A Book A Week

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)

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 Lily 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 Lily 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.

Lily 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)