Reviewed by Eric Mayrhofer

A post-WWII story with a clear sense of history and some truly thrilling scenes

With Diane Wagner’s Byline Budapest, readers can relax, confident that they’re in the hands of a gifted storyteller. Wagner shows an authoritative knowledge of the time period without ever letting it get in the way of a pulse-pounding tale.

We follow Charlie Atkins, an American expat in Munich working for Radio Free Europe, a station broadcasting pro-democracy news stories to citizens in nearby countries who want democratic reform for their governments. In love with the organization (perhaps naively so), Charlie longs to be part of the new staff instead of a coffee girl, and when she gets an opportunity to prove herself with a story about blood donations making their way to a war-torn Hungary, she jumps at the opportunity.

While women in the newsroom may have been more uncommon in the post-WWII era, the book makes the adventure believable by couching it in a deep familiarity with the geopolitics of the time. Charlie can rattle off the current events as well as the reporters she wants to join, proving her worthiness early on (even if the editor Mr. Owens refuses to acknowledge it). The authoritativeness with which the narration handles explanations of history makes it easy to trust and emotionally invest in all the other characters and harrowing obstacles that fall in Charlie’s path.

The book also plays with format to give readers the sensory experience of a radio broadcast. Throughout the book, readers will see Charlie’s radio reporting chops in action, presented in a radio script format, and anyone who has ever heard an NPR story will immediately hear Charlie’s voice as the confident reporter turned storyteller spinning yarns around the fire. These passages evoke narration interspersed with interview soundbites. After one story, readers discover that “Charlie worked hard, learning to write for listeners rather than readers…She incorporated music and sound effects,” making the whole radio news experience complete.

Wagner does a great job of characterizing these people in short windows, vividly sketching in what readers need to know and then moving along with the plot. While learning about Charlie’s professional life and her journalistic aspirations, we meet her colleague Viktor, a man with a coveted news staff position who readers will quickly grow to loathe (and love it). We see him through Charlie’s eyes and he immediately sets readers on edge: “His blue eyes, as cold and hard as January ice, his cheekbones, as sharp as right angles, and his teeth, which were broken and jagged like rickrack.”

That ability to concisely distill a character’s essence is a powerful gift, but it occasionally threatens to go awry. When characters meet Andras Kovács, a native Hungarian in the employ of Russia’s Communist regime, we quickly learn he’s meant to be the book’s foil for Charlie. When thinking of the Communists’ deteriorating hold on Hungary, he wonders, “And what to tell Moscow? That the entire country had gone mad on his watch? Not that Kovács was surprised, of course. He sensed for months that trouble was coming, and although he warned Hungary’s deeply loathed General Secretary Mátyás Rákosi directly, no one wanted to hear that unrest was brewing.”

Kovács is just as frustrated and disregarded by his peers as Charlie; a lovely setup to propel readers ahead—will he achieve his goals and stand in her way? Will he fail? Readers don’t get the full picture as quickly and deeply with him as we do our heroine. Yes, we do come to understand that he is a survivor, always knowing where the political wind is blowing and flowing with its currents. However, it’s a little blurry where and how that deep survivalist instinct gels with his desire to be seen, respected, and included by his peers.

This never stops Byline Budapest from being a good read though. If the book ever seems like it’s entering enough of a lull for readers to ponder on these mild contradictions, it quickly and organically introduces a thrilling action scene that cements your hatred of Kovacs, makes readers re-evaluate how ready Charlie is for the challenges of a war zone, and wondering how she will get back to Munich alive, let alone into the Radio Free Europe news room. If future installments of this expected series can keep the same brisk pace and astonishing grasp on history, sign me up.

Thank you for reading Eric Mayrhofer’s book review of Byline Budapest by Diane Wagner! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Philip Zozzaro

A gripping and horrifying story of a man’s descent into inhumanity

As a child, Hans inhabited a world driven by fear and harshness. He was often the target of bullying from local youths, and the constant torment he was subjected to left him with little hope. But the need to survive forced Hans into fighting back with a viciousness that left little regard for the damage inflicted upon his opponents. Hans’s heart was increasingly filled with bitterness amid the poverty and threat of violence; even random acts of kindness he received from strangers did little to quell the storm brewing inside him.

