aaronj21's Reviews (912)

Oh boy do I have some thoughts.

I tried to read this book months ago. I didn't like it so I put it down. But I went back to it with fresh eyes and an open mind, and now after reading the whole book carefully, I can safely say… I still don't like it.

Immediately the tone of this book irked me. The author makes every description florid and off-the-wall original. Hands aren't just hands they're "...wetlands and his fingers the bulrushes that grew at the edges of them.", the main character claims to have heard someone describe his home town (Breathed, Ohio, pronounced breath-ED) as, "...the scar of the paradise we lost.", his brother's eyes look like Russia "...the largest country in the world of his face.". This over the top style of description goes double for characters. Every character is an overwrought, unbearably twee parody of uniqueness. Stella is a housewife with intense agoraphobia who decorates the rooms of her house to be different countries and says she's "going to" England or Brazil when she goes to the kitchen or a bedroom. The protagonist's father is an Atticus Finch type named Autopsy Bliss who sees the law as God's divine filter and takes to writing invitations to the devil in the local paper. Elohim is an aggressively vegetarian dwarf who eats dinner at a dining table set on his front porch everyday. And this is EVERY character we spend any time with.

It just exhausts the reader. Moreover, by making everyone so quirky and unique, it ruins the effect. When discussing his father's name, Autopsy, the protagonist admits it's an "acutely strange name" but that his mother who gave it to him was an "acutely strange woman". Strangeness, acute or otherwise, is completely sapped of meaning in a novel where EVERYONE is bizarre and quirky to the nth degree.

On top of that the characters almost never act like human beings. Autopsy’s mother was a devout Christian until she slipped one day in her kitchen and God wasn’t there to catch her, then she immediately became a church vandalizing atheist. Elohim finds out his wife has been cheating on him so he makes a phone call and asks the operator to “connect him to God”. Fielding, as an adult, 'writes his sins on scraps of aluminum foil so that they look beautiful from a distance'. And on and on, without pause. These actions are all very poetic and meaning laden, but in the world of the book they’re also things people apparently literally did, something that strains the imagination and causes eyes to roll. I'm sorry, but no one who was a real person and not an overwrought character, would say your hometown was "the scar of the paradise we lost "they just wouldn't. It's clearly there just because the author liked that phrase and couldn't find a way to work it in more naturally.

This disconnect between extremely busy writing and realism might not be so bad if the author didn't also firmly ground the book in reality. As the first chapter reminds us, it's 1984, the Macintosh computer is out, AIDS is making headlines, and "Cruel Summer" is on the radio. The disconnect between this setting and the people that inhabit it is jarring at best, tasteless at worst. It can be difficult to care about characters that seem like cartoons most of the time, and is downright puzzling when the tone of the book shifts to include things like suicide, serial murder, and cannibalism. It seems like the author should have chosen to write either a poetic book with a style similar to magical realism, or a gritty and dark novel about mans inhumanity to man, but by trying to do them together she fails at both.

Overall the whole book felt like nothing so much as a very well made cake, delicious but completely drowned out by about ten pounds of meticulously crafted icing filigree. The substance of the main event was lost due incessant tampering, adding, and unnecessary flourishes that went nowhere.

Vivid, meticulous, and impressively plotted, Shogun earns the reputation it has long enjoyed as a giant of the historical fiction genre.

I’d put off this novel for years, I was intimidated by the length and didn’t connect with it on an initial attempt previously. This time it clicked for me and I’m so glad I gave it another shot. The premise is pretty standard, a European sailor washes up in feudal Japan and has to adapt to this new land and find his place in it or die. Basically it’s The Last Samurai but good.
The writing is perhaps not the most accessible but it does reward the patient reader. If you can make it through the initial chapters centered around Blackthorne and his terrible crew of useless red shirts (really, they are all completely unlikable and just about useless, I found myself actively rooting for their demise), you’re set.

