Fort Books

Short review: loved the book. I love where Matt Dinniman is taking us, and I love how everything is looping back around. The nine-pronged attacks that we've been told about in the second book becoming a bigger, more important part now? To the lore? Love it.

I like the inclusion of Interludes, which feels like an evolution of the last book's excerpts on the Cookbook Authors' lives. It helps paint the picture of how this particular Dungeon Crawl is affecting the lives of those outside.

It's a good book. It's a good lead-up to whatever the hell Matt Dinniman has in store for us in the last act of the story. (Last act, not last book! I think there are two more books after this.) And the series of final interludes does a great job of winding us down so we're not tearing our hair out while waiting for the next book.

All that said--and this is where my longer review begins--while I remain impressed at Dinniman's ability to escalate everything without it feeling too much, I am a little concerned that we haven't had any emotional catharsis since the sixth book's one-two punch of the "Christmas" party and the death of a major crawler.

Warning: spoilers ahead.

Katia's departure last book still feels like a cop-out, and the reveal that her current destination isn't as safe as initially thought feels like something they could also learn via Lucia Mar's plotline.

And then there's the introduction to the assassin who was supposed to take out two important crawlers. Now, when the book revealed that there was a soldier in the dungeon that Carl and his party didn't know about…I kind of already knew he was gonna get found out before he actually does damage. What I'm miffed about is that he didn't get to do any damage at all.

Was the reveal of who his targets were important? Yes and no. Yes, because it shows the characters outside the crawl aren't stupid. But also no because we already know their emotional weight in the story. If these targets still have important parts to play in the story, then at least let the soldier kill someone else who is emotionally-important.

Honestly, much as I love the character of Daniel Bautista--having him die this book after Katia got saved last time would've been the perfect tragedy for the story. He didn't even really stand out in this book. Even with his tea ceremony.

I don't know what the plans are for Elle, but imagine having her die? Just as she's about to complete her seasons trajectory? That would've been emotionally-gutting as well. Although she probably also has a big part to play still, which was why she had plot armor.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that, while I still enjoy the book, I am tired of being told how harrowing and tragic the whole ordeal is when the only people dying (which is still horrible, don't get me wrong) are people we barely know. The tragedy isn't gonna hit as much if it's people we don't know.

And if you say the point is that every human life lost should count the same, I do hear you. That doesn't change the fact that we feel more empathy and sorrow for people we actually like. Like Paz Lo. And Tserendolgor. And Brandon. And Yolanda. And Li Jun.

This is two books in a row that, in my personal opinion, the plot escalation warranted more heart-wrenching deaths. And I know that one of the crawlers I mentioned did die in the last book. It just didn't feel enough for how much the tragedy and the horror was being hyped up by the main character.

I need Matt Dinniman to be ruthless.

Because he's delivering on the plot. He's delivering on the lore. He's delivering on the message, the call to action, and the heart. Now he just needs to deliver on the genre and break that heart.

A book highly recommended by @space-glitter-gay, Project Hail Mary tells the story of a junior high science teacher who somehow ends up in space with one goal: save humanity.

My short review of it? I loved the book. It's a joy to read, it's easy to follow--even with all the science terms, and it's got heart.

There's just one thing I want that the book, rightfully, didn't deliver. I wanted to know what was going on in Earth during the time our main character was on his space mission. And because I know that story doesn't belong in this novel, I'm going to take this time to make a plea to the universe:

Please tell Andy Weir to produce a Project Hail Mary companion book for what happened on Earth after Project Hail Mary left the planet. If he doesn't want to write it, please whisper in his ear to allow another writer to produce said book with his approval.

Why do I want this? Because the whole premise is intriguing. I know we already have a lot of apocalyptic fiction floating around…but, to be honest, not all of them are great. Project Hail Mary has something they don't and I want it recaptured.

It has hope.

And we always need hope.

I realize I didn't really talk much about the book. But I also understand that I don't want to just write broadly about themes and character development here. Because that's not what the point of the book, for me, was.

It was about hope.

It is about hope.

So if you've seen the movie and was on the fence about reading the book… Read the book. It's a good book. It's a comforting book.

I bought this book because a friend gifted me the sequel last Christmas. Because I used to love stories set in the zombie apocalypse. Well, maybe I still do. The thing is… The television adaptation of The Walking Dead has made me more discerning about the type of zombie content I consume. 'Cause a lot of them don't really have anything more to say other than "zombie, bad! government, bad! everything bad!"

