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Santa Cruz right after the 1989 earthquake. Broken concrete, broken dreams. One woman uses time slips to escape that moment only to find herself in a tangle of family. She needs a solution that will survive…long after she does.

“Perennials” is free on this website for one week only. You can get your own copy in ebook on every e-retailer or go to WMGbooks.com.

 

Perennials Kristine Kathryn Rusch

1989

IN REAL TIME the destruction looks different. I stand at the edge of the Pacific Garden Mall and see flat concrete, large holes surrounded by wire fences, a few shored-up buildings, and innumerable parking lots.

Last summer, eucalyptus trees covered the mall. Buildings—a few that had survived the ’06 quake—lined the streets. Street musicians hung out on corners; bicyclists and pedestrians filled the sidewalks. The place had the kind of life that too few cities experience.

I had always loved that life. To me, it was the heart of Santa Cruz.

I don’t like real time. As I stand here, hands in the pockets of my windbreaker, staring at the remains of the destruction, I see the city as a newcomer would see it: a broken, deserted downtown, like so many other downtowns in so many other places. Newcomers would think that Santa Cruz has charm anyway. The Boardwalk, with its famous roller coaster and sea view, still stands. Shops dominate the pier. Funky older houses line tree-covered, winding streets. There are only a few of us who know, a few of us who remember, and we will never forget.

When I was a little girl, my grandmother’s house smelled of peppermint. I loved the kitchen. Light streamed in from two windows and the screen door. Grandma’s collection of saltshakers lined one window like a curtain. On the counter, chocolate cake with marshmallow frosting cooled. The cookie jar waited on top of the refrigerator for that special moment during the day when Grandma would reward us for being ourselves.

In her bedroom the portraits hung: Grandma’s mother in 1886, at twenty-six a foreboding woman with dark eyes; Grandma’s entire family around 1910, arranged from tallest to shortest, Great-aunt Ruth (always the gregarious one) with a bow the size of a Stetson hat tied in her hair; Grandma, Grandpa, my father, and Aunt Mary in her forties—Grandma looking the same, shoulders back, gaze straightforward and proud; Grandpa smiling, his hair nearly gone, hand holding his only daughter’s; Aunt Mary looking young and happy; and my father, wearing black-rimmed glasses, his body still young-man trim, and his hairline receding like his father’s, with an impish grin that I had seen only when he played cards. I used to lie on Grandma’s bed and stare at the pictures as I tried to conjure the family ghosts. No haunting ever came—no shaking chains, no eerie voices. But some of the pictures seemed alive. On those nights when I slept on the cot at the foot of Grandma’s bed, I would wake to whisperings that I attributed to my great-grandmother and my grandfather, both of whom died shortly before I was born. The whisperings were always too faint to hear, but I felt the love in them, just as I felt the love in my grandmother’s gaze.

***

I take my car from the mall to the Boardwalk. The drive is familiar, except for the cracked windows, the fallen signs. The road itself has lost its smoothness, and the car rocks in the ruts. I keep the radio off, listening instead to the whoosh of other cars as they pass, the honking horns, the occasional shouts of pedestrians as they walk down the twisting streets.

The morning looks no different than any other, even though it should. I know that if I turn down the right street, I’ll find my tiny one-room apartment, filled with books and newspapers, an overlarge stereo, and a sofa bed; a place that’s less of a haven than somewhere to sleep. I clerk at the local grocery store and put most of my money into a savings account that I never touch. My grandmother and I share a social life with each other—made up of each other—which she said is normal for a woman of ninety-five, but not for a woman of thirty. She would tell me I need to live in my present and work for my future, and I would always laugh and tell her life is easier in the past.

The Boardwalk looms, a barrier against the sea. The view is both dated and modern: the old wooden roller coaster dominates the skyline, making the newer flume ride and the Giant Dipper seem cheap and brassy. I park my car in the empty parking lot and walk to the gate. Someone has locked it and placed a CLOSED sign against the metal bars. Through the doors past the concession stands and shored-up rides, the ocean whispers against the beach. The air smells of sea salt and fresh wind instead of cotton candy and corn dogs. My hands sink deeper into my pockets, and the nylon strains against my knuckles.

On hot summer days, the parking lot was full, and cars circled the street like hungry cats. I walk back to my car, alone in a place that I never believed could be lonely. I pull the car door open and stand for a moment before crawling inside. Across the street a cyclone fence surrounds an empty field. Scraggles of winter grass cover the choppy earth. Something sat there, something I should remember. My mind yields up no images, no pictures of the spot, though I had once gone by it daily. I get into the car, close the door, and huddle against the steering wheel. One tiny fragment gone—dispersed by the sands of time.

***

On the day my Aunt Esther died, I arrived home from school to find my mother scrubbing the kitchen floor. Dirt streaked her face, except for the places where hours-dried tears had cleaned the skin. I touched her shoulder, and she shook me away.

“Get off my floor.” Her voice was harsh and raw. I had never heard its peculiar edge before.

I stood for a moment, wanting to ask details—the school counselor had told me only that my aunt, my mother’s favorite sister, was dead—wanting to hold my mother, to comfort her, to share the pain. Instead, I walked across the clean linoleum into the living room and sat on a transplanted kitchen chair in the growing twilight until my father came home.

He made us dinner on the well-scrubbed stove, and then he put my mother to bed. I huddled under one of my grandmother’s afghans on the couch and listened to my father’s voice drone as he made the arrangements by phone. When he finally came into the living room, looking smaller than I had ever seen him, his balding head shining in the lamplight, I asked, “What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to remember her,” he said. “That’s all we can do.”

***

The empty field mocks me. I can see nothing but the diamond wires of the cyclone fence, the clumps of dirt, the shades of ancient footprints. If I go back six months, I will see it. I will know.

I reach for a time slip, feel its power hum against my fingertips, but as I try to grasp the rim, the slip scuttles away, and I remain in real time, clutching the steering wheel of a twenty-year-old car, a car I’ve owned for only half a day.

Somewhere I will find a place that hasn’t changed, a place where the past, present, and future have fused, a place that is safe.

I turn the key in the ignition, and the car hums into life. As I pull out of the parking lot, a dozen other cars appear from nowhere. Perhaps we all are searching for the same thing.

***

Four days after my aunt’s funeral, I found my first time slip. I lay on my bed in the upstairs of the creaky old Victorian house my mother had just cleaned top to bottom. I was almost asleep, when a light-filled slit like that of a half-opened door appeared in the air before me. I had seen those slits before, several dozen times in my young life. When I was four, the night my sister (who was my mother surrogate) married, hundreds of light slits appeared in my room. I cowered against the wall and screamed for help. No help came. My parents, too drunk from the wedding, slept through all my cries. Finally the lights faded, and I thought the lights were dream visions that passed into my waking hours.

That night, though, I knew I wasn’t asleep. Another slit appeared, and another, until they surrounded me, and their light felt like a hug. No one had hugged me since my aunt died. No one had said more than three sentences to me in all that time—except my grandmother, who tried to comfort me by phone from her home six hundred miles away.

I reached out, perhaps to hug back, perhaps just to touch, when I felt something hum against my fingertips. I stuck my hand inside the nearest light, and felt a solid edge. I grabbed the edge, pulled a little—

And found myself in my Aunt Esther’s dining room. The room smelled of cigarettes, roast beef, and fresh bread. Bottles of alcohol covered the bureau, and half a dozen people sat around the table. The chandelier sent a crystal light across the room. It took a moment to recognize the man at the head of the table as my uncle. He was too slim, his hair too dark. My parents sat on one side, my mother’s hair long and black and coiled around her scalp, my father looking like the picture in Grandma’s bedroom. Aunt Esther came out of the kitchen, carrying one of her good serving bowls filled with broccoli in cheese sauce. She was beautiful: her face unlined, her eyes wide and dark. Her hair, cut in its usual marcel, didn’t seem dated, but looked appropriate somehow. She set the bowl down, and the woman across the table—not my mother, but someone else I vaguely recognized—stubbed out a cigarette. My uncle carved the roast beef, while my father picked up the bowl filled with mashed potatoes and plopped a spoonful on his plate. My mother took the bowl from him and looked at Aunt Esther.

I walked to the table and took a little piece of meat. It was good and hot. I hadn’t had Esther’s cooking since my uncle died.

“All this food,” Mother said. “We should say grace.”

“Father would have said grace.” Aunt Esther’s voice was smoother, less rough than I remembered it, as if the years of cigarettes and alcohol hadn’t touched it yet. “But I figure we earned it—why should we eat it after it gets cold?”

“Esther.” My uncle placed a slab of roast beef on his own plate. He didn’t look up, but I could hear the caution in his tone. I touched his shoulder, hoping he would pull his chair back, but he didn’t notice me.

Esther took a sip from the drink beside her ashtray. “I don’t have to do everything my father taught me. He’s been dead for twenty years. And if he were here, he wouldn’t be thankful for the food. He would yell at me for all the paint I wear, the booze I drink, and the things I say.”

“You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” my mother said softly.

“See what I mean?” Esther said. “She was only four when he died, and she can mimic his voice perfectly. Some people always haunt you.”

The scene faded. I reached for my uncle, but found myself grabbing my own bedspread, the smell of roast beef and cigarettes still lingering in my nostrils. I hugged my pillow and waited until dawn for the lights to return. They didn’t, and I fell into an uneasy sleep.

