Reviewed by Victoria Lilly

Raw, witty, and irreverent—a sharp interrogation of the rust that lies beneath the gilded cage of the glamorous sorority life

Stella’s life as a sophomore sorority sister at the University of Michigan is a revolving door of alcohol, drugs, loud music and louder giggling. Yet the glamor and the brazen self-confidence are entirely hollow. Since the previous spring, Stella has been spiraling into depression and self-destruction, fueled by an unnamed trauma. Her mother considering her daughter’s issues a nuisance and her therapist droning over scripts oblivious to her patient’s true issues, Stella digs herself deeper one destructive party after another.

Things change when Penny, a lonely and deeply insecure student from New York, hitches a ride to Michigan looking for her former best friend. Instead Penny bonds with Stella, the only girl among the roster of fashion-magazine-perfect sorority beauties who takes note of the newcomer. Penny’s earnestness and humanity single her out in the world of plastic smiles and drug-fueled vapidity, and Stella begins to change through their friendship. She even begins a seemingly healthy and happy romance with a kind fraternity boy. But the college world which they inhabit begins to suck Penny into its vortex, while Stella struggles to escape it. In this swirl of feelings, drugs, and secrets, their blooming friendship is put to the test.

The Gilded Butterfly Effect is a gripping portrait of the dark underbelly of the American college experience and of the contrasting faces of female friendship. Through a tangled web of relationships and deft use of style and point-of-view, Heather Colley exposes the toxic undercurrents of college culture: addiction masked as glamor, misogyny cloaked as tradition, and the brutal demands placed on young women to perform beauty and conformity. The “butterfly effect” of small decisions—joining a party, trying a pill, befriending the wrong person—ripples outward into moments of crisis and self-reinvention.

Probably the strongest element of the novel is its style. Colley’s prose vividly immerses the reader in the drug- and liquor-fueled haze of inane college parties; in the neurotic psyche of its protagonists; and in the tense and tender moments of vulnerability between them, when courage to be earnest overcomes numbness or anxiety.

The prose gives each point of view character a distinct presence: Stella’s voice brims with bravado, cynicism, and (initially) performative cruelty, while Penny’s narrative is more introspective, vulnerable, and drenched in profound insecurity. By digging deep into the heroines’ inner worlds, the story creates a rich and tumultuous experience out of the repetition and the haze and the superficiality of the parties and hookups and constant drug abuse that comprise Stella’s and Penny’s lives.

The inanity of the “fun” college experience and sorority socialization is painted with marvelous realism, as are the mental health problems of the heroines. Stella’s body-image issues and eating disorders are some of the most compelling aspects of the novel, as well as her relationship with her careless mother Minnie. Child-parent relationships and the generational recreation of the sorority/fraternity lives are other strong points of the story, with events such as the parental visit to the university a delightfully depressing punctuation of the regular rut of college life.

Colley also succeeds in capturing the many contradictions of young adult femininity. The sorority house, a space marketed as a supportive sisterhood, becomes instead a crucible of competition, self-destruction, and quiet violence. Stella, in particular, embodies the paradox of empowerment and entrapment: she wields her charisma to dominate social hierarchies, yet her dependency on drugs and male validation renders her fragile. Penny, meanwhile, represents an “imperfect” outsider’s desperate longing to belong to a world of fun and glamor—she yearns to be seen, admired, and desired. Their entanglement illuminates how friendships between young women can oscillate between intimacy and rivalry, tenderness and cruelty, often within the same breath.

At once jarring and hypnotic, The Gilded Butterfly Effect deploys witty and flowing prose to provide a sharp and bleak examination of femininity, friendship, and coming into adulthood. It grapples with evergreen themes from a fresh angle and does not shy away from touching upon dark and traumatic subject material. Colley demonstrates a gift for inhabiting multiple voices and rendering a world that feels simultaneously grotesque and magnetic. This novel is neither easy nor comforting. However, its willingness to dwell in the messy realities of girls coming into womanhood under the seductive lights of hedonism and male attention are sure to leave a lasting impression.

Thank you for reading Victoria Lilly’s book review of The Gilded Butterfly Effect by Heather Colley! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Lauren Hayataka

A legacy that shows reconciliation is never passive—it must be pursued

Jeffrey Gale’s A Human Rights Odyssey: From Dreams Deferred to Reconciliation continues the life story of Rabbi Isaac Levin, first introduced in The Secret of Redemption, with the same intellectual rigor and emotional weight—but with a new, urgent tenderness that makes this sequel feel both more intimate and more expansive.

Opening in 2014, the novel situates Isaac as a rabbi in northern Manhattan, where his synagogue, Rodef Tzedek, has become a beacon of inclusivity. Yet even in this celebrated city, Isaac knows that prejudice still festers.

