A Book A Week

I’m back home today after an extended Mother’s Day weekend that also included attending a wedding. I’ve mused before about the emotional convergence that weddings tend to bring—the blend of joy, family tension, and personal drama that often threatens to eclipse the celebration itself. What should be a weekend devoted to love and union frequently becomes a showcase for old grudges, awkward reunions, and complicated dynamics. It’s precisely this fertile ground that Anne Tyler draws from in her latest novel, Three Days in June.

At the heart of the novel is Gail Baines, a woman caught at a crossroads. After years of loyal service as second-in-command at a private girls' school, Gail is passed over for the headmistress role in favor of a younger, fresher face. Worse still, the incoming headmistress plans to bring in her own assistant, leaving Gail not just overlooked but out of a job, just a few years shy of retirement. Rather than wait to be pushed out, Gail storms out first. 

She barely has time to lick her wounds. Her only daughter, Debbie, is getting married tomorrow, and there’s no shortage of things to stress about. She wasn’t invited to the mother-of-the-groom’s spa day, and she’s beginning to worry she’s losing her daughter to this new family. As if that weren’t enough, her ex-husband Max has arrived—rescue cat in tow—and due to the groom’s allergies, he’ll be crashing at Gail’s place for the weekend.

Annoying? Certainly. Manageable? Gail hopes so. But when Debbie confides in her parents a secret about her soon-to-be husband, it throws the entire wedding and their already complicated family dynamic into question.

Three Days in June showcases Anne Tyler’s sharp understanding of human nature in a brief yet emotionally resonant novel. This was my first experience with Tyler’s writing, and I was immediately struck by her witty nonchalance and ease with emotional nuance. For such a short book, it’s impressively layered, balancing humor, heartbreak, and rich character development with graceful precision. The novel plays almost like an anti-romantic comedy. Gail, our wonderfully dry and self-sufficient protagonist, serves as a counterpoint to the wedding festivities—a celebration of union set against her solitary, hard-won independence. I was in awe of Tyler’s ability to tackle big themes, such as loneliness, aging, and the fragile bonds of family, while grounding the story in warm, often laugh-out-loud humor. The result is a novel that both challenges and charms. It's a deceptively light read with surprising emotional heft.

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

(2025, 36)

With a hurricane bearing down on Galveston, Charlie Book gives his team the night off. They've been stationed offshore with the Texas Parks and Wildlife Service, studying the Christabel—a half-sunken 19th-century freighter swallowed by Gulf waters and tangled in a lattice of mangrove trees. Over time, nature has turned the wreck into something strange and beautiful, a ghost ship wrapped in living roots. Book has grown obsessed with the vessel’s eerie stillness, isolation, and secrets. He plans to ride out the storm alone aboard the ship, despite the warnings.

Just as he’s about to depart, Ruby appears on the dock. He hasn’t seen her in years. Their relationship ended in pain, the kind you don’t easily talk about or forget. Now here she is, soaked in rain and panic, not alone but with a frightened woman and an infant in tow. They beg him to take them aboard the Christabel. They're running from a coven of witches, no less, and believe the child is marked for sacrifice. Book knows it sounds insane. He almost laughs. But something in Ruby’s eyes makes him pause. Against his better judgment, he agrees to help.

As the storm closes in and the wind howls through Christabel's broken ribs, something stirs in the dark. The night birds are circling, watching, waiting. What seemed like an act of mercy may have just invited an ancient terror aboard.

I'll admit, the setup of The Night Birds struck me as a bit over-the-top when I first read the synopsis. A coven of witches chasing a woman with the intent to sacrifice an infant? It sounded more pulpy than genuinely terrifying. And yes, there are certainly moments in this story that invite an eye-roll or two. But Christopher Golden is a master of horror for a reason, and that expertise is on full display here.

Golden conjures a setting that’s as eerie as it is beautiful—a half-drowned ship tangled in mangrove roots, isolated off the Texas coast. It’s the kind of place that keeps you off balance, unsure whether to marvel or shudder. The forest-aquatic atmosphere alone generates a steady undercurrent of unease, and when Golden decides to go for the scares, he delivers. Several moments in this novel had me reaching for the nearest light switch.

Is The Night Birds my favorite of his? No. That title still belongs to The House of Last Resort. But it’s always a thrill to dive into horror that’s atmospheric, original, and unapologetically weird. The Night Birds might be a little silly, but it’s also a creepy, fast-paced blast. And really, what more could you ask for?

