A Book A Week

Like many readers, I first became aware of TJ Klune through his novel The House in the Cerulean Sea. That book, and its equally fantastic follow-up, showcased Klune’s ability to explore imaginative fantasy worlds through grounded characters, all while thoughtfully examining themes of found family and the persecution of the LGBTQ+ community. He has a gift for balancing heavy subject matter with warmth, humor, and heart. I became an instant fan. So when I had the opportunity to read his newest release, the adult novel We Burned So Bright, I knew I was in for something special.

What would you do if you knew it was the end of the world?

Don and Rodney have spent the last forty years building a life together—devoted partners who have grown old side by side, even marrying once it finally became legal. They always imagined a future together, but not one that ends like this.

A black hole is tearing through the solar system, swallowing planets in its path and heading straight for Earth. There’s no stopping it. No escaping it. The end is certain.

With that reality looming, Don and Rodney leave the comfort of their home in Maine and set out on a final journey west. There’s one last promise they need to keep before everything is gone.

As they cross the country, they encounter others grappling with the end in their own ways—some with compassion and grace, others with fear and cruelty. But no matter what they face along the way, Don and Rodney remain determined to reach their destination before time runs out.

We Burned So Bright sees TJ Klune step away from his more fantastical storytelling in favor of something quieter and more introspective. Here, he explores the depths of humanity—how we connect, the impact we have on one another, and the choices we make when faced with the inevitable.

At first, I was a bit taken aback by just how inward-looking the novel is. Plot-wise, not much happens, but the emotional journey is where the story truly unfolds. This is a novel rooted in reflection, one that asks readers to consider our place in the world and the legacy we leave behind. More than anything, it highlights the enduring power of commitment, community, and the shared experience of navigating life’s highs and lows. There are moments where Klune’s message leans a bit too overt, but for the most part, its sincerity carries through. It’s a contemplative, quietly powerful story that will leave you in deep reflection even after you finish reading. 

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

(2026, 34)

Before I dive into just how much I enjoyed the film adaptation of Project Hail Mary, based on Andy Weir’s novel, I have a bit of a confession. I didn’t love the book. Sure, it was entertaining—a fast-paced, inventive spin on a buddy story—but I found parts of it stretched my suspension of disbelief a bit too far. I had fun with it, but it didn’t land anywhere near my favorite reads of the year.

That said, late last year, some coworkers started a buddy read of the novel in anticipation of the film, and they absolutely loved it. Experiencing their enthusiasm made me reconsider my own take. So earlier this week, I made my way back to the theater—something I admittedly don’t do as often these days—and gave the story another shot on the big screen. From the moment Daniel Pemberton’s score swelled over ethereal, pulsing visuals, I was pulled into this world in a way I never quite was with the book.

We first meet Ryan Gosling’s Ryland Grace as he emerges from a plastic cocoon, disheveled and disoriented, hooked up to wires and monitors. We know as little as he does. Who is he? Where is he? As he stumbles through the spacecraft, searching for answers, he discovers two other pods—both occupants dead. When he finally looks out a window and sees the endless black of space, the truth hits. He’s alone and adrift among the stars.

Like the novel, the film intercuts this mystery with flashbacks, slowly revealing Grace’s past as a scientist-turned-middle-school teacher whose once-dismissed research may hold the key to saving Earth. A mysterious organism is consuming the sun, and humanity is running out of time. Grace, against all odds, may be the one person who can stop it.

One of the film’s most surprising choices is how openly it embraces one of the book’s biggest twists: Grace’s encounter with an alien lifeform. Rather than treating it as a reveal, the film leans into the relationship that develops. Co-directors Phil Lord and Christopher Miller bring the character of Rocky to life through the work of James Ortiz, who creates, performs, and voices the rock-like alien. What unfolds between Gosling and Ortiz is unexpectedly moving—a story of two beings from different worlds, united by a shared mission and an even deeper need for connection.

The result is a film that balances action, humor, suspense, and genuine heart. I found myself fully invested this time around, riding every emotional high and low as the story built toward a conclusion that feels both optimistic and earned. It’s rare for an adaptation to elevate its source material in this way, but for me, Project Hail Mary did exactly that. It's a must-see film that transformed a story I merely liked into one I truly loved.

A few weeks ago, I read Boyfriend Material and was completely blown away. Romance isn’t a genre I usually gravitate toward, so I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed Alexis Hall’s fresh take on the fake-dating trope. Hall filled the novel with characters who felt complex, messy, and authentic. While I didn’t necessarily think the story needed a sequel, it didn’t take long for me to pick up Husband Material. And to my surprise, it takes these characters in a direction I never quite expected.

