A Book A Week

Is that a chill in the air, or is it just wishful thinking? Reality check: it's still the end of August, and I live in Texas, but I'd say 93 degrees is refreshingly cool compared to the 100+ degree days we've had all month. And so, with the promise of fall just around the corner, it's time to get into some fall reading.

Sarah Pinborough's newest, They Say a Girl Died Here, seemed like the perfect transitional read. It's got the page-turning thrills I love in a summer thriller mixed with the kind of atmospheric mystery that starts to drive my reading as fall approaches. Basically, it's exactly the kind of book I want to be reading while I pretend 93 degrees counts as sweater weather.

There's not much happening in Harper's Creek. It's the kind of dusty farmland that time seems to have forgotten. But the people who live there haven't forgotten the terror one man caused. The Farmhand, as they called him, murdered two young girls three years apart. He was killed while trying to escape the police, but the fear he left behind has turned him into something of a local legend.

For Anna, Harper's Creek is the last place she ever thought she'd end up. She and her family have moved there to help care for her grandmother, whose dementia is becoming increasingly difficult to manage. With little else to occupy her time, Anna finds herself drawn to the story of the Farmhand and begins digging into the murders. Before long, she's questioning whether the police actually got the right man.

She's not the only one thinking about the killings. As the three-year anniversary of the last murder approaches, Anna's little sister becomes afraid that she could be the Farmhand's next victim. Meanwhile, their grandmother begins having strange, paranoid episodes of her own, claiming to know things about the murdered girls that she couldn't possibly know.

Anna begins to wonder if her grandmother may be the key to discovering what really happened all those years ago. Something strange is happening in their old house, Grandma knows far more than she should, and the closer Anna gets to the truth, the less certain she becomes that the terror in Harper's Creek ever really ended.

They Say a Girl Died Here is the kind of mystery that really gets under your skin. Sarah Pinborough imbues every page with the sense that something sinister is bubbling just beneath the surface. The more we uncover, the more justified those suspicions become.

I was initially drawn into the story by the eerie, almost folkloric nature of the Farmhand legend, but it was Anna who kept me there. She's a classic unreliable narrator. We're never quite sure how much of what she experiences we can actually believe. But you can't help but root for her. Her intentions are pure, and that makes everything she experiences all the more impactful.

Pinborough keeps the story moving at a fast pace while never sacrificing the eerie atmosphere that makes it so effective. It's clever, unsettling, and filled with moments that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Apparently, I didn't need to wait for cooler weather to get that first chill of fall. Even in the Texas heat, They Say a Girl Died Here brought it to me.

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

(2026, 69)

My first introduction to Jennifer Hillier came last year when a coworker recommended I read her novel The Butcher. That twisted take on a serial killer story grabbed me from beginning to end and left me eager to read more of her work. So when Hillier's publisher offered me a copy of her latest thriller, Heart of Glass, I didn't have to think twice.

I ended up alternating between reading the book and listening to the audiobook, and whichever way I experienced it, I had a hard time putting it down. Once again, Hillier had me completely invested from the start.

Twenty-five years ago, the town of Seaside was rocked by the horrific murders of five girls at the local Wonderland amusement park. Sam Figg, better known as the Carnival Killer, confessed to all five murders and was sentenced to life in prison. Now he's dying of cancer and finally ready to tell his side of the story to podcaster Jana Jones.

His big revelation? He only killed four of the girls.

According to Sam, the fifth murder wasn't his.

Barb is a local journalist who was living in Seaside when the killings happened. For twenty-five years, she's held on to a secret that could change everything people think they know about what happened at Wonderland. Now, just as Seaside seems to be turning a corner and the long-shuttered amusement park prepares for a grand reopening, Sam's confession threatens to drag the past back into the present. And the secret Barb has spent decades protecting may finally be coming to light.

A small town with a dark past and new secrets bubbling to the surface is exactly the kind of setup I love in a thriller. And for a while, Heart of Glass delivered exactly what I was hoping for. The mystery surrounding the Carnival Killer and what really happened twenty-five years ago was more than enough to keep me turning the pages. The problem is that Hillier keeps adding more.

She also explores Barb's obsession with trashy reality TV and the investigation into the disappearance of one of its stars. Add that to the mystery surrounding the Carnival Killer, the possibility that another killer has been hiding in plain sight, and everything else happening in Seaside, and Heart of Glass starts to take on an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink approach. There's simply too much going on. Sure, I was invested, and there were plenty of twists and turns along the way, but I couldn't help feeling that narrowing the focus would have helped me connect with the story more.

Heart of Glass is technically a sequel to Hillier's 2015 novel Wonderland, but since I'd never read that one, I had no trouble jumping into this one. Ultimately, this is a case of too much being crammed into one book. It's bloated, yes, but Hillier still knows how to keep the pages turning. I may not have enjoyed Heart of Glass as much as The Butcher, but there's enough here to ensure I'll happily pick up whatever she writes next.