You may already have an idea where I'm going with this.

Mars, May Zombie! follows the story of Marcelo, a teenager who grew up in the zombie apocalypse. His biggest complaint in life is that his grandmother forces him to find working bathrooms to do their business. (Which, not gonna lie, I'm on the grandmother's side here.) Marcelo struggles with the lifestyle his grandmother wants--this maintaining-humanity-during-the-end-of-the-world thing--so he daydreams about going to the Blue Zone, where the rich are protected from zombies by the military and high walls.

The blurb at the back of the book promises that Marcelo learns a secret about the Blue Zone that upends his world view.

Ninety percent of the book is Marcelo wanting to go to the Blue Zone, conveniently discovering that the man who follows them from camp to camp is the mastermind behind the rumors of a Blue Zone incursion, complaining about his grandmother, his only friend, and the preparations to enter the Blue Zone.

Around three percent of the book takes place inside the Blue Zone where we don't really learn any secret beyond "the government is the bad guy" which we kind of already know in the first few chapters.

And the remaining seven percent is Marcelo's best friend Billie, aka Bey, talking about Beyonce and wanting to be Beyonce. And I say this as someone who respects and admires Beyonce and her work…but this book made me wish I could erase her name from my memory.

The Blue Zone is hyped as this high-security utopia where people are sheltered and protected against the deadly virus. Somewhere along the way, the promise of a vaccine is bandied around. But we spend more time talking about Beyonce than we do dealing with the ramification of the fact that the Blue Zone isn't the promised land our main character thought it was going to be.

To the people who enjoyed this book, kudos to you. This was not for me.

But I already have the sequel so I read that too.

Here's what I can say about "Mars, Maraming Zombie!" It attempted to be better. The writing, the plot structure, and the pacing are all better than the first novel. The characterization is more concrete. No one develops a new personality midway through the book. (I am looking at you, Marcelo's Grandma Vicky.) And the Beyonce references are kept to a minimum.

At the end of the book though, I still felt short-changed. Marcelo's character development felt like it happened before the sequel started. Grandma Vicky and Bey stayed pretty one note throughout, and so did the new characters introduced. The only character that gets a pretty solid arc is the comic relief from the latter half of the first novel. And she only pops back up in the last quarter of this book.

Thing is: I'm not angry at these books. I'm not angry at all the time I wasted reading them. I'm more disappointed. Sad that there was the beginnings of a social commentary but it never really follows through on what the author wants to say.

This was a little difficult for me to go through. Not because the writing was bad. I think I've established that I quite enjoy Dinniman's writing based on what I said about the Dungeon Crawler Carl books--but it's also that series's fault that I had to keep putting down this book because Operation Bounce House is so very different and yet has so many similarities.

I'm gonna start with the things I didn't like first.

The first one is main character Oliver's quick dip into becoming a war soldier. Sure, I get the point that war changes people. I know that we have the capacity to be quick learners when it's necessary for survival. I still did not like how, in the first day of war, Oliver suddenly became Crawler Carl as he gave out orders to other people. Especially because this version of Oliver never shows up again in the rest of the book.

Like, Oliver was established as a farmer and a drummer-by-necessity. By the end of the book, Dinniman underlines that Oliver's dream is very simply a desire to provide. To live a quiet life with people he cared about. I love Oliver's whole characterization. Except for that couple of chapters in Day 1. (Or maybe it was in Day 2. It was in the first part of the war for sure.)

The final thing I did not like was the decision to have Oliver (and, us the readers,) split his attention between the concert and the final mission. I get that both are important to him as a character, and sure, after the first chapter of the split-focus, it is pretty easy to navigate the changing perspectives… But, in my non-expert opinion, if we take out Oliver from performing in the concert…it doesn't really affect the narrative the book wants to tell. It just feels like an unnecessary complication. Like… The stakes are already raised. And Oliver being in the line of fire can still happen even if he wasn't the drummer because he's still physically with the band.

I just don't understand why he had to play the drums. I'm trying to see if it adds anything to the message of the book but it really doesn't.

Those two things aside, I thoroughly enjoyed reading Operation Bounce House. Although I don't know if a depressing recognition of the reflection the book is holding up to current society could count as enjoyment really. But it's a good book. It has a good message. Although, I realize as I write this, it's also a message that really only works if the book breaks containment.

