Phil

Phil Christman has written a book that will land exactly where you already stand. It sharpens the ground under people already committed to Christian leftism far more than it moves anyone toward that ground. I'm the target audience, a Christian Socialist reading this in 2026, and even I kept noticing the places where an argument leaned on conviction I already held rather than building one from scratch. If I'd picked this up skeptical, I don't think it would have changed my mind.

That's a real limit. It doesn't erase what the book does well within the world Christman is writing for. It's insightful and entertaining in a way good theological argument rarely manages to be, and it's exactly the conversation so many Christian circles need to be having right now, whether or not you end up agreeing with him. He makes his case with real theological depth and historical range. And he's warm about it, not preachy. He's also clear-eyed about what politics can and can't actually deliver right now, promising no utopia and no easy wins.

The practical stuff is where the book earns its keep. Christman is specific about what to prioritize (care for the poor, opposition to nativism), concrete about how to live it out, and generous with reading recommendations for anyone who wants to keep going. His chapter on enemies, who counts as one and how to think about them theologically, is some of the clearest writing in the book. And for anyone tired of watching large swaths of American Christianity make peace with fascism, spending a few hours with a writer who clearly sees what's happening feels less like an argument and more like relief.

This is a strong, faithful book for the people already in the room. I just wish it had spent a little more energy trying to open the door.

American Idolatry is a powerful, timely, and deeply faithful examination of how Christian nationalism distorts the message of Jesus and undermines the witness of the church. Andrew L. Whitehead approaches this difficult topic not with pride or condescension, but with humility, clarity, and a sincere desire to help both individuals and communities find their way back to the heart of the gospel.

What sets this book apart is its tone. Whitehead never uses his research as a weapon. There are no cheap shots or gotcha moments. Instead, he writes as someone who loves the church and longs for it to reflect the radical love, justice, and humility of Christ. His words are firm but pastoral, grounded in both sociological insight and genuine spiritual concern.

He exposes how Christian nationalism replaces trust in God with trust in power, fear, and cultural dominance, but he does so with compassion for those caught in its grip. This is not a book about scoring points. It is a call to repentance, restoration, and renewed discipleship.

American Idolatry is essential reading for anyone who wants to follow Jesus faithfully in an age of political confusion and religious compromise. It gave me hope that change is possible, and a deeper conviction that the gospel is worth reclaiming.

This is the book where Dungeon Crawler Carl stops feeling like a story about one guy and his cat grinding through floors. It reveals itself as the sprawling, intergalactic saga it was building toward all along, and Matt somehow keeps every single plate spinning at once.

There is a LOT going on here. The crawl itself is still churning out its usual drama, floor by floor. Galactic politics has ballooned into more factions and players than you can shake a stick at. And after five books of hints and table scraps, we finally get real information on the Primals and what they're actually up to. Any one of these threads could carry a book on its own. Matt's running all three in parallel, and mostly landing it.

That “mostly” is doing some work. The lore drops are genuinely good, the kind that recontextualize stuff from earlier books instead of just piling on new nouns, and the scope finally feels earned rather than sprawling for its own sake. But zoom out and do the math: we're deep into a mounting cast of galactic players and still only scratching the Primals, with 18 floors left to clear. I love the ambition. I'm a little worried about the runway. Either Matt's got a serious acceleration planned, or this series is longer than any of us signed up for.

What keeps it from feeling bloated is that the emotional stuff still lands even with all the plates in the air. There are some legitimately sad moments in here, a steady stream of “oh shit” turns, and, if you're actually paying attention instead of just riding the jokes, more depth under the surface than a book with this much dungeon-crawler chaos has any right to have.

As Donut put it: “Viva la revolución.”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ An absolutely wild, emotional, brutally brilliant ride

The Butcher's Masquerade somehow manages to raise the bar on a series that already lives on pure chaos, heart, and sweat-soaked hilarity. Book 5 is everything I love about Dungeon Crawler Carl cranked to eleven: razor sharp humor, ingenious dungeon design, memorable side characters, and those gut punch emotional moments that hit you right between the ribs.

This installment balances outrageous spectacle with some of the most character driven storytelling in the series. Carl and Donut both grow in ways that feel earned and satisfying, and the relationships, old and new, are written with a surprising level of depth for a series that also features homicidal mascots, weaponized fashion, and the occasional exploding cat toy.

The pacing is tight, the reveals land with force, and Dinniman's imagination continues to be off the charts impressive. I laughed out loud, I clenched my jaw, and at one point I had to put the book down and walk around for a minute. It is that good.

If you are already a fan of the series, this will absolutely cement why you love it. If you are new, start at book one and thank yourself later.

The Butcher's Masquerade is peak litRPG chaos with a beating heart underneath. Pure 5 star madness.

I went into this knowing it wasn't going to be another Hierarchy book—Islington's first sci-fi, smaller scope, no epic fantasy sprawl—and honestly, managing my expectations up front helped a lot. Even so, this book kept surprising me with just how much world it packs into a fairly compact page count.

The setting is the real star here: a stratified society where the wealthy buy their way to immortality and everyone else is stuck with a countdown clock. Islington keeps layering in new wrinkles on that premise as the book goes, and it's genuinely the most interesting thing on the page: more interesting, frankly, than Azure himself. I never fully warmed to the protagonist, and that mattered more than it should have, since the plot takes a while to get out of first gear. I found myself waiting for the “meat” of the story longer than I wanted to.

Which is a strange thing to say next to my main complaint: I wanted more. Give me 700 pages of this world instead of holding back, more time to sit in the setting, more room for a lead I could actually root for. Islington clearly has a lot more to say here, and I liked what's on the page enough that I'd follow this into a full series.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the advance copy. Scion publishes September 1, 2026.