Through these vivid depictions, Clifton Wilcox deftly sets the stage for what’s to come in Hans’ future.

He was looking for a purpose to serve, and he found it as a soldier in the new authoritarian regime. He is proficient at following orders, and his efficiency is noted by superior officers in the government. Despite bearing witness to the violence being carried out by fellow soldiers, Hans views himself as removed from the actions. He may order a beating or an execution, but he absolves himself from guilt as he is never the executioner. His amoral apathy amidst the carnage becomes one of the more chilling aspects of his character’s development.

Hans grew up feeling weak and powerless, and his vulnerability was obvious to any potential intimidator. Now, Hans wields the power over many and controls their fates. He runs his concentration camp with an iron fist; any infraction is immediately addressed with swift and severe punishment. He keeps meticulous records of the executions carried out under his watch. His need for control extends even to fellow soldiers and playing mind games to ensure an underling’s loyalty is not beneath him.

His undoing begins with dreams of his victims, which leads to a slight change in demeanor. He must maintain a stolid demeanor as a leader, or he risks falling out of favor with his superiors and being replaced. Soon, the regime is collapsing, and Hans must face the consequences of his actions, his fate to be determined by a jury of 12 people.

I, Monster brilliantly chronicles the evolution and downfall of a villainous figure. Hans is representative of far too many automatons who served totalitarian regimes with aplomb. A pitiful human being who held little regard for others as he climbed the ranks of a despotic regime, he rationalizes unconscionable actions with nary a second thought.

While Hans’s narrative serves as the primary dramatic focus of the story, the aftermath of his verdict proves equally engaging, as society grapples with accountability and whether events like this will recur again. The justice meted out at the various trials is hoped to serve as a deterrent.

Author Clifton Wilcox’s finely written I, Monster will raise questions about how environment can shape one’s mind and whether lessons can be learned in the wake of unspeakable evil. This is an excellent historical novel steeped in a terrifying reality—as thought-provoking as it is dark.

Thank you for reading Philip Zozzaro’s book review of I, Monster by Clifton Wilcox! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Tomi Alo

A luminous love story blooms in the midst of secrets and chaos

Keeping the Countess is a heartwarming historical romance that captures the love and quiet bravery of two bruised souls who’ve known more loss than comfort. Exhibiting the themes of justice, faith, and courage, the novel beautifully combines the tenderness and intensity of forbidden love with the looming danger of a mystery steeped in secrets.

Set in the stark beauty of 19th-century England, the story follows Jonah Sinclair, a clergyman who will stop at nothing to get revenge for his father’s death, and Elisabeth Faith Trenton, a fiery countess willing to risk her life to protect her family.

When Sinclair is sent to tutor Faith’s physically-challenged young nephew, he goes with a personal agenda of his own: to find the man who is responsible for the death of his father and ensure justice is served. But upon his arrival at the Rochford Estate, Sinclair is met with far more questions than answers and a woman who defies his expectations.

With crippling debt, a failing estate, and secrets that could destroy her, Faith has built walls too high to risk trusting anyone, least of all a man with sharp eyes, intelligence, and hidden intentions to match. So, as Sinclair comes blazing with questions, her first instinct is to keep him as far away as possible—both from herself and from the walls of Ravenglass Hall, which guard far more than stone.

But as the sins of her husband rise from the shadows to threaten everything she’s fought to protect, her only chance of survival is to trust the very man who could unravel it all and pray he doesn’t shatter her heart in the process.

At the same time, Sinclair must also choose between the revenge that has fueled him for years and the woman who might just offer him something more powerful: peace. But loving her may cost him the only thing he has left—his purpose.

Keeping the Countess is a quietly powerful story about grief, resilience, and the slow, uncertain shape of love. There is no sweeping fairy tale here, just two people who’ve been broken in different ways and are now trying to live in a world that has never been kind to them.

