Diving Into Nebulae by Alison McBain is a thrilling affirmation of what speculative fiction can deliver. This collection, full of philosophical curiosity, takes readers to extraordinary places and is remarkably attuned to common human frailty. McBain has the enviable knack for taking what seem like outlandish premises and turning them into compelling explorations of identity and survival. The result is a kaleidoscopic literary experience that is as entertaining as it is thought-provoking. And what really gets you is the amazing narrative range of the collection. McBain ranges widely in her imagination—futuristic inventions, genetic transformations, artificial intelligence, interstellar adventures, and disturbing visions of civilization. But the stories are never mere exercises in technological speculation; beneath their fantastic surfaces lie familiar anxieties and ethical dilemmas. She has a brave imagination but a grounded understanding of the complexity of the human experience.
The Art of Thinking Unthinkable Thoughts
The Prototype, the first story, at once shows McBain’s knack for matching scientific aspiration with irreverent humor and romantic intrigue. The narrator’s insistence on making something “Unique. Sustainable. Beautiful.” is a manifestation of the tension between what is technologically possible and what is humanly desirable. McBain’s style is conversational and deliciously surprising. She draws readers into a world where innovation and personal relationships get entangled in interesting ways. The story demonstrates how speculative fiction can be fun to read and still ask questions about today’s environmental issues.
Elsewhere, Subhero is an emotional re-evaluation of the superhero mythos through the eyes of those on the margins. A Helping Hand takes a strange medical concept and treats it with tenderness, delving into the basic human need for dignity. It’s especially commendable that McBain never lets imaginative spectacle swamp emotional truth. Even when she is conjuring her wildest fictional scenarios, there’s a definite human ring to them.
The Microscope and the Human Race
McBain is just as good at showing us the paradoxes of human nature. She returns, again and again, to questions about who deserves compassion and whether exceptional powers bring exceptional virtue in her imagined worlds. The collection derives real intellectual heft from the juxtaposition of technological sophistication with familiar moral failings. Rather than providing easy answers, McBain makes readers deal with the contradictions in their own assumptions.
Range of tone is another strength of this collection. Works like The Other Woman explore the unsettling possibilities of artificial companionship, and Racing Space injects a sense of thrill and adventure into its futuristic setting. Tell Me About Your Apocalypse’s playful conceptual ingenuity suggests that McBain can approach even humanity’s darkest imaginings with mischievous wit. The anthology avoids predictability, alternating humor, suspense, melancholy, and wonder.
If there is one accomplishment in McBain’s storytelling, it may be its economy. Her shorter pieces often deliver provocative ideas with startling immediacy, and the longer narratives allow characters and ethical questions to deepen in complexity. Dialogue is often sharp, descriptions are evocative without being too elaborate, and narrative perspectives are varied enough to keep the reader’s curiosity piqued. The result is a many-sided collection, not fragmented but held together by a longstanding fascination with the possibilities and limitations of existence.
Diving Into Nebulae is a particularly apt title for a collection so devoted to imaginative exploration. Nebulae evoke the tantalizing prospect of worlds not fully understood, a quality that infuses McBain’s storytelling. Her fiction asks readers to step outside their intellectual comfort zones and find that even the most wildly imagined universes reflect something we recognize about ourselves. What’s so special about the book is how it pulls together cosmic possibility and emotional intimacy.
Beyond the Normal Horizon
I’d give Diving Into Nebulae a solid 5/5 for the sheer inventiveness of its premises, the thematic density, the versatility of style, and the gripping narrative imagination. McBain understands that great science fiction is not simply about what we might invent but what those possibilities say about what it means to be human. Her stories are often surprising but not just a matter of spectacle. Fans of speculative fiction who like a mix of humor and intellectual adventure will find Diving into Nebulae an immensely rewarding collection.
What do you call a writer who once wrote for a Las Vegas fashion magazine under a woman’s name without getting caught, co-hosted the Bazowie Awards, and somehow found time to help charity anthologies raise over $40,000? Meet Jo Szewczyk, an author, voice actor, interviewer, and creative polymath whose résumé is almost as unpredictable as his sense of humor. When he isn’t hosting What’s Kraken?, he’s lending his talents to charitable causes, including an annual David Bowie event in London, where an organizer bestowed upon him the immortal distinction of being “tall for your age.” With his latest novel, Scarlet Shadows, launching a ten-book mystery series, Szewczyk brings his characteristic irreverence to everything from storytelling and literary success to the mysteries of everyday existence. In this delightfully unfiltered email correspondence with B Sudharsan, the founding editor-in-chief of Literary Harbinger, he discusses his earliest artistic misdemeanour, the professor who transformed his writing career, his unconventional creative process, and a secret project involving penguins.
HARBINGER SPECIAL
B SUDHARSAN: Your writing career appears to have begun rather unconventionally. Can you take us back to your earliest literary endeavor?
JO SZEWCZYK: There I was, in my parents’ living room with a crayon in my hand and my magnum opus on the wall. I’m not sure if I was 3 or 4 years old, but I was in a lot of trouble. Quite honestly, my style hasn’t changed much since then.
B SUDHARSAN: From that early masterpiece on the wall to published books, you’ve made impressive progress. How did your published works come into being, and what can you tell us about your latest novel, Scarlet Shadows?
JO SZEWCZYK: I’ve been published in magazines, anthologies, and the occasional International Male Catalog. Each has a different trajectory. My first novel came about because I answered a want ad. The game was a lot different back then. My latest book, Scarlet Shadows, is about found family and the lengths someone would go to for the ones they love. Also, I’ve heard it called a ‘Twisty Mystery,’ which makes me smile.
B SUDHARSAN: Do you meticulously map out your plots and characters beforehand, or do you allow the story to surprise you along the way?
JO SZEWCZYK: I usually have the entire novel in my head before I do anything. I’m not so much of a writer as a transcriber for the universe. For Scarlet Shadows, though, I had the idea of seeing if I could write it like I would a screenplay. I had act structures and beats to hit à la Blake Snyder. I then mapped everything out to see what word count had to be spent where. Does that mean I never let my characters talk to me? Not at all. They always talk. It’s a matter of letting them do it and understanding which is the better version. Sometimes their version of the story is better, and I take it. Other times, my version of the story is better, so I run with that one. It’s usually a mix, though.
‘Jaimee Wriston Colbert Is the Best Writer I’ve Ever Met’
B SUDHARSAN: Every writer is likely to have literary influences, whether consciously or otherwise. Which authors have left the most indelible impression on you, and what makes their writing special?
