Reviewed by Erin Britton

A haunting psychological drama that explores the rippled effects of trauma, betrayal, and accusation

Principally set during what should be a relaxing Mexican vacation, D.E. Adler’s The Rape of Elliott Roth confounds expectations by delving into the unsettling tension between public success and personal failure.

The initial tragedy belongs to someone else. A ranch hand swerves to avoid an oncoming car. He escapes the incident without physical damage, but the family in the other car is not so lucky. “He surveyed the damage and turned toward the sound of hissing steam and the smell of gasoline. A sudden explosion shattered the stillness and sent a plume of black smoke into the blue expanse.”

While a young girl is thrown from the vehicle during the accident and so avoids the explosion, the other family members are trapped inside. “After the fire died down, the cowboy saw the charred remains of the mother, father, and older brother suspended by their shoulder harnesses.” Critically injured, the girl is flown to Good Samaritan Hospital in Seattle for live-saving surgery.

It is here that Dr. Elliott Roth enters the milieu. A brilliant surgeon and a flawed human being, he is one of the few doctors with sufficient expertise to perform the brain surgery required to save the girl. “The child had a chance of surviving, but with what quality of life remained to be seen.” Deciding that the situation is too urgent to follow the time-out procedure and wait for a CT scan, Elliott begins to operate immediately.

Despite his undeniable skill, perceptions of his conduct in the operating theater will come back to haunt him.

The day after the surgery, Elliott joins best friend Jay “JDub” Walsh and a bunch of others—friends, acquaintances, and strangers—on holiday in Cabo. It’s not really his idea of a fun time, but Jay didn’t give him much choice. “It’s paradise with coral reefs, warm ocean breezes, and the freshest seafood. I’ve been after you like a honey badger. This time there’s only one answer.”

The group is certainly an eclectic one. There are hints of tension between Elliott and Jay’s wife (“Liz Walsh and I had been close for too long to let our friendship disintegrate over something that happened more than a year ago and would seem trivial five years from now.”), and the others seem to be harboring more than their fair share of secrets and lies. Will there really be the opportunity for rest and relaxation?

One thing to note about this story is that the title, The Rape of Elliott Roth, is not named for sexual assault but more in comparison with the literary tradition put forth by Alexander Pope in “The Rape of the Lock,” signaling the removal of something.

The book is narrated from the first-person perspective of Elliott, providing unfettered access to his thoughts and feelings. Saying that, D.E. Adler presents Elliott’s responses and reflections in such a way as to imbue them with a dream-like quality, with guilt and uncertainty echoing through much of what he has to say. Elliott may be convinced of the truth of his account, but others will likely be far less certain.

Elliott has low expectations regarding the trip to Cabo, but in this regard he is proven wrong by two opposing points of view. On the one hand, the holiday proves far worse than he could have imagined, providing the backdrop to his quite spectacular emotional unraveling. As the days pass and the need to return to reality looms, he has to confront the fragility of his façade and the long shadows of past events.

On the other hand, the vacation feels positive in a strange way, freeing Elliott from the mask of stability and solidity he has worn for decades. He faces up to various struggles and traumas from the past, and he finally recognizes the need to take a stand against the wrongs of those who surround him. He even manages to form a romantic/emotional connection, which though not without complications, does expand his horizons.

And Elliott is not the only holiday-maker desperate to avoid facing deep-seated damage, both their own and wounds caused to others. Beneath the illusion of camaraderie, when not occupied with swimming, snorkeling, and fine-dining, long-buried resentments simmer among the group, giving rise to a charged atmosphere of suspicion. As memory and desire collide, the boundaries of consent and accusation blur.

At both the personal level and more generally, The Rape of Elliott Roth wrestles with themes of guilt, loyalty, and the cost of remaining silent. Elliott’s moral ground becomes shaky as the accusations that surround him gather steam. Adler doesn’t offer him easy absolution; instead, there is the uncomfortable reality that some wrongs leave indelible scars and require more than apologies to heal.