The book begins in the shadow of two devastating events: the police shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, and the murder of Indigenous teenager Tina Fontaine in Winnipeg. These tragedies spark a deep reflection in Isaac, one that takes him—and the reader—on a sweeping journey through decades of activism, spiritual leadership, and the unrelenting pursuit of equality. From the segregated suburbs of 1960s St. Louis to Soviet refusenik apartments, Canadian prairies, penitentiary chapels, post-9/11 New York, and back again, the scope is astonishing.

Like its predecessor, A Human Rights Odyssey examines the complex role of religious institutions during times of social crisis. Yet Gale avoids simple binaries. The novel honors Jewish prophetic tradition while also making space for agnosticism, doubt, and interfaith collaboration. Some of the book’s most stirring passages come from Isaac’s mentors—rabbis, cousins, professors, and even prison inmates—who remind him that “true religion is about fighting for justice outside of the hallowed walls.”

That said, this is not a novel of unrelenting heaviness. Gale breaks the tension with small, grounding details: anxious preparations for an interfaith Thanksgiving program, the youthful awe of hearing West Side Story for the first time, and a black cat named Bad Bob beloved by inmates. These flashes of humanity let the work breathe, and remind the reader that the work of repair is sustained not only by courage but also by tenderness, by the small joys that keep us moving forward.

Gale’s prose is deliberate and thoughtful, often resembling a rabbinic sermon in its cadence. Each chapter feels like a lesson wrapped in a story, touching on topics from the legacy of West Side Story to the shadow of the Holocaust, from the fight for prison reform to the heartbreak of losing a lifelong friend. One of the most affecting threads is Isaac’s decades-long friendship with Jeremy, an African American classmate he once misjudged. Their bond—tested by racism, time, and tragedy—becomes one of the novel’s most moving through-lines.

The novel is unapologetically didactic at times, offering a near-encyclopedic tour through civil rights struggles, Jewish history, Indigenous suffering, and modern American inequities. And yet it rarely drifts into sermonizing. Gale’s strength lies in showing how these historical forces shape Isaac’s lived experience—whether he’s preparing a Cree girl for her bat mitzvah, standing up to the Michigan Department of Corrections, or revisiting the segregated classrooms of his youth.

What makes this sequel especially relevant today is its insistence on proactive solidarity. Isaac reminds us that reconciliation requires more than speeches—it demands presence, persistence, and often, a certain level of discomfort. This is not simply a book about anti-Semitism, but about the wider machinery of exclusion—racism, xenophobia, economic inequality—and the systemic forces that allow them to endure. Only then, Gale notes, can individuals and communities do more than remember, but also repair.

If there’s a flaw in A Human Rights Odyssey, it’s the sheer weight of its ambition. At times, the dense historical exposition slows momentum. One may feel overwhelmed by the sheer number of names, places, and events. But for those willing to stay with it, to let its many layers unfold, the payoff is profound.

Ultimately, this is a story about legacy—not only the legacy of a rabbi or a congregation, but of friendship, faith, and moral responsibility. Gale’s portrait of Isaac Levin is one of a man constantly striving—not for perfection, but for integrity. His journey resists tidy resolution. Instead, it affirms the dignity of the struggle itself, the daily work of pushing the proverbial rock uphill again and again. As one character insists, “The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart.”

A Human Rights Odyssey is not a book to be rushed. It is a book to be wrestled with, to be annotated, to be discussed. And in that way, it succeeds—not just as a sequel, but as a moral call to action.

Thank you for reading Lauren Hayataka’s book review of A Human Rights Odyssey by Jeffrey Gale! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Victoria Lilly

A compelling family saga exploring the many ways in which we find belonging on the restless seas of everyday life

Twenty-year-old Sidney surfer Julia Corning’s life is turned upside down when she receives an email from across the world from an unknown woman.

Miriam Worthington, a successful TV actress in the UK, tells Julia—along with a Californian businesswoman Catrina—a shocking revelation: they are sisters. Feeling trapped in a television role she’s outgrown, her mother’s sudden death shattering her foundation and pulling her toward self-sabotage, Miriam reaches out to Julia and Catrina seeking connection.

For Julia, long dissatisfied with her father’s disapproval and unconcealed disappointment, the revelation is the push she needs to start building a life of her own. Julia leans into the newfound sisterhood with Miriam, which becomes a source of strength and endurance.

For Catrina, it’s an unwelcome distraction from her focus on making a break in California’s tech sector, to say nothing of her tumultuous romantic and platonic relationships. As the sisters’ lives begin to increasingly intersect and their dreams of success encounter the complexities of everyday life, they must confront how their father’s presence or absence has shaped them, and to overcome it.