JO SZEWCZYK: Favorite is a weird word. It signals a single entity standing above the rest. I read Stephen King’s The Stand when I was five years old. I think I have the longest-standing relationship with him. With that said, I have a few authors I admire, though. The usual suspects of Agatha Christie, Stephen King, and Charles M Schulz gave me my formal training. Then if we shift genres, the Dragonlance team of Weis and Hickman is probably the reason why I write. Of course, making a series means I need to be able to count, and I learned how to do that by reading Douglas Adams’s five-book trilogy.On a personal level, though, Jaimee Wriston Colbert is the best writer I’ve ever met. Sometimes we’ll write the same story, but hers has a life of vibrance, whereas my version is on life support. It’s humbling when someone can tell a story not only better than you but with such grace that you can’t even feel envy. I love her work.
B SUDHARSAN: With so many creative influences and ideas competing for attention, how do you actually organize your writing time?
JO SZEWCZYK: I generally write when I have a computer in front of me. I used to write with just a notebook, but then the 90s came. I hear I should have a schedule. I never really got into that, though. It’s like playing basketball. Sure, I could book court time, but you know there’s a reason why I carry a ball in my car, right? It’s more of a ‘when don’t I write’ than ‘when do I write.’
B SUDHARSAN: Let’s get to know the person behind the books a little better. Where are you currently based, and what can you tell us about your educational background and age?
JO SZEWCZYK: Currently, I’ve adopted Terra as my area of residency. I really like what your lot have done with the trees, but I’m unsure that the dolphins agree with me. If you want to talk educational qualifications, I guess you can say I went to Oxford. You could say it, and it would be correct.
B SUDHARSAN: You’ve experienced the publishing world from several different angles. Was becoming an author always a conscious ambition, or did life lead you towards writing in unexpected ways?
JO SZEWCZYK: With the memory blackouts I have, I’m not even sure if getting dressed today was a conscious decision. My first book was sheer luck. I don’t think I deserved the success, and it got to me a bit. Picture it—a nobody from nowhere all of a sudden getting limos and the Playboy Mansion. It can warp your view when you’re twenty-one. The rest that followed was darker. Ever get fan mail? Ever get fan mail from people who send gifts and mix tapes and perfumes—this or that’s with offers of this or that’s? Ever have someone show up at your place because your address is publicly listed on the utility company’s website? I wasn’t even famous. Just slightly successful for a moment, with a bad contract that let me have almost zero creative control and even less in royalties. But I didn’t want to be an author. I had far too many other things. So, I zagged into other branches of entertainment. Then came Binghamton University in New York (they lied to me, you see. They said they were only two hours away from NYC. Maybe by jet, but…). I was in this rather long line for financial aid, and I saw this woman walk by. She was magnetic. There was just this energy about her. I told myself if she walked past again, I would have to say hello. I know how ludicrous this sounds in 2026. But she did pass by again, and I was fourth in line. A promise to myself is a promise to myself, so I ditched the line and talked to the woman. I won’t name names, but she was the one who inspired me to start writing again. It was because of her I would take my notebook out and try short stories. I’d wait for her in this long hallway while she was in class. Just me and my notebook propped up in a windowsill. There was a creative writing workshop going on near that window, and the professor came out to say hi to me. I guess she figured I was lost or too shy to find my own class, and she was right on both counts. She invited me to poke my head in now and then. That professor turned out to be Jaimee Wriston Colbert, and she began my true writing career by taking a chance on a literal kid in the hall.
B SUDHARSAN: How do you balance writing with other responsibilities?
JO SZEWCZYK: The phrase ‘writing with other responsibilities’ implies writing is a responsibility. I don’t see it that way. I like art in all forms. I love being active and work out every day. I also think charity should be a major part of life, so I can be found at a Bowie charity event in London utilizing my god-given talent of hanging a sign high up on the stage. Volunteering at Comic Cons in Canada seems to be a hobby of mine, as I’ve done it for about ten years to make sure the kids and families have a fun and safe time. I love music, too. I love everything from going to concerts (Gorillaz was my latest) to just sitting in the parking lot of a Domino’s Pizza listening to my friend’s French playlist as they translate lyrics for me. I cherish moments like that. The moments where the rest of the world is asleep and yet, here we are, doing seemingly nothing but having absolutely everything life can offer just by being present. It’s the small things, really.
B SUDHARSAN: Turning back to your literary projects, Scarlet Shadows is the beginning of an ambitious series. What’s next for the Scarlet Mysteries, and are there any other works in progress you can tell us about? Do you see yourself becoming a full-time author?
JO SZEWCZYK:Scarlet Shadows, book 1 of the Scarlet Mysteries, is, well, book 1 of a 10-book series. Currently, I am putting off writing book 2 since I am working on something of a secret project. I would love to tell you about it, but I won’t. You’ll never get that answer from me, no matter how much money you offer. Oh, well then, that is quite a lot, isn’t it? OK. I’ll tell you: Penguin Musical. I’ve said too much, a touch too much indeed.
B SUDHARSAN: A penguin musical is certainly an intriguing revelation! That said, you’ve experienced both the rewards and the disappointments of publishing. What would you say to aspiring authors who feel disheartened when their books don’t achieve the success they hoped for?
JO SZEWCZYK: What would I tell budding authors whose works do not perform well? Have they tried steroid injections? I hear it’s all the rage. I mean it’s not for everyone, but I don’t think books have drug tests, so you never do know. What qualifies as a work not performing well? Is it sales? Critics? I have an award-losing book called Surviving Gen X. It lost every award it was up for and was banned in a few places. But, when you look at it in literary circles, the critics glowed (just not enough to vote, eh?) and if you looked at launch or sales ranks, it hit #1. At one point I beat Malala. If you sneezed, you’d miss it, though. So, what is success? What is performance? We all have our definitions, and if someone really is hitting their head against the wall because a book bombed in some sort of form, my advice is to keep writing. You don’t write because you want to be a millionaire. You write because you have to. There’s something in you that won’t be silent.
B SUDHARSAN: Your thoughts on success raise an interesting question about what truly matters. If you could change just one thing about the world, what would it be?
JO SZEWCZYK: I bet a lot of people say something about hunger or war or injustice or baby Hitler. That’s all grand and all, but the one thing to really change in this world? Are we talking about a time machine or a magic wand? There are two fundamentally different answers depending on the true question. If I had a magic wand, I would give everyone the ability of true empathy. I think we’d solve all of the above if everyone could feel each other’s pain instead of the solipsistic (thanks to Henry Rollins for teaching me that word) version of life we have. If I had a time machine, though, that would be a completely different answer. I would go back in time and bet on the Los Angeles Lakers to 3-peat with Shaq and Kobe, but then put a lot of money on Detroit in that finals series that saw the stacked Lakers somehow lose to a Detroit team that barely had a 1st team player.
