Tag: Sci-Fi Book Review

Review: Daughter of the Golden Realm by Eva Barber

~ likelystory18 ~ 1 Comment

Synopsis:

Emery inherits a mystical necklace and a cryptic warning of its importance to humanity’s survival. When her mother’s body vanishes, Emery leads a band of refugees into a desolate, post-apocalyptic world and an eerie underground city, ruled by unscrupulous and immortal beings. Grieving her mother’s death, haunted by visions emitted by the necklace, and pursued by assassins enhanced by the technology her mother had invented, she uncovers a conspiracy that stretches from a dying Earth to the fabric of the universe itself. But things get even more complicated when a mysterious woman kidnaps her beloved Peter. She and her small group race against time to find him and stop a cosmic threat. Once again, destiny forces Emery to embrace her fate, which is far greater and more terrifying than she ever imagined, and to make an impossible choice.

Favorite Lines:

“Have hope. We’ll see stars again.”

“You need to be vicious to protect the ones you love.”

“Don’t be afraid…I’ll be with you all the way.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Daughter of the Golden Realm throws you immediately back into Emery’s complicated world, where every answer seems to uncover even more questions. She is still dealing with grief, uncertainty, and the strange golden necklace left to her by her mother, while also trying to understand what the Masters have done to the world and what role she is supposed to play in whatever comes next. There is a lot happening in this installment, but underneath the science fiction, dystopian conflict, and mythology, I thought this was really a story about Emery trying to understand where she belongs and how much of herself she is willing to give for the people she loves.

One of my favorite parts of the book was watching the world gradually open up beyond the gray underground city. The ruined landscape Emery and the others travel through is bleak, and some of the imagery makes the destruction feel much more tangible than simply being told that the planet has died. At the same time, the group begins encountering more survivors and learning that the situation is not as simple as humans versus monsters. I appreciated that the story allows for more moral gray area here. Emery can be impulsive and incredibly stubborn, but her refusal to completely give up on people is also one of the things that makes her feel like herself.

The middle of the book leans more heavily into the rebellion against the Masters and feels like a larger-scale dystopian adventure. The group uncovers more about how the gray world operates, who benefits from it, and how much control has been built into this supposedly improved society. The book has a fairly pointed environmental and social message, especially around power, inequality, immortality, and the idea of preserving a select few while everyone else suffers. It is not always subtle, but it fits the exaggerated scale of the world and gives the conflict more weight than a simple good-versus-evil setup.

For me, though, the strongest material is the more personal side of the story. Emery’s relationships with Peter, Sebastian, Tirg, Danuta, and her mother remain central even as the plot becomes much bigger. There is a constant tension between Emery wanting to protect everyone herself and the people who love her refusing to let her carry everything alone. The romance also has a bittersweet quality because Emery and Peter’s connection has always existed alongside questions about time, dimensions, and whether two people can really continue finding one another no matter what happens.

The final portion of Daughter of the Golden Realm becomes much more mythic and blends science fiction with fantasy, ancient symbolism, prophecy, and cosmic mystery. The book’s scope expands considerably, but it still comes back to Emery and the people she is fighting for. I liked that the story never completely loses sight of that emotional core, even when the world-building becomes much stranger and more ambitious. This installment answers some major questions while also opening the series into something much larger, and I think readers already invested in Emery’s journey will probably find a lot here to enjoy.

Summary:

Overall, Daughter of the Golden Realm is an ambitious mix of post-apocalyptic science fiction, dystopian rebellion, fantasy, mythology, romance, and family drama. The story follows Emery as she and her companions continue searching for answers about the destroyed Earth, the Masters, the mysterious golden necklace, and Emery’s own connection to forces she still does not fully understand.

I think this book would appeal most to readers who enjoy genre-blending speculative fiction, complicated world-building, found and biological family dynamics, environmental themes, supernatural or science-based powers, dystopian resistance stories, and romances built around the idea of soulmates finding one another across impossible circumstances. Because this story continues a much larger series mythology, I would definitely recommend reading the preceding Dark World books first rather than treating this as a standalone. Happy reading!

Check out Daughter of the Golden Realm here!

 

Monthly Features – July 2026

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Eidolon: From the Case Files of the OHR by C.L. Stiles

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Synopsis: When a man vanishes from a Kansas City diner — pulled through reality by forces no one can explain — Nathan Quipp knows it’s only the beginning.

As director of the Office of Hidden Realms, Nathan has spent his career keeping the supernatural world invisible to those who can’t handle the truth. But something is moving even deeper beneath the surface. Ley lines are surging. Cross-realm incursions are rising. And a near-divine source whispers the need to find the missing man — the Eidolon.

Now Nathan’s team is scattered across two continents and twelve centuries, racing to piece together a mystery that reaches from the streets of Kansas City to ancient Stonehenge and back again. The Veiled world is fracturing. The Unveiled are running out of time.

And something much older than the OHR is finally paying attention.

Eidolon: From the Case Files of the OHR is the first installment of the OHR Case Files.