The detail is meticulous, the descriptions are lush, and you really feel like you’re inhabiting this specific time and place. This novel certainly doesn’t fall prey to what I’ve termed “Party City Historical Fiction” i.e. historical fiction that’s shallow, surface level, basically just dressing up it’s characters in period costumes that may or may not be accurate and generally not being concerned with how people of this time period would have actually thought and saw the world.
James Clavell also does an amazing job at pacing and at writing intrigue and espionage well. It’s tricky to juggle several storylines and characters and then depict them plotting against each other effectively, but he certainly did it well. Even during the very last pages I was surprised by turns of events in a way that felt both impactful and made sense within the story. Toronaga is beautifully written and is a phenomenally interesting character to spend time with, he really makes the whole novel work in my opinion.

My only complaint, and it’s a minor one, is that John Blackthorne is basically the OG Mary Sue. He’s the finest pilot to ever sail a ship! He knows English, Portuguese, Dutch, and Latin! He excels at combat and leadership! He can leap tall buildings in a single bound! But beyond his near superhuman accomplishments, there’s the fact that basically everyone who meets him is immediately ready to say “I know I’ve only had this strange Englishman for a day and a half, but if anything ever happened to him I’d kill everyone here and then myself.”. But as I said, this is a minor gripe and isn’t really too distracting while you’re reading the novel.

Overall this is an incredibly worthwhile novel that tells a compelling story. It's worth the time and attention it takes to read and prospective readers shouldn’t be scared off by its exceptional length. It's one of those stories that doesn’t feel quite as long as it is because it’s just that immersive and exciting. Indeed, as I read the final chapters I found myself wishing there were more ahead of me or another book in the series.

I’d like to thank NetGalley and the publisher for an ARC of this title in exchange for an honest review.

A vivid, one of a kind graphic novel that breathes new life into the well worn narratives of both apocalypse and the Wheetago (Wendigo) in a refreshingly original way.


This book was not what I was expecting based on the cover. The graphic novel’s Hypnagogic storytelling and dream-like visuals take some getting used to the same way moving
in water takes some adjustment from walking around on dry land. Once you’ve acclimated though, the artistic style makes for a one of a kind reading experience. Panels that are at once crisp and misty, detailed in landscape and dynamic in movement, brimming with action and feeling.

Roth is the story you never knew you needed. One that continues the trend of reimagining the tired old apocalypse scenario we’ve all read a hundred times by showing it through a first nation lens à la The Moon of The Crusted Snow by Waubgeshig Rice. After an outbreak of cannibalistic monsters overruns the world, a ragtag group of survivors; including a mother, her child, some escaped convicts, and one of the very monsters they fear, try to live on while also preserving their humanity in this frightening new reality.

This story works on several levels, plot, characters you feel instant kinship to, and a fascinating world building element. Roth also places North America's most famous cannibalistic spirit, the Wheetago, or Wendigo, back in its original context as a creature from a specific culture and history instead of just another monster of the week. However, most importantly to me as a reader, this beautiful story delves into the most fascinating element of the apocalypse narrative, the human impulse to trust and cooperate, even at the end of the world. The desire to retain our humanity and compassion even when the stakes couldn't be higher and trust, either misplaced or earned, is the difference between survival and death at every turn.

Pick up this book, particularly if you’re looking for something more substantive and thoughtful from your end of the world fiction, you won’t regret it.

I’d like to thank NetGalley and the publisher for an ARC of this title in exchange for an honest review.

(Please Note: This is a review for the graphic novel publication under this title due to be published on 11 February 2025 by Oni Press, NOT a review for the short story collection by the same principal author which I have NOT read)


A lush, lurid, tale sprawled across a nightmarish, Through Looking Glass version of America that seamlessly blends horror, mystery, and character study in one unforgettable story.

Any summary of the Night People will fail to do it justice. But in the interest of giving a preview, let’s say it's an adeptly written story of violent, passionate, desperate, people and the sparks that fly as their narratives intersect. There are, first and foremost, feminist, religious fanatics, who have some good points but won’t let something as trivial as murder prevent them from spreading the good word. There’s a man on the run from his past who’s about to run right into something worse than anything he left in his rearview. There’s a shockingly observant little girl who might be even more than she appears, going on an ill advised journey and trying to save her broken father. When these characters find their paths crossing, the result is something rare and memorable, true lightning in a bottle type stuff.