B SUDHARSAN: Haha! Between writing novels, teaching, interviewing, appearing on stage, and pursuing your other interests, your days must be anything but ordinary. What does a typical day in the life of Jo Szewczyk actually look like?
JO SZEWCZYK: Ever read James Joyce’s Ulysses? It’s a lot like that. Meaning, I usually have a 25-hour day that includes trying to juggle writing my new book of the Scarlet Mysteries (hey, did I mention you should buy the first book? It’s out now! Even my mom likes this one and nobody has banned it—yet.), teaching at a college part part part time, my interview show of What’s Kraken?, going back on stage for things like co-hosting the Bazowie Awards, giving lectures at Gen Con, and taking notes from Tony Horton on how I can age a lot more gracefully. The man’s 68 years old at time of writing, and he can still kick my butt at a lot of stuff. But, I got him beat on the cha-cha. Somewhere between all this, I work on other artistic endeavors and try to eat something that doesn’t resemble a protein shake. I even try to sleep now and then (more of the then instead of the now).
B SUDHARSAN: Your interests seem to transcend geographical and cultural boundaries, particularly when it comes to music and storytelling. Besides English, which other languages do you speak or understand?
JO SZEWCZYK: I speak every language. It’s just most people can’t understand my accent, which tells you a lot about the listening skills of people today.
B SUDHARSAN: Finally, before we let you return to your extraordinarily busy life, is there anything else you’d like to share with our readers? Perhaps a final piece of wisdom or even a secret?
JO SZEWCZYK: I would like to share my sure-fire way of curing everything that ails a body. Other doctors hate me when I say this, but I feel your readers deserve to know the truth and regain ownership of their own bodies. So here it goes. The secret is… Oooh, sorry. Ran out of time.
In this new conversation with Literary Harbinger, Tricia Copeland discusses the characters and prophecies that have shaped her latest books
For Tricia Copeland, magic is not confined to the pages of fantasy novels. It can be found in the unexpected discoveries of everyday life. The Colorado-based author, who has previously spoken to Literary Harbinger, returns with a closer look at her Kingdom Journals series and its expanding supernatural mythology. What began as a vampire story has grown into an intricate world of forbidden bloodlines. Her more recent prequels, Kingdom of the Damned and Of Witches and Vampires, explore the competing ambitions of two powerful women whose decisions influence the destinies of witches and vampires alike.
HARBINGER EXCLUSIVE
B SUDHARSAN: The Kingdom Journals series began in 2016, with Kingdom of Embers published the following year. What originally drew you to this supernatural world?
TRICIA COPELAND: My original intent for the Kingdom Journals series was that it would be a vampire series. Vampires are my favorite supernatural characters, and I craved to form my own spin on the lore. I created a half-vampire, half-witch hybrid character, Alena (Uh-lee-nuh), who had to hide her true nature, as these hybrids were forbidden by witch and vampire law. Further her, head of the vampires, Vampire Chancellor, mother mainstreamed her into human high school, so she faced challenges of fitting into human teen society. Her witch nature became a central part of the story as I molded how these two groups of beings were formed and their history of hostility. The most recent books in the series, prequels Kingdom of the Damned and Of Witches and Vampires, follow Alena’s mother and her adversary Sonya, and their dueling vision for the vampire and witch lines.
B SUDHARSAN: How did the ancient curse and the prophecy surrounding the witches take shape?
TRICIA COPELAND: As I grew the Kingdom Journals world, I tried to envision what challenges Alena may have given her hybrid nature. Where would she fit in? What would her future look like? Creating the history of the witch lines, a group of people sired originally by the archangels and human mothers for protection of the human race, one theme stuck out to me. The Creator may not have been immensely happy that the archangels took it upon themselves to give a group of humans celestial powers. The idea for a curse on the witch lines, damning their souls to purgatory, took shape. A prophecy foretold that each century three special witches are born. They must find each other, procure the Lance of Longinus, and discover the secret to breaking the curse. Each witch’s story unfolded for me as I grew the plot of how they would find each other, get the lance, and discover the spell to free their ancestors’ souls and ensure they would not be damned to purgatory forever. These characters seemed to write their own stories, with one character writing himself in and garnering his own book in the series.
B SUDHARSAN: Your characters seem to acquire lives of their own as the story progresses. Which authors have influenced your appreciation of strong characters and imaginative worlds?
TRICIA COPELAND: I have so many favorite authors from Margaret Mitchell, Cassandra Clare, Mary Stewart, Bram Stoker, Emily Henry, and Anne Rice. Each of them created amazing, courageous characters and fascinating worlds. I love original stories with characters charting their own courses.
‘My Favorite Time to Write is Early in the Morning’
B SUDHARSAN: That interest in characters charting their own courses is reflected in your writing. Do you follow a particular routine when developing a book?
TRICIA COPELAND: I love being able to write every day when I’m working on a book. My favorite time to write is early in the morning, but that doesn’t always happen. I tend to fit writing around my other life events.
B SUDHARSAN: Writing is also an important part of your professional life, although in a very different field. How did your scientific background eventually lead you towards fiction?
TRICIA COPELAND: I didn’t plan on becoming an author and didn’t especially like writing until graduate school. Growing my technical writing skills helped me find writing as a creative outlet.
B SUDHARSAN: How does that combination of technical and creative writing fit into your life in Colorado?
TRICIA COPELAND: I live in Colorado outside of Denver and love living here. I grew up in the flat expanse of South Georgia, so I really enjoy the mountain terrain and all the outdoor activities available. I have a degree in microbiology and work as a patent agent. So, I’m doing technical writing by day and creative writing in my spare time.
‘I Love Being Outdoors’
B SUDHARSAN: With such different responsibilities, what does an ordinary working day look like for you?
TRICIA COPELAND: I’m an early riser and have a long commute for my drive. I like getting to work early, so I miss traffic and get a start on my day before others are at the office. Evenings I walk with my dog and get some writing in.
B SUDHARSAN: Living near the Rocky Mountains must also offer a welcome change of pace. How do you usually spend your time away from work and writing?
TRICIA COPELAND: I love being outdoors running, hiking, or taking my dog for walks. If I’m not writing, I’m usually finding an excuse to be outside. I’ll even garden once in a while just to have something to do outside.