Fans of Dinniman's writing are already open-minded and pretty aware of injustices in the world. At least based on the limited interactions and exchanges I've seen online. For Operation Bounce House to really matter, it needs to get into the hands and minds of those who refuse to look at the world in black and white.

And with what's currently happening in the world, there is also hope that this book will inspire people to take action. Maybe in little things. One character in the book cynically (and rightfully) calls out that some people will virtue-signal but ultimately not do anything. By the time the book ends, it is underlined even more so by the fact that people only continued to watch and did nothing to help. That it remained up to the affected characters to actually do something to save themselves. Sure, one can argue that by that point any action wouldn't matter. But for us in the real world though?

Saying something online and positioning ourselves to be good people does not mean we're doing anything good. Yes, we're boosting the signal. But, ultimately, does it do anything if we don't back it up with real life actions?

This installment of the Thursday Murder Club series is both a breeze to read and a hard book to swallow.

When I last wrote about the series, I already said that my love for the book is because of the characters we've gotten to know, and the community that they have built with each other. And that remains true with this book. Because, goodness knows, the murder mystery in this one was... Well... Not my favorite.

In The Last Devil to Die, our female leads Elizabeth and Joyce kind of share the spotlight a little bit--with the latter being the one spearheading the case-solving. Which was fun. And kept the series from becoming formulaic. Because while Joyce was doing her best to emulate Elizabeth's leadership, I love that she still remained very true to who she was introduced to us as.

But what really made this book a good read for me was Elizabeth's storyline. Because she takes a bit of a back seat from the mystery-solving to attend to something more personal. And we even get a plot with the fox that appears on the Thursday Murder Club books. Which felt fitting, in a way.

Another thing I loved was that we get more background about Ibrahim's character. And maybe a romance subplot for him? Although while I like that we're getting to meet new characters, I shudder to think about how the next book's gonna be like to read with now having so many POVs to switch through.

All this said, The Last Devil to Die reminded me again of the potential that Netflix wasted on the film adaptation of The Thursday Murder Club. These books should've been seasons of a television series, not a one-off movie that threw out all the nuances of the characters and their relationships.

But I digress.

I kinda get now why people on the Dungeon Crawler Carl subreddit keep recommending the Red Rising series to people who are looking for other books to read. This book hews very close to how the Red Rising books are written…for the most part.

But before we get to spoiler territory, I just want to say outright that I enjoyed reading This Inevitable Ruin. The interstitial chapters were a welcome addition for this specific installment, especially with how the last book ended. And while I would welcome more, I also don't want them on Book #8. I thought Matt Dinniman has really grown as a writer--especially with how he handled Carl and Donut's character progression. That said--

I am more scared than ever that the series will not have a satisfying ending.

My biggest issue comes from the level up. The crawlers are leveling up. The enemies are leveled up. The stakes are rising higher and higher. And yet… the sense of danger seems to be waning? We meet new people, and I just think--oh, cool: people who will die but won't break anyone's hearts.

Now, don't get me wrong. If any of the main characters… Well, main-ish characters, die? I will be devastated. But it will make the danger feel real again. Someone on the subreddit said we would lose Katia in this book. And I realized, as I neared the end of This Inevitable Ruin, that I was actually looking forward to that spoiler. And I got even more excited, as a writer reading, when we got to the chapter of her and Carl going through the worst and best moment of her life.

But when we lost Katia in the way we lose her? I felt cheated. We were getting so much emotional build-up, so much teasing for a devastating tragedy, that everything going Carl's way felt like a cop-out.

I should be happy that the characters are winning. Sort of. But we were told this was going to be an unforgiving place. That the universe is out there to break us. But so far, the only ones we've lost are people we don't particularly know. Most of them unnamed.

The major death in The Eye of the Bedlam Bride was beautiful. It turned out to be unnecessary, but it gives the readers an emotional catharsis. It gave us an avenue to cry and mourn. And look at the real world wanting to make change, to be better people to others. I was expecting more of that in the much-hyped Faction Wars.

So while I enjoyed the book… I would have to say this places second to last on my ranking of the Dungeon Crawler Carl books. The Dungeon Anarchist Cookbook ranks first, followed by the Bedlam Bride. This Inevitable Ruin and the first book brings up the rear, respectively.

