Tim
This was sick. From the very start.
The opening mindwalking sequence with Sil mindwalking and guiding the agent out was peak action sci-fi and immediately had me locked in. Clean, confident, and wildly cool. No warm-up laps here, it just goes.
The core concept? Love love love. Freaky in the best way. Body ownership, mindwalking, mindjacking, all handled with confidence and clarity. It never felt muddy or overcomplicated, and it never lost sight of the human cost underneath the tech.
Sil is a brilliant lead. Tough, closed off, angry, vulnerable, all of it. Total human armadillo energy. You can tell how much she cares even when she's armoured up emotionally, especially when it comes to Ryder. That restraint actually makes the emotional moments land harder.
What I liked is that the book doesn't really wobble on its moral stance. The world is clear about how wrong mindjacking is, and characters like Ajah absolutely tip the scales by being aggressively, uncompromisingly against it, even when it saved her life. That clarity helps the story stay focused.
The worldbuilding feels horribly inevitable. Close enough to now to be uncomfortable, but not so close it feels preachy. Corporate dystopia done right.
The violence is handled really smartly. When Sil is mindwalking, things feel muted, almost comic-panel distant, like there's a filter over the sensations. But when she's acting in her own body? It's vivid, physical, and brutal. No dampening. No safety net. That contrast is incredibly effective.
Pacing was spot on. It never dragged, and it balanced action, worldbuilding, romance, and lighter moments really well. I was never bored.
The ending landed for me. It didn't try to be overly philosophical or twisty (other than the near ending, I didn't see that coming), it just worked. Clean, satisfying, earned.
It reminded me of a few things: Altered Carbon, Black Mirror, but without ever feeling derivative. It very much does its own thing.
I really did love this. Five stars, without hesitation.
The overriding feeling while reading was peacefulness. Not sleepy or dull, just calm and reflective. It felt less like reading a story and more like having a quiet conversation with someone who knows what they're talking about and isn't in a rush to impress you (like they have all the time in the world).
I really liked the structure. It felt like the main character, the technician, was just chatting to me directly, explaining his work, his understanding of it, and the strange but grounded logic behind it all. The thought put into the mechanics of the time travel, the idea of temporal resonance, and why people choose to travel when they do was fascinating without ever becoming heavy or showy.
Even though the cast is essentially just the one character, I connected with him immediately. He felt real, thoughtful, and human. Despite the very sci-fi premise, the story itself felt incredibly grounded.
The ending landed perfectly for me. It was sensible, calm, and mature. The main character doesn't feel defeated or resigned by what he eventu lly understands, instead, he makes a measured, rational choice. It felt honest rather than dramatic, and that restraint made it far more powerful.
Nothing here overstays its welcome. Nothing is wasted. It's thoughtful, gentle and sometimes funny science fiction that trusts the reader.
A tight, unsettling little read that knows exactly what it's doing and doesn't overstay its welcome. It leans hard into ambiguity and unease, and I appreciated that it never tries to over-explain or hand-hold you to a neat conclusion.
The horror here is quiet and psychological rather than shouty. It sits in that uncomfortable space where you're never quite sure what's real, what's remembered, and what's being rationalised after the fact. That lingering uncertainty is very much the point, and it lands.
It didn't completely blow my mind, but it was solid, effective, and left me thinking about it after finishing, which is really all I want from something like this.
I absolutely fucking adored this. Best of the trilogy. Holy shit.
Annihilation was dreamy and disorienting. Authority was rigid, bureaucratic, and controlled (very Control). Acceptance is unstructured chaos. You're often not sure where you are, when you are, or even who you're with until the context catches up after the fact. It feels less like a traditional narrative and more like a thought process unfolding. Understanding arriving late. Memory reshaping itself. It works so well to illustrate what's going on.
In terms of answers: yes and no. You don't get explanations, not really. But you do get something better, an understanding that there are no answers to be had in the way we want them, Area X isn't a puzzle to be solved. It just is.
The imagery here is phenomenal. The Crawler this time is vivid, clear, and astonishing. The Biologist is genuinely terrifying. Vast, gross, powerful.
