A Book A Week

Paul Tremblay has built a career writing clever, terrifying horror novels like A Head Full of Ghosts, The Cabin at the End of the World, and Horror Movie. Time and again, I've been impressed by his ability to pair horror with richly drawn characters, making him one of my automatic "must-read" authors. His latest, Dead but Dreaming of Electric Sheep, explores a very different kind of horror. This isn't the supernatural, keep-the-lights-on kind of terror readers have come to expect from Tremblay. Instead, he sets his sights on artificial intelligence and the unsettling ways our growing reliance on it could reshape what it means to be human. It leans more toward science fiction than horror, but it still packs quite the punch.

Julia is a down-on-her-luck twenty-something and former semi-professional gamer who's struggling to figure out what comes next. She lives with her uncle while juggling two jobs, neither of which she particularly enjoys. Then, out of the blue, her estranged mother calls with an unexpected opportunity. The tech company where she serves as CFO is looking for temporary help, and the paycheck is too good to ignore.

She's hesitant. Her relationship with her mother has never been easy.

But money talks.

After flying to the company's West Coast headquarters and breezing through an interview that feels more like a formality than an actual hiring process, Julia lands the job. It's just not the job she was expecting.

Her assignment is to chaperone a man in a vegetative state on a cross-country trip. Only he isn't lying in a hospital bed.

The company has implanted an experimental AI-powered chip into his brain, allowing employees to control his movements with what's essentially a video game controller. Perfect for Julia, right? Her task is simple. She just has to escort him safely from the West Coast to the East.

What could possibly go wrong?

While the title Dead but Dreaming of Electric Sheep is clearly inspired by Philip K. Dick, the novel imagines a future that feels much closer to the present day than we'd probably like to admit. Artificial intelligence has already worked its way into many aspects of our everyday lives, and it's impossible to know what its long-term impact will be. As the novel progresses, Tremblay alternates between Julia's perspective and that of the man she's controlling. The effect is fascinating, forcing readers to wrestle with questions of consent, morality, and whether we've really stopped to consider the consequences of handing so much of ourselves over to emerging technology.

Spoiler: we haven't.

Tremblay also includes brief interludes written in his own voice, stepping outside the narrative to reflect on artificial intelligence and the act of writing itself. AI may be able to generate words, he argues, but writing is about far more than stringing sentences together. It takes iteration. It takes wrestling with ideas, throwing them away, and reshaping them until they become something meaningful. As if determined to prove that point, Tremblay fills this novel with moments that feel unmistakably human. They're strange, inventive, and unlike anything I've encountered before. You'll know them when you get there.

The result is a novel that's fun, chilling, occasionally absurd, and ultimately a thoughtful cautionary tale about our race toward an increasingly automated future. It's another original, thought-provoking work from an author who continues to surprise me with every new release.

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

(2026, 57)

There's nothing better than a summer vacation. Okay, hold on. If I'm being honest, the season matters a lot less than the fact that you're taking a vacation in the first place. I'm probably more accurate in saying there's nothing better than a vacation, period. But for the sake of this review, just roll with me.

Summer vacations come with ample opportunity to relax and read, which is exactly what I did this weekend. Well...if I'm being technical, I actually spent most of it walking what felt like a marathon around Disneyland celebrating the park's 71st anniversary. Still, the flights there and back gave me plenty of uninterrupted reading time, and I happily spent them with Ally Condie's latest thriller, The Girls Trip. If you're going to take a vacation inside the pages of a thriller, though, you'd better expect a little drama. Ally Condie delivers plenty of it.

Two years ago, Hope, Ash, and Caro were complete strangers. They met during an online book club that didn't exactly go as planned. While everyone else logged off, the three stayed behind, struck up a conversation, and discovered an unexpected friendship. They still meet regularly for book club, though these days the books are often secondary to simply catching up.

Despite talking for years, they've never actually met in person.

Now, all three women find themselves in need of a getaway. Hope, a Hollywood actress, can't escape the spotlight. Caro, a doctor, is reeling after the death of a patient has left her questioning her career. And Ash, who runs a successful business with her husband, isn't so sure their marriage is as strong as it once was.

A few days together at the secluded Sonnet Resort in Eden National Park seems like exactly what they all need. But each woman has arrived carrying secrets of her own, and as their long-awaited vacation unfolds, it becomes clear that someone isn't telling the truth.