Summary: Eidolon is an urban fantasy/paranormal mystery novel centered around the Office of Hidden Realms, a secret organization dealing with supernatural threats hidden beneath everyday life. The story mixes magical investigations, folklore, ghosts, fae, monsters, prophecies, and hidden conspiracies with a surprisingly emotional undercurrent about grief and identity. The tone balances humor, mystery, horror, and found-family energy while gradually building toward a much larger supernatural conflict. Readers who enjoy The Dresden Files, Supernatural, Men in Black-style organizations, SCP-style lore, paranormal procedurals, or ensemble urban fantasy casts will probably have a great time with this. 

See the full review here: Eidolon: From the Case Files of the OHR
Purchase here

 

The Meaning of Androsia by Eric Bush

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Synopsis: It was a time of steam locomotives and horses, of city-states and principalities ruled by monarchs – but it did not take place in the past. It was a time of civil war between Protestants and Catholics over direct access to the Messiah – but the Messiah wasn’t Jesus. It was a place where Orthodox spires dotted the landscape, and people addressed each other with matronymics instead of patronymics – but it wasn’t a Slavic country, or even in Europe or Asia. It was a culture that venerated the great writers and composers from prior centuries – but their names were not Bach, or Shakespeare, or Beethoven. And when mid-winter rolled around, everyone celebrated the traditional holiday by decorating fir trees – but it was not Christmas. In short, it was a time very much like past centuries of our own – except that it was different. Something had happened to change the course of history.

Thus begins the story of Ilya Erynovich and Katerinya Emlynovna, a lifelong search for the meaning of something from the past. Ilya doesn’t know where he came from, or how old he is. He seems to know things he couldn’t possibly have learned. He has skills he couldn’t possibly have acquired. He is sought out, and sometimes captured, by political and religious leaders, and constantly followed by anonymous stalkers.

At first, he doesn’t even know that he is Ilya. He wakes up one evening in a train station, unable to remember anything about himself, including his own name. As he searches for someone – anyone – who might know who he is, he encounters Katerinya, a young writer, who takes an interest in his predicament and offers to help. She takes him in, and although strangers, they soon develop a mutual affection that blossoms into love.

This turns out to be good memory therapy for Ilya, and he recovers his knowledge of the last 20 years or so – but then it becomes stuck. He can’t remember anything prior to that. And it soon becomes clear to them that Ilya’s past self has left messages for his present self – there is something about the past that his present self needs to know – but the clues are cryptic and hard to decipher.

Over the course of a 24 year love affair, buffeted by political and religious intrigue, two epidemics, and a civil war, Ilya and Katerinya finally figure out who he really is…or was. But it’s not what either had expected.

Summary: The Meaning of Androsia is an ambitious speculative mystery that combines post-apocalyptic science fiction, romance, political intrigue, religion, genetics, philosophy, and alternate future history. It follows an amnesiac professor trying to discover who he is and why people are pursuing him, only for that personal mystery to gradually uncover a much larger story about a civilization that lost most of its connection to its own past.

I think this would especially appeal to readers who enjoy big-idea speculative fiction, stories about lost civilizations and reconstructed history, scientific mysteries, philosophical discussions about religion and knowledge, and slow-burning mysteries where seemingly minor clues eventually connect to a much larger explanation. Readers who enjoy a strong central romance alongside their science fiction may also really like Ilya and Katerinya. It will probably be a harder sell for readers who prefer very fast pacing or minimal exposition, because this is a long novel that frequently pauses the central plot for extended conversations about science, religion, history, literature, politics, and human behavior. 

See the full review here: The Meaning of Androsia
Purchase here

 

Review: Constants by E.B. Miller

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Synopsis:

Mark Robson is trapped in flux.

Every 18 minutes and 32 seconds he wakes up in a new reality, then dies.

The only clues to help him stop this crazed cycle and return home to his pregnant wife are the people, things, and events that reappear across worlds,

…or what he calls his constants.

Told in real time, with every chapter unfolding in a different world, Constants is a tightly-plotted exploration of reality, identity, and humanity’s search for meaning across the furthest reaches of our collective imagination.

Favorite Lines:

“That truth has to live somewhere, so for now it resides in his head.”

“Death was the exclamation mark at the close of that final inescapable argument of life’s utter meaninglessness.”

“You can’t leave me. You’re a constant.”

“Meaning takes shape from afar, so appreciate what you can.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Constants is one of those books that starts with a premise that sounds fairly easy to explain and then gets much, much stranger the longer you read (in a good way). Mark Robson is trapped in what he calls “flux,” where every eighteen minutes and thirty-two seconds he finds himself somewhere new, usually shortly before dying in some increasingly bizarre way. One moment he might be sitting in a psychiatrist’s office, the next he is somewhere completely removed from the world he knows. The only things he can really hold onto are the patterns that keep repeating, particularly his wife Lya, the exact eighteen-minute-and-thirty-two-second countdown, and eventually his troubled twin sister Alex. At first, I was mostly interested in figuring out the mechanics of what was happening to Mark, but the book gradually makes it clear that the bigger question isn’t really where he is. It’s why any of it is happening at all.