It’s been two years since Luc and Oliver’s unlikely relationship began. What started as a fake-dating arrangement has grown into something real—and, by their standards, surprisingly stable. Oliver remains as careful and reserved as ever, while Luc still wrestles with lingering doubts about his own worth, but together they’ve found a rhythm. They’re solid. They’re in love. They’re, dare I say, happy.

But what comes next?

That question is thrust to the forefront when Luc runs into his ex, the same man who sold their relationship to the tabloids. Luc wants nothing to do with him, but is caught off guard when the man not only apologizes, but invites him to his upcoming wedding. At first, Luc’s answer is easy: absolutely not. But the more he sits with it, the more it begins to feel like something he might need—closure.

And with wedding bells ringing, Luc and Oliver can’t help but turn the question inward. What does their own future look like? Are they ready for that kind of commitment, or is happily ever after more complicated than they imagined?

I’ll admit I was a bit apprehensive going into Husband Material. I loved the first book—like, I was genuinely surprised by how much I fell for those characters—and it already felt like they’d earned their happy ending. Add to that the more middling reception this sequel received, and I wasn’t entirely convinced there was a reason for this story to exist.

But as I read, I was reminded exactly why I connected with the first book in the first place. Alexis Hall writes with a blend of humor and compassion that brings these characters to life in such a natural, engaging way. It’s also worth noting that this isn’t really a traditional romance novel like the first book was. Husband Material is more of an exploration of what comes after, as Luc and Oliver navigate the reality of building a life together. That's an important distinction that helped me better understand where the story was going. 

And while the ending isn’t necessarily what I expected, it feels honest to who these characters are and where they find themselves. With a third book on the horizon, I’m still very much invested and eager to see where Hall takes them next.

With as many books as I read each year, I try to strike a balance between new releases, backlist titles on my shelves, and literary classics. Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five has long been one of those classics I’ve promised myself I’d get to “one of these days.” Well, that day has finally arrived. What I found was a challenging read, not because of the language, but because of the sheer breadth of what it dares to explore.

The novel is Kurt Vonnegut’s attempt to make sense of his time as a POW in Dresden during World War II. He does so through the story of Billy Pilgrim, a man who survives the same harrowing experience and later becomes “unstuck in time.” The narrative drifts across moments in Billy’s life—his time in the war, his postwar career as an optometrist, even his abduction by aliens—creating a structure that can feel disorienting at first.

I’ll admit, the constant shifts in time and tone can be jarring. But sticking with it proves rewarding. Vonnegut weaves together anti-war satire, science fiction, and a deeply affecting exploration of trauma and PTSD into something wholly unique. While I didn’t fully love the novel, I certainly appreciate its importance. It challenges our perception of war and forces us to confront its lasting impact on those who endure it. And in a time when the world continues to grapple with conflict, it’s a novel that feels just as relevant and necessary as ever. 

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

(2026, 31)

Some things haunt us for a lifetime. For the Esmie siblings, it’s the disappearance of their baby brother, Ben. They were only children, playing a simple game of hide-and-seek, when Ben vanished—never to be seen again. In the aftermath, their parents grew distant, and as soon as they were old enough, Violet, Dodie, and Vail left their hometown behind. But Fell, New York, never truly let them go. Even after their parents’ deaths, they couldn’t bring themselves to sell the family home, clinging to the fragile hope that Ben might one day return.

Twenty years later, that hope is reignited. Violet receives a call from the landscaping company hired to maintain the abandoned property. They report strange sightings—people on the grounds, and a small boy who bears an unsettling resemblance to Ben. Even more chilling, the child reportedly whispered, “Come home.”

Convinced this is more than a coincidence, Violet gathers her siblings and returns to the place that has haunted them for decades. They don’t know what they’ll find waiting for them, but they’re finally ready to face the truth about what happened to their brother.

With A Box Full of Darkness, Simone St. James returns to Fell, New York—the same eerie setting that first unsettled readers in The Sun Down Motel. As in that novel, she weaves a story steeped in atmosphere, where both the place and its people feel haunted by the past. That sense of unease is still very much present, and there are moments of genuine chills throughout. However, this familiar approach has begun to feel a bit repetitive. While the mystery is engaging enough and the twist lands in a way that feels fitting, I found myself less connected to the characters than I had hoped. This disconnect ultimately diminished the story's horror. 

There’s no denying St. James’s talent for crafting haunting settings and slow-building dread, and there are certainly readers who will find plenty to enjoy here. For me, though, this one didn’t quite reach the heights I know she’s capable of. It left me wishing for a deeper emotional anchor to match the atmosphere.

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

(2026, 30)