***

I have driven along the ocean for over an hour. Finally I pull into an empty turnout at the edge of a cliff and get out of my car. The wind is cold here, the ocean rough and gray. Waves break against the rocks below me. Off in the distance, heavy, dark clouds threaten a major winter storm.

The ocean is here, ever present, ever changing, never reassuring. I reach for a time slip, and can’t even find one, shivering as a chill runs up my back. Used to be I could slip anywhere, anytime. I would close my eyes and reach until I felt the hum. Then I would grab a corner and pull myself into another world.

My grandmother would say it was as if I had disappeared from my eyes. She never knew where I went, and I would never know where I was going, only that I would find somewhere better than I was. She hated it when I was gone. But the time slips never lasted long. I would get a brief glimpse and then come back to the present. I saw bits of my parents’ lives, bits of wars, bits of places I would never see again. When I went through high school, the lights faded, but the hums remained. I learned to control the slips, to go anywhere I wanted. And often I would end up in Santa Cruz, on the Boardwalk or in the mall, places where time had a special essence, an added dimension of warmth.

Sea droplets splash my face. I draw my windbreaker closer. This is a place I would have visited in a slip, but it feels wrong in real time. Less powerful, less potent. If I were able to slip now, I would return to my grandmother’s house, steal a fingerful of marshmallow frosting, and lie on her bed, staring at the photos. I would listen to the whispers, the haunting, and if I heard my grandmother’s step, slow and sure across her linoleum, I would run to the kitchen, hug her, and never let her go.

Some of the water drops running down my face are warm. I wipe my cheeks, irritated at the moisture, and turn my back on the sea. It is not home, it is not safe, and it has no warmth.

***

Last week the phone woke me out of a sound sleep. Grandma was in the emergency room, bleeding from countless ulcers in her ninety-five-year-old stomach. She was screaming for me, they said. Even if she hadn’t been, I still would have rushed to the hospital.

The hospital had a Sunday-morning quiet. The walls were painted forest green, and the plush carpet absorbed all sound. I hurried to the emergency wing, and they ushered me to a back room. My grandmother lay on a bed, held down by a doctor and three nurses. Her gray hair was matted around her face; her watery blue eyes were wide with fright. When she saw me, she murmured, “Thank God. Thank God.”

“You’re her granddaughter?” the doctor asked. He was my age, but his frustration made him seem younger. “We need to put some tubes down her to pump the blood from her stomach. But she won’t let us.”

The tubes went through the nostrils. I remembered my mother hooked up like that in the years before the alcohol finally killed her.

Grandma grabbed my hand. She squeezed so tight that I knew I would bruise. “They’re hurting me,” she said.

“They have to hurt you to help you,” I said.

“Will you stay while we try again?” the doctor asked. “Maybe she’ll be calmer around you.”

I nodded. They brought the tubes to her nose, and Grandma screamed and thrashed. I put my hands on her shoulders, held her head in place, and she stopped moving. All the while they worked, she watched me, staring into my eyes as if my presence gave her strength. Finally everything was in place, the suction began working, and the tubes turned black with her blood.

The doctor thanked me and took the nurses outside. Grandma closed her eyes and sighed once. I reached for a time slip, a short moment somewhere better, when her grip tightened on my hand.

“Stay.” Her voice was wispy, a little girl’s.

“I’m right here,” I said.

“No.” She shook her head once. I brushed the hair from her forehead. “Stay in your eyes. You aren’t living when you’re running away.”

I pulled over a chair and sat down, never letting go of her hand. For that entire week, I stayed. But she didn’t.

This morning she left.

***

I’m back on the mall, staring at the empty spots, the holes, the missing pieces. I can’t slip away anymore, can’t run to some better spot in someone else’s life. In my week’s stay, the ability to slip left me. I ramble through this broken place, where pieces of the past have shattered like concrete against the force of the earth, and I know that parts have already left my memory—perhaps to form other time slips that other children can run away to.

I guess, Grandma would say, it is time to start living in the present and planning for the future.

I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

Beside me on the cyclone fence, a work permit flutters in the breeze. Across the street, enterprising merchants have set up large tents filled with heat and light and merchandise. I walk over there, away from the demolished Cooper House, the shored-up western facades, the buildings of handmade brick that had survived the ’06 quake and had died in this one. A little bit of history passed on. A life spanning nearly a century, punctuated by two quakes and, in the end, some lingering pain.

A woman sells plants outside the nearest tent. She sits next to the tent wall, clutching a steaming paper cup, and watches me. I glance at the plants, little shoots in green plastic pots, and I know that she is here, hoping that people will plant for spring.

“I want some flowers.” My voice cracks as if I never use it. “Perennials.”

She shows me more shoots in more green plastic pots. I buy six that bloom in different light and temperature. Flowers for my grandmother’s grave, always and forever. Always changing, always there. One small way—my only way—to control a bit of time…

And to keep it warm.

 

Copyright Information

Perennials

Copyright © by Kristine Kathryn Rusch Published by WMG Publishing
Cover and Layout copyright © by WMG Publishing Cover design by WMG Publishing
Cover art copyright © blinkblink/Depositphotos

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

Any use of this publication to train generative artificial intelligence (“AI”) technologies is expressly prohibited. The author and publisher reserve all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

Special Bonus Edition

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Attention, Dallas-area Horde, I have a special announcement.

On Friday, May 15th, at 6:30 pm, Ilona and Gordon are emerging from the writing cave (trademark pending) and heading to Half Price Books in Dallas to moderate one of Veronica Roth’s signing tour appearances for her new book, Seek the Traitor’s Son.

And what a book to talk about!

Seek The Traitor’s Son

An epic, romantic dystopian fantasy begins in Seek the Traitor’s Son, from #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Divergent series, Veronica Roth. Available on May 12th from Tor Books, in deluxe hardcover edition with sprayed edges.

Elegy Ahn did not ask for destiny to find her.

She is happy with her life as a soldier, defending her small country from the Talusar, a powerful nation who worships a deadly Fever. A fever that blesses half of its victims with mysterious gifts.

But then she’s summoned to hear a prophecy–her, and the most ruthless of Talusar generals, Rava Vidar. Brought face to face, they learn that one of them will lead their people to victory over the other…but they don’t know which. And at the center of both of their fates: a man. A man that, Elegy is told, she will fall in love with. In just one day, Elegy’s old life–her job, her purpose, and her future–is over.

She and Rava are destined to collide, with the fate of their nations hanging in the balance. And when they do, only one will be left standing.

Elegy intends to make sure it’s her.

Destiny, prophecies, enemy generals, romance, warfare, mysterious gifts, and the fate of nations hanging in the balance? Yes, please! I know Ilona and Gordon are extremely excited to see Veronica and hear all about it.

House Andrews will be there in a supporting role as moderators, making sure the evening is a true celebration of Veronica and her incredible new book. Think of this as a “chatting shop” night, a chance to see them in conversation with another fantastic writer!

If you are in the Dallas area and would like to attend, tickets for the event are available for purchase here.

If you would like to attend a signing and you can’t make it to Dallas, Veronica’s tour will have multiple stops in both the US and the UK – for full details of all appearances, moderating authors and dates, check out her website here.

Happy preordering and May the 4th be with you!

The post Veronica Roth with House Andrews in Dallas! first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

Other LitStack Spots We’ve spotted a few other titles we’re adding to our TBR stack,…

The post Spotlight on “The Double Dutch Fuss” by Phill Branch appeared first on LitStack.

What’s a martini? I hear they’re good?

This.

I like martinis.

I demand martinis.

I demand martinis and all yer gold too, arrr!

You guys realize cats don’t drink, right? Right?

It’s been over a month since I shared a Ten Things? Heavens to Murgatroyd (any Snagglepuss fans out there?).

I talked here about how fed I up I was with all the streaming apps which I needed to watch different things. Including sports. So, except for Prime (the family orders a lot of stuff from Amazon), I cut the cord on all of them. I’m missing Daredevil, and didn’t watch a single Pittsburgh Penguins playoff game (I did listen to all of them). But it’s going fine.

PlutoTV, and RokuTV, have lots of shows and movies for free. But Tubi (also free) has really been filling the gap. Last week I wrote about the Coen Brothers’ classic, The Hudsucker Proxy. That was a Tubi viewing. I just watched the 1988 Blake Edwards Western, Sunset. Bruce Willis is cowboy actor Tom Mix, and James Garner is Wyatt Earp, in a Hollywood Western murder mystery. It was okay, but I’ll always watch Garner when I can. Tubi has TV shows too (that will be another post), including some fun cartoons, like Pinky and the Brain.

But here are ten movies you should check out for free on Tubi. Of course, there are well-known flicks like Rain Man, Legally Blonde, The Untouchables, The Graduate, Bull Durham, etc. But I wanted to talk about some that maybe you haven’t thought of in a while.

1 – SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL SHERIFF

I mentioned James Garner already, right? This is Galaxy Quest for Westerns. There was a non-sequel followup, with several of the same actors, in a similar story, but Support Your Local Gunfighter has different characters (granted, doing the same things).

This is one of my five favorite Westerns, and I’ve watched it many times. Garner is a mix of Bret Maverick and Jim Rockford in this 1969 movie. I’d install the Tubi app just to watch this one. If you like it, you should definitely watch Gunfighter as well.

2 – A SHOT IN THE DARK

Peter Sellers introduced us to Inspector Clouseau in 1963. The Return of the Pink Panther didn’t come out until 1975 (Alan Arkin played the role in a 1968 movie). Seems people forget that in 1964, A Shot in the Dark hit theaters only six months after The Pink Panther.