Two things right off the bat: I didn't love this book as much as I hope I would--which has made me decide I don't want to keep this duology on my keep-forever shelf. But I also respect the story the author wanted to tell so I will be donating this book to my university library. In hopes that people will pick it up, that they will be inspired by the message of the book.

Because, in the end, that's what I feel the book wants to do: inspire people. To affect change. To make the world we make a better than the one we are living in.

But let's catch up first;

The World We Make is the sequel to N. K. Jemisin's "The City We Became" which created avatars for New York City and its boroughs. The first book established who the seven main characters are and what their relationships are to each other. The second book… escalates the problem they sort-of solved in the first book.

Now here in lies my problem with the story. There's too much happening. Like, sure: life doesn't make sense. Things happen and they keep happening. But this is a novel. An urban fantasy one with a pretty great message that it wants to convey. I wish the author did more to either (a) trim the side stories down, or (b) plot it better so that it didn't feel like three books worth of stories is being crammed into two.

Because, surprise, my gripe with the first book? On it feeling like it's setting up a sequel before the first book is even over? Turns out I was right. In the author's section, N. K. Jemisin pretty much says that this was supposed to be a trilogy that she decided to turn into a duology instead. It's very apparent. So much has been set up that the climactic battle feels very anticlimactic.

Especially because you can see how few pages there are by the time you get to the stuff that needs to be done. You, as the reader, become very aware of how little resolution there's going to be.

Now don't get me wrong. We do get a resolution. A messy and hurried one. But it's a resolution. But the reason why I didn't love this book as much as I thought I should was because of the author's note. Because of the reveal that this was supposed to be a trilogy. Because if the author decided while writing to end the trilogy a book a early--then why not streamline the story during the editing phase? Why not give the characters better closure?

I get wanting to keep the door open for future books. But the way the end of this book was handled does not inspire me to pick up another Great Cities book, to be honest. I spent close to two years looking for and waiting for this copy, and I feel like the work I put into acquiring The World We Make really set my expectations way too high for a book that felt like it gave up in the end.

I don't know if I'm becoming desensitized with Grady Hendrix's writing but… the only horror I found in this book was in the treatment of the titular wayward girls by people who were supposed to take care of them. Also--

I think this is the first book of Hendrix's that I don't think I can ever recommend to anyone. And I liked the book! Well… for the most part. He's definitely written better books and crafted more horrifying scares than this.

Quick set-up before we get to the nitty-gritty: Set in the 70s, Witchcraft for Wayward Girls tells the story of four pregnant teenagers who are left at a Home so they could live our their pregnancies in secret, give birth, give their babies way, and return to their lives while protecting their reputations. These girls are victims--if not of rape, then by people they thought they could trust--boyfriends, parents, the whole gamut. Our main girl is singled out by a traveling librarian as someone who can be trusted with a book on witchcraft, and that's where the story begins.

Chapter 10. That's when the story begins. And that's the first gripe I have about this book. It's not that nothing happens in the chapters before. It's just… The title says witchcraft. The premise revolves around witchcraft. The prologue teases you about things the girls had done because they thought everyone was against them. And the book that starts it all shows up in the tenth chapter? Really?

And then there's the topic of witches itself. I'm not an expert in the field. Far from it. But I thought the book had a very confused point-of-view on witches. Are they inconvenient women? Or are they monsters who prey on victims? You have to choose a lane. Or if you want a nuanced take with plenty of sides, then why not choose to focus the story there instead of on just the evil part?

I get that this is a horror novel. I get that you need a bogeyman that the main characters have to fight. But the way the denouement unfolds is anti-climactic and antithetical to what has been established about the book's version of witches. Especially with a deus-ex-machina twist in the last few pages just to give the main character an out from the predicament the writer cornered her in.

Now, I did say I liked the book. The milieu was rich, the characters were complicated (although the main character can be quite frustratingly passive some times), and the pacing was excellent. But I feel like a lot of the book's potential was lost in lieu of cheap thrills. As if the novel was getting ready for a movie adaptation instead of focusing on telling the story it initially wanted to tell. Which is a bummer.

Is this a well-written book? My answer is very subjective.

I liked the premise. I like the idea of a person being tasked by the government to be a liaison for someone who was plucked out of time and made to live a very modern life. I like the promise of where the story can go from there.

I did not like the way the story was written. Which is okay. We all have our idiosyncrasies and mine did not jive with how this book was written. I had a hard time keeping awake while reading this book, and managed only to power through the last two chapters because I saw that the end was near.

