UPDATE (as of 5/6/15):  STOP THE PRESSES! Marko Kloos is going to be writing “at least” a fourth installment to the Frontlines series, so ignore every mention of “trilogy” below.  I hereby revoke my sad good-bye to Andrew Grayson and company.  Pestering for a release date to start in 3, 2, 1 . . .

SPOILER WARNING: I am going to do my best to avoid specific spoilers in the paragraphs that follow, however, I am going to be discussing the resolution of the Frontlinestrilogy story arc, which will inevitably get a bit too spoilery for some, I’m sure.

One good turncoat deserves another.

Allow me to start pretty simply: This book is fun.  I had a blast reading it and was hungry for more when I got to the last page.  Joanne M. Harris, known for Chocolat (which I’ll admit freely that I’ve never read, when I buy things with that word on it, usually it’s delicious), takes us on a journey through Norse mythology from the point of view of the Trickster God, Loki.  I was excited about the title from all of the recent Tom Hiddleston magnificence, but Harris’ playful romp through one of the darkest creation/end-of-the-world mythos out there is a sheer delight that is much more nuanced and intriguing than even Marvel’s take on the role.

In 2007, Marc Cushman, screenwriter, television and film producer and director, and author, set out - with the help of a mountain of research material provided by Gene Roddenberry and Robert H. Justman - to write the definitive story of the making of Star Trek: The Original Series.  What originally started as a single volume quickly swelled into a series of books, one devoted to each season the show aired.  The third and final book in this series chronicles a lame-duck season of television, one that saw the loss of a desirous time slot, dwindling budgets, struggles over script writing, and a pinnacle of frustration between the showrunners and network executives ultimately overseeing production.

Lydia Millet’s Pills and Starships takes us to a future world, decades past the Global Warming tipping point.  Oceans have risen, species are extinct, and humanity is just trying to hang on by its fingertips.  Massive corporations run things for the “First”,  the upper, less-than-1% of society that can afford to have a private company manage their infrastructure for them.  The rest of the world’s surviving population lives in a disease-ridden, nature-threatened squalor.

In a somewhat random turn of events, fueled mostly by my inability to plan for some variety in my reading schedule, I ended up starting The Flight of the Silvers immediately after finishing The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell (See my recent review here.), which meant I’ve been immersed in the topic of time and the themes surrounding its relativity and manipulation for quite a few weeks.  All I needed was a good Doctor Who binge-watch to really cap it off.

Rachel E. Kelly’s second installment in her ambitious Colorworld novel series, Teleworld, picks up almost where the first one left off: A few months have gone by, and Wendy and Gabriel work to negotiate their fledgling engagement while Wen continues to struggle with her death touch.  Her Uncle Robert provides stability for the young woman and her brother, Ezra, but it’s a little strange that he’s the one person Wendy finds hard to read emotionally.  Is it because he’s just naturally less volatile and more guarded, or is there something more sinister about Robert’s reasons for avoiding Wen’s emodar? However, with a sudden wedding, our protagonist is more concerned about learning to be a wife, getting to know her husband better, and finding a way to belong to a warm, welcoming extended family without dropping her guard enough to accidentally kill someone.

I have found myself very busy of late, much more so than is typical.  Busy mentally, physically . . . with work, family, personal, and professional interests.  I’m expecting this level of activity to only increase in coming months and will be perfectly honest that I find the prospect fairly daunting.

College sophomore Wendy Whitley thought life was hard enough with caring for her fifteen-year-old brother Ezra, trying to make enough money to cover all the bills, and staying on top of her college courses. Having diabetes, an allergy to tree nuts, and the ability to sense emotions through skin contact didn’t even make her top ten worries list. When Wendy learns about a food allergy research study through mysterious Pneumatikon, it sounds like a dream come true. She thinks that life energy manipulation is a crock, but at $500 payment per session, what does she have to lose? However, when Wendy wakes up from a session with the frightening ability to kill people with her touch, she must decide how to protect those she loves most and learn how to control a new talent. As she explores more about her new skills and her own history, it seems more and more clear that her acceptance into Pneumatikon’s research study was no accident, and the reasons behind Wendy’s death touch may be more sinister than she can imagine.

Tessnia Sanoby is an extraordinary girl.  She is smart, athletic, and loves her parents and friends.  She moves through high school and college with dedication and ease.  She stays out of trouble, studies hard, and works hard to support herself.   She is tall, dark, and beautiful.  Tess is so extraordinary and her life so charmingly easy, we soon start to suspect that there’s more to her than meets the eye.

Something is out there . . . Something terrifying that must not be seen. One glimpse and a person is driven to deadly violence. No one knows what it is or where it came from.


I read about the end of the world a lot.  I’ve been through every kind of fictional apocalypse you can probably think of, and, naturally, I’m always looking for something new and inventive to survive.  So, the description for Josh Malerman’s Bird Box on Goodreads immediately caught my eye.  A post-apocalyptic world where you have to somehow avoid SEEING THINGS seemed absolutely impossible.  It invites more than a little serious contemplation about survival logistics . . . assuming, of course, you don’t just give up before you even start.

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