Fresh, honest, and vulnerable, Ocean Child poignantly explores the tensions between charting new courses and confronting past grievances. Deploying an ensemble cast of primary and supporting characters, moving across time and around the world, it seeks an answer to finding one’s identity and purpose between ever-shifting relationships and life-goals. It is a story about constant change and lasting questions, symbolized by the imagery of waves and unpredictable winds on one hand and the eternal summers of Australia and California on the other. A prominent theme is the meaning of success, both in terms of interpersonal relationships and career achievements, with each of the three sisters’ individual stories adding realistic yet engaging angles to the interrogation.

My only real quibble with this story is the occasionally uneven pacing, either due to an over-dependence on dialogue or events that needed more scene-setting.Thankfully, the complexities and colorfulness of each character more than compensate. Side characters—such as Gus the Greek innkeeper or Sam the charming Californian barista and Catrina’s lifelong friend—are a major highlight of the novel and ground some of its most enjoyable scenes.

Another noteworthy element is the side character Linda, the manager of the actress Miriam. Her own conflicted quest for community and success—the elusive American Dream—is an intriguing parallel to the stories of its three principal characters. Linda’s love for literature provides an intertextual conversation and comparison to the novel’s intellectual inspirations, such as the work of Horatio Alger and Hunter S. Thompson.

The story wears its heart on its sleeve and tackles questions of belonging and success with a raw honesty. The exploration of themes is realized with skill and spirit through the development of a stellar ensemble of characters and a compelling dramatic plot. The book does not shy away from confronting serious issues such as alienation, abandonment, and the challenges of everyday life at work and at home.

Ocean Child is fresh and bright without unearned sweetness, thanks to its earnest heart.

Thank you for reading Victoria Lilly’s book review of Ocean Child by M.E. Flatow! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by John M. Murray

A darkly funny, deeply introspective novel about memory, family, and the uneasy work of healing a life derailed by loss

Recovering Maurice follows Maurice Obster, a 59-year-old economics professor who has lived a life shaped by unresolved grief, guilt, and psychological wounds.

Set primarily in the Bay Area and stretching back to Michigan and Chicago in mid-century America, the novel is a fictional memoir with real literary and psychological weight. Maurice’s journey begins almost accidentally—he stumbles across a book titled Trauma and Recovery while riding the ferry home—and this chance encounter becomes the frame through which he begins to re-examine his life. Much of the novel consists of his memories: his upbringing in a house dominated by the health crises of his older brother Emil, his mother Penelope’s anxious perfectionism, and his father Ralph’s quiet resignation.

The novel is structured in four parts—Learning, Hoping, Losing, and Finding—that echo the arc of trauma and recovery. In the first part, Maurice moves through formative childhood experiences, including a crushing disappointment on Bozo the Clown, constant social awkwardness, and the looming medical shadow of Emil’s neurological condition. As Maurice grows, he grapples with isolation, sleep disorders, and obsessive thought patterns—all portrayed with dark humor and painful precision.

The second part follows Maurice as he attempts to find stability through academia, marriage, and a quirky yet sincere intellectual curiosity. The third part deepens the psychological inquiry as Maurice reckons with the breakdown of his carefully constructed adult life.

The final part completes the book’s arc with surprising grace and warmth. Rather than a dramatic transformation, Maurice’s recovery begins with quiet, cumulative realizations: an honest conversation with a former student, the tentative rebuilding of familial connections, and his unexpected return to therapy.

Zelder’s narrative voice is exacting, emotionally honest, and at times mordantly funny. Maurice is not a likable protagonist in the traditional sense, but he is immensely relatable—particularly in his earnest desire to “get things right” in a world that often seems too complicated for tidy resolutions.

The book’s real strength lies in how well it balances psychological realism with narrative inventiveness. The childhood chapters are especially poignant and exquisitely observed. Emil, the brilliant but broken older brother, is rendered with such tragic weight that he lingers long after the scenes end. His mother Penelope is both a source of structure and suffocating pressure—a portrait of mid-century maternal sacrifice with modern psychological complexity. Lines like, “Maurice envied his short-lived chameleon, who, as he understood it, could spontaneously and effortlessly change himself and thus avoid having his discrepancies stand out,” show the precision of Zelder’s language and insight into neurotic psychology.