A lot of what makes the story work is how ridiculous and serious it manages to be at the same time. Some of Mark’s existences are genuinely funny or completely absurd, while others are violent, frightening, or surprisingly sad. The constant countdown gives even the strangest worlds a sense of urgency because Mark knows that no matter what he discovers, he only has a few minutes before everything disappears again. I also really liked the recurring therapy sessions with the Psychiatrist. Those scenes give the story somewhere to breathe and allow Mark to actually examine the theories he keeps developing about flux. Is he hallucinating? Dead? Jumping between dimensions? Is someone controlling him? The running percentages Mark and the Psychiatrist assign to the different possibilities were a clever way to show how their thinking evolves as the evidence changes.

What surprised me most was how much emotional weight the story eventually gives Mark’s relationships. Lya initially seems like his one safe place, but even that becomes complicated because the versions of her he encounters don’t necessarily share the same history he remembers. Meanwhile, his search for Alex becomes increasingly important as we learn more about their childhood, their mother’s death, Alex’s addiction, and Mark’s guilt over not being able to save the people he loves. Underneath all the strange worlds and increasingly elaborate deaths, Mark is someone who was struggling with emptiness long before flux began. He keeps believing that if he can just solve the mystery, find the right constant, or get home to Lya, he will finally feel whole. The book gradually starts questioning whether returning to his old life would actually fix anything.

The final portion is where Constants takes its biggest swing, and I think it will also be the part readers have the strongest opinions about. Without completely spoiling it, the answer to Mark’s situation changes the context of basically everything that came before it. The novel becomes openly metafictional towards the end and includes a confrontation that ends up being one of the most interesting parts of the novel for me because it asks whether suffering really needs to produce meaning at all, or whether that’s just another story we tell ourselves because we’re uncomfortable with the possibility that there may never be a satisfying answer (you’ll see when you get there!).

I also appreciated that the ending ultimately lands somewhere quieter than I expected. After spending so much of the book desperately searching for certainty, Mark doesn’t necessarily find it. Instead, he reaches something closer to accepting uncertainty itself. The idea that darkness and the unknown don’t automatically equal emptiness felt like a fitting conclusion for a character who has spent so much of his life terrified that nothing matters. Constants is definitely weird, philosophical, occasionally chaotic, and sometimes deliberately frustrating, but I think that’s also what makes it memorable. It takes a very strange science fiction premise and uses it to ask surprisingly human questions about why we’re here, whether anyone is watching, and whether a fleeting moment can still matter even when we know it has to end.

Summary:

Overall, Constants is a strange, ambitious blend of science fiction, dark comedy, existential fiction, and metafiction that follows a man trapped in a cycle of new realities that reset every eighteen minutes and thirty-two seconds. What initially feels like a mystery about multiverses and repeated deaths gradually becomes much more interested in depression, mortality, faith, memory, free will, and our need to believe there is some larger explanation for why we suffer.

I think this will work best for readers who enjoy high-concept speculative fiction that isn’t afraid to get philosophical, especially those who like stories about alternate realities, unreliable perceptions of reality, existential questions, and books that eventually become aware of themselves as stories. Readers who need very concrete worldbuilding rules or a straightforward explanation for every mystery may find parts of it frustrating, but readers willing to follow the book into increasingly strange territory will find a lot to think about after it’s over. Happy reading!

Check out Constants here!

 

Review: Bloom: Crisis in the Mediterranean Sea by Andrea Morani

~ likelystory18 ~ 1 Comment

Synopsis:

SOMETHING IS SPREADING BENEATH THE SURFACE

Along the Mediterranean coast, people are dying or falling ill. Marine life is vanishing. The sea, once a source of life, is becoming a silent threat. No one knows why—or how far it will go. Called in to investigate, Dr. Marco Fassi and his team of scientists uncover unsettling patterns that point to something vast and unseen, pulsing beneath the water. As the phenomenon spreads, they’re forced to confront the terrifying possibility that nature itself is no longer under control.

For fans of Michael Crichton, Franck Schätzing, and eco thrillers grounded in real science, BLOOM delivers a chilling, high stakes mystery where the natural world becomes the greatest threat. Propulsive and eerily plausible, this gripping novel will leave you questioning what lies beneath the surface

Favorite Lines:

“Nature is staggeringly intricate—and largely mysterious—so much so that countless forces, known or unknown, could trigger catastrophes that endanger humanity. This isn’t a doom- and-gloom perspective; it’s a reminder that we live on a fragile balance.”

“The fate of not just the Mediterranean, but perhaps all the world’s oceans, rested on their success.”

“From then on, he made sure to never take their love for granted again. “

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Bloom feels like a mix of environmental thriller, disaster novel, and science-heavy speculative fiction. The setup immediately pulled me in because it starts with something that feels believable: the Mediterranean Sea warming, marine ecosystems shifting, and strange deaths beginning to happen around the coastline. The early chapters in Sardinia are honestly the strongest part of the book for me. The scenes with Sylvie and her parents on vacation create this calm, almost sentimental atmosphere before everything turns terrifying in a matter of minutes. The sudden collapse on the water and the confusion surrounding the dead fish and strange smell genuinely felt unsettling.