Emotionally, this hit more than I expected. Saul's quiet yearning for the love he knows he'll never see again. Gloria leaving as a child. Ghost Bird losing Control. Control losing control. None of it is melodramatic. It's a strange mix of depression and elation at the same time, grief and peace coexisting. Something that happens a lot, the dichotomy of everything in Area X.
The ending felt right. Acceptance, even without understanding. Especially without understanding.
I really loved this. It feels like several different books stitched together as it moves through different phases and locations, but in a good way. Each shift makes sense, and each one raises the stakes in a different direction.
The sci-fi is hard, factual, and grounded. It's not Project Hail Mary levels of playful nerdery, but it absolutely feels like the kind of science you can either trust outright or go and verify if you want. That realism adds a lot of weight and legitimacy to everything that happens.
The themes that landed hardest were corporate fuckery and the sheer resilience of humans when pushed into impossible situations. This feels very close to our present day,just a notch or two forward technologically, which makes it all the more real. None of it feels fantastical.
There's one moment that completely broke me. Clark's death. Her deciding she was ready to go, out on an EVA, cancer-ridden, looking at the Milky Way while J.T. quietly ups her nitrogen so she falls asleep. I've never cried reading a book before. That scene was devastating and beautiful in equal measure.
Pacing was strong throughout, even if the book did feel long. It took me about twelve hours to get through, and it's dense enough that you really have to slow down and assimilate what's happening. But it earns that time investment.
Emotionally, it hit far harder than I expected. Intellectually tense, yes, but also quietly human in places that really matter.
It's more serious and grounded than a lot of modern space survival sci-fi. Less funny, more real.
I really enjoyed this. Different to Cursed Cocktails, but absolutely in a good way. This isn't just a cosy remix with new faces; it's its own epic cosy adventure, and it stands confidently on its own two-legs(you'll get this once you've read it).
Returning to Aedrea was lovely. There's something deeply comforting about the realm, and it was great seeing more of its regions. Little nods back to the Northern Front, Umbral Elves, and Blood Mages were especially nice, they grounded the story and gave it a satisfying sense of continuity with book one.
And the dragons. Oh man. I loved them. Huge, powerful, noble, sarcastic, with telepathic speech, and somehow very “human” in a dragon way, without just being anthropomorphised mascots. Tinktink in particular stole my heart
The characters were excellent across the board. The main character, a grandmother dwarf over 180 years old, reflecting on her past as an adventurer while embarking on one final journey to lay her fallen friends' ashes to rest in Dragon Country was genuinely touching. Her granddaughter Hilda (17) was brilliant too. Clearly related, but very much her own person. I really appreciated that Steve didn't fall into the trap of making the younger character clueless comic relief, she's capable, thoughtful, and believable, if a little naïve at times.
Tone-wise, it's cosy cosy cosy, with flashes of peril in flashback memories and a couple of higher-stakes moments that land well. One small personal note: as a non-meat eater, the hunting scenes (duck, rabbit, deer, etc.) did slightly pull me out of the cosy vibe. Totally makes sense in-world, and I wouldn't deduct points for it, just something that nudged me away from cosy as a reader.
Pacing was great. Slightly stronger than book one I think, with a gentle, plodding rhythm but plenty to hold your attention. I read it in two days without effort.
There were some genuinely touching moments, and I will admit the epilogue briefly terrified me, I thought we were heading toward Hilda retracing her grandmother's final journey thirty years later. Thankfully, no emotional ambush there.
Overall, this feels like a strong, confident entry in the series. Warm, thoughtful, adventurous, and full of heart.
I enjoyed this one. I went in expecting more outright horror based on reviews, but it landed much closer to a tense space thriller. Honestly, that's not a bad thing. It wears its Alien (1979) inspiration pretty openly, and as that's my all-time favourite sci-fi franchise, it already had a soft spot with me.
It only really unnerved me once, when Watson first says “They're opening the door.” That moment was excellent. Proper dread. I was a little disappointed that it didn't hit that level again, though. Once it's clear the threat is extraterrestrial, it shifts from horror into action mode. Still enjoyable, just less scary.
The early sections were my favourite. The ominous banging, the uncertainty, the slow realisation that something is very wrong , that stuff was done really well. First contact moments especially were strong.