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

(2026, 68)

If there's one thing you can count on with a successful horror movie, it's that there will be sequels. Whether they're any good is almost irrelevant. If the first one is a hit, the franchise will ride that success for as long as possible. And when it inevitably fizzles out, well, there's always a reboot waiting just around the corner.

It shouldn't come as a surprise, then, that Adam Cesare is now on the fourth installment of his hit Clown in a Cornfield series. Fortunately, these books have never felt like sequels for the sake of sequels. Cesare likes to swing for the fences, and each new installment has taken Frendo and the characters he terrorizes in a different direction. That's what has kept me coming back. Four books in, I was more than ready to see what he had up his sleeve this time.

The subtitle Lights! Camera! Frendo! more than hints at where Cesare takes things in this fourth novel. The dust has mostly settled on Frendo the clown and the terror he brought to Kettle Springs. There have been articles, news stories, podcasts, pretty much every possible medium used to dissect the massacre that rocked this small town. So naturally, it's Hollywood's turn to take a crack at the story.

Enter Sabrina Alvarez, a complete unknown thrust out of obscurity to take the starring role in a movie based on the Kettle Springs Massacre. Playing ultimate final girl Quinn Maybrook is the opportunity of a lifetime, but when Sabrina arrives in the actual town for filming, she can't shake the feeling that something is off. Maybe it's the resentment simmering among the townspeople, many of whom aren't thrilled about Hollywood capitalizing on their tragedy. Maybe it's the eccentric director determined to turn their trauma into art. Or maybe the thing that haunted Kettle Springs in the first place never really left at all.

Whatever it is, Sabrina and the people of Kettle Springs are about to discover that recreating a massacre can be every bit as dangerous as the real thing.

With Clown in a Cornfield 4: Lights! Camera! Frendo!, Adam Cesare brings his horror series into an exciting new chapter. He manages to draw on the history of the previous books while introducing a largely new cast, turning the whole thing into a page-turning bloodbath that I found to be the best installment since the original. There's a self-awareness to this one that makes it all the more fun. Cesare doesn't shy away from the familiar tropes of the genre. He embraces them, playing with our expectations just enough to keep us on our toes.

Sabrina proves to be a fantastic addition to the series and a compelling final girl in her own right. I wasn't sure how I'd feel about following a new protagonist this far into the series, but she quickly won me over. It shows just how much Cesare has built around Frendo and Kettle Springs. There's enough history, mythology, and lingering trauma here to support a whole new group of characters while still feeling like the Clown in a Cornfield series I've been reading all along. Four books in, there's still plenty of life left in that creepy clown. If horror franchises have taught us anything, it's that there's always room for another sequel. When Clown in a Cornfield 5 inevitably comes along, I'll be ready to read it.

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

(2026, 67)

Richard Russo is one of those authors I've somehow managed to go all these years without reading. Of course, I knew the name. You don't win a Pulitzer Prize without developing a bit of a reputation. But despite his acclaim, none of his novels had ever found their way to the top of my TBR. Then came Under the Falls. A small-town mystery involving old friends, buried secrets, and a homecoming gone wrong? Now that sounded like the perfect place for me to finally see what Russo was all about.

When Tyler turned eighteen, he left Stone Mountain for good and never looked back. Well, that's only technically true. He was desperate to escape the place where he grew up, but he never quite managed to step out of its shadow. Even after finding fame as a musician, he did so as the frontman of a band ironically named Stone Mountain.

Despite swearing he'd never return, Tyler agrees to come home for one night to play a benefit concert for his childhood friend Doc. Tyler was there at the falls the day Doc suffered the accident that left him in a wheelchair, and returning brings all the memories of that time rushing back. It may have happened years ago, but Tyler quickly discovers that not everyone in Stone Mountain has been able to leave the past behind.

The concert brings Tyler face-to-face with the people and relationships he thought he'd left behind, including his former best friend Curt, now the town's chief of police, and Freddi, the woman Tyler once loved who is now Curt's wife. There's also Deb, a police officer and relative newcomer to Stone Mountain who hasn't yet been pulled into all of the town's history. But it doesn't take long for old grudges to resurface and long-held secrets to start bubbling up with them. By the end of the night, tragedy strikes, forcing Tyler to reckon with the very place he spent his entire adult life trying to escape.

Under the Falls sees Richard Russo venture into territory that feels quite different from his usual work. This is much more of a mystery/thriller, and it's a genre that Russo's particular style never quite seems at home in. I was initially drawn in by the small-town drama and the mystery surrounding what happened all those years ago before Tyler left. Russo creates an insular community where everyone seems to carry a piece of the past, and I was eager to see how those pieces fit together.

But as the novel progressed, the story evolved into something quite different from what I'd anticipated, and that evolution didn't always feel natural to the characters Russo had established. Sure, it's gripping, and I breezed through the novel with ease, but as things escalated, I couldn't help questioning some of the characters' motivations. Why go to such extreme lengths? Saying much more would risk spoiling where the story ultimately goes, so I'll leave it at that.