Every moment between Jonah and Faith feels genuine and sweet. I loved how these characters open up without losing the strength that kept them surviving for so long. Even though their chemistry is instant and obvious from the start, the bond builds slowly and naturally for these two imperfect lovers. Watching them learn to let their guard down and trust one another, little by little, from one secret to another, is one of the most rewarding parts of the story.

Author Lille Moore delivers more than just romance though; this is a grounded, intense mystery with high stakes, surprising twists, and steady pacing. We’re kept in the dark just long enough. It makes you ask so many questions: Who was Jonah’s father? How did he die? Was he truly innocent? What is Faith so afraid of? What happened to her husband, the Earl? How did Donald (the Earl’s steward) start siphoning the estate’s money? Will Faith lose everything? Will Jonah betray Faith?

That’s what the book does—it keeps you constantly curious and looking forward. As strong as the mystery is, it doesn’t overshadow Jonah and Faith’s story. Instead, it becomes the driving force to bring them together. Just what any romance reader wants.

Keeping the Countess ticks all the right boxes—a fascinating blend of love, mystery, and history.

Thank you for reading Tomi Alo’s book review of Keeping the Countess by Lille Moore! 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

Thwarted romance, grief confronted, adversity overcome—That Last Summer is a delicious bite of family drama with a frosting of Regency aesthetics.

After a half-frozen young woman is discovered on the grounds of his country estate, Viscount Maxmillian Clavering’s quiet life of ledgers and renovations is turned upside-down. The found girl’s aunt, Madeline Manners, was Max’s mistress five years ago—he had intended to ask for her hand in marriage—and now here she comes again.

As the girl slowly regains strength in the midst of a freezing winter, Max and Madeline dance awkwardly around each other. But their icy exteriors slowly melt away as they are reminded of the last summer they spent together, full of passion and promise. Hesitation and doubts plague them, as Max tries to understand Madeline’s reasons for vanishing despite knowing his feelings and intentions. As they dance, a drama involving their families, old friendships, and scandalous secrets unfurls around them.

That Last Summer’s plot is first and foremost focused on the mysterious circumstances of Max and Madeline’s abortive courtship and the relations between members of their families, while their romance blooms in the background. Luckily, these aspects are the greatest strengths of the book. The cast is a colorful and energetic bunch—overwhelmingly women—and they all have a part to play, sometimes quite unexpected ones. The novella peppers in a great deal of social critique, as Austen’s works often do, addressing the ways women were silenced directly or indirectly and when their voices and desires were inconvenient.

In combination with the story’s limited space, however, this means that the central relationship can feel somewhat underdeveloped. The individual personalities of Max and Madeline are intriguing and fresh enough to sustain the romantic interest, but we may not get enough of it.

Still, rather than the more typical case of a man disappointed in love seeking refuge in vice and carelessness, Max takes responsibility; no womanly intervention is needed to “fix” him. This is an important and likable theme, and so the relationship being set in the background does make sense. While Madeline is in many ways a delicate lady, and often indecisive or reticent, when push comes to shove she displays remarkable determination, strength of character, and a clearness of desire not usually found in the frail type.

And there’s enough mystery, drama, and sweetness at the bottom of the pie to keep you coming for more. Its setting in the snow-covered English countryside provides a most welcome escape from the sweltering heat outside my window right now—a great summer read.

A well-measured pace, a delicious family intrigue, and a noteworthy dedication to historical faithfulness—That Last Summer is a rewarding tribute to Austen’s romances and social critiques, told with passion and warmth. It achieves a lot in its brief page count and demonstrates a commendable dedication to historical detail and style. And there’s enough mystery, drama, and sweetness at the bottom of the pie to keep you coming back for more.

Thank you for reading Victoria Lilly’s book review of That Last Summer by S.K. Snyder! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Peggy Kurkowski

Immersive & culturally rich—a novel about lifechanging choices—and temptations—over the course of the Phillies miraculous 1950 season

In 1950, Ben Green is twenty-five and married with a baby on the way. But life starts throwing curveballs that could make or break his new family—just as his beloved baseball team makes a glorious run for the World Series. Whiz Kid is an authentic, time capsule of a novel for the historical fiction fan.