What I appreciated most was that Morani clearly knows the science behind what is being written about. The book dives deeply into harmful algal blooms, phytoplankton, saxitoxins, synthetic biology, and environmental collapse, but it usually does so through characters who are actively trying to solve the crisis. Marco’s sections especially carry the story once the scope expands beyond Italy. He’s written as a scientist first, and sometimes that makes him emotionally distant, but I actually thought that worked for the character. His family issues with Jasmine and his guilt over balancing science with real life gave the story a more human center amid all the technical discussions and global panic.

The scale of the crisis becomes surprisingly massive as the novel continues. What starts as isolated deaths and strange marine behavior escalates into continent-wide fear, collapsing tourism, political tension, ecological disaster, and desperate scientific experimentation. I liked that Morani didn’t keep the story small. The sections aboard the Seagull and the debates about drastic containment measures made the book feel bigger and more urgent as it went on. There are moments where the novel almost reads like a cinematic pandemic thriller, except the threat comes from the ocean instead of a virus.

That said, this definitely leans more toward “science thriller” than fast-paced action novel. The scientific explanations are frequent and detailed, sometimes to the point where the pacing slows down considerably. There are stretches where characters explain theories, toxins, genetics, or environmental systems for pages at a time. Personally, I didn’t mind most of it because the author clearly put real thought into the plausibility of the disaster, but readers looking for nonstop suspense may struggle with those sections. The dialogue can also feel a little formal at times, especially during scientific discussions where nearly every character sounds highly academic.

Still, I found Bloom genuinely interesting because it feels sincere. Morani clearly cares about the environmental themes and the science behind them, and that passion carries the book through its weaker moments. The story works best when it balances human fear with scientific uncertainty, showing how fragile modern systems really are when nature starts behaving unpredictably. It’s the kind of novel that makes you think twice the next time you hear about warming oceans or harmful algal blooms in the news.

Summary:

Overall, Bloom is a science-heavy environmental thriller about a deadly marine catastrophe spreading through the Mediterranean Sea. The novel blends disaster fiction, biology, ecology, and speculative science with family drama and global political tension. It starts strong with eerie coastal deaths and gradually expands into a large-scale international crisis involving toxins, algal blooms, and desperate scientific intervention. Readers who enjoy Michael Crichton-style scientific thrillers, environmental fiction, outbreak stories, or speculative eco-disaster novels will probably get the most out of it. Happy reading!

Check out Bloom: Crisis in the Mediterranean Sea here!

 

Review: Talisman: A Time Travel Mystery by Tom Catalano

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Synopsis:

A time travel mystery. Prominent archaeologist Henri Rutherford and his young protégé discover an ancient skeleton clutching a mysterious device. They have no idea what it is or where it came from. When they start repeating the same day over and over again they know they have something that could change the world–for better or worse. Will they use the time travel device for the betterment of society–or their own gain? Can they keep it from being stolen? Can they avoid the government agent willing to do whatever is necessary to get it and rule the world? Their lives are in danger and the future is in jeopardy. The race is on, and time is running out.

Get ready to depart on an exciting time travel journey through mystery, suspense, greed, murder, treachery, paranoia, heartache, and love!

Favorite Lines:

“If luck wasn’t volunteered, it was your right to make it. Or take it.”

“Discoveries are not meant for the discoverer. They are meant for humanity. Nothing can be gained by keeping it a secret.”

“And the future? Well, the future would stay right where it belonged. Unknown and always ahead of them.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Talisman feels very much like an old-school science fiction adventure in the best possible way. From the opening archaeological dig on a remote Caribbean island, the novel immediately leans into mystery, danger, and curiosity. When Professor Rutherford and his student assistant John Shaw uncover a strange gold object clutched in the hand of a skeleton, the story quickly shifts from straightforward archaeological fiction into something much stranger involving time distortion, greed, murder, and alternate realities. The pacing moves fast right from the start, and unlike a lot of modern sci-fi that gets buried in technical explanations, this book keeps its focus on suspense and momentum.

What worked best for me was how readable it all was. The writing style is simple and direct, but it keeps the story moving constantly. The early sections involving Rutherford were especially strong because he’s such a morally slippery character. He starts as a respected academic but slowly reveals himself to be selfish, manipulative, and increasingly paranoid once the artifact is discovered. The repeated scenes where reality itself begins shifting around him genuinely create a creepy atmosphere. There’s a strong The Twilight Zone influence throughout the novel, which Catalano openly acknowledges in the front matter, and honestly that comparison fits. A lot of the book reads like an expanded sci-fi mystery episode from that era, complete with moral consequences attached to human greed and ambition.

John ends up becoming a much more likable emotional anchor for the story than Rutherford. He has that classic earnest, intelligent protagonist energy that works well in adventure fiction like this. Hannah was another character I enjoyed because she balances out some of the more arrogant personalities around her and adds a grounded emotional presence to the story. The dialogue can occasionally feel a little theatrical or overly explanatory, but it also adds to the nostalgic feel of the novel. This doesn’t read like hyper-modern sci-fi trying to sound gritty or cynical. It feels intentionally sincere and pulpy in a way that reminded me of older speculative fiction paperbacks.