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

(2025, 35)

I was first introduced to Alex Finlay’s writing through his 2023 novel, What Have We Done, a fun, fast-paced thriller, if a bit over the top. I liked it well enough, but it didn’t leave me eager to rush into more of his work. Still, when I came across the premise of his latest novel, Parents Weekend, I was intrigued. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good mystery, and this one had a setup that hooked me right away. Even better, the kind folks at Macmillan Audio gave me a copy of the audiobook. With curiosity piqued, I dove in.

It was supposed to be the perfect weekend. At this celebratory gathering, proud parents would visit their children at a small private university in California, eager to reconnect and acknowledge their kids’ hard work. The festivities were set to begin with a formal dinner, bringing students and families together. But when five students fail to show, what initially seems like harmless college rebellion—maybe a party, a last-minute change of plans—soon takes a darker turn. As the hours stretch on with no word from the missing students, concern gives way to panic. Campus police join forces with outside authorities, and by morning, a full-scale search is underway. Are the students simply off the grid? Or is something far more sinister unfolding on the beachfront campus?

Parents Weekend hooks you with a simple setup and unspools into an effortlessly engaging thriller. Alex Finlay has a knack for crafting fast-paced stories. His latest is no exception. That said, it’s not without its flaws. The novel revolves around five missing students, and Finlay toggles between multiple perspectives—students, parents, and investigators—creating a large cast that initially feels a bit unwieldy. It took me a while to get everyone straight. Fortunately, Brittany Pressley’s narration in the audiobook helps to distinguish the characters, and by the halfway point, I was able to settle in and just enjoy the ride.

And really, that’s the best way to approach a Finlay novel. Just go with it. Are the characters deeply developed? Not particularly. Will the twist blow your mind? Probably not. But Parents Weekend is pure popcorn entertainment—absorbing while it lasts, even if it doesn’t leave a lasting impression. For me, that makes it a perfectly fun summer read.

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

(2025, 34)

It’s been a while since I’ve done a Friday Flicks post here on the blog. Yes, I’m still watching plenty of movies, but I’ll admit that reviewing them on top of my weekly book coverage can be a bit much. Still, Conclave (2024) has been on my watchlist ever since I saw the trailer. When I found out it was based on a novel by Robert Harris, an author I’ve enjoyed in the past, I decided to read the book first.

I’m glad I did. The novel was a fantastic read, immersing me in the intrigue and tradition surrounding the election of a new pope. With Pope Francis's recent passing and a new conclave about to begin in real life, it felt like the perfect time to finally watch the film adaptation.

Edward Berger’s Conclave is a tense, cerebral thriller that pulls the curtain back on the secretive inner workings of the Vatican. The film immerses viewers in the centuries-old ritual of selecting a new pope following the sudden death of the Holy Father. Cardinal Lomeli (Ralph Fiennes), a man defined by his unwavering faith and moral conviction, is tasked with organizing the sacred proceedings. Though still mourning the loss of his mentor, Lomeli is bound by duty to shepherd the Church through this critical transition.

From the outset, it becomes clear that the conclave, intended to be a solemn, divinely inspired process, is just as vulnerable to earthly vices. Beneath the surface of reverence and ritual lie political machinations, long-held rivalries, and whispered ambitions. As 118 cardinals are locked inside the Vatican to cast their votes, Lomeli uncovers a shocking secret hidden in the late pope’s private correspondence—one with the potential not just to upend the outcome of the election, but to shake the very foundations of the Church itself.

Conclave is a masterful adaptation that faithfully brings its source material to life. Like the novel, the film challenges viewers to contemplate the fine line between divine duty and mortal failings. Ralph Fiennes delivers a quietly powerful performance as Cardinal Lomeli, a man torn between his spiritual obligations and the all-too-human flaws he observes within the Church’s highest ranks. Fiennes plays him with a calm intensity, grounding the film even as its stakes steadily escalate.

The supporting cast is equally impressive. John Lithgow, Stanley Tucci, and Isabella Rossellini all bring gravitas and nuance to their roles, elevating the ensemble. Director Edward Berger approaches the material with a measured, deliberate style, allowing the story’s ethical questions and political intrigue to unfold without flashy distraction. Stéphane Fontaine’s cinematography captures the grandeur and shadowed secrecy of the Vatican with stunning precision. At the same time, Academy Award-winner Volker Bertelmann’s somber score infuses the film with a haunting sense of weight and urgency.

Part political thriller, part spiritual meditation, Conclave is a layered and compelling viewing experience that lingers long after the final scene. As both a fan of the book and someone always on the lookout for smart, gripping cinema, I’m thrilled to say that this Friday Flicks pick more than lived up to expectations.