Night People combines the best elements of classic pulp like Tales from The Crypt with its shocking violence and grisly storytelling, while also pausing long enough to make its characters fully fleshed out, tragic human beings. While reading I thought the world of the story was reminiscent of the grittiest elements of Sandman by Neil Gaiman and what would happen if someone were to adapt the show True Detective into expertly lined and colored graphic novel form. The aesthetic virtuosity on display here from the various artists deserves just as much praise as the brilliant narrative elements. Skill and care just seep out of every panel and no matter what’s happening in the story at any given time, the art is a joy to see. In conclusion, this was a gripping and immersive world that fascinates even as it repels, it demands your attention and compels you to finish in one sitting.

A shocking, compelling, pulpy trip, Night People is like a road trip from hell across the Deep South and I for one can’t wait to get on the road again.

A visually stunning, mythic narrative that’s quite unlike anything else you’ll read this year or maybe ever.

Saying it’s a retelling of the Prometheus myth is too trite to do justice to this fascinating story. While it does draw inspiration from the ancient Greek tale, Tongues is completely one of a kind and tells a story that is at once recognizable and unfamiliar. Seamlessly connected narratives coalesce in a story that you can’t help but want more of. Also Astrid is perhaps one of the best and most likable protagonists, especially child protagonists, I've read in a long time.

Eagerly awaiting the continuation of this story!

I’ve been a big fan of Mikita Brottman’s writing since I read her wonderfully engaging “Maximum Security Book Club” and this newest book certainly didn’t disappoint.


This story makes soap operas seem mundane and practical by comparison. There’s childhood friendships that blossom into dating and then marriage, there’s a seedy, years-long, affair, there’s a murder plot and life insurance fraud. Be that as it may, Brottman does an admirable job keeping the narrative on the rails and not losing sight of the human tragedy (the aforementioned murder and the lives it destroyed) at the center of this twisted tale, a case that epitomizes the old adage that sometimes fact is stranger than fiction. In covering a case that is frankly sensational, she avoids sensationalizing in a feat of admirable restraint. The author deftly tells the tale while shunning all easy answers, eschewing simple platitudes, and showing the crime and its after math in all its complexity and very human messiness.


My advice to everyone is to read this book immediately, but start on a weekend, it’s the kind of story that invites finishing in a single sitting.

General spoilers ahead.

Did you need a story where Lestat tries and fails to immolate himself in the Gobi desert, does a Freaky Friday style body swap with a random criminal, and acquires a German Shepherd named Mojo? Well you got one, and boy is it a trip.

Reading an Anne Rice novel is like visiting a warm but acutely eccentric aunt, someone who’s kind and nice to be around, but also has too much to drink at Thanksgiving, whose stories are interesting but inconsistent and have only the flimsiest relationship with reality.

Lestat is so fun, he’s such a seriously unserious person. He’ll murder one of the Golden Girls in Miami but he draws the line at animal cruelty. He has never listened to anyone else in his life, but he’s very concerned with whether or not this serial killer has the mental faculties to appreciate how pretty he is. He foolishly switches bodies with a dishonest human even though everyone he knows is like “Lestat! Don’t! That’s the worst idea!” but of course he does anyway and then hates every second of it.

The beautiful part about this character is that he’s a clown who always plays it completely straight. He’s genuine when he says he might die from having to use the bathroom as a human man. He can’t walk ten feet without falling in love with someone. Even in life and death situations he’s judging the beauty or ugliness of the furniture around him.

This book continues the odd, sometimes wacky, but always fascinating, mythos of Anne Rice’s characters. Enjoyable as ever.

A thoughtful, honest, novel, the Boyhood of Cain is a splendid offering in the tradition of novels like Shuggie Bain and Jamie O'Niells, At Swim, Two Boys.


Following the childhood of Daniel, a painfully awkward, English boy from a dysfunctional family, this novel combines raw and searing emotion with contemplative and insightful pacing. The book manages to describe universally relatable elements of adolescence with a deft touch while also fully capturing the uniquely painful experience of growing up as an outsider.

Daniel is a wonderfully complex character. He’s shy but ambitious, he’s constantly torn between trying to live up to his internal ideals and longing for the charmed life of his schoolmates. At times he is unlikable, petty, shellfish, as we all are at times, and when growing up, especially.