One of Ben’s biggest passions in life is baseball, with warm memories of his father taking him to a Philadelphia Phillies game as a boy, before a car accident took him away too soon.

Ben and his pregnant wife Debby live in her father’s house—which is attached to his button and trimming business—on Seventh Street in Philly, known to Jewish shopkeepers and customers as the Zibbiter, or Jewish market.

Courtesy of the GI Bill, Ben—a veteran who fought on Okinawa in World War II—is finishing four years of college at the University of Pennsylvania. The big question looms: what to do with his life? His love of writing fuels dreams of writing and selling a novel, but his old Navy friend Stan wants him to come work with him at his father’s advertising firm as a copywriter.

Ben is entering his last summer of school with nostalgia, drinking, and baseball games at Shibe Park. That’s where the “Whiz Kids” play. The phrase was a nickname that journalists gave to the 1950 Phillies squad.

Ben’s primary drive is to write a new type of novel, as “he thought the country was ready for a new generation of writers who respected those who crafted their work before the Second World War, but who weren’t wedded to the fussy pre-war version of America.” His story is about an amateur tennis player who wins Wimbledon (entitled Match Point ), portions of which are reproduced in the narrative.

The arrival of this novel is touching in and of itself. Author Joel Burcat takes up where David S. Burcat, his father, left off in his manuscript; David passed away before the book could come out. David’s entries in the story might not play largely into Ben’s story arc, but they show us how he is writing and further develops the theme on writing. Writers will appreciate this one on both a personal, creative, and relatable level. Debby is concerned Ben’s naïve approach to getting published will put her and the baby in a precarious position, and it’s revealed in raw and realistic exchanges that writers will attach to.

While the story revolves around the events of the summer of 1950, the major plot line is a love (or lust) triangle between Ben, Ilene, and Debby. Ilene is overly handsy with Ben, and once Debby sees it with her own eyes, the tension goes through the roof. While Ben is extremely attracted to Ilene, he does not want to hurt Debby or jeopardize their future. Will Ilene get the hint or keep pushing the envelope with this very married man?

Meanwhile, Stan sets Ben up with a job interview with his anti-Semitic father for the copywriter job—steady income and security that Ben and Debby need for their family. But in this final summer of freedom, Ben wrestles with multiple dilemmas: make a go of the novel or settle down to a job he does not really want? He also cannot seem to stay away from the alluring Ilene. What is a Phillies fan to do?

An emotionally resonant tale of love, loyalty, and finding one’s path, Whiz Kid is a cerebral, personal reading experience. But it is also about the love of baseball. “I don’t like baseball. I love baseball.” Like so many of the best baseball novels, Ben compares baseball to life in affecting prose: “It’s different than any other sport. It’s like life. The only way you can appreciate it is slowly … The drama of baseball is in every moment of the game. It builds until the last out.”

As the dam of pent-up emotions between Ben and Ilene comes to a head, a medical emergency threatens everything that Ben holds dear. While the story might benefit from more showing and less telling, the character interactions are thoughtful, real, and emotionally grounded. Even the characters positioned as villains come across as flawed, realistic human beings.

Both historically and culturally rich, especially for the Philadelphia fan, Whiz Kid is a vivid evocation of a lost era in America, where baseball and love were enough to get people up in the morning.

Thank you for reading Peggy Kurkowski’s book review of Whiz Kid: South Philly vs. The Main Line by Joel Burcat and David S. Burcat! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Erin Britton

At the intersection of history and mythology, Anaiti encounters both human dangers and otherworldly foes.

Set in the fifth century BCE and unfolding against the immense and unforgiving backdrop of the Ukrainian steppe, Of Wind and Wolves is the first epic installment in J.M. Elliott’s The Steppe Saga.

Drawing inspiration from a passage concerning Heracles in The Histories by Herodotus, Elliott crafts a richly detailed and immersive tale that blends historical fact and fiction, as well as cultural records, with mythical aspects and a timeless coming-of-age story.