The Girls Trip is exactly the kind of thriller I want to pack for a vacation. It's fast-paced, effortlessly readable, and easy to lose yourself in whether you're stretched out on the beach or squeezed into an airplane seat. Having enjoyed Ally Condie's previous novel, The Unwedding, I suspected she'd deliver another compulsively readable mystery, and she didn't disappoint. The twists keep coming, and while the plot occasionally veers into the silly and convoluted, it's all part of the fun. Sometimes a vacation read doesn't need to reinvent the genre. It just needs to keep you eagerly turning the pages until you reach your destination. And no matter where your travels take you this summer, The Girls Trip deserves a spot in your carry-on.

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

(2026, 56)

Dear Readers,

I found myself wondering, "How do I possibly write a review of The Correspondent that conveys just how original and brilliant this novel is?" It's an epistolary work told entirely through letters and emails, and yes, I know that format has been used before, but perhaps never to such wonderful effect.

Then it hit me.

Why not write this review as a letter to you?

After all, you're the one visiting my blog, Amazon, or Goodreads, hoping to hear my thoughts on whatever I've just finished reading. I'll admit, I had my doubts. This format is a departure from the way I usually write reviews, and I wasn't entirely sure I could pull it off. But then I thought, "What the heck?" If Virginia Evans was willing to trust letters to tell her story, surely I could trust one to tell you why I admired it so much.

So, dear reader, allow me to tell you about a novel that completely charmed me.

One of the questions The Correspondent asks is this: How does one tell the story of a life?

For Sybil Van Antwerp, that life is told through letters.

She writes to everyone she can: her brother in France, her best friend, her neighbor, the child of a family friend, even the authors of whatever novel she's just finished reading. And through those letters, we gradually come to know her. She's complicated. Retired, aging, and struggling to come to terms with her failing eyesight. She can be warm, but also stern. Generous, yet occasionally petty. Perhaps the most revealing letters, though, are the ones she never sends—the words she can't quite bring herself to share.

Readers, I was apprehensive when I began this novel. I worried the format would amount to little more than a gimmick. But in the capable hands of Virginia Evans, I needn't have worried. This is a story that worms its way into your heart not through grand revelations, but through the simple rhythms of everyday life. Within these letters, we witness love, grief, regret, forgiveness, and all the beautifully ordinary moments that make up a life. By the time I reached the final page, I had the strange feeling that I'd been corresponding with Sybil myself all along. I wasn't ready for there to be no more letters left to read. That's the remarkable power of Evans's writing, and it's what made The Correspondent such a memorable read.

Should you choose to read The Correspondent, I hope you'll find the same sense of wonder that I did as I reached its final letter. If you do, I think you'll understand why I felt compelled to write this one to you.

Until our next book,

Ethan

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

(2026, 55)

There's one in every family. The kid who couldn't wait to leave home. The one people still ask about, even though they already know the answer. They're long gone. The moment they turned eighteen, they packed their bags, ran, and never looked back.

Vesper was that kid.

She couldn't wait to leave. Growing up in the shadow of her mother was enough to overwhelm anyone. Her mom was a movie star—a scream queen extraordinaire and cult horror icon. But it wasn't just fame that loomed over Vesper. It was something far more oppressive.

Religion.

The isolated community where she was raised expected her to carry on its traditions, but the first chance she got, Vesper escaped. She hasn't been back since.

When we meet her, Vesper is stuck working a dead-end job at one of those forgettable chain restaurants we've all eaten at but can never remember the name of. You know the kind. Wooden booths. Servers in stiff polo shirts that look uncomfortable before you even put them on. Forced renditions of "Happy Birthday" accompanied by a complimentary slice of frozen cheesecake.

Vesper has resigned herself to the fact that this is simply her life. After one particularly miserable shift—and one ill-advised decision to sneak a customer an unauthorized side of molten cheese in hopes of earning a better tip—she finds herself fired and heading back to the rundown apartment she's no longer sure she can afford.

Then she finds an envelope waiting for her. Inside is an invitation to her cousin Rosie's wedding, back at the family farm. The one place Vesper swore she'd never return. Every instinct tells her to throw the invitation away. Instead, she goes home. There, Vesper is forced to confront everything she spent years trying to escape, and, in the process, begins to uncover the truth behind the secret that's haunted her for her entire life.

Black Sheep sees Rachel Harrison write a darkly comic novel about family, faith, and the struggle to discover who we are in spite of both. The book is billed as horror, but I wouldn't call it horror in the traditional sense. Instead, Harrison uses elements of the genre to craft a story that is far more interested in its characters than in frightening its readers.

I went into the novel completely blind, picking it up solely on the recommendation of Sarah at All the Book Blog Names Are Taken. At first, I wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. The story seemed to meander. It was obvious that Vesper was miserable and desperately trying to outrun her past, but I kept wondering where it was all leading.

Then she returns home.

As the true nature of her family—and, let's call it what it is, the religious cult they belong to—comes into focus, everything that came before suddenly clicks into place. I won't spoil the revelation because discovering it is part of the novel's fun, but it's a wonderfully clever turn that completely reframes the story.