Adler’s storytelling is taut and measured, echoing the surgical discipline of Elliott. Every encounter, flash of memory, or moment of silence feels deliberate, included to peel back another layer of his psyche. Adler also excels at emotional restraint. The unsettling core of Elliott’s emerges gradually through glances, half-formed admissions, and the friction between what characters reveal and what they conceal.

The setting—sun-drenched Cabo—provides a clear contrast to the darkness that unfolds. It’s an environment suggestive of escape and rejuvenation that instead becomes reflective of Elliott’s fears and failures. Rather than offering a sanctuary, the holiday becomes a trap, with the warmth of the sun and the companionship giving way to suspicion and tension. The presence of the others also means that Elliot’s private collapse becomes a public spectacle.

The Rape of Elliott Roth is an emotionally difficult story to process. It is part psychological thriller, part cautionary tale, and part moral inquiry. Much of it takes place at the messy boundaries between guilt and innocence, making it difficult to differentiate fact from fiction and determine who—if anyone—to trust.

Thank you for reading Erin Britton’s book review of The Rape of Elliott Roth by D.E. Adler! 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

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 Addison Ciuchta

A fun and hopeful read about friendship, loyalty, and love

Turn Around is set in Stadium, Texas, a small football-centric town. Heather Ramsay is up for a promotion to principal of Stadium High, her marriage is strained, and her daughter keeps changing her college major, causing the family financial hardship to cover her tuition.

Luckily, she has a tight-knit group of friends who are part of a running club who lend her clothes to wear for her confirmation as new principal and offer emotional support when, out of nowhere, the school board gives the principal job to a newcomer instead. Now she’s not only faced with being passed over by the board, but also Heather’s financial situation is floundering without the promotion, and she must deal with the demands of the new principal who doesn’t seem to understand Stadium’s culture. Will Heather, her marriage, and her friendships make it in the face of rising tensions as the principal makes decisions that send shockwaves throughout their small community?

Turn Around is great at tugging on emotional heartstrings for Heather as the downfalls she face just keep piling up on her. Each time she seems to find some stable ground, yet another thing happens to set her back in a new way. Not only is she passed up for the principal job, but she’s also dealing with her marriage problems, tuition money, a critical mother, a difficult new boss, and an outraged community as she carries out the new principal’s rules despite how wrong they seem for her school. Rules like a strict attendance policy which, in their small town where many of the students work on their parents’ farms or miss class for football, is a difficult standard for many to meet causing some players to be unable to play, resulting in backlash from the community.

In the face of it all, though, she’s determined to find a solution, sacrificing even her most favorite things to make ends meet. She does it for her daughter. She reaches out to her husband even when it often ends in arguments. She shows up for work every day and does more than she’s asked for the students she loves. Her passion is what makes her a character who is easy to connect to and root for, putting all her efforts into a job that often has little to no acknowledgement but finding purpose in the job anyway. I also adored her love for raising chickens, her fancy chicken coop and all. The chickens really showcase her personality and even in her friends’ personalities.

The pacing does seem slightly off. The vast majority of this relatively short book is rising tension with new and added stakes stacking on top of each other from maybe too many directions. Then the resolution feels a little short and storylines wrap up too abruptly, like those involving her mother and the football coach.

While there might be slightly too many of them, the sources of tension in the book all touch on the troubles of everyday life. They make perfect sense for Heather and the parameters of her life. These aren’t the grandiose tensions of an action-packed thriller, but the tensions of daily life in the form of financial stress, relationship problems, workplace disappointment, and sacrificing what she loves for the sake of her family. These are things almost everyone has experienced, and the author does a great job of scaling the story to the characters and the setting.

The friend group is where the heart of this book truly lives, as Heather and her friends support, push, and take care of each other in their times of need. Based on the epilogue, the next book in the series will focus on one of Heather’s friends, with hopefully more to follow. I look forward to reading more about their dynamics, history, and their quirky small town from the others’ points of view in the future.