This is my favorite Pink Panther movie, and I developed a lifelong crush on Elke Sommer from this one. Tubi has all the Sellers ones, the two ‘official ones’ without him, the two Steve Martin reboots, and a couple of the cartoon series’. Everything but the Alan Arkin one. Clouseau is a supporting character in the first movie. I much prefer A Shot in the Dark.

3 – GET SHORTY

This is a superb book by Elmore Leonard. And the 1995 adaptation starring John Travolta, Gene Hackman, Renee Russo, Danny Devito (and the always underappreciated Dennis Farina) nailed it. It’s one of the best book/movie adaptations around. The sequel – Be Cool – is good, though not great. Both are worth watching.

Prime did a streaming series in 2017 with Chris O’Dowd (The IT Crowd) and Ray Romano. It ran for three seasons and I think it’s terrific. It sets up with the basic premise of the novel, but is basically an original story after that. Which is fine with me. I loved every episode. I talked about it here. So, book, movie, and series: you should check out Get Shorty.

4 – EIGHT MEN OUT

Baseball snobs like to immediately attack the inaccuracies of Eliot Asinof’s book. Whatever. I’m a fan of the book. And this is a top five baseball movie. The cast is deep, and visually it’s got that baseball nostalgia factor. And I think it conveys the almost slave-like conditions under the reserve clause (I’m pro-management, not pro-union; though both sides are greedy twits that may ruin the game again. But the options were to take what owners offered, or quit. That was it).

I recommend reading the book, but this is a movie absolutely worth watching.

5 – ARMED AND DANGEROUS

There are several John Candy movies. While he was pretty much always good for a laugh, his movies are hit and miss. It’s fine if you liked Canadian Bacon, Who’s Harry Crumb?, and Hostage for a Day. But as with Humphrey Bogart, he did make some stinkers.

But Candy and Eugene Levy do make Armed and Dangerous a good one. Meg Ryan, Robert Loggia, and Brion Jones join in this Harold Ramis scripted flick. A fired cop (Candy) and an inept lawyer (Levy) are forced to join a corrupt union when they get jobs as security guards. Co-written by Stacy Keach’s brother James, their father makes an appearance.

I always thought this was underappreciated John Candy. I’ve never seen It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, but I’m going to check it out. On Tubi.

6 – DEAD RECKONING

And speaking of my favorite actor of all time…Dead Reckoning is a ‘good but not great’ hardboiled Noir starring Bogie. WW II parachutist Rip Murdock’s (Bogart) buddy goes AWOL rather than receive the Medal of Honor. Bogie looks for him and murder and mayhem follow. Lizabeth Scott is a femme fatale, and Morris Carnovsky is the bad guy club owner.

Bogie made a slew of good movies in the forties, and this is one of them. It’s not on a par with The Maltese Falcon, This Gun for Hire, or Murder My Sweet, but it’s still a good example of the hardboiled genre. Like Johnny O’Clock, or Nocturne.

7 – SOLOMON KANE

I commented that Dark Winds was a good 70s cop show, but not good Tony Hillerman. I feel similarly about Solomon Kane. I like it as a sword and sorcery movie, but it’s a long way from Robert E. Howard’s Puritan avenger of wrongs. And that’s fine. They could have made a bad Solomon Kane movie, and then it would be a total loss.

James Purefoy is good, and he wanted to do a followup. But since the movie didn’t even get an American release (it eventually found it’s way over here with limited showing, but it was well over, and the International take didn’t make back even half of the budget).

Solomon Kane could have been truer to Howard’s character and stories. Noting the distinction between sword and sorcery, and fantasy, this is an S&S movie definitely worth watching.

8 -PRESUMED INNOCENT

There were others who did legal thrillers, before John Grisham (I’m a big fan of Richard North Patterson), but he clearly ‘took things to another level’ with his books, and the movies from them. Scott Turow’s Presumed Innocent was a successful film, with Harrison Ford. Tom Cruise’s The Firm followed a year later.

This is a very good legal thriller. Turow continued to write best-selling books (check out The Burden of Proof, featuring the defense attorney from Presumed Innocent). The movie has a real twist at the end. Good book, good film. And it’s free on Tubi.

9 – HOLLYWOOD KNIGHTS

I don’t think there’s ever been another movie like Animal House. It’s a unique classic. But if I had to name one movie to join it in that solo club, it would be Hollywood Knights. Set around the hijinks of a car club in Beverly Hills on Halloween night.

It was Robert Wuhl’s first movie, and he was SO terrific that a band named themselves after his character, Newbomb Turk. With several now-familiar faces, it’s got more of an Animal House vibe than any other movie I’ve seen. Since it’s free on Tubi, you REALLY should catch this if you’re a fan of that kind of humor.

10 – CADENCE

The number 165 US box office movie of 1991 may be the best little flick you’ve not seen. Charlie Sheen is put in a US military prison in West Germany, run by martin Sheen. Lawrence Fishburne is the leader of the other prisoners – all black. I only just now realized Charlie’s brother Ramon is also in it.

Martin is a miserable SOB and Charlie has to deal with the other prisoners, as well as the commander. This gets bad reviews, but I really like it. And Harry Stewart (‘Cornbread’ in the movie) sings a song called End of My Journey. It’s absolutely gorgeous. I often cite That Thing You Do! as a terrific little movie many people overlook. But it’s still got the Tom Hanks name on it. Cadence is one even fans of the Sheen family may not know of. And you absolutely should check it out on Tubi.

BONUS FLICK

11 – AWAKENINGS

I saw this movie at the theater, back in 1990. I haven’t watched it since. But I remember that I teared up at the end. One year after Dead Poets Society – and three years before Mrs. Doubtfire – Robin Williams is a neurosurgeon, trying to break through to victims of Parkinson’s Disease. Robert DeNiro is one of his patients. There’s a bit of humor in this movie, but it’s a medical drama. And damn, it hits HARD. My mom told me this past weekend that she’s remembering less and less. Parkinson’s fucking sucks.

John Heard, Anne Meara, and Penelope Ann Miller fill in a solid cast. But this movie is a tour de force for DeNiro, with Williams showing his acting chops. If you want a powerful drama, give this a watch. And maybe have some tissues handy.

MORE

I could list a couple dozen more movies – good and maybe not so good – you can sit down and watch: Deal of the Century, The Big Store, The Boondock Saints, Point Break, Mulholland Falls, The Majestic, The Thee Amigos, The In-Laws, Meatballs, Clerks II, Crossroads, Krull, Runaway: Just scroll and you’ll find things from every genre.

I loved the twist at the end, of No Way Out. I have it on VCR in a box somewhere. I think I’m gonna watch it on Tubi. And maybe The Getaway, and China Moon. And as I mentioned, you can deep dive into a plethora of TV shows. I just added Hardcastle and McCormick to my ever-growing list.

I do watch stuff from RokuTV, and PlutoTV. But I have really leaned into Tubi since canceling my streaming apps. And I’m quite happy with the decision.

Some previous entries on things to watch:

The Hudsucker Proxy
Let’s Go to the Movies:1996
Firefly – The Animated Reboot
What I’ve Been Watching – February 2026 (The Night Manager, SS-GB, Best Medicine)
What I’ve Been Watching – October 2026 (Return to Paradise, Lynley, Expend4bles, and more)
What I’ve Been Watching – August 2025 (Ballard, Resident Alien, Twisted Metal, and more)
What I’ve Been Watching – May 2025 (County Line, The Bondsman, Bosch: Legacy)
What I’ve Been Watching – October 2024 (What We Do in the Shadows, The Bay, Murder in a Small Town)
What I’m Watching – November 2023 (Brooklyn Nine-Nine, The Caine Mutiny Court Martial, A Haunting in Venice)
What I’m Watching – April 2023 (Florida Man, Picard – season three, The Mandalorian)
The Pale Blue Eye, and The Glass Onion: Knives Out
Tony Hillerman’s Dark Winds
The Rings of Power (Series I wrote on this show – all links at this one post)
What I’m Watching – December 2022 (Frontier, Leverage: Redemption)
What I’m Watching – November 2022 (Tulsa King, Andor, Fire Country, and more)
What I’m Watching – September 2022 (Galavant, Firefly, She-Hulk, and more)
What I’m Watching- April 2022 (Outer Range, Halo, Why Didn’t They Ask Evans, and more)
When USA Network was Kicking Major Butt (Monk, Psych, Burn Notice)
You Should be Streaming These Shows (Corba Kai, The Expanse, Bosch, and more)
What I’m BritBoxing – December 2021 (Death in Paradise, Shakespeare & Hathaway, The Blake Mysteries, and more)
To Boldly Go – Star Treking – (Various Star Trek incarnations)
What I’ve Been Watching – August 2021 (Monk, The Tomorrow War, In Plain Sight, and more)
What I’m Watching – June 2021 (Get Shorty, Con Man, Thunder in Paradise, and more)
Tucker and Dale vs. Evil
What I’ve Been Watching – June 2021 (Relic Hunter, Burn Notice, Space Force, and more)
Appaloosa
Psych of the Dead
The Mandalorian
What I’m Watching: 2020 – Part Two (My Name is Bruce, Sword of Sherwood Forest, Isle of Fury, and more)
What I’m Watching 2020: Part One (The Adventures of Brisco County Jr, Poirot, Burn Notice, and more)
Philip Marlowe: Private Eye
Leverage
Nero Wolfe – The Lost Pilot
David Suchet’s ‘Poirot’
Sherlock Holmes (over two dozen TV shows and movies)

Bob Byrne’s ‘A (Black) Gat in the Hand’ made its Black Gate debut in 2018 and has returned every summer since.