Characters were a big win here. Jack is a genuinely strong lead without being written as a cliché, which I really appreciated. Watson the droid was great too, helpful, slightly eerie, and very effective. I didn't actively dislike anyone, and all the relationships felt natural and earned rather than bolted on.
Pacing was good overall. Fast enough to stay engaging, but not so fast that it became messy. That said, I think shorter chapters could have helped sell the frenetic, anxious atmosphere a bit more.
In the wider space-horror spectrum, it sits comfortably in the middle. It didn't blow my space socks off, but it scratched the itch and felt respectful of the genre. The ending worked for me as well, good old Watson coming in clutch.
Solid, enjoyable sci-fi with strong Alien vibes, even if it never quite goes full horror.
I don't think “like” is the right word for this one. But by the end, I did understand it and respect the attempt at something completely different.
This was hard work. The interview-fragment structure is intentionally disorienting, and while I get why it's done, it was mentally draining to read. As someone who reads with voices in my head, constantly resetting tone and speaker was exhausting. The chapters are so short they almost feel like mental speed bumps, 20 seconds here, a minute there, and two hours of reading felt much longer. That said, the frenetic pace and confusion do feed into the overall atmosphere, so I can't say it's accidental or a bad thing, just didn't land completely for me.
Emotionally, it didn't really do any hing for me. Because there's no traditional narrative, I never found myself siding with either the humans or the humanoids. The “objects” (clearly meant to be important) remain frustratingly undefined. I don't think you're meant to understand them fully, but that didn't make them more compelling for me, just distant.
The ideas are interesting, but they're presented rather than explored. It doesn't feel like the book is trying to teach or argue anything, it just exists in a particular state. The ending felt inevitable rather than impactful, which fits the book, even if it didn't move me.
I respect it more than I enjoyed it. Thought-provoking in structure, exhausting in execution.
I did enjoy this one. Not a “jaw on the floor, holy shit” ending, but solid, clever, and unsettling in a quieter way. Like a thrum you can't quite place.
The writing is really strong. It dances between feelings sometimes mid-paragraph. Unease, fascination, attraction, dread, and just carries you along with it. That shifting and convincing unraveling emotional ground is the book's biggest strength.
What stuck with me most was the looming, creeping “oh... of course” realisation as everything starts to line up. Once it clicks, it feels obvious in hindsight, which I mean as a compliment. That sense of inevitability hangs over the whole thing.
This is absolutely psychological rather than speculative sci-fi. Oddly, the romance and sex never felt jarring or gratuitous. Instead, it becomes more head-fucky once you understand what Dorian actually is. That reframing works really well.
Pacing was good, quick, but it earns that by being short and focused. No filler.
There's no big lesson here, no moral bow tied on the end. It's pure escapism, and that's great. The ending landed, but in a deliberately hollow way. Almost disappointing, but not wrongly so. It felt like the moment where, as a reader, you stop fighting Dorian too. Throughout the book you're resisting, piecing things together, pushing back. Then the end comes, and that resistance is gone. You're just... back in the hold of his ship.
Quietly unsettling, well written, and confident in what it wants to be.
Really enjoyed this one. It's dark, and then it just keeps getting darker. Even the ending refuses to let up, which I genuinely respect. There's no softening the blow, no hopeful repainting of what's happened. It just leaves you with it. That takes confidence.
I loved the chapter structure. The way it occasionally switches perspective and time, not in a neat every-other-chapter way, but just enough to deliber tely feel disorienting at first. As it goes on, it becomes clearer what's happening and how these very separate people and moments are connected. It's clever, and it rewards paying attention without ever spelling things out too loudly.
There are some really strong twists and revelations along the way. It's one of those books where you stop, think, reread a paragraph, then go “oh... oh no.” The premise is great too. It feels like a grim mashup of Black Mirror, Silo, and a touch of Running Man, but it still manages to feel like its own thing.
Above all, it's brutally honest about humanity. People are shown as selfish, fearful, cruel, and complicit, not because they're born monsters, but because that's often just how privileged humans are. And that's what makes it sad. Properly sad.
