Eric Stone

"There’s always room to do a little bit better."

My eight-year-old daughter saw me reading this and asked "why." I told her the truth: I know I love my three kids, and I know how I show it, but I think there’s always room to do a little better. That’s the mindset I think you need to have going into this.

The breakdown of the five love languages is solid and provides a great framework for understanding how children receive affection. However, as a parent in the thick of it, I found the execution slightly lacking in practical "trench" warfare.

My Takeaways:

• The "Busy House" Gap: I wish there was more focus on how to actually fill these love buckets in a high-speed, busy lifestyle - especially when you have multiple young children competing for attention. It spent a bit too much time on general discipline and not enough on the logistics of the busy parent.
• The Spiritual Element: The book leans into religious themes toward the end. While I’m not a particularly religious person, I didn’t mind it; I view exposure to those values as a net positive in this context, though I can see how it might be a hurdle for some readers.

It’s a quick, helpful read for any parent looking to fine-tune their connection with their kids, even if it doesn't quite solve the puzzle of "time management" in a full house.

I started this at 10 PM and didn’t look up until 4 AM. It is one of those rare stories that demands your absolute attention until the very last page. I’ve never seen a story balance visceral, soul-crushing brutality with such genuine human tenderness quite like this.

The movie adaptation nails the tone perfectly. I actually took a day off work just to see it alone in the theater, and I’ve raved about it to anyone who would listen since. It stays with you long after the walk ends. A re-read is definitely in order. If you haven't stepped into this world yet, be prepared to finish it in one sitting.

Spotlight on power dynamics, retribution, and the vulnerability of existing.

This book was a blur - couldn't put it down. Per usual, I alternated between the physical copy and the audio during my son’s basketball game. It is a compelling retelling that avoids the smut trope and instead dives deep into the psychological reality of being a pawn to the gods.

What struck me most was the author’s ability to communicate the internal conflict of trauma. Watching Meddy - who is portrayed here as a genuinely good young woman - navigate the grooming of Poseidon and the betrayal of Athena was devastating. The way Athena's victim blaming, and Meddy's visceral reluctance to speak against her patron, made me understand that specific power dynamic in a way I never quite have before.

In a change of pace, I took notes during this one.

• Arrival at Acropolis: The moment another acolyte feels entitled to touch Meddy’s hair was a sharp nod to body autonomy that still bears repeating.
• The Sisters: I loved the explicit breakdown of power - the realization that "power is not given, it is taken." It’s a meaningful lesson and I'm glad it was explicitly stated. Prior to the explanation, I was kind of into how that dynamic was unspoken but once I read it it occurred to me.. Having this in print is never a bad thing. Say it again for the people in the back.
• The Tone: It communicates the female experience and the weight of societal station without beating the reader over the head.

It’s a powerful story that makes a decently well-known tale feel urgent. While it might not be a reread for me, I will be recommending it to anyone who wants a period mythology retelling with meaningful current-day lessons.

One more thing - I love everything that’s included but I adore what was left out, as explained in the afterword.

Spotlight on power dynamics, retribution, and the vulnerability of existing.

This book was a blur - couldn't put it down. Per usual, I alternated between the physical copy and the audio during my son’s basketball game. It is a compelling retelling that avoids the smut trope and instead dives deep into the psychological reality of being a pawn to the gods.

What struck me most was the author’s ability to communicate the internal conflict of trauma. Watching Meddy - who is portrayed here as a genuinely good young woman - navigate the grooming of Poseidon and the betrayal of Athena was devastating. The way Athena's victim blaming, and Meddy's visceral reluctance to speak against her patron, made me understand that specific power dynamic in a way I never quite have before.

In a change of pace, I took notes during this one.

• Arrival at Acropolis: The moment another acolyte feels entitled to touch Meddy’s hair was a sharp nod to body autonomy that still bears repeating.
• The Sisters: I loved the explicit breakdown of power - the realization that "power is not given, it is taken." It’s a meaningful lesson and I'm glad it was explicitly stated. Prior to the explanation, I was kind of into how that dynamic was unspoken but once I read it it occurred to me.. Having this in print is never a bad thing. Say it again for the people in the back.
• The Tone: It communicates the female experience and the weight of societal station without beating the reader over the head.

It’s a powerful story that makes a decently well-known tale feel urgent. While it might not be a reread for me, I will be recommending it to anyone who wants a period mythology retelling with meaningful current-day lessons.

Gwendy in space. Evil billionaire. Story felt very clunky. Ties things off nicely in that Gwendy dies but I think she deserved better.

At first I was like... Now I'm like...

On paper, Armada has every element I want in a book: video games, high-stakes sci-fi, and a heavy dose of "Dad stuff." It’s a fun, engaging story, and I’m still stoked on the overall concept. But the execution left me with some serious questions about the pacing.

I found myself repeatedly thinking, “Okay, I guess this is happening now.” Things that we as an audience know are coming - the inevitable story beats - arrived much earlier than they should have. Instead of a slow build that earns the payoff, it felt like the plot was in a rush to get to the finish line.

Cline still manages to hold onto the element of surprise, but unfortunately, those twists often feel more like a lack of technique than a purposeful subversion of the genre. It’s a great "guilty pleasure" read, but it leaves you wondering how much better it could have been with a bit more room to breathe.

I started this at 10 PM and didn’t look up until 4 AM. It is one of those rare stories that demands your absolute attention until the very last page. I’ve never seen a story balance visceral, soul-crushing brutality with such genuine human tenderness quite like this.