Although the plot is what some would consider mundane, the author really taps into the overpowering scale of even quotidian events seen through a thoughtful child’s eyes. Teachers are fickle and powerful gods, friendships are sources of refuge but also fertile ground for jealousy, and our parents don’t always live up to our ideal of being a caregiver. While reading I felt emotionally invested in the nuances of Daniel’s life, but more strikingly I felt I was experiencing it, living it through the pages.


Immediately gripping, and wonderfully readable, I enjoyed every minute of this book and wished the end didn’t come quite so soon.

I’d like to thank NetGalley and the publisher for an ARC of this title in exchange for an honest review.

This anodyne horror novel largely fails to deliver on its intriguing premise but also shows glimmers of promise and may very well be entertaining to readers other than myself.

8114 is the story of true crime podcaster Paul Early, a man of dubious morality and suspect sincerity who is drawn back to his small hometown and the cursed property he grew up on after a personal tragedy. While trying to find concrete answers for the bizarre and tragic instances that begin to pile up around him like dead leaves, he starts another podcast about the events and reconnects with the people and town he left in the rearview decades ago.

The set up was promising and I was excited to read something by the screenwriter for Glorious, a bizarre but very original film I enjoyed. However, I found reading this novel somewhat frustrating and not at all satisfying until the final pages. The podcast segments of the novel were the best parts, and should have been utilized more. The author makes overly liberal use of shockingly violent hallucinations to the point where they quickly lose their punch. The writing itself is clunky and hard to follow at times despite the simplicity of the prose and any character other than Paul may as well be a cardboard cut out. I found myself wishing time and again that this had been a short story, a novella, or an episode of a show, basically anything other than what it was trying to be, a novel.

The book is bogged down principally by being almost exclusively an internal monologue from our main character Paul, this wouldn't be such a bad thing except that Paul’s thoughts are solely of the most surface level, matter of fact variety. Thoughts the reader has as well or can easily infer, not much that gives us any new information or context. I.e. "This is terrifying", "I’m sad this person died", "I feel like I’m losing my mind", etc. etc. The overall effect is of someone repeatedly breaking a cardinal rule of tale spinning which is to show, and not just tell.

Some of the horror was genuinely frightening but here too the novel gets in its own way. There are too many elements that never really lead anywhere so that in the end it feels like a bit of an incoherent mess rather than a thematically harmonious series of supernatural scares driving to a central point or threat. In this respect the book may have benefitted from closer editing. Limiting the horror elements to either Paul’s hallucinations, OR the Circle of Light, OR the demonic forces only obliquely shown, instead of juggling all of them, may have given time to better develop each aspect and made the story more cohesive and powerful.

Some genuinely grotesque horror elements and an absolutely stunning twist towards the end of the novel couldn’t quite save it from being largely uninteresting, if inoffensively so. However, I would encourage others to see for themselves. I don’t think the book is fundamentally without merit and my reaction to it may be largely due to personal preferences and taste.

Elon Musk is, unfortunately for all of us, a consequential person in the world, just not in the way he thinks.

Despite having more money than God and the means to retire comfortably to a tropical island for the duration of several hundred lifetimes, Musk is painfully, embarrassingly, fixated on people's opinion of him, making any quiet enjoyment of his stupendous resources an utter impossibility. Musk and the world are worse off for it.

That's largely what this book is about. One man's myopic pursuit of owning Twitter. This book tells that story, twisty and unbelievable as it is, masterfully. Step by step the authors take you through the billionaires' early interest, his initial efforts, and his disastrous acquisition of the platform. The whole narrative is laid out with the precision of a prosecution case and the told with the verve of a first rate thriller. Despite being recent history that most of us lived through (and were made all too aware of) a thorough, fact based accounting like the one presented here is beneficial.

Unfortunately, an account like this becomes outdated as soon as it's published. Like a war torn country, the devastation that Musk's ego and incompetence wreck on the social media platform and the world at large changes and devolves from minute to minute. God only knows what future follies the world's richest child will perpetrate or how the rest of us will ultimately pay the price for it. One thing is certain though, clear eyed and incisive accounts like the one written in this book are absolutely vital for holding Musk accountable, if only to history.