B SUDHARSAN: Alongside the supernatural world of Kingdom Journals, you have been exploring contemporary romance under another name. What can readers expect from you next?
TRICIA COPELAND: My most recent release is a romance under the pen name Maria Jane, and I am enjoying the characters in the Perfect Romance series, so I believe my next release will be another romance.
‘It’s Important to Decide What Your Goals Are for Writing’
B SUDHARSAN: Having worked across fantasy and romance, what advice would you offer emerging authors who feel discouraged when their books do not receive the response they hoped for?
TRICIA COPELAND: I think it’s important to decide what your goals are for writing and publishing. If you love writing, then I would focus on improving skills so that you can enjoy the craft even more.
B SUDHARSAN: Your affection for witches and vampires clearly extends beyond your fictional worlds. If you could change one thing about everyday life, what would it be?
TRICIA COPELAND: Can I have Halloween season all year? That would be amazing. I would love to have my house decorated with all my vampire and witchy gear without judgment all year round.
B SUDHARSAN: Finally, where can readers discover more of your stories, including your work as Maria Jane?
TRICIA COPELAND: My website at triciacopeland.com or mariajaneromance.com offers two free short stories when you sign up for my newsletter, so those are a great way to experience my work.
Can I have Halloween season all year? That would be amazing. I would love to have my house decorated with all my vampire and witchy gear without judgment all year round.
~ TRICIA COPELAND
PS:Tricia Copeland is an American author of young adult fantasy, dystopian fiction, and contemporary romance, the latter published under the pen name Maria Jane. A microbiology graduate and patent agent, she lives near the foothills of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. Her fiction reflects her belief that magic can be found in everyday experiences as well as imagined worlds.
Book: The Convenient Truth Genre: Historical Crime Mystery Author: Alan R Warren Rating: 4.5/5 Reviewer: Stavyah Vatsarah
The Convenient Truth by Alan R Warren opens in 1968 in a posh apartment with a dead art dealer and a police force anxious to pin the crime on someone. Adrian Vale was clubbed to death with a bronze statue. Two glasses rest beside a bottle of Scotch. One has been wiped clean. Lieutenant Eddie James observes the odd details while Detective Mercer, one of his colleagues, appears ready to pin the blame on the victim’s lover. I liked how fast Warren sets up the clash. One man wants facts. The other wants an arrest. And in a city where power means more than justice, that difference can be costly.
A Cop Who Refuses to Look Away
I like the type of detective Eddie is. He is not easily bamboozled. He has a temper, too, but usually keeps it in check. He loses his temper when he witnesses a suspect being mistreated during questioning. I liked that scene because it shows both his sense of justice and his flaws. He knows what is right, but that does not mean that he acts wisely all the time.
Eddie’s past makes him more interesting. His father, Edward James Sr, was a well-known Boston police chief, and everyone seems to love him. Eddie recalls a very different man. His father was cold and distant at home, and his mother, in her own way, made childhood wretched. I thought this contrast was sad. Eddie has lived his life listening to people praise a man he barely knew.
Warren makes good use of that family history. Eddie’s not just trying to solve a murder. He is also trying to find out if there is any truth to his father’s public image.
The Man at the Table
I really liked the character of Arthur Bell. He is Eddie’s secretary, but that doesn’t really capture what he can do. He seems able to locate things that no one else can. He also has a dry wit that catches Eddie off guard at times.
I enjoyed their banter. Eddie complains about Arthur being too quiet and jokes about putting a bell on him. Of course, Arthur takes the joke and throws it back at him. These little moments made me smile. They provide some relief from the grim happenings around them.
But Arthur is more than just a source of comedy. He sees what others overlook and has the patience to follow the trail through old files and forgotten records. And I liked that Warren gives him a mind as useful as Eddie’s badge. One of the best things about the book is their bond.
A City of Easy Lies
It’s a bleak scene in Boston. Warren reveals a city where wealth, rank, and family connections can influence a police case before the facts are known. Mercer is a case in point. He is from a wealthy family and appears more interested in getting his own way than in finding out the truth.
He drove me crazy. He is cruel and prejudiced in his treatment of Daniel Cross, the young man connected with Vale. Warren shows how easily a suspect can lose his dignity if the police decide he is guilty.
The story also touches on the dangers faced by gay men in 1968. Fear of public shame makes witnesses wary, and prejudice gives some officers an excuse to ignore facts. I liked the way Warren makes these social pressures part of the case rather than just background.
The Shadow of a Father
As Eddie digs deeper, the case starts to brush against old police records and men who once knew his father. There are missing files, odd markings, and a mysterious group known as the Duck Club. The name sounds almost absurd. The ideas associated with it are anything but.
What struck me was how desperate Eddie is to believe in justice, even knowing how badly the system can screw up. He’s seen people use rank and status to shield themselves. But he still searches for the evidence.
I also liked the way Warren dealt with the theme of family pride. Eddie does not want to condemn his father without reason, but he does not want to defend him just because they have the same name. That conflict personalizes the mystery.
The story then moves west to Seattle, where Eddie and Arthur encounter new faces and new cases. Then, with a family murder, a yellow cab, and a man called David Rusk, the story takes a darker turn. I enjoyed the change of scenery. It gives the pair room to grow while showing that old fears don’t go away just because you move.
Still, the shift from Boston to Seattle at times makes the book feel like two mysteries linked together. I wanted a smoother transition between them. Some scenes also take a good amount of time explaining past events or working through clues. The pace may slacken, but the detail feeds the larger story.
The Cost of Doing Right
What stayed with me was the question the book revolves around. What happens when the truth puts you at odds with the very people whose job it is to uphold the law? Eddie knows that doing what is right may cost him his career, his peace, and maybe more. But accepting an easy answer would be a betrayal of his own convictions.
I liked that Warren does not make Eddie perfect. He is proud and too sure of himself. Arthur is often the calm he lacks. Together, they make a good team.
A Mystery Worth Solving
The Convenient Truth is a story about power, prejudice, family secrets, and the price of seeking justice. Warren has created a dark, thoughtful crime mystery with a tough but deeply wounded protagonist.
My favorite parts of the book were when Eddie and Arthur worked together. One has the guts to challenge the powerful. The other has the brains to find out what they really want to hide. Their bond provides some warmth to this grim story. And the more Eddie learned about the past, the more I wanted to know what it might hold.