By the end, Black Sheep had won me over. What begins as an offbeat family drama evolves into a timely, darkly funny meditation on how family, religion, and tradition shape our identities, and what it takes to finally break free from them.

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

(2026, 54)

It's the height of summer here in South Texas, but that doesn't mean I'm staying indoors. In fact, I spent much of the holiday weekend outside, working in my flowerbeds and tending a rack of ribs on my smoker. Naturally, I had my AirPods in and an audiobook playing. This time, it was The Break-Up Retreat by Camilla Sten. It was my first novel from the author, and I was hooked from the very beginning.

Journalist Isobel Anderssen is searching for the kind of story that could make her career. Her latest lead is the Himlafall Clinic, a secluded retreat tucked away in the Swedish woods that promises to help women recover from devastating breakups. But beneath the façade of a wellness retreat, Isobel suspects something far more sinister is happening. Rumor has it that one woman checked into Himlafall...and never checked out.

Armed with a fake identity and a fabricated breakup story, Isobel checks herself into the clinic determined to uncover the truth. But almost immediately, her carefully crafted plan begins to unravel. The nurse who was supposed to be her inside contact is nowhere to be found. Her smuggled cell phone is confiscated. And the clinic's enigmatic founder, Dr. Martina Hastings, has an unsettling ability to see through Isobel's carefully constructed lies.

Whatever is happening at Himlafall, it's becoming increasingly clear that Isobel isn't the one in control. And if she can't uncover the truth before her cover is blown, she may become the clinic's next disappearance.

The Break-Up Retreat has everything I crave from a summer thriller. Camilla Sten crafts a novel full of mystery and intrigue, anchored by a complex protagonist who is forced to confront her own life, relationships, and emotions. Add in an atmospheric setting that casts a lingering sense of unease over every page, and you've got exactly the kind of story that makes it impossible to stop reading—or, in my case, listening.

Amid the more traditional thriller elements, Sten weaves in thoughtful explorations of mental health, relationships, and womanhood, giving the novel an emotional depth I wasn't expecting. Peyton Mader's narration brings every twist, revelation, and moment of tension vividly to life, making for an audiobook that's easy to become completely immersed in.

My favorite part of the read was that I never quite knew where the story was headed. Every time I thought I had it figured out, Sten steered the novel in a new direction. That's exactly what I want from a thriller, and it left me eager to read more from her. 

For more information, visit Amazon and Goodreads. 

(2026, 53)

Have you ever found yourself in a situation you felt completely unprepared to face? That's exactly how Leila feels when she's assigned her first murder case. The young barrister is stunned. The victim is a well-respected judge, and the man accused of killing him insists that Leila—and only Leila—represent him. She knows she's nowhere near experienced enough to defend such a high-profile case and appeals the assignment, but she's told she's technically qualified, even if she's never tried a murder case before.

As if that weren't enough, the prosecutor representing the Crown is one of the most accomplished trial lawyers in the country. He also happens to be her husband.

It's an impossible situation. Her client refuses to discuss the murder beyond insisting he's innocent. Her husband has built a career on winning cases and has no intention of taking it easy on her. Then, as the trial approaches, long-buried secrets from Leila's own past begin resurfacing. She's always prided herself on doing the right thing—in her career, in her marriage, and in her life. But with the biggest challenge she's ever faced bearing down on her, Leila may be forced to question everything she thought she believed.

Jo Murray draws on her own background as a barrister to bring an insider's perspective to her debut novel. Dissection of a Murder unfolds much like its title suggests: methodical, clinical, and painstakingly detailed, dissecting nearly every aspect of the case except, of course, the one question readers are most eager to answer. It is, after all, a legal thriller.

I'll admit I found the opening a bit too dry. The explanations of the British legal system and the careful setup of the characters made for a slow start, and I wasn't immediately sure where the story was headed. Thankfully, as the trial gained momentum, I became more invested in both the characters and their predicament, allowing the procedural elements to fade into the background.

Murray also introduces the mysterious perspective of Witness X, someone who saw the entire murder unfold but isn't involved in the trial itself. I guessed both the witness's identity and the truth behind the crime fairly early on, which took some of the suspense out of the mystery. Still, the emotional fireworks created by a husband and wife facing off on opposite sides of the courtroom added an engaging layer to what is otherwise a fairly straightforward legal thriller.

Ultimately, Dissection of a Murder is something of a mixed bag. Readers looking for an authentic courtroom drama will likely appreciate Murray's legal expertise, even if the mystery itself never proved quite as surprising as I had hoped.

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

(2026, 52)