“Thunderhead” by Neal Shusterman (2018)

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“Peach velvet with embroidered baby-blue trim.”

Last year, fiction conquered death. I’m now back with the sequel. As ever when reviewing a sequel, spoilers are abound so if you haven’t read Scythe or don’t want to know what happens next, look away now. We’re about to dive in. For those who need a refresher, however, recall that this series is set several centuries into the future where natural death has been eradicated, everyone only dies when chosen by a scythe, and the otherwise fairly utopian world is governed by the Thunderhead, a sentient AI that remains neutral and neither can or will interfere.

A year has passed since the events at the end of the last book. Rowan has been off-grid all this time, and has managed to turn himself into an urban legend, using the skills he learnt in his apprenticeship to hunt down corrupt scythes and glean them for good. No one has ever caught him, and for now it seems that no one ever will. Elsewhere, Scythe Anastasia – formerly Citra Terranova – is getting into the swing of her role, and has developed her own way of gleaning. She gives people a month’s notice to get their affairs in order and then lets them choose their own method of death.

Things in government, however, are not so rosy. A schism is forming in the Scythedom, with some believing the old ways are best and others looking for total reform. Worse still, it seems that someone is trying to glean Scythe Anastasia and Scythe Curie, and no one is quite sure who. The Thunderhead might know, but it is forbidden from speaking to the scythes. Instead, it nudges Greyson Tolliver, a neglected young man who was all but raised by Thunderhead into acting on its behalf, but the consequences are severe.

With confusion reigning across the Scythedom, and with High Blade Xenocrates standing down as the leader of the MidMerica region, there is a time for change ahead. But when an old face that everyone thought they’d seen the last of reappears and another lost figure has solved a centuries old puzzle which could save the world, nothing is certain anymore.

The first book in the series very much dealt with the nature of being a scythe, explaining how their government works, how they are trained, and what rules surround their jobs. This time, the focus shifts slightly and we get to learn a lot more about the Thunderhead. As sentient AI systems go, it seems one of the most benevolent. It provides for people and can control most aspects of the world including the weather and unemployment levels, but never interferes with anyone specifically. The Thunderhead and the Scythedom also cannot speak to one another, which feels like a massive oversight in the system, and this comes into play here.

As before, it’s a fascinatingly complex world that Shusterman has designed here. Set far enough into the future for everything to be slightly too weird, it is a world unlike ours in many ways, but humans will always be humans, so their failings continue even if their deaths have ended. The viewpoint jumps around considerably, but that just makes the world richer, as if we were following the action from just one or two places, the story wouldn’t have nearly as much depth. Like Patrick Ness’s Chaos Walking series, it feels like one of those worlds where morality is not tied to the “black and white” philosophy, and where you can see points on both sides. One can imagine how the series will end, but I’m not sure quite how we’re going to get there, as the book ends on a superb cliffhanger, and with several of the characters we’ve grown to know and love, well, if not dead then deadish.

The Toll, the third and final book in the series is out next week, and I will be getting to it sooner rather than later.

My second novel, The Third Wheel, is now available on Amazon and Waterstones! It tells the story of Dexter, a twenty-something teacher who is struggling with the fact that he alone among his friends is single and isn’t ready to grow up. But when aliens invade, it puts a lot of his problems into perspective. Mixing comedy, science fiction and horror, the novel promises to have something for everyone. I hope you’ll take a look!

Six of the Best … Books about death

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Death is one of the certainties of life. Everyone and everything will die, and there doesn’t seem to be anything we can do about it. While in the real world, the two constants seem to be death and taxes, in fiction it’s death and love. Every book I think I’ve ever read contains at least one death and one person in love. Today, however, with Halloween on the horizon, we’ll just be focusing on one of those.

No one knows what happens when we die. I like to imagine that whatever comes next is some kind of library. Because the answer is unknown, however, it has given writers of all stripes free reign to go wild with their imaginations. Throughout history, death has been talked and thought about, and it’s perhaps one of the main reasons we ended up with religion, as a lot of it seems to centre around what happens to us after we die. We are lucky as a society now that we rarely brush up against death. There are people dedicated to dealing with it, life expectancy is high, and hospitals and doctors are on hand when things begin to reach there end. Things were not always this way, though. In earlier times, death rates were much higher, and infant mortality was just a tragic but commonplace fact of life. People were used to seeing and dealing with dead bodies. One would guess that our ancestors were not as squeamish as many of us today may be, but we can’t really know for sure.