I did not like the ending.

Okay, let me rephrase that. I liked the ending but I did not like how the end began. But to get to that point, we have to go back and pinpoint what made this book such a difficult read for me.

The narrator is a passive bore. The entirety of the novel happens to her and she just reacts to the events. Barely. She is such a non-entity that I completely missed the part where she remained unnamed to the end. I am very miffed at myself for having picked this book up at all.

I wish the writer made the narrator--our central character, mind you--feel like a real person. She has the history, she has the trauma, the only thing she needed was the personality. The writer spent so much time making sure we would fall in love with the romantic lead that she forgot to give some of that love to, arguably, the most important character of all: the narrator.

I liked this book. Now, I don't know if it's because I took a break from the series or if it's because Matt Dinniman improved his plotting but I would rank this as my second favorite Dungeon Crawler Carl book. (The first one is Dungeon Anarchist's Cookbook.)

The Eye of the Bedlam Bride is another hefty book. And Dinniman calls himself a "pantser," or someone who doesn't like to plan ahead. But this book does not read like it had been pantsed. I've complained before about how Carl likes to act in secret--even from the readers--but that complaint is non-existent here. We get a surprise flashback scene in the last section of the book but it doesn't feel out-of-place. It doesn't feel like a twist to help the writer get out of a sticky situation. Mostly because it's been foreshadowed and plotted well.

That's the thing that really made me enjoy reading this book even with its length. Because reading through, it never feels like the wheels are just being spun but we're not really going anywhere. Every new character introduced serves a purpose. The twists feel organic to the source material and true to the characters that we have now gotten to know pretty well.

My only complaint, midway through the book, would have been the title. Because the titular Bedlam Bride didn't really factor in a lot for two-thirds of the book. But when she comes back around just before the explosive finale… Well, whatever concern I might have had with the title choice was gone. It is fitting.

And this has made me excited to pick up the seventh book. But I won't do that yet. One, the break really helped give me fresh eyes and reinvigorated my love for the series. Two, my local bookstore still hasn't contacted me about my copy. It's only appeared on their website today. And because my eyes do not like e-books (even when they're on kindle-like gadgets) and my brain cannot keep still for audio books, I will be forced to wait.

I think what I really enjoy about this series is that it's not about criminals wanting to get away with it. It's not how the members of the Thursday Murder Club solve the mystery, although the charm is there. Having finished the third book in the series, I have become invested in the world Richard Osman created because of the characters and the community they built.

What I particularly like about The Bullet That Missed is that, although time has passed between this book and the last, we are very much still reeling from the consequences and rewards of the last book. The events of The Man Who Died Twice continue to affect the lives of our protagonists, and even moments from the first book are still brought up and mentioned.

Which is why I'm even more baffled by the Netflix adaptation that distilled the first book into just a movie that focused on entirely the wrong things. But that's a post for a different blog so I shall get back to it:

The Bullet That Missed is a fun book to pick-up in between deadlines because while it is engaging, it's also really easy to put down. Not to forget, mind you. But so you could handle other more pressing things. The charm of Richard Osman's writing, particularly with this book, is in how you don't feel pressured to keep reading and reading just to find out what's next. While some facts are withheld by the characters for narrative purpose, and some clues are laid out pretty early for readers to ponder, the actual action of the novel moves at a pace that can be described as power walking. You can delay a little because it's easy to catch up, and you know you're not going to stop until you get to the finish because it's an activity you quite enjoy doing.

Another way to describe the third book in The Thursday Murder Club series? It's friend-shaped. You know it's going to pick you up when you're down and it's not gonna hurry you to get to the bottom of things because it trusts your pace in reading.

And I know that I've said a whole bunch of nothing for many of you. So I'll leave you with this:

I can't say much about the mystery because it's pretty simple. I can't say much about the characters because the book really does pick up on the developments of the previous installment. Things do develop though. And Richard Osman gives everyone pretty much a good spotlight. Especially Ibrahim after he pretty much got sidelined in the last book. And I can't say much about the added complications that aren't really connected but do get connected to the main story because… Well, that's spoiler territory.

I have to give props to whoever is making those new books round-up for Oh No They Didn't. It's through them that I found this book, and through their write-up that I even became curious what it was about. Because, let's be real: this title and the book cover? It doesn't really call on anyone.