While Recovering Maurice is often engrossing, its literary density may challenge those expecting a more conventional plot. The internal monologues, while often brilliant, occasionally bog down the pacing. The scenes set in adulthood, particularly in academia, sometimes feel abstract compared to the vivid, emotionally charged early chapters. That said, these narrative choices mirror Maurice’s own disassociation and difficulty connecting with the present—an artistic risk that ultimately works more often than it falters. The novel’s structure, with its nonlinear flashbacks and philosophical digressions, requires patience and attention, but offers rewarding insights.

Recovering Maurice is a stirring, smart, and darkly funny exploration of the long half-life of childhood trauma. It’s a story about how the past burrows into the psyche and how even the most functional lives can be built on unexamined foundations of fear and sorrow. Through careful prose and deeply rendered characters, the narrative shows that mental health is not as simple as sick versus healthy, but as a continuum of struggle, hope, and acceptance. It’s not an easy read, but it is a worthwhile one—emotionally resonant, psychologically astute, and, in the end, surprisingly redemptive.

Thank you for reading John M. Murray’s book review of Recovering Maurice by Martin Zelder! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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by Nick Gardner

Indie lit has always been counterculture.

It would honestly be nuts for a small press to open their door to submissions without the desire to fight the status quo. The very idea of indie lit is anticapitalist (small presses probably won’t get you rich), anti-establishment (the “Big Five” can eat it), and, for the most part, small presses like fiction that breaks the rules. But what makes a book punk-as-fuck goes beyond the author’s antiauthoritarian leanings. It must have some other pull. It needs music.

While this list is far from exhaustive, it focuses on books of literary fiction that don’t just have that punk fierceness, that blatant challenging of authority, but those that also have the music.

Think Bad Brains, Buzzcocks, Pere Ubu. You can get behind the lyrics, the message, the ethos, the power, but a punk group is nothing if the sound doesn’t make you want to mosh. That’s what makes these specific literary fiction authors stand out: not only the shared goal of challenging the way the reader sees the world, but also an understanding of the aesthetic necessary to keep a reader glued to the page. 

Here are 7 literary fiction books that challenge the status quo.

(Book lists on Independent Book Review are chosen by very picky people. As affiliates, we earn a commission on books you purchase through our links.)

1. Someone Who Isn’t Me

Author: Geoff Rickly

Publisher: Rose Books (2023)

Print Length: 258 pages

ISBN: 9798987581827

Asterism

Amazon

Okay, some can argue that he’s more post-hardcore than punk, but Geoff Rickly’s debut novel, Someone Who Isn’t Me, hums with musical prose that rivals the best lyrical writers of literary fiction.

A heroin addict and lead singer, the protagonist, Geoff, seeks sobriety through the psychedelic drug Ibogaine. His trip sends him on a psychic spiral through his guilt-laden past, forcing him to contend with the person he has become. Rickly depicts Geoff’s wild tour across the United States, not holding back on the bickering or the drugs. It’s a dirty novel in the way that addiction can be dirty. But it also breaks the trend of stories about addiction. Refusing to pause on the fallout, Rickly writes beyond into recovery and hope. 

2. No Names

Author: Greg Hewett

Publisher: Coffee House Press (April 2025)

Print Length: 352 pages

ISBN: 9781566897259

Bookshop

Amazon

Greg Hewett’s No Names is by far the slowest moving of the works of literary fiction in this list. Think Sleep’s Dopesmoker. Okay, maybe it’s doom metal. Whatever the case, punk is the root.

As Hewett skips around from POV to POV, a large focus is a punk band called, of course, The No Names, and the sketchy European tour that ended the band. But there’s also quite a bit of classical music in the background, as well as a long exploration of friendships entangled with sexual experimentation. Maybe the end drags on a bit longer than expected, but the prose holds up, a song that slowly diminishes rather than ending with a crash. 

Looking for more literary fiction recommendations? Check out our best books of 2024!

3. Earth Angel

Author: Madeline Cash

Publisher: CLASH Books (April 18, 2023)

Print Length: 152 pages

ISBN: 9781955904698

Bookshop

Amazon

Easy to read cover-to-cover in a single sitting, Earth Angel is all power chords, heavy and fast. Cash’s sentences are short and piercing and her endings cut to nothing rather than attempting a summation or even a meaning. Because everything is meaningless, right? 

Think Biblical plagues, Isis recruits, childless millennials and millennials with children that they’re not quite sure what to do with. Think designer drugs, broke city dwellers, homicidal fantasies, porn. Maybe Earth Angel is too modern to hold to the ‘80s DIY ethos, but it’s still counterculture AF. It still questions authority, culture, and god. It’s a witty collection for confused kids who definitely don’t want to grow up.