Death as a process is fascinating, and some scientists have even asked why it evolved in the first place. Is there an evolutionary reason for growing old and dying? Certainly there must be, or it wouldn’t have happened. Most people assume that older generations die off to allow there to be food and resources for the upcoming ones, and that seems to make the most sense to me. If nothing ever died, the world would be pretty crowded by now.

In 2011, a piece in Psychology Today even suggested that death is just an illusion. Maybe it is. This could easily just be a phase that we pass through between others we don’t remember and ones that we’ve yet to experience. Maybe we all keep going round and round. I suppose one day we will find out. For now, though, I think it is important to talk about death. Maybe not in casual conversation on the bus, but it is important not to fear it, to be able to come to terms with its existence, and to help comfort those who are dealing with it. It would be heartless to say we should just “get over it” and I don’t agree that’s the right way to go about things. Literature, as ever, comes to the rescue. By seeing something in fiction, it gives us a lens to view reality in a new way. We can understand death by how our favourite fictional characters react to it.

Let’s press on to six of the best books where death takes centre stage.

Scythe

Hundreds of years from now, humanity has managed to eradicate death. There is no more illness or injury, and the only way to die is to be gleaned by a scythe – someone who has been trained in the art of killing. You never quite know when your time will come, and there is no arguing with a scythe. The only rule is that no one would wants to be one can ever achieve the role. Citra and Rowan are two young people who both are against this normality and find the idea of murder abhorrent, but when they are both selected as apprentices to Scythe Faraday, they have no choice but to enter a new world and have their whole lives turned upside down.

A story that removes death from the world is not unique, but there was something particularly chilling and fascinating about this one. Neal Shusterman imbues the novel with great detail and a lot of lore that really makes the world, ironically, come alive. It’s a great worldbuilding exercise, and despite the potentially dark subject matter, there are some really fun moments. Without death, crime has vastly decreased as everyone lives so long as to be on a similar footing in society, and religion has faded because there’s no discussions on the afterlife anymore. The introduction of tonal cults – sects that worship sounds and smells – is one that feels very unique and is an example of what can be achieved in storytelling when you take away something as fundamental as death.

R.I.P.

There seems to be a taboo in Western society that says death is not something that we should consider funny. Granted, in certain circumstances I agree, but I’m also someone who believes there is comedy to be found in pretty much anything and that context is key. Nigel Williams is a funny writer, and he tackles death with just as many laughs in R.I.P. as he does in any of his other books. George wakes up one morning feeling absolutely fine, with the slight exception of the fact he’s dead. His mother, Jessica, has also died in the house that day, on the eve of her ninety-ninth birthday. The house is full of guests, and when it is revealed to the police that Jessica was worth twelve million pounds and no one has seen the latest will, it appears that both she and George may have been murdered, and everyone else in the family is now a suspect. Bittersweet and working as a genuine murder mystery despite being narrated by one of the victims, it’s a great look at ghosts and how our consciousness may carry on once our body shuts down for good.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven

It’s rare that a novel opens with a death, but Mitch Albom manages it here. Eddie is eighty-three when, while trying to save a small girl’s life, he loses his own. He finds himself in the afterlife, where he meets five people, one at a time, each of whom had a huge impact on his life. Between them, they will help Eddie explore and explain his time on Earth, and only when he’s met them all will he be able to move on to whatever comes next. I’ve read it twice, and just bought the long-awaited sequel as well, and think it’s one of the most beautiful books I’ve ever read. Albom has a stunning way with words, and conjures up great images from his precision and expertise. It is a book that reminds us that while we are the protagonist in our own story, everyone else has one too, and we’re just side characters in those. All stories are interconnected and nothing happens in a vacuum.

Sum

Of course, Mitch Albom’s version of the afterlife is only one possibility. In David Eagleman’s astonishingly beautiful Sum, he presents forty possible versions of the afterlife, each as beguiling, entrancing and magical as each other. In one, we find that power over the universe was handed over to a committee quite early on in the process. In another, we don’t die until we are entirely forgotten on Earth, which means the likes of Shakespeare are still there unable to move on for good. In one you meet all the different versions of yourself, and in yet one more, you can only spend time with people you knew on Earth. Some are fun, such as becoming the actors in the dreams of the living, and some are desperately weird, such as every atom in the universe being made up of the exact same quark that is attempting to be everything and everyone, and will eventually just wind itself down. It is, without question, one of my favourite books of all time and for such a slim novel contains so many lessons and ways of looking at the world.