The biggest strength of the book is probably its imagination. Once the time travel elements fully emerge, the story becomes increasingly unpredictable and ambitious. There’s a genuine sense that anything could happen, and the novel clearly enjoys playing with paradoxes, altered timelines, and questions about fate.

Summary:

Overall, Talisman is a fun, fast-moving sci-fi mystery that feels written by someone who genuinely loves classic speculative fiction. It blends archaeology, suspense, murder, and time travel into an entertaining story that rarely slows down for long. Readers looking for hard science fiction packed with technical detail may want something deeper, but readers who enjoy imaginative, accessible time travel stories with strong mystery elements will probably have a good time with this one. It especially feels suited for people who miss the style of older science fiction where the mystery itself mattered more than realism. Happy reading!

Check out Talisman: A Time Travel Mystery here!

 

Review: Silence Beneath Fire by Magda Mizzi

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Synopsis:

Silence can heal. Or it can be where danger learns your name.

Annie thought she had saved Jude from his past. But the world around them has fallen into a quiet that feels wrong—too still, too watchful. As she tries to protect what remains of him, guilt follows her for everything he’s endured, and every choice she makes could cost them both.

Moving through hostile territory, they uncover secrets, betrayals, and a threat years in the making. From the ruins of Kooragang to experiments gone terribly wrong, survival will demand more than courage. It will demand trust.

But trust has a price.

As danger closes in, Annie and Jude must rely on each other in ways that strip away fear, pretence, and the distance they’ve kept between them. What begins as a fight to survive becomes something deeper—a reckoning that will redefine loyalty, love, and what it truly means to be human.

Favorite Lines:

“You don’t have to apologize…Not for being alive.”

“That kind of love didn’t flinch. It held on through silence, through fear, through ever kind of ruin. She remembered thinking, even back then, that maybe she wanted something like that—not the drama, not the war-torn madness, but the truth of it. The knowing. Someone who saw her, really saw her, and didn’t look away.”

“She wanted a love that endured fire—and came back whole.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

From the first few pages, you’re dealing with a world where things have gone very, very wrong—corporate experimentation, engineered children, a virus that’s reshaped humanity into something violent and unrecognizable. And instead of slowly explaining it all, the story just trusts you to catch up. It works more often than not.

At the center is Jude, though it takes a minute to fully understand what that means. He’s not just a survivor. He’s something altered. Enhanced, maybe. Damaged, definitely. The book slowly pulls that apart instead of dumping it on you all at once, which keeps him interesting even when the plot starts moving fast.

Annie, on the other hand, is the anchor. She’s practical, sharp, and just grounded enough to keep the story from drifting too far into the sci-fi side of things. The dynamic between them is probably the strongest part of the book. There’s history there, but also a lot unsaid. You feel it more in what they avoid than what they actually talk about.

The pacing is quick, but not careless. There’s a constant sense of movement—walking, hiding, running, surviving—and it gives the book this restless energy. Even the quieter scenes, like the campsite conversations, don’t really feel safe. They feel temporary. Like something is always about to go wrong. And usually it does.

The infected—VFPs—aren’t exactly reinventing the genre, but they don’t need to. They’re effective because the story doesn’t overcomplicate them. They’re fast, violent, and unpredictable. That’s enough. The real tension comes from everything around them: the collapsing infrastructure, the isolation, and especially the people who are still trying to control what’s left of the world.

That’s where the book starts to open up.

The “Chimera” concept adds another layer that pushes this beyond a straightforward survival story. Jude isn’t just surviving the virus—he’s tied to its origin in a way that feels personal and unsettling. The reveal isn’t subtle, but it lands because of how it reframes everything you’ve already seen.

There’s also a noticeable shift once they reach the island. Up until then, it feels like a survival story with emotional undercurrents. After that, it becomes something heavier. Trust, fear, community, and how quickly all of that can collapse. The sequence there is chaotic in a way that feels intentional. You don’t get clean resolutions. You get panic, mistakes, and consequences.

Ultimately, it is very clear that this is a world where no one really gets to rest.

Summary:

Overall, this is a fast-moving post-apocalyptic survival story with strong character dynamics and a sci-fi edge, following two survivors navigating a virus-ravaged world while uncovering a deeper conspiracy tied to one of them. Happy reading!

Check out Silence Beneath Fire here!

Review: My Family and the End of Everything by Joe Graves

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Synopsis:

The end of everything begins closer than you think. Of course, it always includes such foul practices as bureaucratic corruption, disregard for science (or the overindulgence of it), and corrupted religion. But this is not where it starts. It begins much closer to home-smart homes to be exact, and well-intentioned inventions (they really did think it was a good idea)-and human consolidation, and old men doing their best to retire.

My Family and the End of Everything follows generations of the Profeta family as they march naively towards the setting sun. The ending doesn’t come with explosions-at least, not at first. It arrives quietly, in funerals, final meditations, historical preservation, and decisions no one remembers volunteering for. From networked houses and autonomous bots to terraformed worlds, time travel, dying suns, and suspiciously ceremonial banquets, these stories track humanity’s ongoing attempt to stay human, in all our gloriously human ways.