4. Scumbag Summer

Author: Jillian Luft

Publisher: House of Vlad Press (June 2024)

Print Length: 192 pages

ISBN: 9798320644059

Bookshop

Amazon

More sex, more drugs, more blood and fallout, Scumbag Summer explores smoky bowling alleys and dive bars, the crass scenery of Orlando. Though she’s a college grad, the protagonist seems intent on continuing her nihilistic young-adulthood, refusing to settle into any kind of square, middle class grind.

Orlando for her is No Doz and 7 layer burritos, and as she lodges herself more deeply into the dumpster fire, she spots the pages with social commentary, a distrust of wealth and power and an understanding of  “trash culture,” of those stuck in on the lower rungs of the social hierarchy who sometimes can’t even imagine the climb. Scumbag Summer also contains one of the most punk lines I’ve ever read: “Love is a friendly butcher.”

5. Ghosts of East Baltimore

Author: David Simmons

Publisher: Broken River Books (2022)

Print Length: 202 pages

ISBN: 9781940885544

Amazon

A Baltimore native with a deep understanding of the underground, David Simmons shrugs off the rules in his debut literary crime thriller. As with the other books on this list, there’s a unique and manic music behind Simmons’ prose. It’s rough music, blasted loud. I mean what’s more punk than a protagonist named Worm who gets out of prison to find that he’s the only one who can take out a drug ring smuggling dangerous chemicals into his community?

Simmons raises the bar for punk AF literature with his cutting social commentary, including “crack epidemic” history lessons and a deep understanding of Baltimore’s crime and corruption-ridden past. 

6. Hellions

Author: Julia Elliott

Publisher: Tin House Books (April 15, 2025)

Print Length: 272 pages

ISBN: 9781963108064

Bookshop

Amazon

Witches, Cryptids, Ghosts, and other supernatural entities plague the pages of Julia Elliott’s strange collection of longer short fiction. No flash stories here. But just like when you enter a DIY venue and feel surrounded by like minds, the pages of Hellions is a comforting place for those who have normalized the weird.

In “The Maiden,” a community trampoline allows a witchy girl to show up the popular kids with her otherworldly acrobatics before disappearing to her woodland squat. And in “Hellion,” a tough twelve-year-old tames an alligator. Elliott’s stories are filled with loners and weirdos outperforming their normative peers and youngsters challenging their parents’ conservative ideals. What’s more punk than that?

7. Hey You Assholes

Author: Kyle Seibel

Publisher: CLASH Books (March 25, 2025)

Print Length: 272 pages

ISBN: 9781960988393

Bookshop

Amazon

Seibel’s story of trying to publish this debut book of short literary fiction, Hey You Assholes is filled with almost as many bizarre twists as the book itself. It reminds me of a 21st century reenactment of ‘80s punk bands banging down doors to book a studio or distro a record. He couldn’t have found a better home for his book than Clash Books, a publisher of some of the strangest and most energetic fiction on the market. Energetic is the word, because even the longer stories don’t stop driving. ThinkLandowner Plays Dopesmoker 666% Faster and with No Distortion.

Hey You Assholes is a deep dive into the lives of unpopular people: soft-hearted alcoholics, wiley factory workers, and Navy veterans who feel forever lost at sea. None of Seibel’s characters have money or power and they definitely don’t have any respect for The Man. 

Want some thrills in your bookshelf? Check out the best indie thrillers!

About the Author

Nick Gardner is a writer, teacher, and critic who has worked as a winemaker, chef, painter, shoe salesman, and addiction counselor. His latest collection of stories from the Rust Belt, Delinquents And Other Escape Attempts, is out now from Madrona Books. He lives in Ohio and Washington, DC and works as a beer and wine monger in Maryland.

Thank you for reading Nick Gardner’s “Literary Fiction Books That Are Punk AF!” If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Samantha Hui

A poignant story about how true freedom lies not in escaping the past but in embracing the present journey

“You can waste your whole life thinking you see things clearly until you wake up one morning and realize you haven’t seen a goddamn thing.”

Rob Costello’s An Ugly World for Beautiful Boys delves into the complexities of identity, self-acceptance, and the scars left by a difficult past. With its powerful exploration of toxic masculinity, generational trauma, and the struggle to find joy in a harsh world, this novel challenges readers to reflect on how society shapes young men and the struggles they face in embracing their true selves. It speaks to the enduring need for love, understanding, and connection, especially when confronted with personal and societal obstacles.

“All he ever succeeded in doing was to remind me he believed we’d come from shame. If there was anything infecting our lives, it was that.”

Toby Ryerson lives in the shadow of his mother’s scandalous past and tragic death. Embracing his reputation as the son of the town’s most promiscuous woman and his identity as a beautiful, flamboyant young man, Toby refuses to shrink in the face of judgment from the conservative town of Shelter Valley. 