Dark, bleak, thoughtful, and uncompromising. Well done, CJ.
I really enjoyed this. More than I did Starter Villain. I was chuckling out loud multiple times early on, which is always a good sign, and doesn't happen often. It's funnier at the start and gets a bit more serious as it goes, but the humour never disappears, it just settles in.
The vibe is great. Just solid, self-aware sci-fi that knows exactly what it is and doesn't pretend to be more important than it needs to be. Scalzi at his most comfortable.
What really worked for me was Jamie and the rest of the KPS crew. The kaiju are cool, sure, but they mostly act as an enabler for the story rather than the point of it, which I liked a lot. This is a people book with big monsters in the background, not the other way around. And by “big monsters” I don't mean Edwards massive... Er... Thing”.
The humour landed perfectly for me. Nerdy references, good banter, and that kind-spirited bullying that only works when everyone actually likes each other. Very my flavour of funny.
I didn't really know what I wanted going in, other than wanting more than I got from Starter Villain, and this absolutely delivered. It does become less laugh-out-loud funny after the first third, but that's fine, it finds its groove instead.
It never really aims for emotional weight or high-stakes peril, and I think that's intentional. This is more Star Wars than Saving Private Ryan. Fun, clever, and confident without being heavy.
Would recommend to nerds. Proper nerds. People who enjoy sci-fi with jokes and decent humans. Humourless people probably won't vibe. Also, asshole CEOs might want to read it as a cautionary tale about how not to end up “being eaten by wolves” (excellent cover story, KPS).
This really isn't an Alien book. It's a Weyland-Yutani side story with xenomorphs awkwardly bolted on at the last minute. Honestly, it would have been better without them. The xenos here are weak, not scary, and not cunning, regular bullets take them down far too easily. Hicks would be absolutely furious he wasted all those AP rounds.
The setting makes even less sense. LV-1213 is described as having average 300mph winds, throwing rocks around like toys and making the surface basically uninhabitable. Yet Chris, his auton, and his two small children manage to run two miles outside the dome and fight a xeno in this weather. Either the wind politely took a tea break or physics just gave up.
There are some strange writing tics too. Ripley is mentioned right at the beginning and then never again: no explanation, no follow-up, nothing. The phrase “at length” is used so often it becomes distracting. Chris is constantly uppercutting people or getting uppercut in return, and whenever someone dies they seem to smile inwardly, which gets weird fast. He's also referred to as “Chris Temple” repeatedly throughout the book in a way that feels overly formal and oddly distancing. “Set his jaw / set her jaw” also crops up far too often.
The book does improve around the 75 percent mark, but the final chapter slips back into nonsense, involving extended outdoor action in the supposedly constant 300mph winds. The semi-romantic angle with the auton was also... odd.
That said, if this weren't branded as an Alien novel, complete with a xenomorph slapped on the cover, it might have worked better. As a Weyland-Yutani extended universe story about WY cultists carrying on after the company's collapse, there's something interesting there.
But as an Alien book, it misses the point.
Artificial CondAbsolutely loved this one. It's more of the same energy from All Systems Red, but somehow sharper and funnier. Murderbot really leans into the dry sarcasm this time. The line about sighing like a human because “humans do that a lot and I think I'm getting good at it” had me grinning like an idiot.
The story itself is really simple and tighter than the first book. It's mostly Murderbot on a quiet personal mission, with fewer moving pieces, which actually works great because it gives more room for the character moments. The addition of ART (Asshole Research Transport, according to our beloved disasterbot) is perfection. Their to and fro is excellent. ART is somehow smug, caring, manipulative and supportive all at once. A perfect bastard big brother vibe for Murderbot.
I liked how the book keeps peeling back Murderbot's inner life. Every time it tries to pretend it doesn't care, it accidentally cares harder. It's just out here trying to watch its serials and not have feelings, and failing miserably.
The humour hits, the pacing is tight, and the emotional bits sneak up behind you. The light detective angle was a fun twist too.
I ended up liking this one a fair bit. The opening stretch on the Aurora had some genuinely creepy energy and set the tone beautifully. It dipped a little in the middle, but it regained its footing and closed strong.