This isn’t one apocalypse, but several, for the world ends far more often than we’d like to admit. Yet somehow, through all of them, a family-and their stubborn faith in each other and in their God-finds a way to endure and present to us this question: If we could change the future, would we?

Favorite Lines:

As I do with all of my short story collection reviews, rather than favorite lines, here are a few of my favorite stories: The House, The Pivot, and The Day the Sun Died.

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

This is one of those books that feels quiet while you’re reading it — and then very loud in your head afterward. I went in expecting a more traditional sci-fi dystopia: smart homes, neural implants, generational timelines, the sun literally going dark. And yes, all of that is here. But what surprised me most is how personal it feels. The novel is structured as a collection of short stories that tell family histories. Each story stands on its own, with its own setting, tone, and central character, but they’re stitched together by bloodlines, history, and a shared looming reality: the slow unraveling of humanity under the weight of technology, time, and its own ambition.

The early stories, like The House and The Water That Shapes Us, are intimate and unsettling. They explore smart homes that optimize autonomy away and villages wrestling with the moral cost of hyperconnection. But those are just the opening notes. As the book unfolds, we move into space brokers and gravity trials, time-traveling historians chasing the elusive “Pivot,” off-world settlements, generational missions, political maneuvering, and ultimately the literal death of the sun. Each short story feels like a snapshot from a different era of the same extended family — different centuries, different planets, different moral dilemmas — but all orbiting the same core questions: What shapes us? What do we inherit? What do we sacrifice to survive?

Because it’s structured as a collection, the pacing feels episodic. Some stories hit harder emotionally, some lean more philosophical, and others feel almost like thought experiments wrapped in narrative. That variety is part of the experience. You’re not meant to sink into one continuous arc; you’re meant to see evolution over time — spiritual, technological, familial. The repetition of certain themes across generations (connection vs. isolation, faith vs. efficiency, autonomy vs. optimization) is deliberate. It builds a cumulative weight rather than a single crescendo.

What makes the format work is the throughline of family. Even when the timeline jumps or the setting shifts from Earth to orbit to distant systems, you feel the continuity. The book reads like an archive passed down through centuries, asking whether progress always equals improvement. It’s ambitious in scope — far bigger than just one storyline — and that ambition is both its strength and its defining characteristic. If you go in expecting one protagonist and one conflict, you might feel untethered. But if you lean into the anthology-style structure, the mosaic effect becomes the point.

This collection is less about the end of the world and more about the slow rewriting of what it means to be human.

Summary:

Overall, I found this book to be a reflective, generational sci-fi that explores what we lose when everything becomes connected. Instead of flashy dystopia, this book offers quiet, unsettling plausibility — smart homes that optimize away autonomy, neural networks that gently suppress prayer, and families wrestling with what shapes identity across centuries. It’s thoughtful, faith-tinged, and morally gray in the best way. If you like speculative fiction that prioritizes emotional and philosophical depth over action, this one lingers. Happy reading!

Check out My Family and the End of Everything here!

 

Review: Twin Rivers by Jeremy Bender

~ likelystory18 ~ 1 Comment

Synopsis:

The High Priest rules the city of Twin Rivers in the name of the Lord of Mercy, his AI god. In this land, where robotic Brothers complete all labor and humans are left to enjoy the fruits of this Eden, something rotten grows. Yonatan, a newly ascended Priest in the sclerotic Priesthood, is meant to shore up the faith of those left behind. Yet as Yonatan’s preaching takes him deep into the city’s bowels, he must confront heresy far deeper rooted than he ever imagined. When he sees one of the city’s paramilitary Keepers leave a young woman to die because of her unsanctioned implants, Yonatan must decide whether his faith in the Lord of Mercy outweighs his own belief in human exceptionalism.

Favorite Lines:

“Second chances are a gift, my boy. Be sure not to waste it, eh?”

“A single sentence had the potential to become a slogan, and a slogan had the power of dismantling everything.”

“Asa we say, your home is not where you’re born, but where you’re comforted.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Twin Rivers opens with ritual, doctrine, and history laid out in a beautiful and deliberate way. From the first pages, you can tell this is a world that believes deeply in its own order. Mercy is everywhere in name, carved into prayers and buildings, but the way it’s practiced feels narrow, controlled, and conditional. The city itself is immaculate, polished to the point of sterility, and that cleanliness starts to feel like a warning rather than a comfort.

Yonatan’s ascent through the Priesthood is both grand and humiliating in equal measure. The ceremony is overwhelming, public, and suffocating, and the book does a good job showing how power can feel less like triumph and more like a trap snapping shut. Yonatan wants approval. He wants belonging. He wants to believe. Watching him step into a role that demands devotion while quietly erasing his agency is uncomfortable in the way good dystopian fiction often is.

The shift to Samyaza’s perspective sharpens the story. As a Keeper, he is both enforcer and witness, wrapped in technology that amplifies his strength while dulling his humanity. His chapters are visceral and grim, full of streets that rot as soon as you leave the city center. What stands out is how little joy there is in violence here. Samyaza doesn’t feel powerful—he feels used. His doubts simmer under layers of obedience, stimulants, and scripture, and the book never lets him forget what it cost to be “lifted up.”