Mort

I’m not particularly a Discworld fan, but I didn’t think I could let a post like this pass without mentioning Mort. Terry Pratchett’s character of Death is, despite everything I feel about the series, one of the greatest inventions in literary history. Dedicated to his job and quietly fascinated by the humans he has to deal with on a daily basis, the only time I can ever really bring myself to the world is when he’s in a starring role.

The title character of Mort is unsuited for the family business, and instead gets an apprenticeship under Death himself, leaning to take souls and deal in the business of death. When Mort fails to collect the soul of Princess Keli but instead kills her assassin, he sets in motion a parallel universe that will eventually collapse and see her dead anyway. Death, meanwhile, is taking a well-earned break while his apprentice holds down the fort and is learning what it’s like to be human. Mort must seek advice from Albert, Death’s assistant and former wizard, in protecting fate and seeing the universe restored to normality. Like all Discworld novels, it’s packed with jokes, silliness and some of the most phenomenally intricate world building ever attempted. While it’s the fourth book in the series, even Pratchett himself said this is the first one he actually liked.

Duck, Death and the Tulip

Death to many is scary, and children in particular may not understand the finality of the process. Duck, Death and the Tulip is a German book by Wolf Erlbruch and has been translated into many languages. In it, a duck meets the character of Death, who has been following her all her life. The two strike up a friendship and discuss life, death and a potential afterlife. Although Death seems unable, or perhaps unwilling, to directly give the duck any answers, the conversations seem to bring about a certain peace, leading to a very moving ending where the title’s tulip comes into play. It’s short and sweet and has utterly adorable illustrations. It’s one of those books that is great for children and adults alike. I didn’t discover it until I was in my mid-twenties, but it charmed me immediately. With a touch of humour, the book provides a great deal of comfort and is a vital tool for all ages.


Thanks for joining in and reading this new entry in my new series, Six of the Best. This is a twice-monthly series in which I take a look at fiction and books more generally and explore the fictional worlds I love so much. If you’ve got any suggestions for things you’d like to see me talk about, then please comment and let me know!

Top 10 Books of 2018

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Every year, you think the world can’t get any weirder, and then it does. 2018 was disastrous in many ways, but thankfully there is always fiction to provide you with a safe space. My 2018 was one of mixed emotions, but was redeemed by reaching the crowdfunding target on my second novel, The Third Wheel, getting to hold it in my hands, attending the wedding of one of my best friends and being asked to be a “bridesmate” for my oldest friend this coming year, and, of course, books. I also finally got Netflix this year, which took up an inordinate amount of reading time, but I still managed to hit ninety-one books.

Truth be told, I reached the end of the year struggling with how to write this post. As it got down to it, I remembered reading a good number of books I enjoyed, but very few that stood out as great books. As I went back through the list, though, I found several that really did outshine the rest, and I present them to you now. These are the ten books I read in 2018 that I would most recommend to anyone looking for a new book.

(As a side note, if you purchase any of the books here via the links I provide, I get a little bit of money, so thanks in advance!)

1. The Restaurant At The End Of The Universe by Douglas Adams

Arthur Dent is one of only two humans left in the universe. Along with a collection of assorted aliens and a depressed robot, he is now hurtling through space with no home planet to return to, and being pursued by a Vogon spaceship that has orders to kill Zaphod Beeblebrox, the President of the Galaxy. As the plot pinballs through the universe, but one question remains pivotal for every character involved: “Where are we going for lunch?” There’s only one answer, though. Milliway’s – the restaurant at the end of the universe.

Really, I’d pick the whole series – or at least the first four books – but Restaurant, for whatever reason, has the most emotional pull for me. Daft, witty and somehow still emotional, Adams changed the rules when he wrote these books, proving that with an entire universe of improbability to play with, writers didn’t have to stick to rigid rules regarding how aliens and planets behave. Inventions such as the Babel Fish and the answer to life, the universe and everything being 42 are now iconic in pop culture, and quite rightly so. I can only dream of being this creative.