His ‘The Public Life of Sherlock Holmes’ column ran every Monday morning at Black Gate from March, 2014 through March, 2017. And he irregularly posts on Rex Stout’s gargantuan detective in ‘Nero Wolfe’s Brownstone.’ He is a member of the Praed Street Irregulars, and founded www.SolarPons.com (the only website dedicated to the ‘Sherlock Holmes of Praed Street’).

He organized Black Gate’s award-nominated ‘Discovering Robert E. Howard’ series, as well as the award-winning ‘Hither Came Conan’ series. Which is now part of THE Definitive guide to Conan. He also organized 2023’s ‘Talking Tolkien.’

He has contributed stories to The MX Book of New Sherlock Holmes Stories — Parts III, IV, V, VI, XXI, and XXXIII.

He has written introductions for Steeger Books, and appeared in several magazines, including Black Mask, Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine, The Strand Magazine, and Sherlock Magazine.

You can definitely ‘experience the Bobness’ at Jason Waltz’s ’24? in 42′ podcast.

 

 

So it was, but it is said that in recompense Mandos gave to Beren and to Lúthien thereafter a long span of life and joy, and they wandered knowing thirst nor cold in the fair land of Beleriand, and no mortal Man thereafter spoke to Beren or his spouse.

from The Quenta Silmarillion

When I wrote about The Silmarillion last year, without much detail, I described the story of Beren and Lúthien as the great love story of Middle-earth. Inspired by Prof. Tolkien’s love for his wife, Edith, as well as the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, its narrative is integral to the events of The Lord of the Rings. Aragorn’s lineage goes straight back down the millennia to the couple, as does Elrond’s.

Christopher Tolkien, continuing the great work he undertook to edit and publish the greatest portion of his father’s work developing the myths, legends, and tales of Middle-earth, published three books brining a jeweler’s eye to the three great tales contained with The Silmarillion; The Children of  Húrin (2007), Beren and Lúthien (2017), and The Fall of Gondolin (2018). Much more than with The Children of Húrin, Beren and Lúthien digs deeply into the evolution of the story, presenting multiple versions and commentary.

To begin, Beren is the only survivor of a band of human survivors from the great battle where the Dark Lord, Morgoth, destroyed the greater element of the army of elves and men that had kept him trapped in his realm. After the battle, Beren, his father, and ten other men, fought as outlaws against the Morgoth’s forces, until they were betrayed. All save Beren are killed.

After many great deeds and trials, Beren flees south and comes into the hidden elf kingdom of Doriath. There he spies Luthien, daughter of the king of Doriath, dancing, and is enchanted. She in turn sees Beren, and both fall in love. Her father, King Thingol, refuses to give his daughter’s hand in marriage to a mortal. Only if he could bring back one of the Silmarils, the great jewels forged by Feanor, from the crown of Morgoth, would he consent.

Though obviously a task considered impossible, Beren and a band of elves set out to try. They never even make it to the land of Morgoth, instead, being intercepted by his lieutenant, Sauron. Though imprisoned and tortured, they never reveal who they really are or what they’re doing so close to the Dark Lord’s lands. One by one, trapped in Sauron’s dungeon, they are devoured by his great wolves.

Meanwhile, after surviving trials of her own and gaining the friendship of the mighty dog, Huan, Lúthien arrives at Sauron’s keep in search of Beren. Huan kills the wolves and werewolves of Sauron, while with her own powerful magic, Lúthien overcomes Sauron and frees Beren.

Lúthien’s dance before Morgoth and his court by Alan Lee

They return to Doriath, but Beren is still intent on recovering a Silmaril from Morgoth. He again sets out into the terrible lands of the Dark Lord but struggles with despair and loneliness. When he sings a song of great sorrow, Lúthien and Huan hear it and come to him. Disguised as a werewolf and vampire, they steal into Angband, Morgoth’s fortress. Revealing her true self, Lúthien offers to dance and sing for the Dark Lord. It is a dance woven through with powerful magic and puts all of his court of evil to sleep. Beren then pries a Silmaril from the slumbering enemy’s crown. Only when he tries to take a second one, he rouses their foes and must flee.

And she beguiled Morgoth, even as his heart plotted foul evil within him; and she danced before him, and cast all his court in sleep; and she sang to him, and she flung the magic robe she had woven in Doriath in his face, and she set a binding dream upon him—what song can sing the marvel of that deed, or the wrath and humiliation of Morgoth, for even the Orcs laugh in secret when they remember it, telling how Morgoth fell from his chair and his iron crown rolled upon the floor.

The great wolf, Carcharoth, bred especially to defeat Huan, chases and attacks. Beren tries to ward off the beast with the Silmaril, but it bites off his hand and swallows the jewel. Immediately, the gem causes the beast such pain that it drives it mad and charges off, bringing terror and horror wherever it runs.

Too swift for thought his onset came,
too swift for any spell to tame;
and Beren desperate then aside
thrust Lúthien, and forth did stride
unarmed, defenceless to defend
Tinúviel until the end.
With left hand he caught at hairy throat,
with right, from which the radiance welled
of the holy Silmaril he held.
As gleam of swords in fire there flashed
the fangs of Carcharoth, and crashed
together like a trap, that tore
the hand about the wrist, and shore
through brittle bone and sinew nesh,
devouring the frail mortal flesh;
and in that cruel mouth unclean
engulfed the jewel’s holy sheen.

On returning to Doriath, when Thingol learns that a Silmaril was indeed stolen from Morgoth, he relents and allows Beren to marry Lúthien. When the wolf, mad with pain, enters the kingdom, a party, including Beren and Thingol sets off to hunt it. The wolf is finally killed, but only after mortally wounding Beren and Huan. Overcome with grief, Lúthien dies from sorrow. When her spirit arrives in the Halls of the Dead, she sings a song of such beauty and power that she and her husband are returned to life, to live out their days as mortals.

This is the way the story of Beren and Lúthien emerged finally in the pages of The Silmarillion. It did not start out that way and cataloguing the numerous ways it evolved and mutated is what Christopher Tolkien set out to do with this little volume. It is an interesting book, though, without having read The Silmarillion I imagine it would make little sense.

The earliest version, and the most drastically different, began in 1917 as The Tale of Tinúviel. It’s far more like a fairy tale than the epic style of Tolkien’s later writing. Beren is not a man, instead a Gnome. In these early tales, the great elves later called Noldor, go by this name, which Tolkien linked to the Greek word for thought or intelligence. With images of Huygen’s and Poortvliet’s red-capped little fellows appearing in my head at every appearance of the word, it was a bit disconcerting.

Tevildo by Alan Lee

The cat, of course, doesn’t help. What cat you ask? Well, instead of Sauron, the enemy who imprisons him is Tevildo, a great cat with a retinue of lesser cats at his side. On its own, it works well creating a real fairytale atmosphere, but as part of the lore of Middle-earth it lacks the necessary deeper, darker shading.

Beren is less determined than he’ll eventually be portrayed, but as in all the story’s variations, Lúthien takes on the Orphean role and risks great harm to save him. As the tale evolves, she is clearly Tolkien’s great heroine. Beren bolts forward with the subtlety of an angry bull, unable to restrain himself and think things through. She is always thoughtful, ever planning, and wise and clever in ways that can actually trick the great powers of evil in her path.

Later, Tolkien began reworking the tale into an epic poem, The Lay of Leithian. Unfinished, it still runs to 14 of the planned 17 cantos and is over 4200 lines long. It is much more in line with The Silmarillion‘s version of Lúthien’s and Beren’s tale than the earlier version. Beren is now a man. This means the tragic aspect of an immortal falling in love with a mortal appears for the first time. The malignant feline, Tevildo, has been replaced with Thû, a formative version of Sauron. I appreciate the great effort the professor made in writing the poem, but I prefer the finished prose form.

The most interesting thing learned from reading is that this, and the rest of what’s contained in The Silmarillion, are the stories Tolkien wanted to write after the success of The Hobbit. According to his son,

In October he said in a letter to Stanley Unwin, the chairman of Allen and Unwin, that he was ‘a little perturbed. I cannot think of anything more to say about hobbits. Mr Baggins seems to have exhibited so fully both the Took and the Baggins side of their nature. But I have only too much to say, and much already written, about the world into which the hobbit intruded.’ He said that he wanted an opinion on the value of these writings on the subject of ‘the world into which the hobbit intruded’; and he put together a collection of manuscripts and sent them off to Stanley Unwin on 15 November 1937. Included in the collection was QS II, which had reached the moment when Beren took into his hand the Silmaril which he had cut from Morgoth’s crown.

Only later did he land on satisfactory artistic solution:

‘I offered them the legends of the Elder Days, but their readers turned that down. They wanted a sequel. But I wanted heroic legends and high romance. The result was The Lord of the Rings.

As a reader, I am grateful for the creation of The Lord of the Rings, but it’s always a little bit dispiriting to be reminded how often art must bend to the will of commerce if it’s to even exist.