The movie adaptation nails the tone perfectly. I actually took a day off work just to see it alone in the theater, and I’ve raved about it to anyone who would listen since. It stays with you long after the walk ends. A re-read is definitely in order. If you haven't stepped into this world yet, be prepared to finish it in one sitting.

Dan Brown is the fast food of literature: you know it’s not "good" for you, but you can't stop eating it.

Inferno is exactly what you expect it to be - historically inaccurate, shamelessly cookie-cutter, and a total ridiculous guilty pleasure. It follows the exact same blueprint as every other Robert Langdon book, but that’s the point. It’s a high-speed chase through art history that doesn't care about the rules of "serious" literature, and honestly, it’s better for it.

If you’re looking for high-brow prose, look elsewhere. But if you want a fun, cinematic ride that keeps you turning pages until 2:00 AM, this is peak Brown. It’s predictable, but in the best way possible.

The early 2000s saw a shift toward history as an engaging narrative rather than a dense textbook, and this was one of the first books I read that truly mastered that vein. It is a wonderful story of resilience, following what is widely considered the most complete African American family history known to exist in the United States.

What struck me most was the nuanced look at community life in the North. It doesn't shy away from the long history of prejudice in northern states, but it also highlights the instances where the legal system actually worked - where the courts were allowed to do their jobs without bowing to that prejudice.

It’s a vital piece of the American story that feels both deeply personal and historically significant. In my humble opinion, this should be high school required reading right along with To Kill a Mockingbird.

This is one of the most enlightening books I’ve ever read regarding the actual mechanics of American power. I found myself citing it constantly over the last few years as a way to explain my concerns regarding the modern presidency.

The real power of this book lies in the pattern recognition it provides. It illuminates a sobering reality: every single president, without fail, has worked to increase presidential power. Once you see that trajectory, it changes how you view the entire structure of the US government. The most chilling takeaway is the notion that presidential power is a one-way street - once a power is granted or seized, it is almost never clawed back by the other branches.

Regardless of your personal politics, this is a vital read for anyone who wants to understand how the executive branch has evolved into its current state and why that poses a fundamental problem for the balance of power.

This is a tremendous book and a true hidden gem. I ordered it out of the back of either Hit Parader or Circus Magazine in the early 2000s when I was fourteen, and I’m not overstating it when I say it literally transformed my life. It was my definitive coming-of-age tale, and it shifted the entire path of my journey. I’ll be forever grateful for it.

A few years ago, I reached out to the author, Charles Romalotti. He was incredibly kind and sent me the 10th Anniversary Edition (the one with the black cover) and a copy of his later book, Bride of the Reaper. Super kind of him to do so.. but Salad Days? If you can track down a copy, read it.

While the concepts in this book might seem "obvious" to some modern readers, it’s important to remember the context of its release: there was nothing like this on the market at the time. Those ideas are only common sense today because of this book.

I read this in college and it completely changed the trajectory of my reading habits, sending me down a deep rabbit hole of social psychology and leadership texts - Outliers, Freakonomics, Good to Great, and Predictably Irrational.

College or your early 20s is the perfect time to read this. It provides a vital framework for understanding how we move through the world before you’ve spent too many years doing it the wrong way. The only reason it isn’t a full five stars is that it’s a "one-and-done" read; once the concepts click, you’ve absorbed the value. But its impact on my life and the way I approach leadership is undeniable.

I first read this in high school, and even years later, the ending remains one of the most powerful things I’ve ever experienced in literature. It was the first time I really stopped to think, "Love can mean so many different things."

The story reminds me of the Buddhist concept of non-attachment - the idea that if you truly love someone, you only want what is best for them, even if that means a painful loss for yourself. It’s like deeply loving a spouse and being able to mourn the loss of the relationship while still being genuinely happy that they found a path to greater joy elsewhere.

Of Mice and Men touches on that same selfless, heartbreaking territory - though, as the book shows, it’s a dangerous and heavy thing to decide for someone else exactly how their life should proceed (or not proceed, as the case may be). It’s a slim book, but the weight of that final choice is something that stays with you forever.

This one hurts because I actually loved this series - the first book is one of my 5-star reads. But I’ve reached a point where I can’t recommend the series to anyone anymore. It feels like the author just gave up after this installment, leaving the character arc completely unfinished.

The pacing here was non-existent. The entire book took place in a cave; the main character quite literally went nowhere. And then, of course, there’s the infamous chapter dedicated entirely to the protagonist having diarrhea. It was unreal.

Despite the "4.1 stars" on Audible from the release-day hype, this was a massive letdown for the fandom. It’s a classic case of a series losing its momentum and its way. I’m frustrated because I invested so much time into this world, only to have it stall out in a cave with a joke that went on way too long.

Author claims there will be more books in the series, but that's been his talk track for YEARS.

My note at the time of finishing this was: "The more time goes by, the more I read, the more certain I am that this is not a good book."

It felt like a chore. To be fair, this might have fallen victim to how much I loved The Midnight Library - I went in with high expectations that just weren't met. While I did appreciate the core message of what the narrator learns about what is and isn't important in life, the story itself just didn't grab me.

The saving grace here was the audiobook. The performance was really fantastic and probably kept me going longer than the text would have on its own. It’s a well-intentioned book, but for me, it lacked the magic of his previous work.