I consider myself lucky to have a strong relationship with both of my parents, though it hasn’t always been smooth. I’ve never questioned their love for me, but like most families, we’ve had our share of ups and downs. It’s easy to forget that our parents are navigating life for the first time, just like we are—learning, stumbling, and growing along the way. They have their own history, a whole life that existed before we came into the picture, and that history shaped who they are as people and as parents. Andrew Porter touches on this idea in his novel The Imagined Life, where he explores the complex dynamics between parents and children, and the process of reconciling our perceptions of our parents with the fuller, often messier truth of who they really are.

Steven Mills adored his father. What young boy wouldn't? To Steve, his dad was the best—smart, funny, and always someone he could count on. He remembers watching him hold court at their home’s infamous poolside parties, entertaining friends, colleagues, and students with sharp anecdotes about literature, film, and life. Steve would observe from afar, quietly soaking in his father's brilliance and charm.

But the man Steve idolized and the man his father truly was turned out to be two very different people. Even as a boy, he couldn't ignore the tension. He saw the way his mother flinched at his father's jokes, the growing silence between them, the slow retreat of his father into the pool house, where another figure often lurked behind the drawn curtains. When his father's quest for tenure unraveled in spectacular fashion, Steve could only watch helplessly as the world he revered collapsed around him. The parties dwindled, then stopped altogether. His father's desperate letters, pleas to former colleagues, went unanswered.

And then, in 1984, his father vanished entirely, leaving Steve and his mother to pick up the pieces of the life he had abandoned.

Now an adult facing troubles of his own—a marriage on the brink of divorce, a distant relationship with his only child—Steve is determined to uncover what became of his enigmatic father. Each revelation in the present peels back another layer of the past, revealing a portrait of a man increasingly difficult to recognize. And with every new discovery, Steve must also confront painful truths about his own life and how history may be repeating itself.

In The Imagined Life, Andrew Porter crafts a novel that nimbly explores the dichotomies between nostalgia and reality, innocence and enlightenment, love and loss. On the surface, it’s a straightforward story—a quest to uncover the fate of a missing family member—but as the layers peel back, deeper meanings emerge. I was completely invested in Steve’s journey and couldn’t help but see pieces of my own relationship with my father reflected in him. We can never fully know all the complexities that shape the people who raise us. We trust them, learn from them, even model ourselves after them, but relationships are rarely simple. Porter captures that tension beautifully, illustrating the complicated yet unbreakable bond between father and son. The Imagined Life is a daring, brilliant novel that deftly plumbs the depths of our humanity and the intricate connections we build with those closest to us.

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

(2025, 33)

There’s nothing more certain in the horror genre than a sequel following a smash hit. Adam Cesare’s 2020 novel Clown in a Cornfield was precisely that—a slasher steeped in tradition but energized by a sharp commentary on political polarization and generational conflict. It ended with a satisfying conclusion that could easily stand on its own. But when has that ever stopped a sequel? So, with a mix of anticipation and trepidation, I dove into Clown in a Cornfield 2: Frendo Lives.

A year ago, Quinn was just trying to survive her senior year after moving to the small town of Kettle Springs. What she didn’t expect was a group of unhinged adults donning clown masks and launching a murderous crusade against the youth they blamed for their town’s decline. Quinn made it out—barely—and now she’s starting over in college, trying to move past the trauma and look toward the future.

But trauma doesn’t vanish with a change of scenery. Even hundreds of miles from Kettle Springs, Quinn can’t escape the past. She’s become a target for online conspiracy theorists who insist the massacre never happened. The facts are undeniable, but in the age of disinformation, facts don’t always win. And when a clown attacks Quinn at a college party, she realizes the nightmare isn’t over. The only way to end it is to return to where it all started. To the cornfields. To the truth. Because when reality gets drowned out by lies, people don’t just get confused—they get killed.

Sequels rarely live up to their predecessors, and Clown in a Cornfield 2: Frendo Lives is no exception. What felt sharp and timely in the original now comes across as obligatory. The characters are thinner, the horror less inventive, and the political commentary that once gave the story its bite now feels more heavy-handed than insightful. Adam Cesare still delivers a brisk, bingeable read, but it largely rehashes familiar ground. It’s a decent thriller, and perhaps even more enjoyable for those who haven’t read the first, but for fans returning to the franchise, it’s hard to ignore the lessened impact of this story. Like many horror series before it, this one seems to be falling into the trap of diminishing returns. Still, a final twist offers a flicker of intrigue for what might come next. I’ll be reading, but I’m tempering my expectations.

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

(2025, 32)