Review: The Third Hotel

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3 stars. This is a really weird book, and while I typically like weird, I am ... confused. I'm almost ashamed to admit that I Just Didn't Get It, because it checks a lot of boxes for me: ambiguous, atmospheric, with a lot of meta-writing about horror, death, and marriage.

I feel like I keep coming across a certain writing style that's hyper-deliberate in its weirdness, shooting beyond uncanny into a straight dreamworld that leaves me, personally, as a reader, too disoriented to appreciate it. Like, not thought-provoking, just thought-scrambling. I totally get that in some or many cases, that's the point. But if that's the point of The Third Hotel (and Luster, and Fates of Furies, etc.), I'm not satisfied, nor did I enjoy the experience. Sorry.

What a premise, though! The Third Hotel tracks a recently-widowed young woman as she travels to Havana, Cuba to attend a film festival in her husband's place. The narrative glides and snakes between the present and the past as she comes to terms with the truth about her marriage and the truth about her future, a mental de- and re-construction that takes place in one of the sweatiest, most interesting places on Earth. Her dead husband wavers in and out of focus as she wanders, pretends, and grieves, ending with a lot of unanswered questions and only a vague idea of what comes next.

My favorite thing about this book is the way the author explores Big Themes: sense of self, expectations vs reality, marriage, life, death, loss, loneliness. There are some whopping quotes that really resonate (“The two impulses cannot be separated. The desire to have a life and the desire to disappear from it. The world is unlivable and yet we live in it every day.”) and some fascinating exposition on the psychology behind horror films. But even that stuff is a bit lost in the jungle of Clare's very strange journey. The imagery is so strong but just too damn feverish for me. Again, sorry.

What did I miss?! Tell me! I love that this book exists even if I don’t love it directly. Laura Van Den Berg is obviously very talented and I look forward to following her as a writer. I have a feeling that, despite my rating and grumpiness about it all, this book might end up haunting me after all.

The Third Hotel on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Sea Queen (The Golden Wolf Saga #2)

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5 stars. A very worthy sequel / trilogy bridge that took me for.ever. to read because ... well, everything. But I didn't give up and I'm so, so incredibly glad for that. This type of writing - the language of this story - is so unique and crunchy I think I'll miss it and return in the future. I mentioned this in my review of the first book, but there is true escapism here, even if it offers escape into a super brutal, ugly world full of pain and death and bloodshed.

In The Sea Queen we continue to watch the rise of Harald Fairhair, conqueror of Norway, through the eyes of his capable sworn warrior Ragnvald and his headstrong sister Svanhild. The quest for a unified land is complicated, however, by growing political and martial threats, throwing confusion and pressure onto seemingly strong alliances. It's a story both vast and vastly personal that offers a unique and emotional window into a very interesting, and very treacherous, time in Scandinavian history.

What makes this series so refreshing:

- Characters second guess themselves and change their minds all the time based on shifting circumstances and revelations. This makes their actions much more believable and grounded.

- The interconnected webs of romance and sex. This story has positive depictions of non-monogamy all over the place; women who experience desire and are direct about it; men and women who circle around each other and recognize that lust comes and goes. The different types of lust, even. Lust as power and lust as comfort and lust as distraction. The phases.

“It was pleasant, to be desired by this beautiful giant, and when they tired of each other, she would have wealth, and every freedom except taking another man to her bed.”

I don't know much about what social sex was like during Viking times, but I know a little about human nature, and this stuff (especially the stuff from Svanhild’s perspective) rang true to me - told so directly and matter-of-factly because the author's setting allows it (especially compared to, say, a contemporary setting). This isn't a romance, don't worry, even though in an interview the author expressed her interest in exploring different types of long term relationships. It's just strange sometimes what aspects of a book stand out even when it's truly not the point of the book at all.

- Impressive details, but not too many details. Irish whiskey makes an appearance, as a little treat, but it is not the point of the scene nor is it there to prove the author's ability to research and write with accuracy. The accuracy is apparent in her storytelling, not her info dumping or lack thereof.

- A badass, fierce, believable female action hero.

