely, with each sentence packed with meaning and attitude. The colorful anecdotes are entertaining, and his loaded language reveals the assumptions and prejudices of his eighteenth-century world in ways that are often fascinating. The writing itself is a pleasure to read.

The detailed history was too much for me. The book is a vast stream of names, dates, emperors, campaigns, anecdotes, and political details that arrive too quickly to absorb into any cohesive picture. The experience often felt like reading a phone book written by a brilliant stylist. I could admire the craft while failing to integrate the information. The experience reminded me why I was never a history major and why I prefer historical fiction to encyclopedic history or historiographic research.

The prose is excellent, just as Stephenson promised, but the density of information overwhelmed any larger narrative for me. I doubt I will continue through the remaining volumes. 2/5 stars.

The Shattering Peace by John Scalzi (2025)

I usually enjoy Scalzi’s books, and this light, escapist space opera was great fun. The novel continues the Interdependency universe with another fast-moving political and military crisis. The story balances interstellar diplomacy, shifting alliances, and looming conflict without losing momentum.

The heroine is plucky and imperfect, which makes her easy to follow. She is cunning, clever, and skilled in the arts of war, but what sets her apart is her empathy for wildly different alien cultures. That quality gives the political maneuvering real weight. The plotting feels sharp and believable. The competing interests and shifting loyalties never collapse into confusion.

I was less convinced by the Obin and their “consciousness prosthesis.” Even though I am inclined to think consciousness is largely an illusion, the concept felt muddled rather than provocative.

The Consu are a frustrating and humorous part of the setting. Their arrogance, secrecy, and habit of withholding every scrap of information make them both infuriating and fascinating. Their arrogance and technology makes them a great antagonist.

This book is a smart, entertaining continuation of Scalzi’s Interdependency universe. 5/5 stars.

Der Name der Rose von Umbero Echo (1982)

Das Buch lag schon ewig auf meinem Stapel. Ich hatte früher schon einmal angefangen, dann aber aus irgendeinem Grund wieder aufgehört. Diesmal hat es mich gepackt. Ich musste zwischendurch bewusst langsam lesen, um bei den ganzen Hintergründen, Verdächtigen, Entdeckungen im Kloster und natürlich den Morden den Überblick zu behalten. Die Mühe lohnt sich.

Auf den ersten Blick ist das ein grossartiger Krimi. In einem Benediktinerkloster im 14. Jahrhundert geschehen mehrere rätselhafte Todesfälle, und William von Baskerville beginnt zusammen mit seinem jungen Begleiter Adson zu ermitteln. Die Spur führt durch verborgene Bibliotheken, verbotene Bücher und gelehrte Streitigkeiten, die immer düsterer werden.

Was das Buch aber wirklich besonders macht, ist das historische Panorama. Eco zeigt das Klosterleben in allen Details, den Alltag, die Rituale, die Spannungen und Machtspiele. Gleichzeitig wird klar, wie sehr diese kleine Welt mit den großen Konflikten der Kirche verbunden ist. Armut, Macht, Dogma und politische Intrigen prallen ständig aufeinander. Das Ganze wirkt nie trocken, sondern lebendig und glaubwürdig.

Kein leichtes Buch, aber ein unglaublich lohnendes. Anspruchsvoll, packend und voller Atmosphäre. 5/5 Sterne.

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.

The Slave by Isaac Bashevis Singer (1962)

I enjoyed this novel. Singer tells a long, direct, and engrossing story that opens a vivid window into Jewish life under persecution in Eastern Europe. The novel is set in the aftermath of the Khmelnytsky massacres in the 17th century during a centuries-long era where 3 million jews were killed before the holocaust, reminding me of this book. That setting gives the book much of its force.

The protagonist, Jacob, is a devout Jewish survivor who is captured and enslaved after communal violence destroys his world. Later redeemed by a Jewish village, he struggles to rebuild a life while carrying grief, faith, and desire. He returns for Wanda, the non-Jewish woman he loves, and she must hide her identity within a rigid religious community.

Singer uses Jacob’s journey to explore several themes: trauma after massacre, the pull of love against law, exile, communal suspicion, and the meaning of devotion amid suffering. The novel also shows how ordinary people understood fate, sin, duty, and God in a brutal age.

The prose feels simple, but the moral and emotional questions run deep. The suffering is visceral, yet the book never becomes mere spectacle. It remains humane, intimate, and psychologically sharp.

A powerful historical and spiritual novel. 4/5 stars.