You can read my full review here, or buy a copy of the book here.

2. Not Working by Lisa Owens

Claire Flannery has quit the job she hated, but hasn’t yet figured out exactly what it is she wants to do instead. Her mental health deteriorates as she struggles through job applications and the judgement of friends and family, not helped by the fact she made an inappropriate joke at her grandfather’s funeral and now her mother isn’t talking to her. Claire needs to find some answers to the questions everyone is asking her about her future, but sometimes they come along just as you stop looking.

Having spent an enormous amount of time over the last two years out of work, this book hit home in various ways. While funny, it’s also terribly poignant, dealing with love, loss, a feeling of worthlessness and how no one seems to really understand the emotional and mental impact of unemployment in a capitalist society unless they’re undergoing it themselves. I don’t wish it on anyone, but this book was a brilliant analysis of the topic, with an enormous number of quotable lines and a true sense of reality. I adored it because it made me feel less alone.

You can read my full review here, or buy a copy of the book here.

3. All Our Wrong Todays by Elan Mastai

Tom Barren lives in the 2016 that we’ve all dreamed out. With flying cars, food pills, teleportation, total equality, and limitless energy, Earth is a utopian paradise where everybody has enough and comfort and happiness comes as standard. Tom’s father, Victor, is a scientist who is on the brink of inventing time travel, with plans to send someone back through time to the most important moment in history, when Lionel Goettreider turned on his perpetual motion machine which sent humanity into its perfect future. But when Tom goes back by mistake, he accidentally changes history and returns to a broken, backwards world he doesn’t recognise: ours.

This was one of the first books I read in 2018, and I knew from then it would appear here, regardless of what else I read. Mastai has created a fascinating twist on the alternate universe and dystopia theme by having our world be the bad timeline, rather than create something new. It’s funny, engaging and packed with outlandish science that somehow all still seems real and just out of our grasp. To be honest with you, it’s a strong contender for book of the decade, and is one of the best science fiction stories I’ve ever read.

You can read my full review here, or buy a copy of the book here.

4. A Short History Of Drunkenness by Mark Forsyth

From the moment our ancestors came out of the trees, and perhaps even before, humans have loved a drink. It defines us as a species as much as our reliance on technology, desire for exploration, and need for telling stories. From the first farmers to the speakeasies of Prohibition, Mark Forsyth explores the entire of human history through our drinking habits, exploring not just what we were drinking, but why we drank, who with, and what for. How well did the plan for Australia to be an entirely dry culture go? And why was ale once drunk through a straw? All this and more will be covered.

One of two non-fiction books entering the top ten this year, this might seem a surprise candidate, but I haven’t had this much fun reading a non-fiction book in a long time. Hugely entertaining, Forsyth balances the fascinating history of alcohol with whimsy and great laughs. I’ve been repeating several of the facts ever since, including the facts that civilisation almost certainly began because of beer, and that in London for a short time, gin was served out of stuffed cats. You’ll have to read it yourself to find out more.

You can read my full review here, or buy a copy of the book here.

5. The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

In the near future, fertile women are lesser citizens, sent to live with married couples for the express purpose of having children, with no say over whether or not they want to. Trapped in her life of servitude, Offred remembers the time before the government instigated this way of living, and she isn’t yet ready to give up her dreams. As it stands, the only way of getting anything resembling a better life is to get pregnant, and her whole life rests in the hands of two men who could make or break her future with one word.

Of course this makes it on to the list. I’m still appalled it took me so long to read it, but I think 2018 was actually the year it needed to be read most. There is so much to learn from this novel that shows how the world can change in unfathomable and unthinkable ways if certain ideas and figures aren’t opposed. The characters are fascinating, the world interesting, and the writing, as always with Atwood, beautifully charged with emotion. I’m intrigued by the promise of a sequel, too, and wonder where the story will lead next.

You can read my full review here, or buy a copy of the book here.

6. Penpal by Dathan Auerbach

The nameless narrator recalls a project from elementary school where he and his classmates released some balloons into the world with their names on them, in hopes that they get responses from people elsewhere in the city, or perhaps further afield. At first, nothing returns for him, but eventually he begins receiving blurry photographs. First one, then another, and then so many arrive that he stops opening them. It’s only sometime later when he takes a look again that he notices something the photos have in common … he’s in all of them.