The horror stuff was solid mostly. A couple of moments gave me a genuine shiver, even if I wish the book had pushed the horror further. The sci fi side stood up well too, grounding the scares in a believable setup rather than cheap gimmicks.
The standout moment for me was the “ghost” under the bed with the bandaged eyes and ears. Horrible in the best way. The deaths of the LINA crew were also rough and effective.
Claire made a good MC and narrator. Her internal monologue carried so much weight, giving context to everything she said and did. She is seriously messed up, but there is real goodness under all the trauma. Loved spending time in her head. The rest of the LINA crew were great too, even the dickhead pilot. Max and Reeves made excellent corporate villains, proper Weyland Yutani energy.
Sure, plenty of the mystery was familiar. We have seen variations of this story before. But it worked because it was fun and confidently told. The middle dragged a bit, but overall the pacing was steady, and the switches between the present and Claire's recovered memories during the first half added texture rather than confusion.
Themes wise it hits strongly with trauma, isolation, ghosts in space, corporate cruelty, unreliable memory, all that good stuff. And it mostly lands.
No major missteps for me. I had a good time with it. A solid ghost ship in space horror with a sci fi skeleton.
I actually preferred this to Annihilation, which I did not expect going in. It takes that weird, dreamy horror of the first book and flips the angle entirely, suddenly you're outside the shimmer and things are specific and (seem) clear, but somehow things feel even more unstable as time goes by.
The whole vibe is tense, paranoid, bureaucratic chaos, “Government admin in a world that's fundamentally wrong,”. Control/John is such a good protagonist for this, a man desperately pretending he understands everything, while everything around him leaks madness through the cracks.
The moments of actual horror land harder here because they're not constant. Whitby contorted in the cupboard, and in the attic, the mini “breaches” and of course the return at the end.
Character-wise, I cared far more this time too. Control grew on me quickly, and Ghost Bird was even more fascinating in her not-quite-right way. It's unsettling and sad, and I liked that.
The pacing was slower, but more deliberate. It was suffocating in a good way. Like watching someone try to hold sand in a sieve.
Thematically: identity, control (obviously), the failure of institutions, and the absolute arrogance of humans thinking they get a say in the incomprehensible and inevitable.
The last chunk was what the series needed. Disturbing, mysterious, and full of fast paced “oh no no no whatever THAT is, it's bad.”
Loved it. Ready for Acceptance to absolutely ruin me.
I think I enjoyed this in the end, but it wasn't an easy read. Bradbury's writing style is so metaphor-heavy that it constantly tripped up the flow; lots of rereading lines once you realise he meant something entirely different. It's clever, I think, but also tiring.
Nothing really stuck out in a big way, and maybe that's the strangest part. What was wild and futuristic 60+ years ago now just feels normal. Screens everywhere, people numbed by noise, attention spans fried, passive entertainment becoming the default, and control through distraction. It's less “sci-fi warning” and more “Tuesday.” Which I suppose is a warning in itself.
The Mechanical Hound was unpleasant in all the right ways, and the woman burning with her books was grim, but nothing blew me away emotionally. It just all felt uncomfortably plausible. But lost a little in a middle of metaphors.
The themes are strong though: censorship, anti-intellectualism, control, the death of thought. The writing style feels dated, but the world doesn't. If anything, it feels very now.
The ending was oddly nice, not cheerful, but the idea of wiping the city clean through war and maybe starting again with books, thought, and memory was a decent note to leave it on.
Glad I read it. Didn't love the style, but the message is sharp even now.
Really enjoyed reading this one to my son, and he loved it even more. It's fun, silly, light-hearted, and has just enough little bits of peril to make the wins feel rewarding without ever being worrying.
Prince Kal is great fun, surprisingly human for an alien from another planet (I think), and honestly more normal than some of the people in “Ingle-land.” The writing is super easy to read aloud, nicely paced, and full of moments that keep kids hooked. My son's favourite part was the cupcake scene, when his foster mum gives him cupcakes and he just eats the entire bowl. Huge laugh from him.
Themes of friendship, bravery, and being different are woven in really naturally. It's warm without being cheesy, and adventurous without being stressful, a very good bedtime read.