Book: My Plus One = You Genre: Contemporary Romantic Comedy Author: Angela Haas Rating: 4.5/5 Reviewer: Stavyah Vatsarah
Rachel Kicklighter is a bridesmaid for the tenth time in Angela Haas’s My Plus One = You. She’s thirty-four, single, sick of satin dresses, and tired of watching friends get married while her own love life goes nowhere. Then she meets Cameron Nash, a handsome stranger who’s been asked to take the place of a groomsman who fell into a cactus patch after drinking too much. The suit barely fits poor Cam, and a button pops off and hits Rachel in the forehead. I laughed at that part. Haas knows how to turn a wedding disaster into a pretty charming first meeting.
A Bridesmaid Who’s Had Enough
Rachel is a bit of a mess on the subject of love. She loves her friends but hates being the one left out when the couples hit the dance floor. Her experience with Andrew, who broke her trust, has made her skeptical about love. She has a nice guy in Phil who treats her well, but she can’t bring herself to take it further.
I liked Rachel because her fears seem real. She wants love, but she is afraid of what it will cost her. She jokes about her bad luck and her endless bridesmaid duties, but underneath the wit is someone who is afraid to get hurt again. Haas gives her a sharp voice, and her thoughts are funnier than what she says out loud.
Rachel’s life is not only about dating. She works in the family business, where her relationship with her mother is another source of stress. I liked this part of the story because it shows her struggle is about more than simply finding a man. She also needs to learn to put herself first.
A Man Who Hates Weddings
Rachel and Cam are a strange couple. He’s handsome and clearly attracted to her, but weddings make him nervous. Their first meeting is funny, but his demeanor at the ceremony hints at some deeper pain. He has a past of his own to confront, and the thought of falling in love again terrifies him.
What I liked about Cam was that Haas allows him to be more than a dream man in a fine suit. He can be kind and warm, but he also retreats when the going gets tough. It’s his fears that make him human, although there were times I wished he would stop overthinking and just take a chance.
The scenes from Cam’s perspective are a big help. We see the gap between his feelings and what he says. I thought that was more interesting than a romance where the man is a mystery until the last page.
Beyond a Wedding Date
The book’s charm lies in the idea of being someone’s plus one. For one reason or another, Rachel and Cam keep running into each other, and wedding plans become a test of their bond. When both have old wounds, a simple invitation can feel like a huge risk.
I liked the way Haas builds up their attraction through small acts, shy smiles, teasing, and moments of care. The chemistry is there, but the real drama lies in how hard they find it to trust their own feelings.
Some scenes are sweet; some are awkward in a way that feels true to life. When Rachel is upset, she talks too fast. Cam can be quiet when he ought to be talking. I liked that their problems don’t go away just because they find each other attractive.
Rachel’s friends, Laura and Emily, add warmth and humor. They know when something is wrong, tease her, and give her advice. I loved their brunch chats and honesty about love. They make Rachel’s world seem real.
Cam’s family is also important, especially his mother, who wants him to be happy again. I liked how Haas uses these connections to show how romance almost never exists in a neat little world of two people. Friends and family can help, but they can add to the pressure.
The past is a big presence for both leads. Rachel is afraid she’ll lose herself in a bad relationship. Cam is afraid of the pain that comes with trust. Their wounds are not the same, but both must face the urge to flee when love gets too close.
When Love Is Hard
The book mixes humor, romance, and family tension. Sometimes I thought the two were too slow to see what everyone else saw. A few of their fears lead to the same tense exchange more than once. I wanted them to be more open.
But Haas makes their skepticism understandable. Love is not always about finding the right person. Sometimes the hard part is allowing that person to see the parts of you that still hurt. What struck a chord with me was how Rachel needs to learn that kindness doesn’t mean sacrificing her own needs. Cam must also confront the fact that fear can hurt others, even when his intentions are good.
A Date to Remember
My Plus One = You is ultimately a story of love, trust, friendship, and the courage to try again. I liked that Haas gives her leads, lives, fears, and flaws beyond their romance.
It’s a moving love story about a couple who are equally charming and frustrating. Rachel and Cam may meet by chance, but it’s the work involved in letting someone into your life that makes their story worth reading. After all those weddings, I found myself hoping Rachel might finally get to enjoy one.
Book: Ashme’s Song Genre: Dystopian Science Fiction Author: Brad C Anderson Rating: 5/5 Reviewer: Stavyah Vatsarah
In Brad C Anderson’s Ashme’s Song, there’s a young woman staring down the barrel of a gun, with a dead boy in the street. His crime? Being sixteen and a bit of a know-it-all, apparently. The Caelum Peace Corps shot him eight times, and now its officers are looking for someone to justify the murder. Ashme, a talented system raider from the occupied city of New Uruk, knows exactly what happened. She also knows that the truth could put her and her twin brother in danger. This opening was brutal as hell. Anderson pulls us into a world where justice is a commodity and where survival depends on knowing when to keep your mouth shut.
The Girl Who Won’t Bow
Ashme is not your typical science fiction heroine. She is angry, foul-mouthed, impulsive, and sometimes so reckless that I wanted to shake some sense into her. But she is fiercely protective of her twin brother, Shen, who is mentally disabled and has an incredible love of music. Their relationship is a major source of the novel’s emotional power. Ashme can interact mentally with sophisticated computer systems but can’t afford to replace Shen’s broken keyboard. That contrast tells us more about her circumstances than any grand statement on oppression.
Anderson won’t allow Ashme to be consistently admirable. She’s inherited her father’s rage at the Ostarrichi, the ruling population that has made her people, the Mesos, second-class citizens. It’s painful for her to remember the psychological decline that followed the war, and her bitterness seems justified. But she is judgmental and dangerously quick to use violence. I liked that inconsistency. She is a damaged young woman trying to survive without becoming all that she hates.
A Family United in Stubbornness
I particularly liked the scenes inside Ashme’s cramped apartment, which she shares with Shen, her cousin Ganzer, and their ancient great-aunt Melammu. Their home is ransacked by soldiers and their money stolen, but the landlord still demands rent. Shen’s keyboard is in bits. Food is scarce. Still, the family somehow finds reasons to argue and care for each other. These moments hit me harder than some of the bigger action set pieces because they show what oppression does to everyday lives.
The funniest of these characters is Ganzer. A mountain of a man with a fearsome temper, he is trying to become a hierophant and gain some self-control. Unfortunately, everyone keeps trying his patience. It’s pretty funny watching him try to keep cool. Meanwhile, Melammu has the perspective of someone who has watched her homeland decline. Together, they make Ashme’s household feel more like a family than a group of characters thrown together for a sci-fi adventure.