Under the Falls certainly kept me reading, but as my first foray into Russo's work, I came away more befuddled than wowed. Still, there's enough here to make me curious about the novels that earned him such acclaim. Perhaps my next Russo should find him on more familiar ground.

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

(2026, 66)

I first learned about Téa Obreht around the time I started my blog in 2012. Her debut, The Tiger's Wife, was taking the reading world by storm, and I quickly bought a copy to see what all the fuss was about. In typical fashion, though, I never actually read it. In fact, that very copy still sits unread on my bookshelf today.

It wasn't until a couple of years ago that I finally read my first Obreht novel, and no, it wasn't The Tiger's Wife. Instead, I picked up The Morningside. While I appreciated Obreht's writing and her ambition in tackling complex themes, I came away feeling more mixed than I'd hoped. So this week, I decided to give her work another try with Sunrise, her latest novel. Maybe this would finally be the book that showed me what I'd been missing all these years.

The novel follows three people separated by more than a century, their stories connected by one place.

In 2024, Nina finds herself stranded somewhere in the mountains of Wyoming after the small plane she was traveling in crashes into a lake. Her boyfriend, Ben, was piloting the plane, but he's nowhere to be found. Alone in the wilderness with a dying cell phone, no service, and only a handful of protein bars, Nina must figure out how to survive. Then she stumbles upon a literal ghost town, and the story jumps back in time.

It's 2003, and Coll is helping prepare the town for its annual historical reenactment. But as he works to bring the past to life, questions begin to emerge about the history they've been celebrating. The town's founding story, and the hero at the center of it, may not be quite as heroic as everyone has been led to believe.

Then we travel all the way back to 1902. Sunrise's founder, gunslinger Anton Vargas, has returned home after years away. His timing proves significant as a young boy goes missing, and Anton joins the search. But as suspicion spreads through the town, people begin to wonder why Anton returned when he did and what, if anything, he knows about the boy's disappearance.

As with her previous novel, Téa Obreht imbues every page of Sunrise with a vivid sense of place. Based on the two books I've read by her, this is clearly one of her greatest strengths. Here, she transports us through time, giving each era its own distinct identity even as the physical setting remains largely the same. I'll admit to feeling a bit discombobulated at first. I had really latched onto Nina's story when the novel suddenly jumped back to Coll's. Still, as the book's true nature began to reveal itself, I grew increasingly curious about where Obreht was ultimately taking us.

The pacing can be uneven, especially toward the end, but what Sunrise occasionally lacks in narrative momentum it makes up for in sheer ambition. I'm still probably more mixed on Obreht than I'd like to be, especially given the acclaim her work routinely receives. Maybe her novels and I simply operate on slightly different wavelengths. Still, I can't help but admire her ability to wrestle with complex ideas while creating settings that feel completely alive on the page. Sunrise didn't quite dazzle me in the way I'd hoped, but it certainly gave me plenty to think about after I finished reading.

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

(2026, 65)

I do this thing where I really enjoy a book, vow to read the sequel, and then somehow wait years before I actually get around to it. It's not intentional, of course. There are simply more books out there than I'll ever have time to read, and I can't help getting distracted by whatever shiny new release catches my eye that week. The downside is that I often forget about, or straight-up ignore, a series that I'd probably really enjoy.

So when I read Peter Swanson's excellent The Kind Worth Killing last week, I was determined not to let its sequel fall by the wayside. I'm happy to report that I stuck to my guns and read The Kind Worth Saving over the weekend.

Henry Kimball is a former cop turned private investigator. You'll have to read the previous book to find out exactly why he left the police force, but suffice it to say, he's landed on his feet. When Joan walks into his office, though, Henry is immediately transported even further into his past, back to the days before he was a police officer, when he taught high school English. Joan was one of his students, and the two lived through a tragedy in his classroom that ultimately drove Henry from teaching for good. Seeing her again brings memories of that day rushing back.

Joan has come to Henry for help proving that her husband is cheating on her. It should be a fairly straightforward case of uncovering infidelity, but things quickly take a much darker turn. For the second time in their lives, Henry and Joan's paths cross only for tragedy to follow. Suddenly, the past seems to be repeating itself, and Henry realizes that finding the truth about what's happening now may require him to revisit one of the worst days of his life.

I'm really glad I didn't wait to read this one. The Kind Worth Saving sees Peter Swanson expand upon the story and characters he introduced in the first book without simply retreading the same ground. Henry was mostly on the sidelines in The Kind Worth Killing, so I enjoyed seeing his character fleshed out and given a much more prominent role here. Swanson once again employs shifting perspectives and flashbacks to gradually reveal the full picture of this cat-and-mouse thriller. While I didn't find that approach as effective here as in the first book, I still had a ton of fun watching everything come together.

Lily Kintner takes more of a backseat, especially early on, but I was okay with that. This is ultimately Henry's story, and seeing how his path intertwines with Lily's across both novels makes the two books feel like parts of a larger whole. I've already read the third book in the series, so for now, my time with Henry and Lily has come to an end. I'm not quite ready to say goodbye to them, though. Peter Swanson, consider this my official request for another!

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

(2026, 64)