Horror isn’t something I read a huge amount of, but there was something so compelling about this novel. I had doubts at first, but it turned into one that my mind has kept returning to since, which I take as a good sign. Just eerie enough to catch you off guard, the book is worth a read for anyone who likes being creeped out. I suppose it’s more of a thriller really, and it definitely makes good on that promise. A truly haunting, terrifying, uncomfortable read.

You can read my full review here, or buy a copy of the book here.

7. Early Riser by Jasper Fforde

On an alternate Earth, the planet is still in the grip of an Ice Age, and humanity has had to evolve to hibernate, with the vast majority of the population spending the coldest months in a state of induced sleep. Charlie Worthing is a new recruit among the Winter Consuls, the select group of protectors who remain awake all Winter to ensure that nothing bad happens to the sleepers. Rumours are abound of a viral dream, and Charlie finds himself up to his neck in trouble after he accidentally falls asleep for four weeks and is now trapped in an area of Wales that he won’t be able to leave until the thaw. It’s time to learn what it really takes to survive the Winter…

Straight up confession – this isn’t my favourite Fforde book by any means, but it’s still a Fforde book and that immediately puts it on a higher level than almost everything else published in 2018. After a long absence, it’s refreshing to have him back and still on good form, creating his fifth fictional world that is entirely realised with an enormous scope. Although a standalone novel, I would happily return to this world, just to spend more time with Fforde’s talents for wordplay, comedy and pathos. Truly the greatest writer working today.

You can read my full review here, or buy a copy of the book here.

8. Scythe by Neal Shusterman

A few centuries down the line, humanity has cured death. To keep populations in check, there is now a group of people called scythes whose job it is to kill (“glean”) people, in whatever manner they see fit. Citra and Rowan have just been taken from their families to begin training as the next generation of scythes, but both are appalled by the concept of killing, despite knowing that it must happen. Never before has a scythe taken on two apprentices, however, and at the first conclave of the year, a decision is reached – whichever of the two does best in their final exams when the year is out will win the scythe’s robe and ring – and have to glean the other…

It’s not often a YA novel makes it way onto a list of my favourite books of the year, as I tire with a lot of them quickly, but there was something remarkable about Scythe. I haven’t really stopped thinking of it since and have already bought the sequel. Shusterman builds a rich world here and it’s one that I’m happy to spend time in. There are some particularly shocking moments in it, but they somehow work and the whole thing feels effortless in its appeal in a way I’ve not encountered since the Chaos Walking series. This should really be better known than it is.

You can read my full review here, or buy a copy of the book here.

9. The Third Wheel by Michael J. Ritchie

Dexter is a twenty-something teacher struggling with growing up. All of his friends have now coupled off while Dexter remains alone, with the world pestering him constantly with its obsession with finding “the one”, as well as an onslaught of double dates and wedding invitations. After a drunken encounter with an ex-girlfriend, his and everyone else’s world is turned upside down when aliens invade and decimate the population. Suddenly the problems of romance don’t seem to matter so much…

Don’t begrudge me putting my own novel on the list. I’m never going to claim it’s one of the best books I’ve ever read, but I’m proud of it and the feedback I’ve had – from both friends and strangers – so far has been brilliant, so I think it’s a good call. As with my first book, I’ve tried to lace both very silly comedy with very dark tragedy, and I think it works well, producing a novel that is something different. I’ve tired of media reproducing the same thing over and over again, so I was determined here to break the rules and give the world something a little unique, with a focus on friendships rather than romantic relationships. Time will tell if I’ve been successful.

You can read my full review here, or buy a copy of the book here.

10. The Lonely City by Olivia Laing

In this collection of essays, Olivia Laing explores the lives and works of several famous artists and how loneliness played a key role in their creativity. We get to meet Andy Warhol, who struggled with other people; Edward Hopper who immortalised loneliness in his painting Nighthawks, and Henry Darger who was only discovered to be an artistic genius after his death. Laing also introduces her own personal experiences of dealing with loneliness in a big city.

Emotionally charged and packed with wise words about loneliness, pain, privacy, acceptance and art, it is an important and beautiful book that explores many topics that society doesn’t like to talk about. I seem constantly attracted to books about loneliness, and this is the epitome of the theme, again very quotable and full of nuggets of wisdom to take with you. The stories, too, are fascinating and shine a light on people I didn’t know all that much about. Everyone should read this, particularly any creative types who think they’re alone in their struggles.