I am not as obsessed with all the professor’s backstage undertakings as I once was. I’m completely satisfied with the LOTR’s appendices and Unfinished Tales. Long ago I decided I didn’t need all twelve volumes of The History of Middle-earth. I only bought this book because I’d read and loved The Children of Húrin. I had the mistaken understanding that Beren and Lúthien and The Fall of Gondolin were more like that. They are more literary excavations than coherent narratives.

This is a book for Tolkien completists. It has real value to anyone intrigued by how Middle-earth’s great romance grew from a fairy tale beginning to something worthy of 4200 + lines of poetry and more. Nonetheless, I am glad I read it and will read the succeeding volume about Gondolin one day. Still, it’s not a book I imagine ever reading in toto again.

Roads Go Ever Ever On

Some dwarf and JRR Tolkien by the Bros. Hildebrandt

With this essay, I’m bringing down the curtain on Half a Century of Reading Tolkien. Ten dedicated pieces and two related ones seem enough. There are notions floating about my brain for future work, but for now, I’ll let them rest and perhaps germinate into full-fledged ideas. I’m more than satisfied with what I’ve done here at Black Gate and reader’s responses. Some of the comments directly affected how I approached the professor’s work in succeeding articles.

I have enjoyed this undertaking immensely, as I hope many of you have. It’s pleasing to find that The Hobbit still brings me joy, and The Lord of the Rings and parts of The Silmarillion still move and thrill me. It was also exciting to bring more knowledge of history, Christianity, and myth to reading these works. That was important to developing a deeper understanding of what Prof. Tolkien was doing artistically and thematically. There’s great beauty in Tolkien and revisiting it has been a rewarding undertaking.

I definitely enjoyed the chance to revisit curiosities and side bits like the Rankin and Bass shows, the Ralph Bakshi movie, and Bored of the Rings. Even Terry Brooks’ The Sword of Shannara was more interesting coming so close upon the heels of rereading Tolkien.

For those who don’t remember, this entire project grew out of me hate-watching Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings movies (the expanded editions with even more things to hate-watch). I easily watched all three movies three times in the course of preparing for and writing the first four articles. Looking back a year or so, I stand by my dismissal of them and, even more so, by my complete disdain for the The Hobbit movies.

Last year, concerning those last three dreadful films, I wrote “I feel like I watched them for penance for any and all sins I’ve ever committed and will yet commit.” I watched them again after writing that and have concluded there are no sins I could still commit in my life that would ever make me deserve such punishment. Even Morgoth himself might offer me condolences for having seen them.

Let me leave you with some words from Christopher Tolkien from an interview in Le Monde. First, his opinion on the LOTR movies, “They eviscerated the book, making it an action film for 15-25 year olds.” More importantly, though, he added “The gap that has widened between the beauty, the seriousness of the work, and what it has become, all of this is beyond me. Such a degree of commercialization reduces the aesthetic and philosophical significance of this creation to nothing. I only have one solution left: turn my head.”

The books will remain. They are there for the reading any time. For as many times as I’ve read them, I imagine, well, hope, many more times remain.

Half a Century of Reading Tolkien: Part One

Half a Century of Reading Tolkien: Part Two – The Fellowship of the Ring by JRR Tolkien

Half a Century of Reading Tolkien: Part Three — The Two Towers by JRR Tolkien

Half a Century of Reading Tolkien: Part Four — The Return of the King by JRR Tolkien

Half a Century of Reading Tolkien: Part Five — From the Beginning: The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien

Half a Century of Reading Tolkien: Part Six — Bored of the Rings by Henry N. Beard & Douglas C. Kenney

Half a Century of Reading Tolkien: Part Seven — The Sword of Shannara by Terry Brooks

Half a Century of Reading Tolkien: Part Eight — The Silmarillion by JRR Tolkien

Half a Century of Reading Tolkien: Part Nine – Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, translated by JRR Tolkien

Grimmer Than Grim: The Children of Húrin by J.R.R. Tolkien

Talking Tolkien: Of Such a Sort Should a Man Be – Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary by J.R.R. Tolkien

Fletcher Vredenburgh writes a column each first Sunday of the month at Black Gate, mostly about older books he hasn’t read before. He also posts at his own site, Stuff I Like when his muse hits him

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

The Faraway Inn by Sarah Beth Durst

Mogsy’s Rating: 4 of 5 stars

Genre: Young Adult, Fantasy

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Delacorte (March 31, 2026)

Length: 384 pages

Author Information: Website | Twitter

At this point, is it honestly a surprise that a new book by Sarah Beth Durst would turn out this cute and cozy? Even though this hasn’t always been her genre (I remember starting out reading her Queens of Renthia series and then loving Race the Sands and The Bone Maker), cottagecore fantasy is clearly the lane she’s settled into recently and is absolutely rocking it. That The Faraway Inn is a Young Adult novel doesn’t change its warm, comforting appeal either. If anything, it embraces everything that makes it an inviting romantasy without being too cloying or overdone.

The story follows a Brooklyn teenager named Calisa, who arrives at her great-aunt’s bed-and-breakfast in rural Vermont after a messy breakup derails her summer plans. Her parents figured that a few months away, working for an estranged relative, might give her the change of scenery she needs to find some peace and move on. Instead, she walks into a situation that’s anything but peaceful, and one where she clearly isn’t wanted. Auntie Zee has no interest in anyone meddling in her business, even if her beloved Faraway Inn has seen better days and could obviously use the help.

But Calisa has no desire to return home to face the fallout of her failed relationship. Determined not to be turned away, she digs in her heels and throws herself into being useful, hoping to prove she deserves to stay. But as she settles in, it quickly becomes clear that this isn’t an ordinary inn. The guests are a little too eccentric, the doors around the place don’t seem to lead where they should, and strange details begin to pile up, from winged lizards to a teapot that pours itself. Calisa senses that she’s not supposed to know any of this, especially with Auntie Zee guarding her secrets so closely. But with the help of Jack, the groundskeeper’s sweet and quietly charming son, she begins to uncover more of what the inn is hiding.

Durst has always had a talent for creating immersive settings, whether it’s a sweeping fantasy world or something more intimate and slice-of-life, the way it is here. The Faraway Inn itself easily steals the show. Even in its rundown state, there’s something deeply comforting about it, like a well-loved sweater or a chipped favorite mug. It feels like a place built for what it’s meant for, which is rest and restoration. Its guests come here to retreat from the stresses of wherever they came from, and the inn meets them where they are, offering a sanctuary to heal, reflect, or simply disappear for a while.

I also really liked how the magic is handled. It’s introduced gradually, in small, almost throwaway moments at first, before becoming something more central to the story. It’s an approach that perfectly fits the book’s gentle tone, even if it means the plot takes a little while to fully get off the ground. Still, once everything starts to come together, it’s easy to get pulled in.

The characters are also just as easy to spend time with. Admittedly, Calisa is a familiar kind of YA protagonist, dealing with young people problems like trying to figure out what to do with her post-high school life after putting so much of her heart into a relationship that didn’t work out. But her personality is grounded enough that she never comes across as overly dramatic or whiny, and I found her to be very likeable. Next comes Jack, who steps in as the obvious love interest, but they take their time developing their relationship. He’s sweet and supportive, if a little awkward, but the resulting chemistry between him and Calisa is adorable and genuinely endearing despite it being completely predictable. Auntie Zee, meanwhile, fills the role of the grumpy and stubborn innkeeper, and while her character development also follows a fairly predictable path, the tensions between her and Calisa add some needed friction early on.

Of course, the whole story doesn’t stray far from what you’d expect either, staying largely within its comfort zone. The plot also unfolds in a straightforward way, and some of the reveals are easy to anticipate. Furthermore, there’s the slower start I mentioned earlier, as everything is getting established before the magical elements take center stage. But for this kind of book, that’s not necessarily a drawback. The appeal is just as much about the atmosphere as it is the story itself, and on that front, it’s everything I wanted.

All in all, The Faraway Inn is a sweet, cozy fantasy that does exactly what it sets out to do. It’s not doing anything groundbreaking, but it’s charming, heartfelt, and filled with just enough magic to keep things engaging. An easy pick and a superb book if you’re in the mood for a light read that’s also quietly whimsical.

Deathstalker (New World Pictures, September 2, 1983)

A veritable cornucopia of dodgy barbarian and barbarian-adjacent movies that I have never watched before, and will probably never watch again.

Deathstalker (1983) – USA/Argentina

Inspired by a recent foray into the Conan the Cimmerian Barbarian: The Complete Weird Tales Omnibus, I suddenly had a hankering for more of the same, and so here we are.

Never one to miss an opportunity to cash in on a zeitgeist, Roger Corman saw the response to the the previous year’s Schwarzenegger grunt-a-thon and fast tracked this hokey slice of sword and sorcery, roping in sometime collaborator James Sbardellati to direct Howard R. Cohen’s cut and paste script.

Deathstalker (Rick Hill) is a wandering rogue fighter who loves nothing better than sticking his sword in people, literally and metaphorically speaking. He is quested by a witch to unearth a trio of macguffins in order to topple an evil sorcerer, Munkar (Bernard Erhard), and does so with the help of a diminutive goblin, a swarthy dude bro, and a female warrior whose idea of armour is a pair of knickers and a cloak.

Indeed, knockers and bum cheeks abound in this less than light-hearted romp, and the whole affair grows tiresome remarkably fast. Deathstalker himself isn’t even a fun anti-hero — the only time he is less than plank-like is when he’s sexually assaulting someone — leaving it very hard to root for him, let alone anyone, in this.