Turn Around is a sweet, heartwarming story of friendship, strength, and perseverance in the face of daily struggles. It’s not a grand adventure of a novel but a quiet peek into the lives of Heather and the residents of Stadium, Texas. I’d recommend Turn Around as a book club pick or for those looking for something hopeful and realistic.

Thank you for reading Addison Ciuchta’s book review of Turn Around by Carole Wolfe! 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 sweeping Christian romance where faith, forgiveness, and family triumph over trauma and betrayal

Ken Fulmer’s Love So Lovely Born is a deeply emotional Christian romance that weaves together themes of generational wounds, personal redemption, and the power of God’s grace. At its heart are two central figures—Vickie Morrison, a woman scarred by abuse, betrayal, and self-condemnation, and John Breyer, a farrier and man of faith whose resilience anchors those around him. Their journeys, intertwined with tragedy and healing, form a story that is as much about overcoming the past as it is about discovering a future rooted in love and divine purpose.

The novel opens with Vickie in Washington, D.C., haunted by rape, family betrayal, and her fractured identity. As her life intersects again with John’s, the narrative shifts to the rolling hills of North Carolina, where horses, farm life, and a tight-knit community form the backdrop of their struggles. The plot follows them through missing children, broken relationships, spiritual battles, and near-ruin, culminating in Vickie’s acceptance of grace and a renewed sense of worth. As the story progresses, John emerges as the central figure, carrying his own burdens of sin and redemption, yet standing as a steady source of integrity.

Fulmer succeeds most in his characters, particularly Vickie and John. Vickie’s portrayal is raw, unflinching, and layered—she is both victim and survivor, sinner and seeker, whose honesty about her brokenness becomes the doorway to transformation. John, meanwhile, is compelling in his steadiness, a man who refuses to abandon his moral core even when false accusations and spiritual temptations threaten him. Surrounding them are memorable supporting figures: Katie and Abbie, whose vulnerability highlights the importance of protecting the next generation; Price, Vickie’s estranged father, whose arc from criminality to repentance mirrors his daughter’s struggle; and Nellie, a protégée whose true identity ties into some of the book’s most dramatic revelations.

Where the novel shines is in its exploration of faith as a lived, often messy process. Fulmer doesn’t shy from spiritual warfare, generational sin, or the painful honesty required in confession. The narrative blends contemporary realism with biblical allusion and even supernatural elements, reflecting how Christian fiction can grapple with the darkest corners of life without losing sight of hope.

If there is a drawback, it lies in the sheer density of the narrative. At times, the abundance of characters, subplots, and theological exposition threatens to overwhelm the reader. The layering of supernatural mythology alongside interpersonal drama occasionally distracts from the core romance, though patient readers will find the threads pulled together by the novel’s conclusion.

The ending delivers both emotionally and spiritually: John and Vickie’s union symbolizes a hard-won victory of grace over sin. Fulmer’s message is clear—love, when rooted in Christ, has the power to break generational cycles and restore even the most fractured of families.

Love So Lovely Born is a heartfelt Christian romance, ideal for readers who appreciate stories that do not shy away from the rawness of trauma and point hopefully toward redemption. For those seeking a novel that marries grit with grace, pain with promise, Fulmer delivers a tale where forgiveness becomes the truest expression of love.

Thank you for reading John M. Murray’s book review of Love So Lovely Born by Ken Fulmer! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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Reviewed by Heather McNamara

A pleasant assortment of short stories that makes you smile and gives you hope

We live in a world of endless options. Most of the time, these choices are insignificant. But once in a while, a single choice can determine the course of our lives. All it takes is a moment, just one defining moment. Are you going to keep following the same path over and over again? Or are you going to take a chance and do something different?