Anaiti’s fate is ominously reflected in a gift from Ariapaithi, the Skythian king. “Gifts are uninvited guests. They bear expectations and impose obligations. They establish bonds as strong as any shackle, which cannot be broken by any hammer but war.”

To foster peace between the tribes and unite against a common enemy, Anaiti’s father has agreed that she will marry the geriatric Ariapaithi—becoming his third wife—and so leave her people to join the Skythai.

However, the amphora sent by Ariapaithi is illustrated with a nameless hero killing an Amazon woman. Given that her mother was a fearsome Amazon warrior who “surrendered her honor along with her arms” when she married Anaiti’s father, king of the rival Bastarnai, the imagery doesn’t bode well for Anaiti’s future. “The vessel’s art masked something malicious, something vile, as beauty so often did.”

Anaiti quickly discovers that her concerns are well founded, for the nomadic court of Ariapaithi is like an alien world to her—the customs and language are peculiar, and she by no means fits in. “What I knew of Skythia came mainly from stories. Huddled around the hearth at night, the people whispered of a wilderness with no towns nor even huts, but only endless, empty plains.” Still, despite the wild terrain, her training with a bow and her horse-riding skill seem ill-suited to the new life she has agreed to.

Ariapaithi is far too old for her and a life confined to a royal tent is not one she can bear to think about, and now, “surrounded by the world’s broadest plains, its richest pastures, and its finest horses, it finally struck home that I would never ride again. Like a fool, I’d rashly traded it all away.” But there is a major surprise in store for Anaiti, as Ariapaithi tasks her with killing an enemy in battle—and returning with her victim’s scalp—before their marriage can be performed.

As the king dictates, “She’ll ride with our men as they patrol the marches and return when she has a scalp. When she makes her kill, I’ll make her my wife.” And so begins Anaiti’s time with Aric, “Warden of the East March and Kara-Daranaka of the kingdom’s most sacred warband,” and his band of warriors. It’s a brutal life, but Anaiti much prefers it to the idea of marrying Ariapaithi and so seeks ways to remain with the warband.

Told through the first-person narrative of Anaiti, Of Wind and Wolves is a story of truly epic proportions, spanning vast distances both geographically and metaphorically. Having learned some of the ways of her mother’s Suramatai people but been forced to give up her training before its completion and return to her father’s kingdom, Anaiti has always been something of an outsider. What’s more, she has long kept a secret that Ariapaithi’s anarei—a sorcerer and rumored necromancer—seems to quickly discover:

“I don’t believe I have ever writhed upon the ground, and I knew better than to tell anyone about the other signs that plagued me. When I smelled the unearthly odor or felt the terrible presence of darkness approach, when time pulled the earth from beneath my feet, I fled far from the eyes of others. I hid for my life.”

As such, her outsider status is firmly entrenched even before she is dispatched on her marriage mission, and it has prepared her well for life with the warband. She is used to facing danger and keeping secrets, and she is willing to defend herself when required. The trials and tribulations she faces while apparently searching for her first scalp—to say nothing of the depravations and savagery—are narrated viscerally.

Indeed, J.M. Elliott excels at describing the brutal circumstances and situations that the warband face, even the honorary member who is one day expected to marry the king. The lives are difficult and often bloody, but the warband have a strange nobility and an undeniable sense of purpose. “More beasts than men they seemed at times, and their unbound world, their feral lives, reminded me of my youth—stirred something buried but not dead within me.”

Elliott makes clear the contradictions that Anaiti faces when embracing the freedom offered by a life in the wilderness while remaining under the control/protection of Aric, a complex character who knows and sees more than he lets on. It is through Aric that Anaiti learns the customs, rites, and legends of the Skythia. As she grows accustomed to it all, confronting both external threats and internal conflicts, Anaiti learns to trust in herself and her ability to protect her people.

Equally well described is the expansive environment of the steppe, a wild and forbidding land that is nevertheless majestic and compelling. “The steppe was an unbreakable horse—it could not be tamed or enclosed behind walls.” The worldbuilding during Anaiti’s travels and travails with the warband is excellent, providing a fascinating and sometimes perilous background to her journey of self-discovery. The flora and fauna really come to life, as do the dangers lying over seemingly ever horizon.