This is my first Dete Meserve book and it was a blast to read through it. I don't think it took me more than 20 hours in total? (Split in two days, three sittings.) So it's very easy to read.

I complain a lot about characters that are immediately unlikable, but I liked that it's important to this book. It's important for the characters to come off as sketchy, as guarded, as broken. Because the journey they take is what helps them understand themselves more. I don't completely love that they all had a breakthrough and are all moving on to very loving futures. (Edited to add; one of the reasons I'm not a big fan of the loving futures is because one relationship has parallels to Orpheus and Eurydice, and I thought it was a perfect way of saying that even if love doesn't last it doesn't mean it wasn't real. And that parallelism is erased by certain events in the last few chapters.) But I do appreciate it. Life sucks enough so, sure, let's give fictional characters their happy endings.

That's not to say everything is tied up with a bow. I have to give props to the writer that she didn't clean up everything for the characters. That you know there will still be bumps in their roads after the book ends, and that helps with making them more three-dimensional.

The Memory Collectors is told through four perspectives but it really only has one major theme and story. At least in my opinion. The book is about how we tend to narrow our recollection of the past with how it affected us, forgetting that there are other people in the picture too. Forgetting that it's just one moment and it doesn't necessarily define who the whole of us is.

Midway through the book, I realized I hadn't had a suicide ideation for three weeks. And for the first time in almost ten years, I felt happy. And I know now, as I write this, that I picked the perfect time to read this book. Because three weeks ago, I would've been very annoyed at how the novel plays out. Now though? Now I can appreciate it for what it is: a feel good novel that deals with darkness, and how we don't really leave that space until we ourselves decide that it's time to venture out.

(Aside: I think it also helped the book's case that I was very annoyed at the final season of Upload. Not because the writing was bad. The writers did the best they could to wrap-up a complicated story line in four half-hour episodes. I'm more miffed at the fact that the main female lead of the show was stuck in the backseat for the entire final season. Which I think might have something to do with scheduling conflicts. So I don't really blame anyone here. People did the best they could with the lot they were given. And that's exceptional. I'm still allowed to be frustrated and annoyed by it. Sorry for hi-jacking this post to talk about a TV show.)

Let me preface this by saying: this book wasn't easy to come by. I think the bookstore I go to (I can't say it's a local bookstore 'cause they're the second biggest chain here in the Philippines) had to order this book specially for me. Because it took months after its release before they could finally get a copy.

A copy. One.

I don't know if they acquired more since my order. I hope they did. I hope more people read this book in my country and can share their own thoughts about it. Because I don't have glowing reviews for Bob the Drag Queen's debut novel.

I wanted to like it. I really did. I was hooked by the premise of the show, of historical figures coming back from the dead not as zombies--but as living people who needed to pick their missions back up. Because people are forgetting the point of their lives, of their stories. And the main character, Darnell, also had an interesting hook in that he feels bound by his past so much that he has a hard time embracing the freedom that Harriet Tubman had fought for--and is now continuing to fight for.

(This book was clearly written before a certain president won a second term. I feel like the book might have a stronger push on certain messages with the current climate of the United States.)

My struggle with the book comes from the way the story is structured. With Darnell hiding parts of himself not just from the characters he is interacting with, but from us the readers as well. I wasn't a fan of the abrupt way the story shifted to a different time, and how a certain (I would argue very important) character only got introduced during this shift midway through the story.

It felt jarring. Abrupt. Especially since this part of the story was very important to Darnell's character. And the way it was resolved didn't feel satisfying. With a throwaway line of things working out in the end just to give the book a feel good ending. Which made me a little sad.

I agree that Harriet Tubman is the draw in this book. I believe that the book highlights parts of her story that usually gets glossed over when people talk about her and her work. I like that author Bob the Drag Queen shared the spotlight to other abolitionists who helped Harriet. That he shone the light on the importance of community, of sharing the work. But Darnell is the main character of the story. He is our anchor and the reason why we're meeting Harriet in the first place. And I don't like that he's the one who got the short end of the stick. Yes, even with the chapters dedicated to his past.

If I had any power to influence this book prior to publishing, I would've asked for DJ Slim--said important character from Darnell's past--start making his appearance in the first part of the book. He is, after all, the reason why Harriet Tubman is creating an album in the first place. The tension between him and Darnell could have been the trigger for some of Harriet's anecdotes in the story. That tension could've helped make Darnell's insecurities and lack of self-worth more tangible. Made it more believable why he felt unworthy of being Harriet Tubman's producer. Why he's scared that he will be shunned for the secret he's keeping.

