A Book A Week

Each year, an estimated 30,000 dogs in the U.S. are bitten by venomous snakes. Last month, my dog Murphy became one of them. We let him out before bed, as we always do, and he came back limping, unable to put weight on his back leg. Within minutes, his paw swelled, and two small puncture wounds made the cause unmistakable. It was a snake bite. Thankfully, we rushed him to the emergency vet, and he’s made a full recovery. Still, I’d be lying if I said the thought of snakes lurking in my backyard doesn’t unsettle me. Like many people, I grew up believing the best snake was a dead snake.

In his newest book Slither, Stephen S. Hall shows just how common—and deeply ingrained—those fears are. But he also challenges them, arguing that if we took the time to understand snakes, our fear might shift into a deeper understanding. 

As we look back through history, it’s no wonder snakes have been both reviled and revered. From the sacred deities of ancient Egypt to the cautionary tales of the Garden of Eden, serpents have slithered their way through mythology, art, and religion. Stephen S. Hall traces this complex relationship with precision, showing how the enigma of snakes—their beauty, danger, and mystery—has shaped human culture for millennia. But what makes Slither most compelling is the way Hall blends that rich history with cutting-edge science.

For better or worse, much of what we now know about snakes has only come to light in recent decades. For centuries, fear and superstition kept us from asking what we might learn from them. Hall highlights startling discoveries.  He shows how pythons, for instance, spend most of their lives in metabolic stillness, with their stomachs at a pH similar to that of water—only to completely rewire their biology after a massive meal. Their organs grow and regenerate at astonishing rates before shrinking back to normal, a process scientists believe could unlock clues about metabolism and tissue repair. And that’s only scratching the surface.

Slither is a sweeping, comprehensive study that weaves science and biology with mythology, artistic depictions, and cultural fascination. Hall captures the wonder of what we still don’t fully understand, from snakes’ mysterious mating habits to their resilience against biological swings that would kill most other animals. He also explores the long-term consequences of human interference, like the exploding population of non-native Burmese pythons in Florida. By the end, I found myself with a healthier respect for snakes. I’m still wary of them, but Hall convinced me of their vital place in our world and the importance of continuing to study them.

For more information, visit Amazon and Goodreads. 

(2025, 65)

Earlier this year, I discovered Adam Cesare's hit horror novel Clown in a Cornfield. I devoured it, impressed by the way Cesare blended classic slasher tropes with timely commentary on politics, grief, and the inevitability of progress. He subverted expectations by leaning into the familiar beats of the genre, only to twist them in surprising ways. I quickly tore through the two sequels and then found myself waiting impatiently for the film adaptation of the first book. When it finally arrived, I was both excited and apprehensive. Horror is one of my favorite genres, and I worried the movie might not do the book justice.

Kettle Springs is the kind of small Midwestern town that time forgot. The abandoned Baypen Corn Syrup Factory looms over sprawling cornfields, a monument to economic decline and the widening generational divide. The town’s faded mascot, Frendo—a grinning clown in a porkpie hat—still clings to rusting signs, a ghost of better days. The older generation clings just as tightly to the past, while the younger generation only wants out. For Quinn Maybrook (Katie Douglas) and her father, Dr. Glenn Maybrook (Aaron Abrams), Kettle Springs is meant to be a fresh start after the death of Quinn’s mother. But while her father embraces his new role as the town’s doctor, Quinn sees only a dead end, counting the days until graduation.

Those plans shatter when tensions in town boil over and a masked killer—dressed as Frendo—targets the local teens. Caught between an older generation bent on “restoring” Kettle Springs and a defiant group of kids led by Cole Hill (Carson MacCormac), Quinn is pulled into a fight for survival. As the bodies pile up, she’s forced to rely on unlikely allies to escape the nightmare playing out in the cornfields. In a town at war with itself, the only rule left is kill or be killed.

Director Eli Craig, best known for Tucker & Dale vs. Evil, brings Cesare’s writing to life with both genre reverence and a touch of comedic flair. Like the novel, the film feels both timeless and timely, capturing the book’s tone while drawing from the rich history of slasher cinema. The Kettle Springs on screen matched almost exactly what I’d pictured while reading. While there are a few deviations from the plot, the spirit of Cesare’s work remains intact. My only real sticking point was Katie Douglas as Quinn. Her delivery is so deadpan that it occasionally drifts into disinterest. Thankfully, the rest of the cast steps up, breathing energy into the story. Clown in a Cornfield isn’t the best horror movie I’ve ever seen, but as an adaptation of a strong horror novel, it more than delivers. With clever kills and a few smart subversions of expectations, it’s a slasher that earns its place alongside the book.

The Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina are known as much for their beauty as for their mystery. No one knows this better than Annie Gore. She grew up in a small holler, where legend and tradition could dictate a way of life. She took the first chance she had to escape by joining the military right out of high school and working her way up to become an Air Force Special Investigator. But folks in those hills will tell you something always draws you back home. Now retired and working as a private investigator, Annie is about to be pulled back to the place she left behind.

Ten years ago, three little girls vanished from a tiny mountain town not so different from the one Annie grew up in. One returned. The others were never seen again. After a decade without answers, the brother of one of the missing girls hires Annie to find the truth. She knows it’s a long shot, but the money is good and her own need for answers runs deeper than she admits. As Annie digs into a case tangled in secrets, whispered folklore of witches and crows, and a community desperate to forget, she realizes the sins of the past aren’t buried at all. They’ve been waiting for her to come find them. 

In The Witch's Orchard, Archer Sullivan draws upon her own experience growing up in the mountains to craft a mystery steeped in the enigma of Appalachian folklore. Every page hums with a lived-in atmosphere that deepens the suspense. I was first drawn in by the central mystery of the missing girls, but I became even more captivated by the way the townspeople responded to it. Each person Annie encounters offers their own version of events, and each one seems increasingly tangled with a folktale turned horror story.

What’s real and what’s just local legend remains uncertain, and that ambiguity fuels much of the novel’s tension. Sullivan’s publisher kindly provided me with the audiobook version, and I found Emily Pike Stewart’s narration to perfectly capture the haunting, lyrical quality of Sullivan’s prose. This is top-notch mystery writing that blends compelling characters, a touch of folklore, and a chilling sense of place. All in all, The Witch’s Orchard is an atmospheric and absorbing read.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 64)

It just isn’t summer reading without a twisty thriller that keeps you turning pages long past bedtime. While I’ve read my fair share of great ones this season, I’ve been especially eager for Lisa Jewell’s latest, Don’t Let Him In. Her last novel, None of This Is True, completely floored me, so my expectations were sky-high. Apparently, I wasn’t alone. When the book hit shelves in late June, I placed a library hold right away, only to learn the wait would be “several weeks. Patience isn’t exactly my strong suit, but this week my turn finally came.  I’m happy to report it was well worth the wait. Jewell once again proves she knows exactly how to lure you in and keep you there until the very last page.

The title Don’t Let Him In works as both a warning to the characters and to us, the readers. The “him” in question is a master manipulator. He's magnetic, charming, and deeply dangerous.

To Nina Swann, he’s Nick Radcliffe, an old friend of her late husband who reappears after her husband’s untimely death. Nick is polished, attentive, and always seems to know just what to say. In the fog of grief, Nina finds him to be a comforting presence, and their bond quickly deepens into something more.

To Martha, he’s Alistair, her devoted husband, father to their infant daughter, and the one encouraging her to chase her dream of opening a flower shop. But lately, Alistair has been disappearing for days at a time, always with a reasonable-sounding excuse. The more Martha presses for answers, the more her suspicions grow.

Who is this man really? That question threads through every page, tightening the tension until the truth can’t be ignored. The closer we get to the answer, the more we’ll find ourselves silently shouting the same desperate plea: Don’t let him in.

With Don't Let Him In, Lisa Jewell proves once again why she’s a master of the genre. She’s crafted a tale centered around a despicable man whose true nature is slow to reveal itself. Jewell alternates perspectives between various women, and at first, we’re unsure how they’re connected. Only when we realize the man in their lives is the same person does the dark truth begin to surface. And what a twisty, nefarious truth it is.

Jewell builds the suspense with affable characters we can root for, even as they inch toward the devastating realization we’ve already reached. It all comes together in a karmically satisfying finale that will have you holding your breath. I couldn’t stop reading, and I suspect you won’t be able to either. This is, without question, my favorite thriller of the year so far.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 63)

Sarah Pekkanen has carved out quite the niche for herself, reliably releasing a new standalone popcorn thriller each August. I first discovered her writing through the twisty novels she co-authored with Greer Hendricks and have since enjoyed her solo efforts like Gone Tonight and House of Glass. So when her publisher offered me an early copy of her latest, The Locked Ward, I didn’t hesitate to dive in. Could it deliver the same high-stakes suspense I've come to expect from her?

Imagine going thirty years without knowing you had a twin. That’s the shocking reality Amanda (Mandy) faces when she discovers her biological sister was secretly adopted by another family shortly after birth. Even more shocking? Her twin is Georgia Cartwright, the adopted daughter of a wealthy southern family, now infamous for committing the so-called “Crime of the Decade." She's accused of murdering her adoptive sister, the Cartwrights’ only biological child. Georgia now sits catatonic in a locked psychiatric ward, awaiting trial.

Despite her doubts, Mandy visits the ward. She doesn't expect to get much from Georgia, but to her surprise, her sister manages to whisper a chilling plea, “I didn’t do it. You’ve got to get me out of here.” Mandy doesn’t trust her, but she also can’t abandon someone who shares her face to a place that feels more cursed than clinical. As she digs deeper, Mandy is left with more questions than answers. Is Georgia truly innocent, or is she drawing upon her sister's goodwill to lead her down a path of betrayal?

Every thriller requires a bit of suspension of disbelief. It comes with the territory, and the best authors make you forget the logic gaps and just enjoy the ride. Sarah Pekkanen is usually one of those authors for me. Unfortunately, that isn't the case with The Locked Ward. The setup is undeniably compelling. There's a long-lost twin, a murder accusation, and a psychiatric ward shrouded in mystery. I was hooked from the start. But as the story unfolded, it veered too far into implausibility. Georgia is supposedly locked away in a catatonic state, yet she somehow manages to communicate clearly with both her lawyers and Mandy. Even if she’s faking it (spoiler: she is), it’s hard to believe the entire facility would fall for the act. That disconnect pulled me out of the story more than once.

There are still moments of gripping tension, particularly in the scenes set within the ward, but the story spends far too little time there. Instead, it leans heavily on family drama and twisty reveals that don’t quite stick the landing. For the first time, I found myself underwhelmed by a Sarah Pekkanen novel. That said, her strong track record still has me looking forward to her next release. Just enter The Locked Ward with your expectations in check and a healthy willingness to suspend your disbelief.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 62)

From the outside, Sarah and Adam appear to have a perfect marriage. She’s a high-powered attorney in D.C. with an unbroken winning streak. He’s a published novelist working on his next book from their quiet lake house. Together, they look like a golden couple. But appearances can be deceiving.

Behind closed doors, Adam is unraveling. He's grown resentful of Sarah’s meteoric rise and bitter over his own creative failures. While she racks up victories in court, he sinks deeper into self-pity and distraction… including an affair with Kelly Summers, the wife of an abusive cop. Just as Adam prepares to leave Sarah and start over with Kelly, everything falls apart. Kelly’s body is found at the lake house, where Adam last saw her, and he’s arrested for her murder.

Despite the betrayal, Sarah agrees to represent him in court. She took a vow after all. She knows Adam is a liar. She knows he’s a cheater. But is he capable of murder?

The Perfect Marriage by Jeneva Rose has been on my TBR list for years, and I finally picked it up thanks to it being my book club’s July selection. I can’t believe I waited this long! Rose delivers a fast-paced psychological thriller full of shifting perspectives, layered motivations, and a twist I truly didn’t see coming. Sure, some suspension of disbelief is required—par for the course in this genre—but I devoured it in one sitting and had a blast. Now I’m itching to dive into the sequel that dropped earlier this year. If you're looking for a thriller that's easy to binge and packed with surprises, this one absolutely delivers.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 61)