While Of Wind and Wolves is inspired by Herodotus’s account of Heracles, his union with a “twofold creature formed by the union of a maiden and a serpent,” their three sons, and their shaping of Scythian society, Elliott has taken a fable and crafted an epic. At the intersection of history and mythology, Anaiti encounters both human dangers and strangely otherworldly foes such as the Man-Eaters, which adds tension and mystique to the story, with the bounds of reality never quite clear.

To help navigate the expansive and intricate world that Anaiti inhabits, in addition to the detail of the story, Elliott provides a partial glossary and a map, which enhances the immersion of the tale.

For an epic tome, the well-crafted action and engaging intrigue ensure that things progress at a good pace, and as Of Wind and Wolves is the first book in Elliott’s The Steppe Saga, there seems to be much more for Anaiti to face.

Thank you for reading Erin Britton’s book review of Of Wind and Wolves by J.M. Elliott! 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 stirring chronicle of one woman’s fight against fear and repression during America’s McCarthy era

In The Advocate: Women of the Red Scare, the narrator—Grandma Ollie’s devoted grandson—recounts the turbulent landscape of post-World War II America.

Set in the small Southern town of Livingston, the book follows Ollie, a fierce African American community organizer, as she confronts economic exploitation, racial prejudice, and the paranoia of the McCarthy era. Through her eyes, we meet a cast of mill workers, local politicians, union bosses, and curious townsfolk, all swept up in the “Red Scare–Black Scare” hysteria. The book humanizes the often-overlooked women activists of the period and illuminates how mass fear can erode justice and communal bonds.

From the very first pages, the reader is immersed in the tension of the era. “It was a dreadful time to be a kid living on Catfish Row behind railroad tracks.” Grandma Ollie’s world is one of constant vigilance, where each speech and organizing meeting risks blacklisting and arrest.

Early on, her audacious confrontation with Sam “Big Toe” Bowers—a labor leader more invested in maintaining the status quo than championing women’s rights—showcases the system she’s fighting against. In a scene both comic and revolutionary, Ollie socks Bowers in the jaw, igniting the suppressed anger of hundreds of cotton mill workers.

Using her “bullhorn on wheels,” Ollie channels that energy into mass pickets and sit-down strikes. The narrative details her strategy: “Frau Disturber sat down; and under the butts of the women workers struggled an impotent, choleric and hitherto invincible cotton empire.” Her speeches alternate between fiery oratory and tender appeals to solidarity, as she insists, “we are organized upon a principle that the strong shall help the weak.” Grandma Ollie is soon arrested on charges of inciting a riot and assault—her cause now public fodder for a fearful, sensationalist press.

Realistic and grounded characterization stands out as one of the novel’s core strengths. Grandma Ollie is an intellectually curious, unsentimental, and deeply humane figure. Through her, the author exposes the hypocrisies of both conservative elites and self-styled radicals. The grandson’s voice—equal parts affectionate and exasperated—provides a compelling counterpoint, illustrating how difficult it can be for a younger generation to grasp systemic injustice.

The narrative expertly balances satire and serious historical critique. Descriptions of the local press’s complicity (“The Livingston Daily Republican… often instigated and orchestrated the witch hunts” ) ring chillingly relevant. Meanwhile, the reader is drawn into Ollie’s private moments of doubt and resilience, like with her poetry and her reflections on Marxism and religion. The author’s seamless interweaving of historical context—the impact of Section 7A of the NRA on Southern mill towns—with personal anecdotes gives the work both depth and immediacy.

Stylistically, the book brims with memorable lines and insightful aphorisms—such as Ollie’s rallying cry, “Better to starve fighting than starve working!” Such passages underscore the moral urgency driving her activism, while preserving the wit and humanity of Ollie’s endearing personality.

Some of the book leans too heavily into dense philosophical dialogue, most notable in the latter half. Debates cover an impressive gamut of topics from Marxism to religion to human nature, but these dialogues can come across as didactic and clash with the more compelling narrative. While the discourse does reinforce a recurring theme of generational and ideological clashes, they slow the story and can feel out of place.