And that one little change could have fixed so much of my problem with the book. It's not an easy change, no, but I really believe that it's a necessary one. Because it's hard to root for a character who is hiding who he is to the reader.

Right off the bat, something felt off about this book. It feels like it's trying to recapture the magic of The Kamogawa Detectives instead of just focusing on what would make a good story. Which, I know, isn't fair of me to say. There's a lot of separation between me and the author, not the least of which is the cultural difference. And it's not like the book is badly written. It's not. I still enjoyed The Restaurant of Lost Recipes. I just wish it didn't feel emotionally manipulative.

The Restaurant of Lost Recipes is a sequel anthology. It follows the same characters from The Kamogawa Detectives helping six new people find answers to their life questions via food they had encountered in their storied pasts. And while I have no issues about the lack of character development for our main characters, I am a little concerned at how paint-by-numbers most of the new stories are:

A new character looks for the Kamogawa Diner. They get a set-meal that is explained in detail, which they fall in love with. They get a little self-conscious and second-guess if they should push through with looking for the dish they want to revisit. They eventually talk to Koishi who has to pull information out of them that's vague. And then, two weeks later, Nagare presents to them an "experience." Because it's not just the food that has to be the same, it also needs to give the same ambience from when they last had the meal.

The only times the book deviated from this was in the two stories that had glimpses of the family life our Kamogawa Detectives have outside the restaurant. The first time with Koishi's childhood friend who her mother treated like her own daughter, and the second time with a one-hit-wonder whose song told the story of a love lost too soon. These are also the only two instances in which the stories felt like they were trying to make a point.

Not that the others weren't. I suppose all the stories, even in the first book, have their own little morality tales about how life takes you to unexpected places and how you ultimately have to be the one to decide on what to do next. It's just… the first book, and two stories from this book, had a more heartfelt way of expressing these life lessons. And it's not just because they have more of a connection to the main characters' lives. Because, if I remember correctly, none of the stories from the first book had personal connections to Nagare and Koishi. But it felt like the lost dishes had more weight in the first collection.

There's more importance given to the crossroads of the clients are facing in this second anthology… but they don't feel important once you move on to the next story. And I don't mean to imply that the book owes us closure. The first book didn't always give one either. It's just… I wish the dishes these characters wanted to rediscover so badly had a bigger impact on their stories. Instead of just getting waved away as we move on.

I think I'm ready to take a vacation from the Dungeon Crawler Carl series. I had a short break after the second book, but I think I'm going to keep the sixth one unread on the shelf until I get a copy of the seventh book.

I don't think this series was written to be read one right after the other.

Look: the quality hasn't gone down. But this book, The Butcher's Masquerade, was hefty. My biceps are starting to get definition from the four days I read this book. Four days. It's not that the book wasn't engaging--but it's heavy after a while. And the next book is even thicker! What the hell, (Dinni)man?

I know I shouldn't complain. Again, the quality has not gone down. But I think I made a mistake of not processing the books more as I finished each one of them. I got caught up in the excitement and now I think I've had too much. Especially with the length of this last one.

I think you're starting to get a picture of my main problem with this book. It's the length. Look: I love that we're getting, essentially, a writer's cut. I complained that I didn't like how our main character was keeping stuff from us because he was also doing it to the bad guys. He's still doing it but it's less noticeable here. And I think it's because of how long the book is. The reader in me wants to make cuts. The scriptwriter in me also wants to make cuts.

We're heading into spoiler territory now, so… be warned.

The Butcher's Masquerade is understandably hefty because of the storylines that the series is accumulating. We're following the main story of Carl and Princess Donut as they journey through this dungeon crawl, hoping to survive. Along the way, we started picking up additional storylines: there's the AI going rogue, the NPCs gaining sentience, there's the Valtay Corporation (and the mystery that is Agatha), there's the resistance and the anarchist's cookbook, there's whatever's happening with the Borant, and the universe at large's relationship with the Dungeon Crawl, and that's not to mention the various sub-plots that get opened and resolved as we get to meet the other crawlers, hunters, etc. There's a lot. And while I do like that we're addressing them all…

I am beginning to fear how this series is going to end. I think I have already accepted that however it ends, not everything will be satisfied. I am at peace with that. But with each book growing thicker and thicker as the series goes on, what will the last book look like? Is it going to come with its own book stand? Will it resemble a CPU tower when placed on a table?

