Laugh out loud hilarious and delightful, I kept having to stop and read bits aloud to my boyfriend and sister.

Not much to say about this one. It's slow, the characters are flat, there isn't much plot. Felt like a Francesca Lia Block story but better written.

I adored the title story, and the one about the man who marks souls for death. It's also always a delight to see Colby Stevens again.

I'm so obsessed with books on decluttering this year. This was fun, and fluffy, and now I need to go throw out a bunch of things and have a picnic.

I probably would have really liked it as a kid, but at 28 it is just really annoying.

In the tradition of much Spanish literature that aggravates the hell out of me, this book tells a story in over 500 pages that could have been told in 200 if the author would just stop rambling like his professor gave him a word count requirement.

I could maybe forgive this if the payoff was worth it, but there was so much dramatic build up and all these interlacing parts that should have had a brilliant wrap up, but there was nothing. Even the (ridiculously lengthy) epilogue failed to explain anything.

I genuinely can't think of anything nice to say.

Schwab is that rare combination of technical prowess and addictive storytelling.

Payson believes in zombies -- after all, she lives with one. But despite her career as a pharmacist, she believes just as much in natural remedies, which gets her in a helluva lot of trouble when all sorts of zombies start hearing about her cures. It turns out zombies can't take regular drugs, but plants seem to work just fine. (Payson's roommate, Eileen, takes full advantage of this by constantly drinking all of Payson's homemade teas.)

It's a pretty typical mystery, albeit with a zany premise; Payson is a flat character, but her love interest and roommate are fun, and there are lots of twists and turns in the story so you never know quite who to trust. It's a little too long and was a little bland, but it's a nice summer read.

There are a number of very highlight-able paragraphs in this book, but despite its short length this book is 90% fluff. The gist is that you should let go of your hamster-wheel thoughts and just let things happen because you aren't your thoughts, you are the thing that watches the thoughts. Which is an interesting concept, but Singer spends a lot of time explaining what the self is not, and zero pages explaining what the self is. It feels like he wants everyone to be an emotionless, story-less, Thing That Watches. The god parts were also terrible.