I believe I mentioned this in my review of The Half-Drowned King, but I think it's worth saying again that the comp titles here are a bit off. This is an epic trilogy of historical fiction but it is NOT ASOIAF, nor is it the Outlander books, nor would it be for fans of action-packed military fantasies, though I love those myself. This is for readers interested in something deeper and warmer and slower, something super immersive and thorough and focused on the intimacy and dialogue of politics. It's totally its own thing, and for that reason these stories will live in a special place in my heart for years to come.

On to the final chapter (with dread).

The Sea Queen on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Only Good Indians

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5 stars. Absolutely incredible. A surprising, thought-provoking, heavy metal level of scary book that really sticks. I slowed down on this so I could savor it and relish the unfolding of each dynamic, captivating chapter. I wanted to chew on it respectfully; wanted to really taste the creeping dread and brutal punches. Reading it this way - carefully, instead of barreling through - was an incredible experience and I feel kind of cleansed despite the buckets and buckets of blood (good horror does this to me?).

The Only Good Indians, borrowing its title from the infamous phrase, is about four Native American men living ten years after they experienced a strange and disturbing hunting trip on forbidden land. Two of them are eventually killed under brutally violent circumstances, and the others are haunted and hunted unaware as they continue to embrace and defy their cultural identities through fresh grief and old regrets. There's so much more, but I don't want to spoil anything.

This is a story that blurs lines all over the place. It's a slasher, but it's a twisty one - the monster may not be the monster after all. It's a mystery, but not to us as readers - to the characters who are largely oblivious of what stalks them. It's a cautionary fairy tale that teaches many lessons - with an unexpected take on good and evil. It's an exploration of Native American culture - but through a unique and fascinating and terrifying lens. It captures characters that suffer that internal battle within and around and about themselves so well: "He hates being from here. He loves it, but he also hates it so much."

It's a story about tradition and choices and the urge to chafe against your core identity; the urge to defy custom and ignore the rules; the urge to be wasteful for selfish reasons; the urge to resist the reality of your own making; the urge to escape what you can't; the urge to blame everyone and anyone for your decisions knowing that deep down it's you - it's your doing - and you'll pay for it in the end. It's a story about how outrunning the past is impossible. And it's about revenge. Deep, natural, solid, earthly, instinctual, all-encompassing, bigger-than-you-and-me vengeance that is ugly and beautiful at the same time.

It's also, wonderfully, about basketball and marriage and friendship and paperbacks and masculinity and motherhood at its most ancient and primal. It's full of delicious details that lighten up some super dark themes in entertaining ways. Second person is used brilliantly in the second half to a jarring and energetic effect. Pacing, plotting, dialogue - it's all there and it's all excellent. Also, there's a really clever play on the final girl trope.

And the ending brought it home in a way that made me cry, although I don't know if I can articulate why.

Random lines that jumped out to me: "The best jokes are the jokes that have a kind of message to them. A warning." and "They stand together, their doors closing at the same time, an accident of sound that makes the boy straighten his back, like it's bad luck."

By the way, there are two things in this world that I absolutely hate: reading/seeing/hearing about animals getting hurt or killed, and feeling hot, temperature-wise. This book has a lot of both. I don't usually issue trigger warnings but I AM WARNING YOU: if you, like me, were traumatized by Where the Red Fern Grows in fourth grade and can't even think the words Bambi or The Lion King without crying, this book is not for you.

In fact, I typically dock a star automatically for UDDs (Unnecessary Dog Deaths) because I often see it as a cheap shot to play on readers' emotions. I stuck with this book, though, because horror tends to wash differently into my brain than other genres, and it was worth it in the end. Plus it was written so perfectly, and (this is not a spoiler) the animal deaths were absolutely necessary IMO.

A must-read for horror fans - and I think for everyone. I'm obsessed with this and gutted in a good way.

The Only Good Indians on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Luster

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3 stars. The hype is real, and the reviews are right: this book is a stressful, uncomfortable, unique portrait of a young Black woman trying to ... well, just trying to survive in a world designed to hold her back. It chronicles her affair with an older, married white man and the strange way she stumbles deeper and deeper into his life - tripped up by society and self-sabotage equally and at different times.