Yet, as he navigates the pressures of his senior year of high school, it seems he is on a path that mirrors his mother’s troubled life. His challenges multiply as he contends with the emotional turmoil of his childhood friend Dylan, who is struggling with his own sexuality, while also facing the mounting expectations of his older brother, Jimmy, who insists Toby attend college. With obstacles piling up, Toby’s senior year spirals into a chaotic series of events, forcing him to question whether any positive resolution is possible.  

“At least my body was always there to tell my story to me. It was the one thing I truly owned in life, and its infinite capacity for sensation, its responses to pleasure and pain were mine and mine alone.”

Told almost as an epistolary novel addressed to his late mother, this story offers an intimate glimpse into the heart and mind of a young man grappling with his fears, desires, and unresolved past. Through Toby’s eyes, we witness not only his internal struggles but also the broader issues of America’s relationship with the past and the unspoken consequences now arising in its present. 

Toby never received closure after his mother overdosed when he was just four years old, and now, as Dylan falls into a coma before they can resolve their relationship, Toby faces the painful reality of unfinished connections. His strained relationship with his brother Jimmy, who avoids talking about their mother and anything truly meaningful, only deepens the emotional rift between them. These unresolved issues shape Toby’s complex sense of self, making him both fiercely independent and fearful that his own selfishness may lead to destruction.

“But without my brother to dream better things for me, all I had left was this, the best I’d ever dreamed for myself.”

This novel shines in its exploration of the various ways masculinity manifests in the lives of young men, highlighting the damaging effects of toxic masculinity in every scenario. Costello has created multi-dimensional characters who are raw, imperfect, and utterly human. Readers will find themselves swept up in Toby’s joy, only to feel frustration when he makes mistakes. While Toby is proud of his beauty and queerness, his desire to maintain a strong sense of identity pushes him to dream of escaping Shelter Valley for the city. 

But his longing to leave blinds him to the important question: What awaits him in the city? Dylan, in contrast, serves as a foil to Toby; his more masculine, closeted identity forces him to navigate the complexities of being a gay man who desires to remain unnoticed and adhere to societal expectations. Through their contrasting journeys, this novel powerfully portrays the struggle of embracing one’s true self in a world that demands conformity.

“You can’t burn your bridges to home. Don’t you know that’s what makes it home?”

An Ugly World for Beautiful Boys is a deeply moving novel about finding self-acceptance and communal joy amidst life’s messiness. Content warning for readers who have experienced certain traumas, as the book touches on topics such as substance abuse, death, sexual abuse, harassment, homophobia, and child neglect. Given that Toby is only seventeen, the series of events he faces are even more devastating. This novel will leave readers reflecting on the men in their lives and recognizing that these men were once boys, and many of them were failed by an ugly world. But with a little more love and acceptance, perhaps these boys can still find their way back to beauty.

Thank you for reading Samantha Hui’s book review of An Ugly World for Beautiful Boys by Rob Costello! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Haley Perry

An emotionally wrought tale about lost love and learning to move on

One year after the untimely death of his wife Amber, Howard Lynch is caught in a flood alongside his dog Coby. As the town’s river rises, Howard must decide whether to escape his home to safety or risk his life to remain with the last physical link to his relationship with Amber.

The novel is told in alternating timelines, so the author fills in the gaps of Howard’s life as the narrative progresses. The 2001 timeline begins two weeks after Amber’s death and follows 47-year-old Howard through the initial stages of his grief. It then skips a year to the time of the flood, where Howard reckons with life without Amber and the concept of moving on. 

The other timeline begins in 1962 when Howard is eight years old and living with his violent father after his mother walks out. While about a third of the earlier timeline is devoted to Howard’s childhood and adolescence, the remainder of this timeline is dedicated to his complex relationship with Amber. 

Howard and Amber’s relationship is beautifully intense yet tragic at every turn. From the moment Howard first sees Amber at a bar and spends the night with her, he knows he is meant to be with her. Yet unexpected events keep him from returning for a few weeks, and, in that time, she moves away. 

For the next five years, Howard recalls Amber as the one who got away, until he stumbles upon her book signing and the pair is reunited. Throughout their twenties and thirties, the couple dances around one another, breaking hearts and realizing that what they’ve found might have come too late. And yet once they do finally end up together, their tragedy unfolds a final time as Amber passes.

Murray’s writing style is clear and dynamic. While not all of the characters are likable, they are exceptionally real and always three-dimensional. Even the smallest characters have clear motives and strong personalities. Howard’s story is heart-wrenching and engaging throughout, and, kudos to the author for this one, Autumn In Wolf Valley skips forward in time effortlessly without ever feeling rushed. The pace is spot on.