You can read my full review here, or buy a copy of the book here.

And there you have it. Now, on with 2019 reading! My second novel is out officially this year, I’m beginning my re-read of the Agatha Christie back catalogue (it’s sad to not see her on this list), and there are hundreds of more books yet to explore. I can’t wait to get stuck in!

“Scythe” by Neal Shusterman (2016)

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“The scythe arrived late on a cold November afternoon.”

Death is the ultimate certainty. While some scientists believe that the first person who will live to be over 150 is already alive right now, the time will come eventually. Many books, especially novels, have been written on the subject and I think despite many of us having a primal fear of death, we also have a curious fascination with it. But what if there was no more death? What would happen to the world? In this novel, Neal Shusterman explores the concept.

Once upon a time on Earth, people got sick or injured and died. But that hasn’t happened for hundreds of years, now. When the Cloud evolved into the hyper-intelligent Thunderhead, it learnt what was best for humanity and took over the running of the planet, dismantling governments and corporations and leaving people with equality, health, happiness and eternal life. For once in fiction, its motives were genuine. But there were a group of humans who decided that there still needed to be a small measure of population control in place, thus the scythes were born.

Selected at a young age for training, you can only become an apprentice scythe if you have absolutely no desire to kill, or “glean” as it’s now known. When Citra and Rowan both independently stand up to Scythe Faraday and question his methods, they are both employed as his assistants and begin to learn the art of killcraft, as well as the ins and outs of the Scythedom, the one group of people that the Thunderhead has no jurisdiction over as they act above the law. Bound to their studies, the two of them begin to learn the ways of the scythe, despite their own protests. Choosing who to glean is just the start.

But then, at a conclave of all the MidMerican scythes, attention is thrust upon them and there is some debate as to whether a scythe can take on two assistants. The choice is made – Faraday can have two assistants, but only one will gain the robe and ring of a scythe … and their first task will be to glean the other…

I was obviously curious enough about this book to make the purchase, but as someone who is somewhat wary of Young Adult fiction, I wasn’t sure whether it would turn out well or be disappointing. On the sliding scale, however, I’d pop this higher than The Hunger Games (to which is appears to be frequently compared) but maybe not quite as good as the Chaos Walking trilogy. The world is richly developed and the lore and history behind it is explained to us by the use of diary entries from various scythes, it being one of their rules that they must keep a journal. This is a world where death still happens regularly from accidents, but unless you’ve been gleaned officially by a scythe, you are taken to a reanimation centre and brought back to life. Death here is merely a hassle, not an ending, but people still fear it and crave the blessing of the scythes for immunity. The Thunderhead may have done away with politicians and crime, but corruption still exists here, as it seems to wherever there are humans. The scythes are treated as above the law, and the Thunderhead cannot interfere with them.

The concepts here are great fun, despite the darkness at the heart of the novel, and I enjoy a future where no one knows what murder is as death isn’t seen as a crime, and that because people are broadly speaking on an equal footing, there’s no need for theft and so on. Even religion has faded away in a world not obsessed with the afterlife, and instead been replaced by tonal cults, who worship sounds and smells.

The characters that inhabit this story are intriguing too, and while it’s quite obvious from the outset which way it’s going to go, there are a number of surprises along the way that kept me hooked. As I said, one of the first rules of becoming a scythe is that you must have absolutely no desire to do it, as anyone who enjoys killing would be wrong for the role. Scythes are respected and admired, as well as feared, and each has their own methods by which they glean. Interestingly, gleanings are not always bloodless and kind – you are just as likely to be beheaded, stabbed or shot than you are poisoned or drowned. Scythes must work to a quota that vaguely relates to the death rates in the Age of Mortality.

Really, I’m a sucker for great worldbuilding and Shusterman has that here in spades. The ending sets up for the rest of the series, and I’ve already put the sequel in my basket on Amazon. I look forward to returning to these characters.

Looking for something different to read in the new year? My second novel, The Third Wheel, is available to pre-order at Amazon and Waterstones now, ready for launch on January 17th. If you like tongue-in-cheek stories about aliens and failed relationships, it might just be up your alley. I hope you’ll take a look and enjoy it! Thanks!