I think I should start by saying that what this book says is true. The concepts it captures are true. The depictions of racism and white supremacy and patriarchy and youth and Blackness and failure are true (and Such a Fun Age level of good). The articulations about art and sex and hair and bodies and success and capitalism are true. Part of what makes it an uncomfortable read is that even in its most unrealistic moments, it's still cringey in a real way, because it feels like the meaning snaking underneath the unreality is true.

It lost me in two ways: first, the style of writing. Probably a personal preference, but the words felt forced, like the author was trying too hard to be jarring or thunderous or impressive. The pseudo-stream of consciousness sentencing got weird at times. There are passages and quotes that absolutely sing in meaning but fail in style, and even those are strung together in a way that isn't quite successful. I think she'd be an incredible poet, by the way.

Second, the absolute strange way everyone behaved in this bizarre story. I've said before that we are all just fucking clueless, I know; we are just apes with phones and we've fucked any semblance of an advanced civilization into the ground of our dying planet, but I just cannot wrap my head around these three horrible individuals orbiting each other in horrible ways. Each of them has some sort of breakdown throughout this story, and their subsequent INSANE and unrealistic decision-making is sort of ... unaddressed.

Listen, I'm recommending this. Luster is a thought-driven, thought-provoking book that will leave you in a swirly fever dream of contemplation. We need more books like this. I'll be thinking about it for a while and would love to return to passages for study and reflection. That's only what I'd return to - certain passages and quotes that punched particularly hard; as a whole and as a narrative it didn't quite work for me. But those punches for sure left bruises that are going to linger.

Luster on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Burning God (The Poppy War #3)

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3 stars. Oh god, summarizing this is going to be impossible. Ermm, okay. Freshly recovered (sort of) from the betrayal, heartbreak and violence of her failed tour with the Dragon Republic, Rin faces ... well, more betrayal, heartbreak and violence on her quest to unite the Nikara Empire against threats both foreign and domestic (heh). Unsure who to trust or where to go, she utilizes the intense power of the original shaman rulers, the blind obedience of the people from her Southern home and her own hungry, vengeful, trauma-laden instincts to ensure survival for herself and for her people.

Don't hate me. It is what it is. I absolutely adore R.F. Kuang and hold her in the highest regard. Her writing is spectacular and she's so talented - her intellect is obviously very high and I can't wait to read what she does next. I admire what she's done here - channeled buckets of Chinese history and lore and context into a story for readers like myself who shamefully know so little about it. She's carved a space for herself in an impossibly small and impossibly male group of military fantasy writers. She has unlocked so much about what the standard trilogy could look like. She's wonderful.

But for most of this book I lost a level of investment in reading and felt ... almost ... bored? I mean for all the battles and bloody mysteries and character revelations, I dragged my feet to pick it up. Which I think came down to this: Why? And after surviving multiple wars, calling a god, committing genocide, and switching allegiances multiple times, what exactly does Rin want? Does she want to rule? Does she REALLY? Does she really want to forge peace? She wants to be part of the action, of course, but I had a hard time following her true, long-term motives. She's always being sent here or carried there or going somewhere on an episodic rescue mission. Her loyalties always seem to be to people, or power, or petty "sides" that are ultimately arbitrary. Never goals or even, like, an end game. An end to the journey.

And maybe that's partly the point. Maybe I missed my cues due to lack of focus and energy because, lol, 2021. Maybe she's meant to be a little untethered, a little destined to make bad choices. Maybe she can't see beyond a single day of survival for herself and her friends because she's walking around with so much trauma and baggage. Maybe I'm reading this with a decidedly Western perspective. And also she's what, 20 years old? I get that she's meant to be an unlikeable, untraditional, impulsive, blood-driven, power-hungry, brutal protagonist. But for most of The Burning God I was totally adrift with her, and not in a good way. I just ... burned out. No pun intended. I truly expected to want to live and breathe these characters for one final act. Instead I basically skimmed, wondering - again - why and also get on with it.

So, only a 3-star read for me.

A couple of other things:

  • The ending was perfect in premise, abrupt in execution.