We'd definitely read the next one.
Atticus' rating: a very enthusiastic 5/5
Diamond Dogs was great fun. Definitely my favourite of the two. It felt like this weird mash-up of Indiana Jones, The Cube, and something else entirely. A proper “solve the deadly puzzle or die horribly” vibe but with a sci-fi twist that works better than it should.
All the body mods were wild, watching them basically turn themselves into robodogs just to get a bit further into the Spire made me laugh. The sheer relentlessness of trying to beat it was great, and the twist hit nicely. The gore was surprisingly fun too; the Spire does not mess around.
The characters were good, if not people I deeply cared about. The doctor was so creepy but undeniably brilliant... right up to dismantling himself so he wouldn't undo his “best work,” which is how we end up with our main guy as a literal dog.
Weird, gory, clever enough, and enjoyable without needing to know exactly what the Spire is. Sometimes mystery makes it better.
Turquoise Days was good too, but definitely the sightly weaker of the two. Still really enjoyed it though. The whole world of Turquoise is cool, a full ocean planet with these strange Pattern Jugglers that store minds, memories, identities... basically a giant living alien hard drive. Loved that idea.
It's much softer than Diamond Dogs. Less gore, more atmosphere. More “hmm” than “holy shit.” I liked the slow, slightly vague vibe and the sense that something bigger is happening just beneath the surface (literally).
The characters were fine, nothing amazing, but enough to carry the story. I didn't connect with them massively, but I liked watching how her relationship with the Pattern Jugglers evolved, especially once the new arrivals showed up and immediately started being dodgy as hell. Humans ruin everything, classic.
The final act was the strongest part by far, things finally click, the mystery opens up a bit, and it leaves you with that bittersweet Reynolds feeling of “well, that was cool and also kinda sad.”
Good, interesting, nice ideas, but definitely the calmer, quieter sibling to Diamond Dogs.
The Games feels like three books stitched together, part grounded sci-fi in the vein of The Martian or Project Hail Mary, part political thriller with a romance that doesn't whack you over the head, and part creature-horror finale where the lights go out and the author whispers “good luck, idiot.” I really enjoyed it.
The premise is great: humanity playing god (again), but this time with a genetically engineered gladiator running parallel to a “god-level” AI. Pea and the creature feel like two flavours of the same human mistake, things we built because we could, not because we should. Very believable. Depressingly believable.
The science is... mostly fun nonsense. It reads well if you don't dig too deep, and still works if you do dig deep (I did, obviously). It's internally consistent enough to carry the plot, and that's what matters.
The whole end sequence with Silas and Vidonia fumbling around in pitch darkness, trying to recover the eggs while the gladiator hunted them down one by one, was brilliant. Proper tense. Proper gross. Proper “why am I reading this at midnight.”
Silas, Vidonia, and Ben were easy to like; everyone else was written well enough that I enjoyed hating them. Pacing never dragged, though it didn't always sink its claws in the way it could have. Still very solid.
Theme-wise it hits all the good sci-fi buttons: ethics, ambition, human arrogance, science gone wrong, and that classic “we deserve what's coming, honestly” feeling.
The ending was decent, though I won't lie, a part of me wanted Pea to go full “scorched earth,” meltdown everything, and end it with a crater leaving no survivors, but Vidonia got away. That would've slapped. But the ending we got was fine.
As for the reviews calling it “unoriginal”? Absolute nonsense. Yes, the skeleton of “human makes monster, monster goes bad” exists elsewhere, but that's surface-level thinking. The way it's written, the real-world grounding of the environments, the interplay between AI godhood and biological horror, and the Olympic framing all felt fresh. It's not copying tropes, it's remixing them into something genuinely fun.
A smart, tense, occasionally bonkers sci-fi ride, with just enough science flavour to scratch the nerd-brain without breaking immersion. And I will forever picture the Gladiator as Toothless from How to Train Your Dragon, which honestly makes it a little funnier.
Enjoy isn't the right word for this one. It's a brilliant book, beautifully written, but often uncomfortable, morally odd and emotionally heavy. The final chapter leaves you feeling strangely warm and human, but getting there takes a lot. I almost stopped reading it a couple of times.