The first forty or so pages include a near-continual depiction of animal and child abuse and neglect, so it can be difficult to get too close to. However, this does decrease in frequency as the novel progresses, and it is relevant to understanding Howard’s character growth. While the novel is inherently sad in nature—it centers around grief for a lost partner after all—the moments sometimes feel so melancholic that it could bring readers down a few notches. Have your tissues ready.

This is a sorrowful, heartfelt novel about reckoning with guilt, death, and lost love. But from this sadness emerges a message about moving on and recognizing the love you had.

Thank you for reading Haley Perry’s book review of Autumn In Wolf Valley by Ed A. Murray! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Eric Mayrhofer

Poetic and inventive, Fiston Mwanza Mujila’s The Villain’s Dance sees—and mourns—the Angola that could have been.

There are times when the momentous occurs, when you see clear as day the before and the after, the exact moment that life irrevocably changed. For many, that might be a loved one’s death. For Tshiamuena, one of the central characters in Fiston Mwanza Mujila’s The Villain’s Dance, it is the missed opportunity for Angola to eschew the sway of White colonialism and achieve its own greatness.

In the novel’s opening pages, Tshiamuena reveals that after the revolution removing the country from foreign rule, Angola “was becoming a colander. Porous borders. A stampede in both directions. [Young Zairians] breezed in by the dozens, by the hundreds, carrying all sorts of goods. Angola was cut off from the world. And staples…were snapped up like you haven’t the slightest idea. We bartered gems for these products thousands of times.”

Throughout the novel, readers see her presiding over ambitious Angolan miners as a mix of spiritual prophet, memory keeper, governor, and mascot. She is a woman who builds her own myth by shrouding her very age in mystery—was she born in the twentieth century or the fifteenth?—and she is, as her would-be biographer Franz puts it, “a lady who’s a little too full of herself.” 

First and foremost, however, Tshiamuena is a mourner grieving a nation that could have been. She watches human chains of miners bring up diamonds from the Angolan dirt, gems that have no value until they leave the country and arrive in Belgium, where presumably White Europeans decide their worth.

This situation could have been avoided, but as Tshiamuena sees repeatedly, her people miss the bigger picture, the true wealth. They trade their diamonds away for more worthless things that are more immediately attainable. Why? Because fulfilling desires, even if you fulfill them with worthless things, can bring the illusion of wealth.

Readers see that dynamic over and over again in The Villain’s Dance as the novel flits from Tshiamuena to both Franz and two other boys: Molakisi, who runs away from home to realize his (wholly unoriginal) dreams of being rich, and Sanza, who begins the story homeless as a direct result of Molakisi’s actions. 

While the story itself is somber, following these characters through their hardships is a delight. Mujila’s voice is commanding without being obvious, drawing readers in with an inviting, conversational tone that feels like someone talking to you. Readers will be dozens of pages in before realizing how far and fast they’ve been swept along. 

The prose is inventive as well. The book opens with vivid, tall tale description of Tshiamuena, for instance. “Tshiamuena this, Tshiamuena that. Tshiamuena’s got wings, big wings, and as soon as night falls, this witch takes off and flits about for miles and miles,” the gossiping hordes say, but this larger-than-life portrait is a gateway into learning about the setting—Angola after rebellion.

By the same token, readers learn that Franz, a character seemingly disconnected from everything in Angola if it weren’t for his fascination with Tshiamuena, is plagued by “insane perfectionism. For him, the sentence was what really counted in a novel. He gauged each one in the manner of an ophthalmologist examining his patients’ eyes.” At every turn, Mujila chooses an oblique or character-driven angle to explore the novel’s larger themes, and The Villain’s Dance is more breathtaking for the choice.

That approach also ensures that The Villain’s Dance always circles back to its main questions: What is true wealth? Is giving over to your base desires ever truly fulfilling? And is it better overall to live in reality, to see a humbled self and a broken world for what they are, or to live in the beautiful legends we build for ourselves? Tshiamuena may grieve discovering the answers, but readers will revel in exploring these ideas—and this story—for themselves. 

Thank you for reading Eric Mayrhofer’s book review of The Villain’s Dance by Fiston Mwanza Mujila! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Addison Ciuchta

An expertly woven story collection about love and identity in a fully fleshed Greenwich Village

Made up of one novella and fifteen short stories, Greenwich Connection is all set in the same world— Greenwich Village in New York—but taking place at different times. 