  • I really missed in The Burning God the deep exploration of the gods and the pantheon and shamanism in general. This was prevalent in the first book, a subplot in the second, and barely part of the third. The only part where I really perked up is when Rin trained the new shamans.

  • I really loved this: amateurs obsess over strategy, professionals obsess over logistics.

  • Kuang asks a lot of her readers (IMHO) in terms of the various multiple names for people and places. I relied on the map a ton and am still a little unclear on who is who in the Trifecta and that whole history.

  • The Hesperians storyline is brilliant. Kuang demonstrates a unique if not super unveiled way of writing about colonialism, and for the most part it's successful. Petra's ending was ... delicious.

  • This is going to make an absolutely excellent TV series. It's practically ready for adaptation. I'm in. All the way.

The Burning God on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Dragon Republic (The Poppy War #2)

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4 stars. Really, really impressed with this as a follow-up to The Poppy War. Not that she needs to hear it from me, but R.F. Kuang has officially burned down what fantasy should and could be and replaced it with something intellectual, entertaining, brutal and beautiful. This trilogy (final opinion pending) is a must-read for a wide audience and deserves the title of Epic in every definition of the word.

The Dragon Republic opens after battle, but for Rin the war is far from over. She is a shaman, and she is heartbroken by the loss of her kin, and she turns to drugs to cope. Lost in her personal trauma, she and her fellow shaman warriors side with the Dragon Warlord in an attempt to find purpose again, to bring stability to Nikan, and for revenge. They ride to conquest but she soon realizes that almost everything she thought she knew - about magic, about war, about politics, about her god - is far more complicated than she realized.

Unlike The Poppy War, which has two clearly defined narrative arcs, The Dragon Republic is essentially a collection of episodes. Rin goes through so many ups and downs it's almost hard to keep track; thankfully, each experience and revelation informs her character and moves the big plot forward. She does not bounce back so easily, mentally, which is refreshing and I appreciate her understandable mistakes. As the lens widens, so too does her confusion about context and what is good vs evil. Rin's identity and sense of self is central to this story's spiral and I look forward to unwinding it further.

Speaking of the widening lens - the worldbuilding, which happens almost literally as the landscape in question is open for grabs - is incredible here. Not just complex in all the right ways, but complex in a way that is within reach. That's part of what makes military fantasy successful, IMHO - letting the reader see the map. There are so many components to this story but I never felt overwhelmed.

I would say too that this could've been shorter, though I understand why Kuang wrote it the way she did. There's a lot of arguing about politics, and some threads that perhaps did not need to be pulled, which is why I docked a star. But the third book could change my mind. It probably will.

Fuck me up, Kuang. You know you want to.

The Dragon Republic on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Good Lord Bird

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4 stars. Wow, this was a lot. In a good way. James McBride is so, so talented and clever and focused in a way I haven't seen in historical fiction recently. I really look forward to reflecting on the story and the characters as they are memorable and interesting and admirable in totally misguided ways.

I hate and love that history is so fickle and yet also the guidebook by which we should move forward. History is muddled and vague and written by the winners and therefore we as a species will never truly learn from it. So we should use tools like contemporary, perspective-shifting books like this to educate us and show us the way.

The Good Lord Bird is about a young boy named Henry, who in 1857 is kidnapped by the infamous abolitionist John Brown after the death of his father. Brown mistakes Henry to be a girl, and Henry rolls with it to survive. He accompanies Brown on many journeys and supports his quest to eradicate slavery in his own way, experiencing several adventures - or misadventures - until Brown's doomed raid on Harper's Ferry ends the journey.

It's a classic "famous story told by the unfamous tagalong" book, this time rightly weighted with a deep emphasis on racism, slavery, and power in pre-Civil War America. How do we fully acknowledge the cruel trauma of our own history? How do we acknowledge that we argued over this undeniable crime? How do we acknowledge the motives and complexities of behavior and pure mistakes exhibited on both sides? How do we acknowledge good intentions when they are wielded by someone wrong for the job? How do we acknowledge that, in this story and many others, there are rarely winners or losers and only survivors or victims?