4/10

Deathstalker 2 (Concorde Pictures, September 12, 1987) Deathstalker 2 (1987) – USA/Argentina

Due to a multiple-picture deal with the Argentinian studios, and presumably some car payments, producer Roger Corman once again leaped into the Deathstalker world, still smarting that no one would let him make a Conan film. He roped in Jim Wynorski to direct, having just worked together on the altogether fab Chopping Mall (1986), and recast the titular lunk with John Terlesky.

Neil Ruttenberg’s script borrows heavily from an actual Robert E. Howard joint, the short story “A Witch Shall Be Born,” using the central premise of a kingdom overthrown by a doppelganger, and the usurped princess seeking the aid of a sword-swinging lothario.

This one (in an eventual series of three) is remembered quite fondly by sword and sandal enthusiasts, and that’s probably due to its more tongue-in-cheek nature, but this alone isn’t enough to save it. Yes, I enjoyed watching this one more than the first, but it’s still rubbish. Not only that but it pads out several scenes with footage from the first movie (Corman gripping those purse strings like a python in the temple of Set) and several scenes overstay their welcome, especially the Amazonian wrestling match.

It’s not all misery though, the two female leads, Monique Gabrielle in the dual role as the princess and her evil clone, and Maria Socas as the Amazon queen, are both really good and fun to watch. A female Deathstalker would have been excellent, but the 80s weren’t ready for that (don’t get me started on Red Sonja).

5/10

Deathstalker (Shout! Studios, October 10, 2025) Deathstalker (2025) – USA/Canada

Such is the nature of rose-tinted nostalgia goggles it was inevitable that an homage would be thrown together and quickly crowdfunded by a bunch of folk who remembered the kick-ass Boris Vallejo posters and copious tits of the 80s flicks. This remake is produced by Slash from Guns and Roses, and written and directed by Steven Kostanski, who made the excellent The Void (2016), and therefore got my hopes up.

In this version, Deathstalker (Daniel Bernhardt) loots a macguffin off a battlefield corpse and is instantly cursed with it. His witch friend tells him of a wizard who should be able to break the curse, and so begins his quest, which would ultimately be packed to the rafters with set-piece after set-piece.

Deathstalker teams up with said impish wizard, Doodad (voiced by Patton Oswald), and a feisty thief, Brisbayne (Christina Orjalo, very good). Together they go up against the demonic forces of Necromemnon and his lackey Jotak (Paul Lazenby), and much blood is spilled by all.

From the opening shot (a head is brutally removed from its owner in shocking close-up) I thought I was going to seriously enjoy this version, but as it progressed, and the humour took over, I started to find it more frustrating than enjoyable. This needed the Airplane treatment — instead of Deathstalker cracking gags, he needed to be absolutely straight-laced — let the lampoonary carry on around him.

That said, the production value is great for the budget and the gore is fantastic, so I did have some fun with it, just not as much as I had popped my corn for.

7/10

Masters of the Universe (The Cannon Group, August 7, 1987) Masters of the Universe (1987) – USA

Shockingly, I’ve never seen this dollop of American cheese-style product before, but I hardly knew the franchise, being British and 16 when the Filmation series first ran in 1983. Therefore I had no battlecat in the race and really wasn’t interested when the movie burst into cinemas (and flopped, contributing to the death of Cannon Films).

While doing a bit of digging (yes, I actually research these films after I’ve watched them and before I write this drivel), I learned that Mattel really hamstrung the production, which may have had a small part in its eventual dullness, but also, come on, all of Eternia to play with and the budget restricts three quarters of the film to the most deserted square mile of Whittier, California.

Storywise, Skeletor (Frank Langella, excellent) wants a macguffin invented by incredibly annoying, smashburger-faced Gwildor (Billy Barty), and when He-Man (Dolph Lungren, mercifully dubbed) gets accidentally transported to Earth, Skeletor sends his most inept commandos to hunt the device down and kill the blond bore. The macguffin, a portal-summoning synthesizer key, falls into the hands of Julie (Courtney Cox) and her undeserving boyfriend, Kevin (Robert Duncan McNeill), and a great many things get blown up with nary a single shocked reaction from the surrounding (missing) community.

Lots of chasing, cackling, and hair blowing in the wind ensues, but I fell asleep several times and had to keep rewinding it. Sorry to fans of this one.

6/10

The Barbarians (Cannon Releasing Corporation, March 20, 1987) The Barbarians (1987) – USA/Italy

A barbarian film from legendary horror-meister Ruggero (Cannibal Holocaust) Deodato? Sign me up! Is what I probably would have said in the late 80s, but being older now and suckered more times than I can remember, I didn’t go into this one with wild abandon. A wise decision as, despite Deodato’s frenetic direction and ability to squeeze every bit of sumptuousness from low-budget sets, the film is ultimately mind-numbing, and not in a good way.

On paper it should have worked; a classic sword and sorcery plot, Richard Lynch chewing the scenery, loin cloths and blood, but the film is hampered by terrible dialogue (and worse dubbing) and a pair of meatheads (David and Peter Paul as the titular Barbarian brothers) who pop veins and shout words with equal redundancy.

The story, which has its own macguffin in the form of a ruby, has a similar element to another film I’ll be reviewing next time (Iron Warrior) and throws forbidden lands, dragons, and torture at us in an attempt to distract us from the brothers, to no avail.

I know this reads like I disliked the film, but to be honest I actually had a fun time. It helped that Michael Berryman was wearing a headband with a single horn on it for much of the proceedings. What a good sport.

7/10

Previous Murky Movie surveys from Neil Baker include:

Probing Questions
My Top Thirty Films
The Star Warses
Just When You Thought It Was Safe
Tech Tok
The Weyland-Yutaniverse
Foreign Bodies
Mummy Issues
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes
Monster Mayhem
It’s All Rather Hit-or-Mythos
You Can’t Handle the Tooth
Tubi Dive
What Possessed You?

See all of Neil Baker’s Black Gate film reviews here. Neil spends his days watching dodgy movies, most of them terrible, in the hope that you might be inspired to watch them too. He is often asked why he doesn’t watch ‘proper’ films, and he honestly doesn’t have a good answer. He is an author, illustrator, teacher, and sculptor of turtle exhibits.

I had a good reading month. Lots of fun things, although a couple of the novels read slowly. (Meaning I had to savor every word. Oh, woe is me!) I did finish a crappy mystery anthology. It was the one I was reading at UNLV during lunch, although a number of students ended up co-opting my lunch as the semester progressed. Lots of good discussions, very little reading. Not that it mattered. When I did get a chance to read, I was disappointed, so I’m not recommending that here.

Got introduced to some marvelous playwrights and some fascinating theater history as well. Also had to wrestle with more bad writer behavior from some of them. I’m going to include two, one amazing woman and a man with a difficult history. 

Fewer articles than usual. Maybe I just wasn’t in an article-recommending mood.

So here’s April’s reading. It’s quite a cornucopia.

 

April, 2026

Canfield, David, “Love The Sinner,” The Hollywood Reporter, February 11, 2026. This is an interview with Ryan Coogler, written before the Oscar ceremony. It’s worthwhile to see how one of the most creative artists in film approaches story, imposter syndrome, and business negotiations. He got an amazing deal from Warner Bros. last year. About it, The Hollywood Reporter says:

Driven by both the movie’s themes (Sinners) and the evolution of his own career, Coogler negotiated to have Warner Bros. return the rights to him 25 years after release — an uncommon, if hardly unprecedented, arrangement that nonetheless sparked endless debate about its merits both for him, despite his strong track record, and for an embattled Warner Bros.

And yet, he pulled it off. Ask and see what will happen. That’s the art of negotiation. Now, read the article.

Carter, Ally, Only The Good Spy Young, Little, Brown and Company, 2010. I continue to work my way through Ally Carter’s Gallagher Girls series, which takes place at a boarding house for spies. Things are getting real by this, Book 4. I found it a bit distressing, because no one trusted a character that had been set up as a good person earlier in the series. I truly did not know if the earlier impressions were correct. (Not giving spoilers here.) So the book is effective, and even though I read these late in the day, hoping not to stay up late, I ended up staying up late to finish. It’s a good series, but start with the first book.

Carter, Stephen L., The Emperor of Ocean Park, Vintage Contemporaries, 2002. I’ve been planning to read this novel for nearly 25 years. But the cover put me off—or something did. I’ve read other books of Carter’s and liked them. Then I picked up a later work, and saw a mention that it was tied to this one, and thought, “Okay, time to read this book first.”

I’m glad I did. It was a deliberately slow read. (John Grisham’s blurb calls it a legal thriller. Um, no. It’s a legal meanderer.) Mostly it’s a family saga, beautifully written, with characters so vivid they leap off the page. My favorite is our protagonist, Talbot Garland’s son, Bentley, who is only three. I’m guessing that Carter’s son was three at the time the book got written, because this three-year-old sings off the page–all the good and bad things about three-year-olds are here, delightfully so. The love that Talbot has for his son is the best thing about the book, which also shows that no matter how much you love your children, the way you live your life can have an unforeseen impact on them. Bentley makes it to the end, but that charming three-year-old eventually turns four in a different circumstance.

Circling around all of this is the ghost of Talbot’s father, a judge who was nominated to serve on (it seems) Reagan’s Supreme Court, until a scandal that happened in the middle of his hearings brought him down. Rather like Robert Bork, only if Bork had been Black, adding an entire racial component. The judge dies under what some believe to be mysterious circumstances and there’s quite a bit of drama around fake FBI agents and detectives and a university that seems…well…familiar.