That is the premise of Pivot: Stories of Change, an anthology of short stories edited by Sara-Meg Seese. Drawing together a chorus of voices from multiple genres, this collection praises the power of a single moment and a single choice. The characters are in a position to choose, and they end up in places they never thought they’d go. They take chances on long-buried dreams, forgive their enemies, heal old wounds, and find new connections. It’s all very heartwarming.

A poor man who gave up his dreams of being an artist to pursue wealth finds his way back to his first love. A married couple bonds over the perfect cup of tea. A young autistic woman makes a bold move to claim her independence. A woman loses her job and regains her dream of being a writer. These are just a few of the uplifting stories found in Pivot, which has a little of something for everybody, from family drama to women’s fiction to dashes of dystopian and fantasy.

The tales have a thin, wispy feel to them, and they don’t try to break new ground exactly. That’s not really the point here. These works are meant to be enjoyed as simple, feel-good tales that put a smile on your face. Seese’s collection of talent pools together disparate elements but does it all with a warm and comforting tone, like a big bowl of your grandmother’s chicken soup.

Most of the stories reflect a distinctly American, mostly Christian worldview, so it’s not quite as multicultural as billed. It may be helpful to know about the Christian bent before reading, but it will still feel as warm as promised for readers outside of the faith.

Pivot‘s greatest strength is in its sincerity. There is real passion here from the authors, and it’s about a topic you can really get behind as a reader. Life is surely always awaiting the next pivot. In a cynical world like ours, such earnestness in perspective is refreshing.

This assortment of sweet tales wears its heart on its sleeve. It’s meant to lift you up and inspire you to make your own change. The world could always use a little more pivoting.

Thank you for reading Heather McNamara’s book review of Pivot: Stories of Change edited by Sara-Meg Seese! 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 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 Samantha Hui

A moving story about how a family tree can weather any storm as long as its roots are nurtured

“In one day, just like that, Naomi, Ana, and Johan, the first generation, was gone.”

Generation After Generation by Heather Gafkay is a historical novel that explores themes of love, loss, and survival during unprecedented times.

The novel traces the lives of multiple generations, showing how the decisions, traumas, and triumphs of one generation reverberate through the next. Themes of resilience, identity, and the moral complexities of human relationships are central to the story, highlighting the ways people cope with unimaginable horrors while still seeking connection and hope.

The novel follows the thorn-ridden, intertwined family tree of the Folsom and Stein families across more than a century. From their origins in Jerusalem and Germany, through the atrocities of World War II and the Holocaust, and into the present day, readers witness families torn apart by war, daring escapes from death camps, and the painstaking process of rebuilding shattered lives in the aftermath of tragedy. At its core, the story shows how secrets, sacrifices, and acts of courage shape both family legacies and individual identities, while emphasizing the unbreakable bonds of love and the resilience of the human spirit.

Gafkay structures the book across multiple generations, with chapters alternating between key characters and time periods from the first generation’s early struggles, to the post-war experiences of the second generation, and eventually to the present-day consequences for the later generations. This structure allows readers to see how historical events ripple across time and influence personal decisions.

The book succeeds in portraying not just the external horrors of war, but also the psychological effects on survivors, including survivor’s guilt, isolation, and the messy, sometimes morally complicated ways characters cope with trauma. The relationships are deeply human, fraught with infidelity, dishonesty, and complex emotions, but these elements feel authentic given the extreme circumstances the characters endure.

“‘That is the pathway that will lead you to your last steps for those that had to take it.'”

While the novel is compelling overall, the graphic depictions of violence and explicit sexual content can make it difficult to read at times. The scenes that bluntly depict the gruesome abuse and deaths during the Holocaust are blunt, intense, and may be unsettling for some readers. Additionally, the narrative occasionally relies too much on exposition, and the passive voice can slow the pacing, making certain sections feel more like a historical recounting than immersive storytelling.

“At first Conrad felt guilty helping the enemy. He felt like a betrayer. But then helping the Americans became easier when Conrad realized that you can’t betray your country if your country has already betrayed you.”

