Topherlytle

Piranesi is a beautifully written novel with a premise as mysterious as it is captivating. While often categorized as fantasy, it feels more like speculative fiction, or perhaps “fantasy light”, with a literary depth and layered themes that surprised me. The story unfolds in layers, revealing a world rich in symbolism and meaning, and a protagonist who is both compelling and quietly profound. As the mysteries unravel, the book evokes a mix of emotions: wonder, sadness, hope, and a lingering bittersweetness. I can see how this novel might be polarizing, but for me, it was a surprising and deeply rewarding read.

Do I think the author is a gifted storyteller? Absolutely.
Is this sci-fi? No. This is Lit Fic that flirts with sci-fi.
Do I know how to rate this thing? Not really.
Do I recommend this book? I think so.

When I write reviews, I don't aim for objectivity, I respond subjectively. On an objective level, prose, plot, character development, Death of the Author is a solid. Okorafor's craftsmanship is clear. The structure is creative, the writing is (mostly) sharp, and the central narrative is compelling.

But subjectively? I struggled.

Okorafor has created a fully realized protagonist, but one so deeply selfish and self-serving that I found myself frequently frustrated. And yet, to her credit, I kept reading. That speaks volumes about Okorafor's talent. She pulls you in, even when you're mad at the protagonist. Honestly, the book-within-a-book (Rusted Robots) is something I'd read on its own.

Beyond the character's selfishness and the bordering-on-nihilistic tone, I also wrestled with some of the “interview” chapters. Very few added depth and complexity; most felt shoehorned in and disrupted the flow for me.

And then there's the ending. Oof. I really did not care for the ending. I respect the author's choices, but it didn't feel as satisfying or complete as the rest of the novel. It left me all kinds of meh.

So, where does that leave me?

I'd give Death of the Author a 3.5 for now. I plan to reread it next year and may adjust that rating. Regardless, Nnedi Okorafor is an immensely gifted writer, unafraid to explore the complexity of human nature, family ties, and personal ambition. The novel reflects the messiness of life. And while I personally wished for a bit more hope, humility, or gratitude in its pages, I recognize, some will simply continue to choose self over anything else.

Home Before Dark is haunted house comfort food. If Stephen King’s The Shining is a multi-course meal paired with fine wine, Home Before Dark is a 10-piece nugget meal with an ice-cold Coke from McDonald’s. And let’s be honest, sometimes, that’s exactly what you want.

The story offers enough twists and turns to keep your attention and is always barreling forward. If you're looking for complex characters with rich inner lives, you won’t find them here but that’s not necessarily a flaw. This book knows what it is and leans into it.

Are there eye roll moments, yes. A few plot mechanics, tropes, and some unnecessary TMI from father to daughter come to mind. However, it’s a solid haunted house romp with decent creepiness, a central mystery (that you’ll probably see coming), straightforward prose, and easy-to-digest escapism.

Read this if you're in the mood for something spooky that won't demand much from you as a reader. It’s fun, engaging enough, and a perfect pick as the nights start getting longer in the fall.

Where the Deer and the Antelope Play is an interesting, albeit unbalanced, work. I'm a big fan of Nick Offerman. Generally, I appreciate his humor, observations, thoughts, and desire for nuance. This book is at its best when his passion comes through with humor and humility rather than biting cynicism. I don't disagree with much of what Offerman asserts, and I certainly found myself chortling many times throughout.

However, he often falls into the same trap he critiques, speaking unkindly about people or groups as he groups them together as a monolith. Some portions of the book, particularly the last section, already haven't aged well. That doesn't mean it isn't filled with incredible nuggets and thoughtful challenges, it absolutely is, but the imbalance is most clearly seen in those later chapters. I wouldn't call it hypocritical, but when one of the book's core themes is nuance and a desire to understand, that gets a bit lost as frustration and anger begin to take the lead.

Overall, I appreciate this book. It brings up hard realities and challenging questions with humor and aplomb, even if it's clear who Offerman believes the villains are. I disagreed with several things and would genuinely love to have a real-life conversation with him about it.

If you're politically homeless, a Christian, a keyboard warrior, someone with little work ethic, a whiner, or a conservative, you'll probably feel uncomfortable at times—and I think that's okay. If you're a Trumpian conservative, a Christian nationalist, or a far-right Republican, you're likely going to hate this book. You should read it anyway.

3.5 stars.

If I had read World War Z before 2020, I probably would’ve enjoyed it and moved on. But reading it post-2020? It feels downright prescient.

Told through a series of interviews conducted after the zombie apocalypse, the book pieces together a haunting oral history of how the world responded, and failed to respond, to the crisis. The format keeps things fresh, with each voice offering a distinct perspective, making it nearly impossible to get bored.

What surprised me most was how deeply unsettling it was, not because of the zombies, but because of how accurately it portrays global breakdown: conspiracies, misinformation, governmental posturing, denial, division… It all hits a little too close to home.

A compelling and eerily relevant read. Definitely worth your time.