Anderson’s worldbuilding is gloriously strange. The planet Esharra is covered in a nanohaze that allows gifted people, known as indigo children, to control technology. Ashme uses it to hack security systems, hide identities, and talk to her AI, Subdeo. The occupiers have floating surveillance machines called angels. I liked the irony of the name. There is precious little heavenliness to these heavily armed machines.
Equally striking is the difference between the Meso and Ostarrichi districts. One population lives in crowded apartments, amid filthy streets and never-ending checkpoints. The other lives in shiny buildings with technological luxuries. Anderson makes inequality impossible to miss. But what struck me most was how well both communities have learned to hate and fear one another. The technology is cutting-edge, but the ugliness behind it is all too familiar.
The Dangerous Game of Picking Sides
Ashme’s friend Sura brings a different vibe. She is clever and at home in the criminal underbelly. The lure is plain when she offers Ashme a well-paid job involving stolen software. The rent has to be paid, and there isn’t exactly a line of decent jobs waiting for her. I like their back-and-forth exchanges because there’s a weird edge to their friendship.
Mason, an Ostarrichi businessman, sees things otherwise. Anderson reveals his concerns about home and his fears about work, even as he belongs to the privileged society Ashme despises. He has a wife and children, as well as hopes and fears. I liked this because it keeps the conflict from becoming a simple good-versus-evil fight. Mason’s prejudices are still disturbing, but his common humanity is more telling.
The Cost of Wrath
The novel alternates between criminal intrigue and explosive confrontations. Sometimes, the invented lexicon and tech-speak require a fair amount of focus. Sometimes, I wanted less information and more energy. But when the characters are dealing with the consequences of their choices, the story is hard to put down.
What stayed with me was the moral uneasiness beneath the action. Ashme has every right to hate her oppressors. But does suffering justify making others suffer? When is the desire for justice the same as revenge? Anderson frames these questions through the lives of people who are scared, angry, and running out of options.
A Song You Should Hear
Ultimately, Ashme’s Song is about family, inherited hatred, revenge, and being human in an inhumane world. I especially liked how music is used in Ashme’s relationship with Shen. His love of music offers something beautifully uncomplicated in a world obsessed with control and technological perfection.
Anderson has crafted a violent and morally uncomfortable science fiction adventure with a heroine who is both admirable and maddening. That’s why she’s worth following. Ashme can hack machines and challenge powerful enemies, but her greatest challenge is choosing who she wants to be when hatred would be so much easier.
Book: Struck in the Heart Genre: Psychological Suspense Author: Sharon Butala Rating: 5/5 Reviewer: Stavyah Vatsarah
Sharon Butala’s Struck in the Heart opens with a body being buried in a frozen pit among animal bones. No explanations. No comforting leads. Just a guy doing something horrible with terrifying resolve. The start was disturbing, but what was more interesting to me was how quickly Butala moved from that darkness to the everyday worries of an ordinary family. Set against the backdrop of the COVID-19 pandemic, the novel follows Rick Phillips, an accountant whose choice to take his wife and children to his parents’ remote prairie farm promises safety from a scary world. And Rick has problems that isolation won’t solve, unfortunately. What follows is a gripping exploration of guilt, greed, family loyalty, and the lies we tell ourselves to stay respectable.
A Normal Guy With Abnormal Secrets
Rick is the type of character whom you’re judging one minute and trying to understand the next. He is a husband, a father, and a moderately successful accountant, but underneath that average exterior is a man who is deeply unhappy with himself. He wants money and the cushy lifestyle he feels he deserves. His association with Tyler Benedict, a shady businessman with ties to criminal activity, has already put him in perilous waters. When Rick takes a lot of money out of the city that isn’t his, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’s more afraid of getting caught or secretly thrilled by what he has done.
Butala is a master at highlighting Rick’s contradictions. He is interested in protecting his children while concealing things that may be harmful to them. He’s angry at his father’s expectations but still wants his approval. Even his dreams of wealth are almost pathetic. At one point, he thinks of himself as a ‘Clouseau-gone-bad, not a Tony Soprano.’ I liked that comparison because it shows his ridiculous self-image. Rick wants to enjoy the perks of being a criminal without fully owning the fact that he’s become one. It’s almost impressive how he lies to himself.
And Rick’s wife, Jill, is just as interesting. She’s worried about the pandemic, protective of her kids, and getting more and more frustrated with her husband. Butala doesn’t turn her into a worried wife living only to react to Rick’s decisions. Jill has her own disappointments and questions about the life she chose and the marriage she lives in. I loved the awkward little conversations they had together. Their arguments rarely start out with anything dramatic. A word about the children will do, or an unwelcome trip or an old family grievance. Beneath these common disagreements is a marriage in which neither person seems to fully understand the other.
Rick’s parents, Lyle and Erma, are elderly and already live on the farm when Rick and his family arrive. Their home offers the promise of safety, but it also rekindles tensions Rick thought he had left behind years ago. Lyle’s quiet authority gets under his skin, and Erma’s affection carries the burden of age and uncertainty. Amid the anxieties of the adults, there are flashes of innocence from the children, Aidan and Kimmie. I found these domestic tableaux strangely engaging. Butala knows families don’t stop being complicated because the world outside has become dangerous.
Fear in the Countryside
The prairie setting is one of the novel’s major strengths. The snow-covered roads, the lonely farmhouses, the empty fields, and the distant towns create a sense of vast space and uncomfortable confinement. There is something unnerving about being trapped in the middle of so much open country. Butala makes that contradiction work beautifully. The family has escaped from the crowded city, but the isolation only makes them more and more dependent on each other.
The pandemic is more than a convenient setting. It changes the way people speak, travel, trust, and judge their neighbors. The sight of an ambulance arriving at a neighbor’s house is frightening. Getting into town feels like a calculated gamble. News reports bring new anxieties into the living room. I found these details particularly compelling because they evoked for me the speed with which quotidian routines turned into sources of fear. Butala also demonstrates how uncertainty can reveal those prejudices, resentments, and selfish instincts that we usually manage to keep hidden.
What appealed to me most about Struck in the Heart was that it didn’t make Rick either wholly monstrous or conveniently sympathetic. He can be affectionate, amusing, petty, frightened, and appallingly self-centered. His thoughts often reveal motives he would never admit aloud. Butala’s close attention to his inner life makes the novel a psychological page-turner. We’re not simply witnessing a man making questionable decisions. We watch him build ever more elaborate rationales for believing those decisions are reasonable.