The Advocate: Women of the Red Scare is a powerful, uncompromising portrait of courage under siege. Through the lens of one remarkable woman’s struggle, it exposes the corrosive effects of fear-driven politics and reminds us that true progress often stems from the unlikeliest of revolutionaries. A strong blend of sharp satire and rigorous critique ensures that Grandma Ollie’s legacy will remain a beacon for those who dare to challenge injustice.

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

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Reviewed by Melissa Suggitt

Wrestling the weight of expectation may be even harder than any opponent in the pit.

The Contender from Delos is a historical fiction standout; one that offers far more than the thrill of ancient sport. It is a striking meditation on identity, resilience, and the weight of myth.

From its opening scenes in the pits of Rome to the sacred Games on Delos, this is a novel that deftly explores the psychological maturation of a young wrestler shaped as much by myth and shame as by physical discipline.

Alexander, the son of a disgraced family, returns home from Rome not in triumph, but in quiet defiance. The truth behind his family’s fall from grace is revealed gradually, deepening both tension and empathy as he fights opponents in the skamma as well as the stigma that binds him and his mother.

Author Leo Carrington captures Alexander’s transformation with remarkable nuance. At first driven by the shallow hunger for personal victory, he grows into a man who understands that true honor lies in loyalty and sacrifice. His path is anything but simple; to win means risking his family’s fragile security, while losing could mean the erasure of his own hard-won identity.

“Life, like wrestling, will test not just your physical strength, but more so your inner resolve… It’s the ability to maintain your character in the face of adversity”.

One of the novel’s greatest achievements is how Carrington uses the world of ancient wrestling not simply as spectacle, but as a crucible of the spirit, where love and loyalty serve as counterweights to vengeance and fear. Alexander’s loyalty to his mother shapes his most difficult choices, even as Maria, the vengeful mother of his rival Dario, seeks to destroy them both. His deepening bond with Zoe offers a rare, luminous contrast to the darkness circling their lives. “You fight for what is right, even when it costs you. That’s why I love you—not just for your strength, but for your heart”.

Carrington’s writing is a perfect match for this material. The dialogue rings true to the ancient setting, and the rituals and atmosphere of Delos evoke both reverence and dread. When Carrington brings us into the skamma pit, we can smell the sharp tang of olive oil and sweat, the grit of dirt ground into bruised skin; the physicality of wrestling is vivid and immersive. The Games are powerfully staged, yet the novel’s most affecting moments occur in quieter spaces: a mother stepping back into the light, a boy becoming a man in the shadow of legend.

Alexander is no simple strongman drawn from legend. He is a young man of striking depth and resilience, one who refuses to be defined by inherited shame or bound by the expectations of others. His fight is ultimately not for glory, but for the right to live with dignity and integrity.

Historical fiction grounded in atmosphere, inner conflict, and moral complexity—The Contender from Delos is richly rewarding all the way through. It is a novel that reminds us that true strength is not found in the body alone but in the choices we make when no one is watching.

Thank you for reading Melissa Suggitt’s book review of The Contender from Delos by Leo Carrington! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Melissa Suggitt

A pirate captain with the soul of a poet. A mission born from vengeance that becomes something far greater.

Author Daniel McKenzie launches readers into a richly imagined, cross-continental epic that sails from the West African coast to the South China Sea in Silken Dragons, the third installment of the Seafourthe Saga.

Captain Lucien “the Wolf” commands the Vengeance, an Ottoman-built warship turned rogue, crewed not by mercenaries but by men of conviction. When the crew rescues a near-dead African chieftain, Azumah, adrift off the coast of Dakar, they are pulled into a mission of vengeance that soon expands into a sweeping campaign against slavers, colonizers, and the machinery of empire itself. What begins as a rescue spirals outward into secret alliances, midnight raids, and an audacious plan aimed at the Spanish stronghold in Maynila.