The only problem I had with this book is that it felt normal. At the time it was published, it must have been shocking. A corrupt judge that close to the court? Murder? People being uncivil in government, lying about who they are? The book almost seems prescient.

I really, really enjoyed the time I spent with the book and miss visiting it now that I finished.

Grynbaum, Michael M., Empire of the Elite, Simon & Schuster, 2025. Well, I have two ugly covers on this list, and this is, by far, the ugliest. However, the book is fascinating. Empire of the Elite is the history of Condé Nast, from its start 100 years ago or so to now. If you’re a writer who has been at this for more than two decades, back when the New Yorker and Vanity Fair were actually important magazines, you might want to read this. Not just for the dishy (but sourced) gossip, but for the reason that you—a member of the Great Unwashed who did not hang out in rarified circles—could never succeed over the transom. Just the amount of money spent to maintain the illusion of taste and power is breathtaking, even in 2026 terms.

Dunno about the rest of you, but I’m thrilled that we do not live in this curated world any longer. Still, the book itself is quite the publishing education.

Johnson, Georgia Douglas, A Sunday Morning in The South, University of Illinois Press, 2024. Play written in 1924/25. Sadly, while I had heard of a number of writers from the Harlem Renaissance, like Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston, I had never heard of Georgia Douglas Johnson. She was exceedingly influential, holding salons and working with younger writers. This play, which is one of her anti-lynching plays, is a gut-punching read. I’d love to see it performed. The book, which is not where I read the play (we got an excerpt from a different book), contains two states—a Black church version and a white church version. I do hope you read this, and when you do, realize that it was a contemporary play, not a historical one. She was dealing with a very real issue 100 years ago, and doing so powerfully.

The play is set in a family kitchen near a church. The music filters in as the grandmother cooks breakfast and talks with her grandchildren. The action is startling and much-too-true. The play’s characters are rich and her writing is amazing, so that you can visualize the show easily while reading the script.

Odets, Clifford, Waiting for Lefty, 1935. I couldn’t find an ebook version, so I linked to a Grove/Atlantic version from 1994. Another political play. Like A Sunday Morning in the South, this feels too on point for where we are in 2026. (Sigh) This is a play of a union meeting—written before Waiting for Godot. Lefty is a union leader who might authorize a strike vote against a taxi-cab company. While everyone waits, they talk about the reasons they need to be paid more.

The structure of the play caught me. Little vignettes in the middle have just as much power as the play overall. I’m still thinking about the format.

Odets himself is a controversial figure. He, along with Elia Kazan, named names in the 1950s blacklist era. There were reasons they did so in the way that they did, but it didn’t play well with the blacklisted authors. (Or others, for that matter.) As we were studying this, I kept thinking, Why do I know his name? so I looked him up after class and realized why I did. It’s fascinating to have the hindsight on a lot of these writers. We also dealt with Bertold Brecht this month, and wowza, was he a piece of work. Still thinking on all of this…

Schmitt, Preston, “How To Win A Nobel Prize,” specifically “Mr. & Mrs. Lederberg,” On Wisconsin, Winter, 2025. When the idiots in the Trump administration started cutting funding for universities (and continue to cut funding for science. Bastards.), most universities have found ways to fight back.The University of Wisconsin is using its alumni magazine to point out how significant the research is, was, and can be. On the was side of the equation is this article, about all the Nobels the university has won. Normally, I wouldn’t point this out, but there is a very sad middle to the entire thing. The only woman on the list, Esther Lederberg, did not win a Nobel. Her husband did in 1958 for work they did together. In fact, she’s the one who made the breakthrough discovery, not him. Take a look at this, please, and do what you can to make sure that things like this never happen again.

Score, Lucy, Mistakes Were Made, Bloom Books, 2026. I forgot that, when I preordered this, I ordered the Amazon special edition, planning to get the regular paperback later. I ended up with, bar none, one of the ugliest books I’ve ever seen. Click over and take a look. Whoever designed it apparently loved yellow. The book screams at you from across the room. I also forgot, until just now, that Lucy Score is an Amazon-exclusive ebook writer, and was picked up by Bloom Books for her paperbacks only. So I’m linking to Amazon so that you can get the ebook. Frustrating as hell.

The book arrived this month, just as I was thinking I needed something light. This is light and funny. Score can write situations that are completely unbelievable, but work. And her dialogue sparkles. There was one too many iterations of will-they-won’t-they, but I was committed. This, in theory, is about an agent who moves to a small town to deal with her one and only client. Yeah, that happens. So suspend your disbelief.

Some good stuff here about living with ADHD, about forgiveness, and about the way lives can be destroyed in a single moment. So behind the humor is some good, if tough, stuff.

 

Pictures by David Hockney, published in 1979, was intended as a catalog of Hockney’s work…

The post The Language of a Painter’s Vocabulary in “Pictures,” by David Hockney appeared first on LitStack.

So, the introduction to the review copy of this book I received, written by Fonda, says that she was inspired to write this book as a result of a game where story ideas had to have the words ‘in space’ added at the end. Result: Samurai in space! The book is exactly that. Set on…

Sitrep: Pops and I are recovering from Flu crud. It sucks the life out of you. I hate getting sick but at least I'm almost completely back to normal.

In other news, I took Paul's advice and split PRI 4 Building Intrigue in half.

So, the next book to come out is Building Intrigue by the end of the month...

There is an animation for this too. I need to go over it again though. Book 98!

And then in July the next half which is the new PRI 5 Knowledge is Power will drop:

Book 99!

And then Infection in September:

Book 100!!!!  (can you believe it??)

And then the current finale of the PRI saga Pirate War: Book 6 in November:

Book 101!

That is everything for the year... though I might insert a book and push Pirate War back to 2027, who knows?

Coming July 7, 2026, from Open Road! McCammon’s Shoppe of Olde Curiosities

McCammon’s Shoppe of Olde Curiosities collects all of Robert McCammon’s previously-uncollected short stories written throughout his career.

Open Road will publish the collection in trade paperback and ebook formats on July 7, 2026.

Lividian will publish a limited edition in early 2027, and Audible will be releasing the audio edition later this year or early 2027.

You can pre-order the ebook now from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bookshop.org, and Kobo.

You can see the Table of Contents here.

From Open Road:

A collection of genre-bending horror and dark fantasy stories from the award-winning, New York Times-bestselling author of the Matthew Corbett novels.

This edition includes an introduction by international bestselling author Joe R. Lansdale.

Featuring two Bram Stoker Award–winning tales, McCammon’s Shoppe of Olde Curiosities is a career-spanning collection gathering nineteen short stories showcasing the author’s imaginative range of frightening terror, fantastical worldbuilding, and characters confronting the unknown around them and within themselves.

Pursuing a life of celebrity fame, Erik Van Helsing’s desire to cash in on his famous family’s name as vampire hunters unveils a legacy he cannot escape in “Blood is Thicker Than Hollywood”—a spinoff tale from the novel They Thirst.

A woman surviving in a post-apocalyptic landscape fights off loneliness when she reads aloud to the “Children of the Bedtime Machine”—a tribute to the wondrous storytelling style of Ray Bradbury.

As “Death Comes for the Rich Man” in 1703 Colonial America, Matthew Corbett is hired to delay the Grim Reaper to give a regretful old sinner time to make amends with his estranged daughter.

Experimenting as a mixologist, McCammon presents five drink recipes in A Little Amber Book of Wicked Shots, accompanying stories about a serial killer in a haunted hotel, an athlete’s destiny in the face of cosmic horror, a vindictive ad man learning the price of revenge, and an ex-slave on a suicidal and soul-sacrificing mission to serve justice.

Chilling and evocative, weird and humorous, these stories—and a dozen more—reveal why “no one can paint word pictures as vividly as Robert McCammon” (Sandra Brown).

Adventure, October 10, 1922

Some science fiction authors like to cloak their histories in mystery, not content to keep the fiction in their writing. Lester Del Rey claimed he was born Ramon Felipe Alvarez-del Rey and that his family was killed in a car crash, although his sister confirms his birth name was Leonard Knapp and the accident only killed his first wife. Nothing F. Gwynplaine MacIntyre said about himself should be trusted. Nictzin Dyalhis is another author who appeared to create his own history.

According to his draft registration card, he was born on June 4, 1873 in Massachusetts, although he also claimed to have been born in 1880 and 1879 and variously in England in Pima, Arizona. His draft registration is also the first time the name Nictzin Dyalhis appears. It also notes that he lost an eye in his childhood.

In 1912, he married Harriet Lord, who was committed to the Warren State Hospital in the late 1920s and died there in 1959. Her death certificate shows two interesting things. First, it claims her husband’s name was Fred, which could be Dyalhis’ birth name. Second, it lists her as a widow, indicating she was never divorced. Despite this, Dyalhis remarried by 1930, to Mary Sheddy, although in the 1930 census her name is given as Netulyani Dyalhis (and later claims that her birth name was Netulyani Del Torres). Nictzin and Mary had a daughter, Mary, in 1932.

The Sapphire Goddess: The Fantasies of Nictzin Dyalhis, Cover by Margaret Brundage

Just as there is a question about Dyalhis’ first name, there is also speculation that Dyalhis is a playful spelling of the name Dallas, although in Literary Swordsmen and Sorcerers, L. Sprague de Camp explains that his father was a Welshman whose last name was Dyahlis, who had a fascination with the Aztec, from whom the name Nictzin was taken.