Book: The Convergence Genre: Epic Fantasy Author: J M Shaw Rating: 4.5/5 Reviewer: Stavyah Vatsarah
J M Shaw’s The Convergence, the second book in the Callum Walker series, opens with a man who has saved a world and wants nothing more to do with it. Callum Walker, a human warlock, has retreated to Rutherford following the Winter War, seeking in anonymity the peace that victory had not brought him. Trouble, unfortunately, seems to find him. Soon, a missing community of elves, a desperate queen, and a sinister force sweeping through the magical realm threaten his fragile solitude. Shaw’s second Callum Walker novel is an ambitious fantasy adventure about the tiring business of being everyone’s reluctant savior.
A Hero Who Wants to Be Left Alone
What stands out about Callum is that he’s not all that interested in being celebrated. He has extraordinary powers but lives in a cramped apartment and avoids interfering neighbors. He is also haunted by memories of people he has lost. “I’m too human for your realm, and no amount of magic will change that,” he admits. It’s that loneliness that underlies his awesome powers. He is not completely at home in the magical world, and he is not completely at home in the human world either. Shaw offers his hero more than invincibility: a desperate need to belong.
This makes his relationship with Jobella particularly engaging. The elven druid is concerned for him, and Callum responds with sarcasm and occasional affection. Their conversations are amusingly ordinary for two people communicating across a supernatural divide. Jobella’s magical phone receives unwanted vacation-package offers, a humorous reminder that even seasoned magic practitioners can be confused by modern technology. Beneath the humor lies real concern. Callum may want to be left alone, but his conscience always wins out over his desire for independence.
A Queen Who Desires Power
Queen Esme provides an interesting contrast. Power is something Callum distrusts. Power is something Esme desires. She is increasingly obsessed with the prospect of controlling something greater than herself. Shaw starts with a scene in which she is clambering up a hillside in an impractical royal gown, refusing offers of help and trying the patience of her commander. It’s a nice human introduction to a ruler who doesn’t see herself as anything ordinary. Her obsession with authority gives the novel a political edge: having power and deserving it are two entirely different things.
Commander Joric Agis provides yet another layer of conflict. His loyalty to the monarchy conflicts with his knowledge of past mistakes, and he is caught between obedience and conscience. He’s competent and disciplined but often uncomfortable with the demands placed on him. His exchanges with Callum also provide some welcome humor, especially when unfamiliar human customs clash with his military dignity. Shaw has these two opposing characters raise the question of whether loyalty is still a virtue when the person you are loyal to is difficult to believe in.
One of the novel’s pleasures is the way it builds its world. Elves, druids, gnomes, magical portals, enchanted stones, and ancient prophecies all inhabit a wondrous and politically troubled world. Magic is powerful, but it is not easy. Healing has its limits. Casting a spell takes energy. Even incredible powers cannot take away all pain. These constraints are the launching pad for Callum’s adventures. The reader understands that having magic does not mean having an answer.
Shaw knows how to make danger personal, too. Callum walks through the wreckage of a devastated elven settlement. The horror is not just the destruction but the lives lost. Later, frightened gnomes come to him for shelter, carrying the sorrow of a community torn apart. The spreading threat is given emotional weight by their desperation. Callum’s impulse to help is admirable, but the novel doesn’t let us forget how much that impulse costs him.
The Problem of Being Good
The pace shifts between tense confrontations, political wheeling and dealing, magical discoveries, and quieter moments of reflection. Shaw does tend to spend a lot of time explaining the mechanics and history of his world, which may slow down readers who want nonstop action. But the detail helps build the scope of the danger and the conflicting interests around Callum. The dialogue is especially enjoyable when his modern impatience runs up against stodgy fantasy conventions. He can deal with supernatural horrors just fine, but he can bitch about the people who make his life miserable.
The emotional weight of The Convergence comes from the difference between Callum’s public persona and his private reality. Some see a mighty warlock who can perform extraordinary deeds. He sees a man who is tired, who has lost friends, who has made mistakes, and who can’t quite outrun his conscience. That difference makes his bravery credible. He doesn’t act because danger excites him; he acts because it would bother him more to ignore another person’s suffering.
Ultimately, The Convergence is a story about the futility of power that cannot create peace. Shaw knows that heroism is seldom comfortable and that goodness is only meaningful when it asks something of us. The spectacle is magical and entertaining, but the meat of the adventure is in its quieter moral struggles. Callum Walker has powers beyond the understanding of ordinary people, but his most familiar burden is painfully well known. He knows he could walk away but finds he cannot.
Book: Perfect Wives, Perfect Lies Genre: Dark Psychological Fiction Author: Jennifer Anne Gordon Rating: 4.5/5 Reviewer: Stavyah Vatsarah
Jennifer Anne Gordon’s Perfect Wives, Perfect Lies contains an uncomfortable understanding about loneliness: sometimes pretending to have a better life feels easier than living the one you have. Rebecca “Becca” Gauthier, a forty-one-year-old social worker, is grieving the loss of her son, Gabe, and the end of her marriage. Her escape is Mommy Wine Time, a private Facebook group of women whose expensive habits and carefully arranged meals seem to have immunized them from the normal misery of life. Becca knows a lot of it is ludicrous. She sees. She can’t help it. Gordon turns this innocuous obsession into a dark, razor-sharp study of grief and the dangerous pleasure of becoming someone else.
A Life Behind the Curtain
Becca is not an easy character to like, which is what makes her interesting. She is pleasant at work, fatigued at home, preoccupied with money, and has the ability to make fun of nearly everyone around her, including herself. Early on, she wonders how forty-four women can create “so much beautiful nothing”—a wonderfully sharp description of the online world she secretly loves. The contradiction is huge: Becca hates the privilege on display but covets the security it seems to promise. Her sarcasm is funny until the pain that lies underneath seems so apparent.
Gordon finds that pain does not make Becca a helpless victim. Gabe’s death is always there, in ordinary moments, in a picture on her phone, in words that unexpectedly conjure memories of drowning. Becca’s a social worker who can handle the tough cases but can’t get through her own evenings without wine and the comforting fiction of her online identity. She admits that “Being Becca is hard,” and it is painfully simple. It explains why playing someone else has become more than entertainment.
Women Who Made the Pictures Perfect
Mommy Wine Time is one of the novel’s strongest creations because Gordon knows the particular intimacy of online communities. Its members trade remarks about food, beauty, marriage, and domestic frustrations, often cloaking cruelty in humor. Perfectly photographed breakfasts become a competition, and apparently innocent conversations reveal class prejudice and resentment. Becca belongs to this theater, in the person of Lucy Westenra, the identity she has fashioned for herself. The gag is that she sees through everyone else’s performance but becomes more and more reliant on her own.