The novella follows Monty and Terry, both soldiers in 1944 who fall in love with each other on the battlefield. When Monty is presumed dead, Terry is left reeling in the aftermath of their brief but meaningful time together. Then a chance encounter in a parking lot sets Terry’s life in another direction. The short stories that follow take the point of view of other residents of Greenwich Village between 1944 and 2001, all of whom have their own journeys finding love and happiness as members of the LGBTQ+ community across the decades.

Each character’s story intertwines with another’s. Those set in the later years give a new perspective or resolution to those set further in the past, and each adds more depth and development to the world. A character who may play a small role in the lives of Terry and Monty may take center stage in another’s life or even get their own moment to shine as the main character of their own short story. It’s a fun and enriching way to build on a world while only giving characters glimpses into the lives of characters who feel real. The author writes with a sharp poeticism, introducing characters and their quirks in as little as one sentence before they’re endearing enough to root wholeheartedly for.

“Terry was eternally on the lookout for trouble and overjoyed when it found him.”

While it could be easy to slip into the same voice for each character, the author doesn’t fall into that trap. Each point of view is different, each struggle is unique to the character, and each love story is individual and touching in equal measure. Each character is gay or lesbian or queer, and their stories are intentional, thoughtful, and realistic. The author doesn’t shy away from hard topics either, with characters experiencing AIDS, addiction, violence, heartbreak, and tragedy. But the stories don’t tokenize or caricature anyone; each character is given their space to become their own person with flaws and dreams and a unique point of view.

“Miss Dee Andrea Monet smoothed the nylon stocking against her left calf, which still bore several almost-imperceptible welts from her childhood.”

The setting becomes a character in and of itself, especially as characters move around the same spaces in the same neighborhood but seen through different eyes. The constant interweaving of stories gives the city a lived-in feel as readers get to see it across nearly sixty years. Since the one-off character we see walking down the street or doing performance art in one story could get their own story down the line, it emits a living, breathing atmosphere to the entire neighborhood. We’re reminded that everyone in that city (and in your own) has their own lives, struggles, and identities.

“She was happy for me, but sad too because she’d seen lightning strike and knew it wasn’t going to happen twice.”

Greenwich Connection is a striking, superbly interwoven collection that rings with realism as queer characters languish, live, and love in the same neighborhood spanning six decades.

Thank you for reading Addison Ciuchta’s book review of Greenwich Connection by Richard Natale! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Toni Woodruff

A smartly funny collection of lists, quips, and critiques

It takes an experimentalist to write this kind of literary fiction—a collection that dabbles, that dances, that reflects the rush of our slow everyday lives. An academic in mind but a human at heart, Radu Guiaşu is our qualified experimentalist here. And he’s ready to poke fun at just about everything, with sharp punchlines, funny concepts, and entertaining lists.

This book is a hodgepodge of creativity. You already know about the lists in the collection, but that isn’t the only alternate form the stories take. Some are fictional essays; some are all dialogue; some are an absolute riot. 

I’m looking at you, “Save the Yellow-Bellied Scumsucker!” Oh man, this story. The titular fish thrives on scum—on gross rivers and streams, on the negative effects humans have had on it. But we keep cleaning it! Sure it might sound good to clean all the rivers and streams, but what if you’re destroying a species? This is a fun, lighthearted play on conservation efforts, but it doesn’t even knock it in the end. It acknowledges our role in it, that we are funny and worth laughing at, and that life impacts life, no matter how.

“If I didn’t talk about what a loser I am, I would have nothing to say.”

Guiaşu’s creative forms take on varied subjects, but many of them are cutting up academia, publishing, and why people do the things they do. Some stories are joke forward while other stories lead with their heart and have jokes in tow, like “Rolls Royce Silver Shadow,” a meaningful story about childhood, memory, and artifacts. Other highlights include “The Date” and “The Day the Bear Came.”

There’s a lot to like in this collection, but some of the lists can feel a bit repetitive and some are more effective than others. Since all of them come in during the second half of the book, it creates for a swift reading experience, but I can’t help but wonder what it would have felt like if only the best of them were interspersed with the other story forms instead of one after the other. 

The book’s best lists tell stories and make us laugh at the same time, like “Things You Probably Should Not Say at Your 40th High School Reunion.” This one gives us glimpses into various characters and what could happen on a single night with a bunch of very old semi-friends turned strangers. I loved these lists. There isn’t much scene-setting and character-building for all those who ask that of their story collections, but readers are rewarded in other ways here.

A Good Day… is a fun foray into form-bending short stories. Guiaşu does an excellent job of keeping things light while still absolutely scorching them. If you’re looking for good jokes and inventive storytelling, you can’t go wrong here.

Thank you for reading Toni Woodruff’s book review of A Good Day And Other (Mostly) Humorous Stories & Lists by Radu Guiaşu! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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