It appears that Dyalhis tried his hand at various jobs, which isn’t surprising given that his literary output is limited to a baker’s dozen stories. When he visited Arizona in 1913 with Harriet, he appears to have been involved in mining or panning for gold. In 1920, he listed himself as working as a chemist. While living in Waynesboro, Pennsylvania in 1930, he listed his occupation as a machinist at a tool manufacturing plant. He also claims to have spent time in Asia, where he was introduced to the occult, which is often seen in his writing.

His first published story was “Who Keep the Desert Law,” published in the October 20, 1922 issue of Adventure. In April of 1925, his story “When the Green Star Waned” was published in Weird Tales, where the majority of his stories would appear. “When the Green Star Waned” has the distinction of being the first known reference to a ray gun as a “blastor.” His stories fit in well with the Weird Tales vibe and have the feel of authors like Clark Ashton Smith and August Derleth, offering heroes dealing with supernatural and occult forces which seem to be manifestations of the natural order of things.

Dyalhis died in Salisbury, Maryland on May 8, 1942. His first wife died in 1959 and his second wife in 1977.

Steven H Silver is a twenty-one-time Hugo Award nominee and was the publisher of the Hugo-nominated fanzine Argentus as well as the editor and publisher of ISFiC Press for eight years. He has also edited books for DAW, NESFA Press, and ZNB. His most recent anthology is Alternate Peace and his novel After Hastings was published in 2020. Steven has chaired the first Midwest Construction, Windycon three times, and the SFWA Nebula Conference numerous times. He was programming chair for Chicon 2000 and Vice Chair of Chicon 7.

In April I read 6 books. You can see the reviews for all of them, which ones were my favorite, etc. below. Hope you all had a great month of reading!

I started the following series:

• None

I finished the following series:

• None

My Favorite Books of the Month Were:

• Light From Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki (5/5 stars)
• God’s Junk Drawer by Peter Clines (4.5/5 stars)
• Under Fortunate Stars by Ren Hutchings (5/5 stars)

– Goodreads Reading Challenge (Progress: 39/150)

The full list of books that I read this month are shown below:
1. Platform Decay (The Murderbot Diaries, Book 8) by Martha Wells (4/5 stars)
2. Light From Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki (5/5 stars)
3. Dating After the End of the World by Jeneva Rose (2/5 stars)
4. Sparks and Landmarks (Mitzy Moon Mysteries, Book 4) by Trixie Silvertale, Narrated by Coleen Marlo (4/5 stars)
5. God’s Junk Drawer by Peter Clines (4.5/5 stars)
6. Under Fortunate Stars by Ren Hutchings (5/5 stars)

Reading Level: Adult
Genre: Steampunk/Historical Fantasy
Length: 3 hours and 59 minutes
Publisher: AIBHS
Release Date: June 06, 2022
ASIN: June 06, 2022
Stand Alone or Series: 1st book in the Inspector Davidson Steampunk Mysteries
Source: Audiobook from Audible
Rating: 3/5 stars

“Alternate France, 1871. Art historian Veronica Devine dreams of putting her husband’s betrayal behind her. So she’s grateful for the somewhat distracting mission to transport a valuable collection from a French chateau across the Atlantic. But before her voyage even begins, she’s attacked by thieves and saved by a mysterious stranger.

Luc, the Marquis de Monceau’s, fate is bound to an enchanted ancestral painting. After fleeing the Prussian invasion, his survival hinges on protecting an alias that preserves the rumor of his death. So when the beautiful woman he saves insists she has permission to remove his portraits, he has no choice but to escort her aboard a luxury airship.

Within the confines of the majestic vessel, Veronica and Luc soon discover they have more in common than a love of art. But cryptic messages, a clockwork automaton, and conniving passengers threaten to ground their romantic aspirations.

Will Veronica and Luc unravel the mystery of the masterpiece before dark forces from his past send their ship into the depths?”

Series Info/Source: This is the first book in the Inspector Davidson Steampunk Mysteries. I listened to this on audiobook.

Thoughts: This book had a lot of elements I thought I would like. I did like them, but everything felt underdeveloped and not a lot actually happened.

Veronica is an art historian that gets attacked by pirates while “acquiring” some art. Her team is saved by a mysterious man. Luc is the Marquis of Monceau and is searching for an enchanted ancestral painting and he needs to take a look at some of Veronica “acquired” paintings. When Veronica ends up on an airship to America with the artwork in question, Luc follows her. While on the airship, they encounter others who are after the same powerful piece of art.

This is supposed to be an adventurous steampunk romance. However, I found all the elements of the story to be a bit lacking. There are mentions of intriguing things in this world; gods, enchanted artifacts, automatons, etc. Nothing is really explained or built out; it leaves reader with a glimpse of a world that could be intriguing, if only we got a chance to learn something about it. This is something many novellas struggle with and few do well. Unfortunately, this book really struggles with this.

The characters are very stereotypical and lack depth. Veronica is the strong-willed widow who was suppressed by men her whole life and intends to take the reins of her life and make the best of it. Luc is a long-lived Marquis who lost an eye and is scarred from the loss. Luc doubts his worth because of his marred features, but Veronica sees beyond his surface to his bravery and honesty. The bad guys are just as cookie cutter. The “relationship” that develops between Veronica and Luc seems like it’s supposed to be slow burn, but then feels very abrupt by the end of the book. Again, there was potential here but it just wasn’t executed well.

Additionally, the pacing is not great. The beginning is exciting, the middle is horribly boring, and then the ending gets exciting again. There are so many ways this story could have been amazing; the bones of a cool world are here, and these characters could be interesting with a bit more. Everything just feels sketched out and unfinished.

I listened to this on audiobook and the audiobook was not very well done. The narrator slipped between character’s voices a lot (accidentally using the wrong voice for the wrong character). In general, the narrator’s voice didn’t seem well suited for this story. I would recommend reading this book and not listening to it.

Based on other reviews it looks like the full length novel in this series is more well received. Unfortunately, I was looking for a quick audiobook to listen to on a shortish road trip and I just didn’t enjoy this. My husband was in the car as well and actually flat out stopped listening to it about an hour in because he was bored.

My Summary (3/5): Overall this was okay, I think the world has potential and a lot of the themes are ones I like. Everything about this is underdeveloped, though. The characters are stereotypical, and we get faint glimpses of a potentially fascinating world that is never well developed. The audiobook narration was just plain old bad. I don’t plan on reading any more books in this series, which is a shame because I am always on the look out for a new fascinating steampunk world.

We have beautiful overlays from Helena Elias, and today is you chance to win a set. We made you this video explaining what the overlays are, so you have a chance to listen to me in my Sell Products Online era.

If you are reading this in your inbox and can’t see the video, here is a direct link to the post.

If you are already a newsletter subscriber, no need to do anything. Your email address is already entered.

If you haven’t subscribed, you have two options: Publishing News, which comes out only a few times a year with important news like new releases and giveaways, and Blog Updates, which delivers all of our blog posts to your inbox. We will not sell or share your information; your email address stays with us and is used only for our newsletters.

As stated, these are prototypes, and the portraits of Sol and Ramond turned out to be a little too dark when printed, so they will be lightened for the final printing. Please note that I said 3 times in the video that these are semi-transparent. That’s because experience tells me that someone will order these and be terribly upset because they are not art prints.

If you would prefer to order Helena’s prints, they are available at her store.

Winner will be chosen next Friday, May 08, 2026. We will ship internationally; however, there is no guarantee that the prints will arrive to you. In the event the prints are lost in transit, we will not replace them and will bear no responsibility for compensating you.

The post This Kingdom Gives Away Vellum Overlays first appeared on ILONA ANDREWS.

As you've no doubt already heard, we have about a year left before the release of my new book, Overworld, in April 2027.

But, of course, you knew that. You saw my elementally appropriate Pokémon shirts. 

Not only have I been writing this book for a while already, but we're in the middle of the editing process now. Since this is my first project with Tor, or any traditional publisher, I've gotten to learn a new editing process. A much cooler one.

Most people don't know this, but Tor edits by printing off the manuscript and having each author hike it up to the top of an active volcano. If you recite the chant correctly while tossing it into lava page by page, Tor alchemists can reconstitute the ash into a version of the book with no errors.

If you do mess up the chant, sometimes you'll end up with the wrong "their." Or an extra "ring like a bell."

My usual editing process involves sailing out into the deep sea and using a printed copy of my manuscript as bait to hook a fish, then grilling and eating that fish so I can taste the typos. But I'll try it their way this time.

So, does that mean you'll have to wait another year for my next book? No!

Not unless something goes horribly wrong, anyway. Like the volcano rejecting my gift.

The Commander is still slated for release this year. In fact, as many of you have already noted by looking slightly to the right, I finished a draft of it a few weeks ago.

But then it was back to editing Overworld! And now it will be back to writing another draft of The Commander. Then editing The Commander. Then writing The Sword. Then maybe editing The Commander one more time, depending on what the volcano says. Then releasing The Commander. Then editing The Sword. 

And so on and so forth. They call that The Circle of (My) Life.

​-Will

Other LitStack Spots We’ve spotted a few other titles to add to our TBR stack,…

The post Spotlight on “Waiting on a Friend” by Natalie Adler appeared first on LitStack.