The first story absolutely floored me, that slow realisation that what he thought was a consenting, exciting encounter was anything but. Experiencing it from her perspective later was rough but powerful. The hebophile chapter was even harder to stomach, but again, written with such unsettling precision that you can't look away.
The future sections fascinated me, especially the world with its accepted third “binary” gender of “dead centre” or “ungendered. It was strangely sweet at the end of it with Liv, showing how identity keeps evolving even as humanity stumbles.
Liv, who threads through all the stories, feels achingly real. From her youth to her post-physical existence, she's confident, self-doubting, and always relatable in some strange way.
The prose is gorgeous, lyrical one page, brutal the next. My only gripe is the use of that word for female anatomy; it's too harsh in a sensual context and ripped me right out of the moment. Otherwise, the writing was stunning.
It's philosophical more than hopeful for most of its length, but that ending, that final moment of warmth, was perfectly placed. I'm glad it ended that way or it would have been too depressing.
Brilliant, bold, disturbing, and occasionally beautiful. I'll be thinking about it for a while.
Also: I will never trust a consciousness-transfer story again.
Exactly what I needed, short, funny, ridiculous, and the perfect palate cleanser while I'm knee-deep in heavier stuff. This one's pure nonsense in the best way, a nice stroll through Ohio's weirdest swamp.
Kevin steals the show again, obviously. Doc felt a little softer than usual, maybe actual friendship makes him go all gooey, but he's still his super sensible self by the end.
Grandpa Frog though? Absolute icon. Pure Simpsons Grandpa energy, ranting his way through the novella.
The whole thing is a delightful WTF from start to finish, the kind of story where you grin like an idiot the entire time. Doc, Dee Dee, and Kevin are the only ones here, which keeps it tight and focused. Pacing's spot on, it starts weird and stays weird, and the ending brings it home perfectly, Doc panicking at the sight of “God's Frogs” was the cherry on top.
Swampy, stupid, and fun.
Didn't grab me right away, but by the end I was totally back in the chaos. It starts slower than the last one, but once it kicks into gear, it's a proper Demon Mart ride again, weird, messy, and stupid fun.
Watching Kevin, Dee Dee, and Faust acting wrong was painful. Especially Dee Dee. Oh, Dee Dee. My sweet, snarky murder-angel. She deserves better than all this nonsense (and also a proper kiss with Lloyd soon, come on).
Lloyd is still a mucky pup but, bless him, he's finally realising it. He actually saves the day this time! For once, the hopeless lad turned reluctant hero gets a win, and I loved it. We also find out the rest of the gang are secretly sensitive too: Kevin, Morty, even the bloody employee manual. Everyone's getting feelings now and it's adorable.
The beginning drags a bit, but once it finds its footing, it's just pure Demon Mart magic, hilarious, chaotic, and heartwarming in the weirdest possible way.
Lloyd: developing character arc.
Dee Dee: still perfect even in her grubby trackies and un-dyed hair.
Angel: annoying as ever.
Employee manual: emotionally complex and toothu.
Morty: horny but kind, sometimes.
D.M. Guay is officially a legend, I messaged her asking where to buy this, and she personally sent me a free ebook copy. What a hero.
The story itself? Pure Demon Mart chaos in monster-of-the-week form. It's basically an X-Files episode written by someone who's been trapped in a haunted Walmart. Kevin is an absolute delight: vain, ridiculous, and somehow still loveable. Getting to spend more time with Doc was great too, the two of them bounce off each other perfectly.
Highlights: the big-tiddied ghost (yep, that happened), Mothman being both hilarious and creepy, and the final “The End?” that gave total Flash Gordon energy. Faust only pops up at the end, and Junebug gets a quick mention, but it's nice seeing the focus on Kevin and Doc for once.
Pacing was spot-on, quick, funny, and surprisingly tight. It never drags, just dives headfirst into the weird and keeps flying.
Kevin: dramatic.
Doc: exhausted.
Mothman: drunken menace.
Mothmom: adorable.
Eldritch horrors: present.
Big-tiddied ghost: unforgettable.
Guay: absolute babe for sending it to me.