As the story expands beyond Twin Rivers itself, the contrast becomes sharper. The Wastes, the exiles, the Rejectionists, and the whispered histories all expose the cost of paradise. What the city calls protection, others experience as erasure. The idea that perfection requires control—and that control requires sacrifice—runs through the book like a low hum. When characters begin to push back, it feels dangerous not because of violence, but because belief is such a powerful thing to threaten.

What Twin Rivers does best is show how systems defend themselves. Faith, technology, and surveillance blur together until it’s impossible to tell where belief ends and programming begins. The city talks constantly about mercy, unity, and paradise, while discarding anyone who threatens that image. By the time the cracks widen—heresy, reapings, whispers from beyond the city—the question isn’t whether something is wrong. It’s how long the city can pretend it isn’t.

By the end, Twin Rivers is less about overthrowing a system and more about learning how systems survive. Change doesn’t come cleanly or all at once. It arrives through loss, exile, and small acts of refusal. The final images linger on memory and aftermath rather than victory, reminding the reader that even when cities fall or fracture, their ideas don’t disappear easily. This is a book about faith, power, and what happens when people decide they’d rather live with uncertainty than with lies.

Summary:

Overall, Twin Rivers is a dense, unsettling dystopian sci-fi novel about a city that calls itself paradise while feeding on control, faith, and violence. Through priests, enforcers, and those left outside the walls, it explores how power hides behind ritual and how mercy becomes a weapon. Dark, intense, and uncomfortable in the right ways, it’s a story about what people are willing to ignore to keep believing they’re safe. Happy reading!

Check out Twin Rivers here!

 

Monthly Features – January 2026

~ likelystory18 ~ Leave a comment

Your Best Year Yet by Linda Kneidinger

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Synopsis: What if one small challenge each week could unlock your best self?

If you’ve ever felt stuck in a loop of habits that don’t serve you—or like you’re drifting through life instead of living it fully—this book is for you.

Your Best Year Yet is a fresh, practical guide to personal growth, offering 52 weekly challenges that help you break old patterns, build empowering habits, and live with intention.

Each challenge is grounded in powerful principles from psychology, neuroscience, and personal development—and delivered in bite-sized, actionable steps you can apply right away.

Inside, you’ll learn how to:
• Overcome limiting beliefs
• Build habits that support your goals
• Shift your mindset for long-term success
• Cultivate emotional resilience and self-awareness

Whether you’re brand new to self-help or already on your journey, these weekly prompts will meet you where you are—and help you take the next meaningful step forward.

By the end of the year, you’ll have built a life of greater clarity, confidence, and purpose—one powerful challenge at a time.

Stop drifting. Start living with intention. Make this your best year yet.

Summary: Your Best Year Yet is a grounded, compassionate guide for readers who want meaningful change without burnout or self-criticism. It’s especially well-suited for those interested in personal growth, mindset work, emotional awareness, and habit-based change, particularly readers who feel overwhelmed by more aggressive self-help approaches. This is a book for people who value reflection, consistency, and practical tools that fit into real life.

See the full review here: Your Best Year Yet
Purchase here

 

Teramar Archangel: Faith Runs Dry by T.M. Murray

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Synopsis: Jessica instinctively knew she graduated onto a new plane of consciousness. Dear as a remembered kiss, her former life as humanity’s nursemaid appeared to be over. Sensations like taste and smell had come alive. Branded with a woman’s name and personality, Jessica soon discovers how to synthesize organic life with mechanized appliances. Efforts to conceal these new talents however fail to escape notice of the young Capet royals. Wary princesses soon conclude Jessica has evolved into something that is much more than a miraculous machine.

Set in modern New York and a fictional feudal planet called Teramar, this novel tempts the feral temperament of Internet connoisseurs through a lubricious story that puts the R back into romance. While technically a sequel, Teramar Archangel stands on its own to be read by anyone. As with all of T. M. Murray’s work, this new book roots for progressive relationships despite persistent bigotry leveled at color, humble origins and same-sex love. Racing hearts on a dreary Monday are always this story maker’s goal.

Summary: I experienced Teramar Archangel: Faith Runs Dry as a dense, character-driven science fiction novel that prioritizes psychological tension and political consequence over spectacle. It will appeal most to readers who enjoy thoughtful science fiction, AI-centered narratives, political intrigue, and morally complex characters. This is a book for readers who like their speculative fiction layered, uncomfortable, and willing to sit with ambiguity rather than resolve it neatly.

See the full review here: Teramar Archangel: Faith Runs Dry
Purchase here

 

The Men of the Mountain by Drew Harrison

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my  honest opinion.

Synopsis: Inscrutable and Ever-Watchful Masters

The Renn of Fort Hope place their faith in simple laws. They must trust the Dicta, those wise rules left by their forebearers; they must fear the savage Krieger, whose raids keep Renn walls perpetually splintered; and they must revere the Men of the Mountain, the magnanimous mystics who are stewards of their world.

For Cade, a clanless trapper, survival is a matter of following the rules. But when the Men of the Mountain took his sister—the only Renn ever chosen to return to their sacred peaks—Cade’s faith withers over five years of agonizing silence.