These questions plus many others are wrapped in this book's witty, enticing narrative. The writing is quick and sharp, laugh-out-loud funny at some moments and truly heart wrenching in others. I hope it is widely read by individuals and in classrooms and book clubs, because this is the type of book that should be taught, examined and discussed at length. Entertaining, impressive, important.

The Good Lord Bird on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Flyaway

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3 stars. A tasty mix of Shirley Jackson with a pinch of Elmet. This story feels timeless - and by that I mean the time period is rarely marked. You feel like you could be reading about something that happened yesterday or eighty years ago. The uncanny sensation is just one component of this eerie stew of folklore and gothic imagery, a patchwork puzzle about one young woman's quest to capture even a slight impression of her true identity.

To summarize would be difficult and spoilery, so I'll just say that Flyaway is about Bettina Scott, a 19-year-old outcast, who lives with her proper mother in a small town in Queensland. She receives a letter from her missing brother that triggers something deep down under what we know to be a subdued and stifled personality. Unable to shake the implications of the letter and the mystery of her core identity, Bettina ... well ... dives into a rabbit hole and finds some monsters there instead.

It's a fever dream of a short book; a collection of strong scary stories that almost seem familiar, containing fairy tale elements with a cautionary edge. I'm fascinated by the perspective - at times it feels like we are looking at a very, very small corner of a giant tapestry. Questions and answers seem irrelevant and action rarely has the consequences we expect. It's trippy and confusing and absolutely gorgeous in its own way.

Unfortunately I just wasn't in the mood today. I had trouble concentrating and keeping a grip on the thread. The disjointed narrative felt jarring in a confusing way versus a subversive or interesting way. And I didn't feel a strong connection to any character or element of the story, leading to a 3-star rating. That being said, fans of horror, literary fiction and gothic literature should ABSOLUTELY read this. It's spectacular, just not a good fit for me (right now). Can't wait to see where this talented author goes next.

Flyaway on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: A Deadly Education (The Scholomance #1)

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2 stars. Hahahahaha. Okay. An education INDEED. I am honestly so sorry - I tried to like this. I really did. I had heard that it's supposed to be like a sort of warped HP from Hermione's perspective with a lot more violence and death. And it was, I guess. But this damn book seemed designed for me to hate - full of a bunch of personal pet peeves that I just couldn’t get over.

But first: The Controversy. I did some research before starting to read, trying to get some clarity on the accusations and the reasons why it's being called racist. And I think I understand. Some of the language choices in this book come across as clinical and forced and ignorant. I'll be the first to cry "depiction is not endorsement," (or in other words - the character thinks this, but does the author?) but to be honest I don't even feel like I should weigh in. Please know that I tried to read this with a critical eye and an open mind and a determination to use it as an opportunity to learn - if not on what to do, at the very least on what not to do. I see why readers were offended. I also see why the author made the choices she did.

Okay. A Deadly Education is about a teenage girl named Galadriel, a student at a violent and terrifying magical school called the Scholomance. The Scholomance houses and teaches magic-wiedling young people how to hone their craft while being threatened - constantly and to the death - by evil monsters lurking in the walls and the dark corners of their home. El gets a bit tangled up socially with the school hero, Orion Lake, and has to navigate the typical minefields of being an adolescent (puberty, cafeteria politics, academic competition) while, well, trying to stay alive in an environment that's trying to kill her before graduation.

Oh, man. Okay. Again, I apologize. I really did try. But when I hit 86% and I found myself skimming?! Forget about it. I can tell Naomi Novik really, really loved her own idea and dug deep. I get it. But I feel like I have to catalogue why this didn't work for me, even though it feels kind of gross to do so, because I just know there are readers out there who have the same cringe triggers as me (if they aren't put off by all the well-deserved dramatic conversation surrounding this book in the first place):

First - the British slang and mannerisms. It's a bit difficult to explain, but they didn't fit right here. Every time I came across one ("git" "scanner" etc.) they seemed cute-in-a-bad-way, out-of-place, and forced.

Second - Orion. I am on a lifelong quest to find a well-written teenage boy - or at the very least, a teenage boy character that resembles even just one of the teenage boys I have actually known in real life. My quest continues.