Jokes aside--

I said I wanted to make cuts in this book, and here I go: we could lose the Big Tina quest. I know it plays a big part in the climax but a few adjustments to the Signet storyline could still make that final battle work. I know the whole situation with Vrax and the Dark Hive couldn't happen anywhere else, but it felt like too much at times. I know Carl making new enemies is very in-character but… he already has so many. I would've preferred more time with Katia and the guild than what we got. Especially with how this book ended. And then there's the Desperado Club complication. Like, I get that there needs to be consequences to Carl's actions… I just think that we took too many detours that made the journey longer--and not in a good way.

TL;DR--I really enjoyed reading this book, and I cannot wait to join the Thursday Murder Club again on their next adventure. If you're looking for a series to start, Richard Osman's books are fun, harmless, and easy to read. It doesn't take up a lot of mental space so you can read it while you're busy with other things--meaning, it's a great book for relaxation. Which is damning praise, I suppose. But it is a praise. It's a well-written book.

But, and here comes the long-ish version of my thoughts on the book:

It really speaks a lot to the talent of Richard Osman and his editors that this book, The Man Who Died Twice, has me wanting to sing its praises even as my brain is wanting to nitpick the plotting of the novel. Then again, it's not the bad kind of nitpicking. It's more of wanting clarification on why a certain development was placed so early in the novel, why certain clues were planted for the readers to see while others were waved away to the action between chapters--and the most egregious for me: a certain relationship development was relegated to a fake-out instead of being milked during the height of drama.

I can go on and on about the things I wish were better but, honestly, the book is great as it is. It's very… daytime TV murder mystery. You don't really tune in for the realism and the mystery; you watch because you like the characters and their interpersonal relationships. And this is where Osman really shines. Each member of the Thursday Murder Club, all seven of them, have very distinct personalities that would most probably clash in real life. But he has written the novels (the first two, at the very least, since those are the only ones I've read as of now) in such a way that the way they clash makes them work even better together.

What I like most about the book is the fact that it's not trying to pull the wool over its readers' eyes. Aside from a few clues that maybe I'm just too stupid to see, you can definitely guess the who and the how of the mystery as the chapters go on. And that's part of the book's fun: you become a bit of a detective yourself. A member of the Thursday Murder Club. And along the way, the novel also draws you into discussions of grief, of friendship, of death, and loneliness.

These books are getting thicker--and yet I'm just tearing my way through them. So, obviously, this installment of the Dungeon Crawler Carl series is still a blast. Carl has transformed into a full-fledged character on his own now that doesn't feel like just a reader-surrogate. Which was great in the first two books, but four books in… I think you and I would agree that he should be more fleshed out by now. And he is.

It started a little bit in The Dungeon Anarchist's Cookbook, but we learn more about Carl's childhood in this book. I love that it's not being a plot that's being hammered in. It's sprinkled into the main narrative just right.

I do, however, have a couple of concerns that wasn't present in the previous books. The first one is Dinniman's tendency to withhold information. I think I get why he's employing this writing method, to keep readers on their toes while also cutting out bits of exposition that's could really derail the story-telling momentum. It's just… It kind of happens a lot in this particular book. Personal opinion: I don't like it. Carl's hiding stuff from the bad guys, and when Dinniman hides a lot of stuff from me--the reader--it makes me feel like I'm one of the bad guys.

And then there's my second issue: Dinniman is putting into words the issues that he thinks people will have (or already have) with Carl and Donut as characters. But while it's very much in-character for Donut to just completely ignore the "complaints" about the way she's coming off, it's weird that Carl also ignores it for the most part. What makes it even more egregious, for me, is that it was already brought up in the third book: that for a character who cares so much about helping other crawlers, he doesn't spend time building relationships with Katia. And he rectifies this. And then it gets brought up in this book. Which makes me expect that Carl will also start being more personable to the other crawlers that he's with. Chekov's kindness, if you will. But he pretty much acts the same with them until the book ends.

Carl doesn't act out of character, mind you. And had the issue with being less than nice to the other crawlers not been brought up by another character in the book, this wouldn't even be a concern. But it was and here we are. It's just… I wonder if it was an editor thing? I only have the hardcover release from Penguin Random House. Did this appear in the original e-book/paperback version too?