Her friendship with Lynn is a revealing contrast. Both women are social workers, know what professional burnout is, and have a history before Becca’s online existence. Their conversations are deliciously messy, full of jokes and annoyance and affection and uncomfortable truths. Lynn realizes that Mommy Wine Time is not just a distraction but a desire to live a different life. The distinction between being surrounded by people and being known is glaringly obvious when Becca says, “The group doesn’t know my real circumstances.”
As Becca’s online relationships start to take on emotional significance, the book becomes darker and darker, her real life not quite matching up. Gordon is so effective at showing how addictive attention can be, especially when you’ve been invisible for years. An unexpected sign of interest can turn an otherwise miserable evening. Becca doesn’t want just admiration; she wants to feel like she’s important. That need makes her sympathetic even as her choices grow more and more indefensible.
The writing is deliberately restless, flitting between dark humor, grief, social commentary, and Becca’s anxious inner monologue. References to television, horror films, fast food, and social media give her narration a familiar contemporary voice. The endless digressions might exhaust some readers, but they also expose a mind desperate to evade silence. Gordon usually notices mundane details. Even a chocolate shake or an unopened student loan bill can be a reminder of something Becca is not ready to face.
The Cost of Make-Believe
What makes Perfect Wives, Perfect Lies compelling is its unwillingness to present loneliness as something easily fixed by friendship or self-awareness. Becca knows her online life is unhealthy, but knowing doesn’t make leaving it any easier. Gordon also doesn’t make the supposed perfect women into objects of ridicule. Underneath the privilege and the performance lie familiar insecurities and desires for control. The social satire of the novel is at its best in its demonstration of how easily people confuse appearances with happiness.
Ultimately, Perfect Wives, Perfect Lies is a disturbing portrait of what happens when escape becomes more real than reality. Gordon writes about grief without making it respectable and about female friendship without pretending women are always kind to each other. Her smartest observation is that deception is not always motivated by a desire to hurt someone. It may begin with a desire to be loved or even just noticed. And occasionally, the best lie we tell ourselves is that we are being truthful.
Book: Unveiled Genre: Psychological Suspense Author: T K Bush Rating: 5/5 Reviewer: Stavyah Vatsarah
Unveiled opens with a woman whose ordinary life revolves around a hole in her memory. Cath Lab manager Tessa Brooks is a wife and mother whose apparent stability is shattered by increasingly vivid flashbacks of an accident she can’t quite remember. Then, out of the blue, a man from her past, Dominic Reynolds, appears, and what Tessa thought she had safely buried starts to raise its ugly head. The premise allows the novel to leap between domestic drama, romance, medical fiction, and psychological suspense without immediately giving away which of Tessa’s fears are real. Fundamentally, it poses a tough question: if memory has been your shield against the past, is remembering always positive?
When Memory Calls
The novel works best when it contrasts Tessa’s professional competence with her private uncertainty. From the very first scene in the Cath Lab, a woman comfortable in a high-pressure world watches a team of doctors and nurses race the clock to get blood pumping to a patient’s heart. But the crisis yanks Tessa out of the moment, conjuring images of “crushed metal, blood, and smoke.” It is this contrast that underlies her characterization: she can deal with other people’s emergencies, but not with what her mind chooses to show her. And to herself, “Not now. Stay here” is a shorthand version of that struggle.
Dominic makes those broken memories human. Tessa immediately knows him as someone she knew before the accident, but recognition is not certainty. Her memories are of attraction and intimacy but also of suspicion, especially the memories of Dominic disappearing for mysterious periods. His return creates tension, not immediate physical danger. Neither Tessa nor the reader has the full history to interpret him. When she asks, “Where has he been?”, the question is bigger than Dominic; it is already full of everything that has been missing from her story.
The domestic scenes are a stark contrast to this uncertainty. Tessa’s life revolves around Michael and her son, Isaac. Dominic is the life she can never quite grasp. It’s the familiar territory of the Brooks house, complete with an overcooked dinner, Isaac in trouble for applesauce, and Michael offering to put the kid to bed. And that’s why the ordinariness is so important: it gives Tessa something real to lose. Here, the suspense is not merely about what has happened but about what that question might mean for the present.
Tessa’s longtime friend, Nicole, provides the protagonist with another source of stability. Nicole’s been Tessa’s friend since long before most of her current life came into being, and she’s a useful counterpoint to the woman Tessa was and the woman she’s become. Nicole basically preaches to her to trust her instincts early on, reminding her that her “gut feelings aren’t usually wrong.” It’s a simple comment, but it gains more resonance in a novel where memory itself is unreliable. Tessa is continually given the choice between believing the evidence, others, or herself.
Medicine & Mysteries
Unveiled has a different medical history. Cardiac procedures, hospital routines, patient care, and workplace relationships are not set dressing for Tessa; they are part of her daily world. The emergency at the start, with the guidewire, the balloon, the blocked artery, and the rapidly changing vital signs, gives the story professional specificity right away. It’s also thematically engaging: Tessa works in a field that deals in finding dangerous blockages, but her own past has a blockage she can’t clear. The connection is always easy to follow, but it gives the setting a purpose beyond atmosphere.
The novel builds suspense not so much through swift action as through accumulation. Tessa has no idea which details matter. An old file, a strange headache, an uncomfortable feeling, a half-remembered image, or a familiar face can all be key things. Her flashbacks, then, are pieces rather than convenient explanations. It leaves the narrative with a certain deliberate restlessness at times, as Tessa questions what she remembers and why. The uncertainty should make it a particularly satisfying read for anyone who likes mysteries built on the bedrock of unreliable memory.
What Lies Beneath
Stylistically, Unveiled is intended to be accessible and emotionally immediate. We often see her inner thoughts, so the reader feels her suspicion, guilt, attraction, fear, and confusion almost as soon as she does. The writing is brilliant in the mundane and the jarring, especially when something Tessa recalls suddenly punctuates hospital routines or family moments. The novel doesn’t distance its protagonist from the emotional; it immerses readers in her uncertainty.
But Unveiled is really about more than solving the mystery of an accident. It is a meditation on how vital memory is to identity and whether a comfortable present can survive the truths we bury. So Tessa’s quest is as much inward as outward: to figure out what happened and who she was then. Hence, the title rings true. In Unveiled, the scariest thing behind the veil may not be the past itself, but what happens when someone finally pulls it back.