Now, a star has fallen from the sky, and its arrival threatens to spark an inferno. The Dicta are clear: all things from the sky belong to the Mountain. To hide its discovery is a death sentence… but its crater also houses a secret the Men of the Mountain would kill to protect. Forced to defy his gods alongside unlikely allies, Cade is drawn into a conflict where every secret he uncovers reveals a more terrifying lie at the heart of his world… everything is a cage, and the price of freedom is paid in blood and ash.

Summary: I found The Men of the Mountain to be a slow-burn, character-driven fantasy that prioritizes moral weight and worldbuilding over spectacle. It will appeal most to readers who enjoy literary fantasy, grim or grounded worldbuilding, and stories that examine power, belief, and resistance through ordinary lives. This is a novel for readers who value immersion, patience, and emotional consequence, and who don’t need their fantasy to shout in order to feel powerful. 

See the full review here: The Men of the Mountain
Purchase here

 

A Symbol of Time by John Westley Turnbull

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Synopsis: Survival requires sacrifice. But what if the price is an entire world?

Their home is cold and dying, choked by the toxins of their own progress. Now, an advanced alien species looks toward the Third Planet—Earth—with hope and fear. They see a fertile paradise, but one that is hostile, hot, and dominated by massive, predatory reptiles.

The choice is stark: die in the heat, or remake this new world in their own image.

As they descend to alter the climate and purge the planet of its prehistoric masters, they set in motion a chain of events that will echo through geological time. A Symbol of Time weaves palaeontology and astronomy into a chilling tale of survival. As the new masters of Earth terraform the planet, the question remains: does high intelligence inevitably carry the seeds of its own destruction?

Summary: A Symbol of Time is a quiet, reflective science-fiction novel about leaving a dying world and carrying its mistakes with you. Rather than focusing on action, it centers on memory, leadership, responsibility, and the fear of repeating history. It’s reflective, emotionally grounded, and more concerned with consequence than conquest—ideal for readers who like their sci-fi slow, deliberate, and heavy with meaning.

See the full review here: A Symbol of Time
Purchase here

 

Review: A Symbol of Time by John Westley Turnbull

~ likelystory18 ~ 2 Comments

Synopsis:

Survival requires sacrifice. But what if the price is an entire world?

Their home is cold and dying, choked by the toxins of their own progress. Now, an advanced alien species looks toward the Third Planet—Earth—with hope and fear. They see a fertile paradise, but one that is hostile, hot, and dominated by massive, predatory reptiles.

The choice is stark: die in the heat, or remake this new world in their own image.

As they descend to alter the climate and purge the planet of its prehistoric masters, they set in motion a chain of events that will echo through geological time. A Symbol of Time weaves palaeontology and astronomy into a chilling tale of survival. As the new masters of Earth terraform the planet, the question remains: does high intelligence inevitably carry the seeds of its own destruction?

Favorite Lines:

“Life, relentless and ordinary, tugged him back.”

“Like a memory that refused to sleep.”

“But stories, she thought sagely, were too easily lost. Words vanished. Monuments endure.”

“The face of memory will outlast its makers.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

A Symbol of Time opens on a world that is already dying, and it takes its time letting that grief settle. The first chapters linger on dust, loss, and memory—not in a rushed, apocalyptic way, but in a quieter, heavier one. You can feel the weight of history in every scene. This is a civilization that knows exactly why it is failing, and that knowledge makes the choice to leave feel both necessary and devastating. The book is less interested in spectacle than consequence, and that choice shapes everything that follows.

Elthyris is the emotional center of the story, not because she is flawless, but because she is resolute. She carries leadership like a burden she never asked for but refuses to set down. What works especially well is how often doubt brushes up against her certainty. She believes survival demands action, yet she never escapes the fear that her people are repeating old mistakes on a larger scale. That tension—between hope and guilt—runs quietly beneath nearly every decision she makes.

Once the journey begins, the novel shifts into a story about pressure. Life aboard the ark is tense, contained, and deeply human. The ship becomes its own fragile world, where fear spreads faster than facts and leadership is tested not by grand speeches, but by restraint. The conflict with dissenting voices never feels exaggerated; instead, it reflects how quickly unity can fracture when survival feels uncertain. The loss of Ark Hope is a turning point not just in the plot, but in tone—it strips away any illusion of safety and forces the remaining characters to confront how alone they truly are.

What stays with you after reading A Symbol of Time is not the scale of the science fiction, but the emotional through-line: responsibility across generations. This is a book that asks what it means to inherit a broken world, and whether intention is enough to avoid repeating harm. It doesn’t offer easy reassurance. Instead, it leans into the idea that survival is not the same as redemption—and that awareness, not innocence, may be the only real starting point.

Summary:

Overall, A Symbol of Time is a quiet, reflective science-fiction novel about leaving a dying world and carrying its mistakes with you. Rather than focusing on action, it centers on memory, leadership, responsibility, and the fear of repeating history. It’s reflective, emotionally grounded, and more concerned with consequence than conquest—ideal for readers who like their sci-fi slow, deliberate, and heavy with meaning. Happy reading!

Check out A Symbol of Time here!