Third - the use of the name Galadriel and the LOTR references. This is a personal thing for me (I told you these were pet peeves!). LOTR is so sacred to me it honestly felt ... weird. When El started randomly referencing her name and the movies and ... something about this just seemed really off. Like a wink or a nod that was TOTALLY unnecessary.

Fourth - the exposition! The info dumping! ARGHHHH! I initially thought the first chapter would be the heaviest - full of explanations and terminology and rule-dropping - but NO! This type of writing - "educating the reader as we go along with the story" - continues for the rest of the damn. book. I'm talking about a new character/concept (the valedictorian thing) in the FINAL PAGES OF THE BOOK. The action itself, if we removed all the lecturing, would probably be about five pages long. I'M SERIOUS. If you are in the mood to be TAUGHT a CONCEPT, rather than READ a STORY, this book might be for you.

Fifth - wayyyy too much emphasis on cafeteria tables. I went through that in middle school and I have no desire to enter into any intense consideration of that sort of thing ever, ever, ever again in my life.

I will say: it's a fascinating, complex concept. And Naomi Novik does a great job of subverting tropes and creating delightfully stubborn, fierce, powerful female protagonist. El's overall feistiness was truly appreciated. I'll give her that. I also think more books - especially YA books - should so blatantly explore and address issues like inequality and economic status quo. I know it's a hot topic word, but there is a lot about privilege and its advantages.

I'm bummed though, dude. I really am. It was just a 2-star read for me.

A Deadly Education on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Ruins

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5 stars. FUCKING BRUTAL. And I fucking loved it. I have to say, this is an absolutely brilliant piece of horror. To develop the idea for this story, plot it out, and then fall into the right headspace to write it must have been absolute torture. Sure there's a level of predictability, but it's employed really well, like the meta moments strewn throughout the tropes. It's deeply disturbing and I am in awe.

The Ruins is about two couples who, while vacationing in Mexico, decide as a sort of adventure to help a new German friend find his missing brother. Accompanied by another new friend (a Greek man who speaks no English), the group ventures deep into the jungle to find the guy with varying levels of enthusiasm. It's hot, it's buggy, it's muddy, and by the time they reach what appears to be their destination, a sense of dread and discomfort permeates the group. Something is very wrong in this part of the jungle, and now the locals won't let them leave.

I've seen this book described as survival horror, but I'm not sure it fits so squarely under that umbrella. Ultimately it is about survival, and there are enough anxious parts about finding water and food rationing to satisfy even the most academic reader. But there is another evil central to the story - an unnatural, malevolent force - that threatens them in sadistic, horrifying, almost playful ways. That's true horror right there. That's a monster. To have this force play with and off of the natural attempts to survive exposure is breathtaking. No complaints about the villain.

Along the lines of survival: I have to say, I've read (and watched) horror all my life and I've never really contemplated my own mortality in ways that this book inspired. I think it's mostly due to context (2020, heavily associated with death) and some recent news that sent me spinning a bit, and maybe my own experiences traveling, but man, some of these passages punched me right in the existential feels. You’ve been warned. But for me, no complaints about the triggers.

I have seen other reviews touch on the fact that these characters may or may not be one-dimensional, idiotic, not worth rooting for; may or may not even be likeable. Did I feel annoyed with them, at times? OH MY GOD YES. Did I want to yell at them? PUT DOWN THAT WATER, AMY. Did I want a little more complexity beneath all the hand-wringing and tequila slinging? I FEEL LIKE MATHIAS WAS HOT. HE WAS HOT, RIGHT? But at the end of the day it didn't matter, it didn't impact my reading experience negatively. I thought each character's arc was actually really well-planned and well-written. And so, no complaints about the characters.

I know I fucking drone on about Stephen King all the time and I'm constantly comparing other authors to him and blah blah blah. I'm sorry! I can't help it. But trust me when I say this: The Ruins will appeal to readers who enjoy King. It's that good and Scott Smith is that talented. I can see why it's considered a classic.

And now I'm going to go take a big ol’ shower.

The Ruins on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads