A Book A Week

In her debut novel, The Witch's Orchard, Archer Sullivan introduced readers to private detective Annie Gore. The story pulled Annie back to her hometown deep in Appalachia, where a missing persons case forced her to confront the traumas of her own past. I was so taken by Sullivan's ability to craft a compelling mystery steeped in atmosphere that I vowed to read whatever she came up with next. Fortunately for me, her next novel, Brimstone Hollow, has arrived. It's a sequel that returns to Annie and the world Sullivan so vividly created in her debut. This time around, Sullivan builds upon everything that worked so well before, leveling things up in almost every possible way.

Since the events of the first novel, Annie Gore has built quite the reputation as a reliable private eye. Her work often draws her away from her home base in Louisville and back into the Appalachian Mountains she thought she'd escaped years ago, but Annie has made peace with the path life has put her on. By now, she's confident she's seen just about everything.

That confidence is tested when she's hired to investigate the death of one of the state's last snake-handling preachers. His estranged daughter, who, much like Annie, fled Appalachia more than twenty years ago, is shocked to learn that her father was fatally bitten by one of the snakes he handled. Even stranger, he was buried within twenty-four hours of his death, and she wasn't notified until after the fact. She's convinced there's more to his death than a tragic accident and hires Annie to find out what really happened. 

Maybe it's the bizarre circumstances that pique her interest, or maybe Annie recognizes something of herself in this woman who also fought to escape the place she once called home. Either way, she takes the case. The deeper Annie digs into the preacher's death and the town around it, the more questions surface. And someone seems dead set on making sure she never finds the answers.

Brimstone Hollow might be my favorite mystery novel I've read so far this year. Archer Sullivan has written a story that transports you to this off-the-beaten-path town, immersing you in its atmosphere, traditions, and people. The characters who inhabit it feel authentic, each navigating their own challenges while becoming an important piece of the larger mystery. And at the center of it all is Annie, a flawed protagonist who's simply trying to do her best, uncover the truth, and bring justice where she can.

Sullivan fills the story with the kind of things I find impossible to resist in a mystery. Venomous snakes, religious turmoil, family drama, dangerous chases...this book has it all. And the mystery? Boy, it kept me on the edge of my seat for the entire novel. I listened to the audiobook this time around, and Emily Pike Stewart's narration perfectly brought Annie and her world to life. The Witch's Orchard made me eager to read whatever Sullivan wrote next. Brimstone Hollow has me convinced Annie Gore is a character I'll happily follow wherever her next case takes her. In the meantime, do yourself a favor and read these first two books in quick succession. I don't think you'll be disappointed.

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

(2026, 63)

"Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you."

At the start of the summer, I spent a day at Space Center Houston, home of the Johnson Space Center and the famed Mission Control. It was a fascinating visit, one spent soaking up the history of space exploration and touring the very place where some of humanity's greatest journeys into the cosmos were guided.

Naturally, no visit would be complete without a trip through the gift shop. As I browsed the shelves, Richard Panek's Pillars of Creation immediately caught my eye. I remembered the awe that surrounded the first images released from the James Webb Space Telescope, but beyond those stunning pictures, I realized I knew very little about how the telescope came to be or what it was actually capable of. Pillars of Creation seemed like the perfect opportunity to find out.

Panek strikes just the right balance between sharing the history of the telescope and exploring its discoveries without ever making you feel like you're reading a textbook. I had no idea how many decades of scientific work went into Webb's creation, let alone the political maneuvering required to secure enough funding from Congress to actually make it happen. It's kind of crazy to think that all of the discoveries that have come from Webb, and those still being studied today, could have been squashed by politics before the telescope ever left the ground. But hey, that's the world we live in.

Plenty of time is devoted to the people behind Webb, humanizing a subject that is admittedly out of this world in its scope. Their persistence, curiosity, and belief in what this telescope could accomplish are just as fascinating as the science itself. I came away from Pillars of Creation with a much greater understanding and appreciation for the work being done to explore our universe and the people dedicating their lives to making those discoveries possible. More than anything, the book left me wanting to keep learning, keep exploring, and, perhaps, spend a little more time looking up at the stars.

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

(2026, 62)

It starts with a chance encounter at an airport bar.

Ted spots the stunning Lilly sitting alone, nursing a martini, and strikes up a conversation. One drink turns into two, then three, and before long the alcohol has loosened Ted's tongue. He tells Lilly all about his troubled marriage to Miranda. He's the wealthy businessman. She's the free-spirited artist who he suspects is having an affair with the contractor building their dream home. Frustrated and more than a little drunk, Ted jokingly admits that sometimes he wishes Miranda were dead.

Lilly doesn't laugh.

Instead, she calmly tells him she'd be happy to help.

It's the kind of classic setup ripped straight from Hitchcock's Strangers on a Train. But in the hands of Peter Swanson, it becomes something that feels surprisingly fresh. The Kind Worth Killing begins with the familiar premise of two strangers plotting a murder, then gradually becomes a tense game of cat-and-mouse. Shifting perspectives reveal hidden connections, buried motivations, and enough surprises to keep the story constantly one step ahead of the reader. Throw in a detective determined to untangle the truth, and you've got a novel that's nearly impossible to put down. I just had to know how all of these pieces would come together!

Sure, a few of the connections stretch believability, but I was having far too much fun to mind. I accidentally started this series with its third installment, A Talent for Murder, last year, so I knew I'd eventually work my way back to the beginning. I'm glad I did. The Kind Worth Killing works perfectly well as a standalone, but it also reminded me why Peter Swanson is one of my must-read thriller authors. It won't be long before I move on to book two.

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

(2026, 61)

Riley is desperate for a job. Living out of her car, she answers an ad seeking a live-in caregiver for an elderly widow. The house she arrives at feels frozen in time, filled with the conveniences of the 1960s but seemingly untouched by the decades since. Its owner, Betty Sadler, is confined to a wheelchair but remains remarkably sharp. Riley can't help but notice the stack of résumés from applicants who seem far more qualified than she is. Yet an unexpected connection over a cup of Earl Grey tea leads Betty to offer her the job on the spot.

As Riley settles into the home, she begins to wonder why she was hired in the first place. Betty doesn't seem to need much care at all. She moves comfortably through the house, washes her own dishes, and even mixes nightly cocktails for the two of them to enjoy together. Betty insists she hasn't left the house in years, a claim her neighbors readily confirm. In fact, they tell Riley she's the first visitor they've seen since Betty's husband died. So why is Riley really there? What makes her different from everyone else who applied? As the secrets of Betty's past begin to surface, Riley realizes she wasn't hired to be a caregiver at all. She was brought there for a very different reason.

Sarah Pekkanen has become one of my most reliable sources for popcorn thrillers, routinely delivering a new one each summer. This year is no exception. Her latest, The Women in White, brings everything Pekkanen does best to the forefront, creating the kind of page-turner I blew through in just a few hours. Shifting timelines and perspectives, long-buried secrets, and a steady stream of twists keep the story moving with relentless momentum. In short, it's a heck of a read.

Pekkanen alternates between Riley's present-day story and flashbacks to Betty and the other titular women who participated in a series of mysterious experiments conducted by the enigmatic Dr. Trimble during the 1960s. His unsettling tests explore the bonds between the women through increasingly bizarre parapsychological experiments that blur the line between science and something far stranger. It makes for a trippy, thoroughly entertaining ride that kept me guessing right up until the final reveal. If that's not a great setup for a thriller, I don't know what is.

Sure, the novel gets a bit over the top at times, but I was more than willing to go along for the ride. My only real complaint is that the other women never feel quite as fully realized as Betty. Even so, that's a pretty minor quibble in the grand scheme of things. The Women in White is another immensely entertaining summer thriller from an author who's become one of my most dependable sources for a good read.

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

(2026, 60)

What's cooler than being cool? Colson Whitehead may have the answer.