Generation After Generation is recommended for readers who appreciate earnest historical fiction that does not shy away from the harsh realities of human experience. This is a moving and ambitious novel that successfully blends historical drama with rich, character-driven storytelling. Exploring family, resilience, and the legacy of trauma, this novel is sure to leave a lasting impression, reminding readers that the past continues to shape the present and that hope and love can endure even in dark times.

Thank you for reading Samantha Hui’s book review of Generation After Generation by Heather Gafkay! 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 Peggy Kurkowski

A deeply spiritual story of two men on different paths meeting at a crossroads

A man running from his past and a man hitchhiking toward his future intersect in rural Kentucky in The Great Meadows, leading to the discovery of a decades-old mystery.

Levi Motley returns to his native state of Kentucky, barreling down a highway in his pickup, hungover and heading toward his next destination because “who doesn’t want the feeling of motion fueled by the aphrodisiac of hope?”

When he sees a hitchhiker with a sign reading “Gethsemani,” something inside tells him to turn around. His new passenger is Moussa Diab, a young man hitching a ride to the Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani to discern God’s purpose for his life.

Captivated by Moussa’s impressive certainty that his journey is a quest, Levi drops him off at the monastery—unaware that the next time he sees him, Moussa will be dead.

Levi rolls into Bardstown, Kentucky to meet his college friend, Dominick, a reporter at the local paper. With the promise of freelance work, Levi chooses to rent a house and find a whale of a story for his new editor. He ranges around town, reporting on local festivals and personalities, when a police call takes him and Dom to a river bend close to the monastery. This is where Levi discovers the dead man is Moussa.

When a mysterious investigator named Regina Sandoval shows up on his doorstep, asking Levi questions about his connection to Moussa, the novel kicks into high gear. Levi is a likable Lothario whose scruffy good looks get him into some trouble, but his nebulous connection to Moussa leads his journalistic instincts to investigate the investigator: after all, Moussa’s death has been solved, with a man admitting to killing him. But something does not smell right, and Levi decides to help Moussa’s mother by finding out what really happened to Moussa in the beautiful countryside of Kentucky that locals call “The Great Meadows.”

Walsh spins a deep mystery in this novel, one that takes its time unraveling. Levi must negotiate a raft of barriers: from the suspicious Sandoval whose end game is unclear, to the wealthy and connected Westcott family whose patriarch, Conrad Westcott, is the founder of the Westcott Bourbon Company. As Levi pokes his nose around town, he finds disturbing clues about why Moussa came to the abbey and why anyone would want him dead. Along the way, he also wrestles with the ghosts of his past, including an older brother, Declan, housed at the Manchester Federal Correctional Institution nearby.

Levi slowly learns that he is not only uncovering Moussa’s quest, but his own. Will this rolling stone finally let go of the guilt he runs from and allow a little moss to grow?

The answer is skillfully tied to not only Moussa, but also to a family secret from World War Two that only time will reveal. The story and the mystery are a slow burn, but the people and personalities Levi meets in town make this a delightful read with punchy dialogue and clever quips.

Walsh writes with authenticity and obvious love for the “great meadows” and natural beauty of the Bluegrass State, with his precisely drawn characters embodying both the best and worst of a community steeped in its past. The spirituality of the story resonates throughout as Levi accepts that in finding out what happened to Moussa—no matter how sad—he will also find out what happened to him from their brief, consequential encounter along that highway.

“The sadness comes from finding out that nothing turns out exactly as you had hoped it would be, and the gratitude comes from knowing it was worth the ride all the same.”

The Great Meadows is a moving philosophical tale with the veneer of a small town murder mystery. Lyrical and gritty in turns, it’ll leave you feeling hopeful for a return of its Odysseus-like protagonist who is just trying to find home—for good this time.

Thank you for reading Peggy Kurkowski’s book review of The Great Meadows by Christopher Walsh! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

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