The novel unfolds in deliberate, sweeping arcs: a jungle-bound lagoon serves as a hidden pirate haven; a tense naval standoff gives way to an unlikely friendship with the clever and calculating Chinese pirate, Captain Hong Lim Ahn; and moments of battle are balanced with long passages of stillness and spirit. McKenzie’s writing is deeply immersive, carving space for both the epic and the intimate. A dolphin named Argos gets nearly half a chapter, and it works (somehow) beautifully.

Lucien is a commanding presence, not so much a pirate as a warrior-poet with a strategist’s mind and a soldier’s heart. He leads with quiet certainty, justice over ego, restraint over spectacle. And then there’s Lady Lynden Seafourthe. She may remain physically out of the action, but her presence is everywhere. She is Lucien’s spiritual anchor, the compass that keeps him from drifting into legend without purpose. She is not a passive figure, but rather the force that steadies his hand, the private devotion that allows him to move through public violence without becoming hollow. In a world of veils and shifting loyalties, her truth is the one constant he never questions.

McKenzie’s prose is often poetic, sometimes archaic, and fully committed to the world it builds. It doesn’t rush, but it never loses its sense of direction. Every chapter serves the story, even when it pauses for tea, or ritual, or a quiet conversation beneath foreign stars. A Chaldean seer named Nur-Mena drifts in and out of the narrative, offering visions, riddles, and a sense that fate—like the sea—is always moving beneath the surface. That tonal balance between the brutal and the lyrical, the playful and the profound, is one of the book’s greatest strengths.

Silken Dragons is for readers who want their adventures with bite, their heroes with depth, and their storytelling rich with both tension and tenderness. One note for readers: many characters go by multiple names or titles, which adds texture but may briefly disorient. It’s a minor hurdle in an otherwise engrossing read, and one that fades as the cast settles into rhythm.

This is not a book of easy heroics. It’s about the cost of honor, the weight of grief, and the quiet resilience of love. McKenzie delivers a tale that is as mythic as it is human and one well worth the voyage.

Thank you for reading Melissa Suggitt’s book review of Silken Dragons by Daniel McKenzie! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Josie Prado

Blues, love, and litigation in 1970s Austin

 Sandy is a temperamental, music-loving lawyer who has traded in physical fights for epigrammatic debates in the courtroom. He’s a Vietnam veteran who has found peace in his civilian life being surrounded by the bustling music scene in Austin. 

While attending a music club, he meets his best friend, Dude, a bassist who can measure up to the best players. After a failed relationship, he meets his soulmate, Beverly, an English professor. His relatively calm life is interrupted when Sandy is launched into stardom after taking on a big settlement case. His firm is inundated with requests, but one particular case stands out amongst the rest: a history-making, whistleblower case. 

Dean Keaton, an accountant, is unlawfully terminated after trying to expose the comptroller and lieutenant governor for mishandling funds. Luckily, Sandy takes on the case. This is the messiest yet most exciting litigation battle you’ll read this year.

Austin Blues is a smooth, enjoyable read akin to a sonorous jazz track. Readers are going to love Sandy’s vibrant personality. His voice is biting and fun, but he’s got some nice moments of vulnerability mixed in too. He’s still dealing with triggering memories from the war and his previous relationships, and he depends on the bottle to soothe them. Beneath the bravado, Sandy is someone who works hard to get where he wants to be and who works even harder to stay there. 

Beyond Sandy, we’re also given a couple different perspectives like Beverly and Dude. Author Gary A. Keith does a great job of introducing us to other characters when the point of view changes without making us overwhelmed with just how much we are learning about them. A skilled hand like that is important. The novel feels realistic and immersive in the time period. There’s real knowledge and research here. Every detail is included with thought and care.

While the other characters are given adequate time and space to develop, I mostly just wanted to spend more time with Sandy and his explosive character. Beverly and Dude do add things to the story, but some of their chapters can feel like deviations and not nearly as satisfying.

Fresh, exciting, and musical—Austin Blues is a great time in Old Austin. Follow along with a group of Austinites as they fight to protect their city from corruption in a truly engaging novel.

Thank you for reading Josie Prado’s book review of Austin Blues by Gary A. Keith! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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