Over the last several years, the two-time Pulitzer Prize winner has been writing one of the finest trilogies in contemporary fiction. Through the story of furniture salesman and occasional crook Ray Carney, Whitehead's Harlem Trilogy has chronicled a changing New York City across the 1960s and '70s with equal parts wit, insight, and swagger. Earlier this week, that journey came to an end with the release of the aptly titled Cool Machine.

True to form, the novel is thoughtful, zany, and effortlessly cool. As with the previous two books in the series, Whitehead's publisher graciously provided me with a review copy. I won't bury the lead here. Cool Machine brings Ray Carney's story to a satisfying close.

It's the early 1980s, and the world looks a lot different than it did when we first met Ray Carney in Harlem Shuffle. Back then, he was a young furniture salesman trying to build a legitimate business, no small feat for a Black man in 1960s Harlem. His dream was simple. Provide a better life for his wife and children. But when honest work wasn't enough to pay the bills, and a family member found himself in over his head, Ray was pulled into the city's criminal underworld. Once he crossed that line, there was no turning back.

Now, Ray has become something of an institution in his neighborhood. His furniture store has grown from a modest storefront into the kind of place customers visit to furnish an entire home. But while Ray has found stability, Harlem continues to change around him. New buildings rise, old neighborhoods disappear, and the gap between those with money and those without only widens. On paper, Ray has everything he ever wanted. His children are grown, his business is thriving, and he's earned the respect of his community. Yet beneath that success lingers a familiar itch. The careful planning. The impossible score. The thrill of getting away with it. For a man like Ray Carney, it's awfully hard to walk away from that life for good.

Cool Machine brings Whitehead's Harlem Trilogy to a close with the same wit, energy, and exuberance that defined its opening while embracing a more reflective tone that suits Ray at this stage of life. Across three novels, he's evolved alongside Harlem itself. He began as a reluctant criminal, came to relish the thrill of the score, and now finds himself wondering whether there's still a place for him in a city that's changing faster than he is.

Whitehead weaves that quiet introspection effortlessly into the humor, action, and razor-sharp social commentary that have become hallmarks of the series. It's rare for a trilogy to entertain while also saying something meaningful about the people and places at its center, and this one accomplishes both with remarkable confidence. I'll certainly miss spending time with Ray Carney, but I have no doubt I'll be there for whatever story Colson Whitehead decides to write next. 

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

(2026, 59)

There's probably very little we wouldn't do for our family. For Malcolm, that means keeping watch beside his dying mother's bed during her final hours. Their relationship is...complicated, to say the least. Ask anyone in town, and they'll tell you she's a witch. Maybe that's why she's lived such an impossibly long life. Tonight, though, it's just Malcolm, his sister-in-law (his brother couldn't be bothered to show up), his dying mother, and the mysterious figure cloaked in darkness standing silently beneath a tree in the front yard.

As death draws near, Malcolm's mother makes one final request: take her body to her final resting place in Maine. There's a time limit, of course, and she warns that failing to get her there in time will have terrifying consequences. Malcolm isn't sure what to believe, but when strange things begin happening almost immediately after her death, he realizes he has little choice. Whatever his mother was, whatever she knew, her final wish may be the only thing standing between him and something far more sinister.

From its opening pages, Carry Me to My Grave immerses readers in a horror mystery shrouded in questions and unease. Who is this woman? Why is her death so consequential? Who is the shadowy figure waiting for her final breath? Christopher Golden poses these questions in a way that makes it nearly impossible to stop reading. I found myself racing through the opening chapters, desperate to understand what was happening and why.

To Golden's credit, the answers are well worth the wait. As he's done throughout much of his career, he takes a familiar corner of the horror genre and finds a fresh angle into it. I won't spoil exactly what that angle is because discovering it alongside Malcolm is one of the novel's greatest pleasures. Better still, the horror is grounded by characters grappling with complicated family dynamics, giving the story an emotional weight that keeps it from becoming mere spectacle. While Carry Me to My Grave isn't my favorite of Golden's novels, it's another atmospheric, satisfying horror story from an author who clearly understands what makes the genre tick.

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

(2026, 58)