Photo by Joanna Kosinska

It's December and it's book review time again! Don't forget, I'm doing reviews over on Boss Rush Network as well (including my recent review of The Forbidden Visions of Lucius Galloway). This is where I'll be putting the majority of sci-fi, fantasy, and spinoff book reviews going forward.

Thanks as always to the authors and publishers who send advance copies my way!

BENEATH THE POET'S HOUSE
by Christa Carmen
Now available

After the sudden death of her husband Jonathan, novelist Saiorse White starts over by moving back to Providence. When she moves into her new home, once occupied by poet and spiritualist Sarah Helen Whitman, she finds something unexpected in her basement: a trio of transcendentalists who call upon the "Divine Poet" for inspiration. In spite of the initial strangeness of their meeting, Saiorse and the trio become fast friends, and their late-night activities even appear to shift her writer's block. But they aren't the only strange people she meets. Nearly as soon as she arrives, Saiorse finds herself in a whirlwind romance with Emmit Powell: a Pulitzer Prize-winning author whose works, philosophy, and life overall mirror those of Edgar Allan Poe. A strange coincidence, since Poe himself romanced Sarah Helen Whitman.

However, even Saiorse's new friends find the whole scenario a bit strange. Is their relationship a residual haunting—an echo across time of Poe's ill-fated love for Whitman—or something more sinister? As Saiorse navigates paranormal happenings and dark memories of her husband's final days, as well as the increasing attentions of her husband's best friend, she must decide what to do about Emmit. In the best case scenario, they could inspire each other; in the worst, she could be in great danger.

While the plot and characters of Beneath the Poet's House are riveting, especially for lovers of Gothic literature, the prose can occasionally feel a bit stilted. If Emmit were the only character given over to histrionics, it could be written off as a character trait, and a very apropos one for him. However, spoken words by other characters (including and especially Saiorse) don't feel especially natural, even for lovers of the written word. This is a problem in a book where one of the main issues at play is the protagonist's ability to catch a narcissist in the act of putting on a persona. It can become difficult to tell what is a character trait we should be aware of and what is simply the writer's style. The over-the-top parallels between Powell/White and Poe/Whitman (down to the names) become more forgivable when the third act kicks in, but it occasionally feels like the author doesn't trust the reader to catch these very blatant parallels. So, while the story itself is fantastic—an important conversation about being trapped in a dangerous relationship—its setting reaches high and falls a bit short.

BY WAY OF PARIS: A NOVEL
by Christopher J. Newman
Now available

Luke's plan was to explore Europe before starting a writing program in London. It was not to get blackmailed into hiding a stranger's body in Paris. But after that terrifying night with his best friend Cash, he hopes to leave the past behind him and pursue his dream of being a writer. His curiosity gets the better of him, though. Following a lead from his blackmailer, he befriends a gang leader named Shane and the other young men receiving "work" from him. Before long, Luke finds himself comfortably in with this group: doing violent drug deals by night and vaguely fictionalizing them for his writing course by day. The money is good, and the new family he's found is there for him much more than his real family back in North Carolina.

But things quickly fall apart. Between Luke's own loose lips, his many injuries, and his violent temper, he makes a name for himself that gets back to his school. His growing animosity with Profit, a member of a rival gang, causes trouble for everyone around him. Even the girl he fancies is warning him off his current trajectory. Misfortune strikes Luke many times, but it isn't until it strikes someone else that he realizes something needs to change. 

By Way of Paris is couched as what it is in real life: a Master's thesis. And it's understandable why this has received recognition. Luke as a character is complex and troubled, but he rises above his nihilistic forebears by the end of the book. He sees himself, as he reminds us regularly, as the protagonist of his own story. But this way of thinking is extremely dangerous for himself and for everyone else around him. Books like this often end up being very dark and self-destructive, and there is a bit of that in By Way of Paris, but it's ultimately a hopeful story about breaking the cycle of abuse and violence. And even in its darkest scenes, it's a love letter to London—not its more iconic locations, but the out-of-the-way places and daily routines that are bizarrely easy to fall in love with.

MURDER IN SEASON: A LADY OF LETTERS MYSTERY
by Mary Winters
Now available

Countess Amelia Amesbury, widow of the late Edgar Amesbury, lives a double—perhaps even triple—life. When she isn't representing the Amesbury family alongside her in-laws at London's finest gatherings, she's solving problems for her readers as Lady Agony. And when she isn't doing that, she's solving murder mysteries alongside her best friend Kitty and her will-they-won't-they "friend" Simon. But her latest escapade hits closer to home than usual. Amelia has been asked to introduce her younger sister Madge into high society (and to get Madge out of Somerset for a bit after she broke a young man's arm to stop his unwanted advances). It would seem Amelia's sister's secret has followed her, leading to a certain Arthur Radcliffe giving her trouble at the Amesburys' party. So when Radcliffe dies that night, seemingly poisoned, all eyes are on Madge.

While Madge is hardly bothered, a vengeful detective from Scotland Yard won't rest until he's pinned the murder on Amelia's younger sister. Thus, Amelia devotes all her resources to clearing Madge's name... or she would, if a spate of robberies hadn't broken out on the same night. With the her aunt Tabitha's diamond brooch missing and other fine pieces of jewelry disappearing, Amelia divides her time between sniffing out a high society murderer and consulting fences about the missing gems. As she navigates Mayfair's many dark secrets, she must also navigate her relationship with Simon. Does her late husband's old friend share her feelings, or is he only by her side for the adventure that comes with investigating murders.

If this is your first introduction to the Lady of Letters Mysteries, never fear: Winters weaves all the backstory in. While it's clear there's more to read if you fancy it, readers stumbling in after the introduction won't feel adrift: a difficult, but important, task for writers of series. The Bridgerton parallels are both obvious and deliberate, but the characters are their own. (Yes, there's more than a little Lady Danbury in Aunt Tabitha, but we should have more Lady Danburys.) It's a perfect intersection for lovers of murder mysteries and lovers of high society romantic drama. And if you're a fan of slow burn romance, Amelia and Simon will be your new obsession.

PORCELAIN: SHADOWS OF HYSTERIA BOOK 1
by Jesse Sprague
Now available

Gabrielle just wants to live like every other college girl: dress pretty, go out, maybe even have a boyfriend. But her past continues to haunt her, no matter how far she tries to run from it. As a child, she suffered immense trauma after witnessing the death of her parents—though between the blackout, the fact that she was alone in the house when it happened, and the presence of a certain porcelain doll, many (herself included) are convinced that she had a hand in this death. And when a similar event occurs at the home of a college boy who took advantage on her, it seems like the past is coming back to haunt her. As if that wasn't complicated enough, one of the officers on the case is Cole: Gabrielle's brother's new boyfriend.

The narrative shifts between Gabrielle and Cole as the case unwinds. On one side of the story is the frightened teen, convinced that she has somehow awoken something malevolent in the porcelain doll that still occupies a space on her bookshelf. As she tries to navigate the police's inquiries, she dares to pursue a relationship with Peter: a childhood friend with mental health struggles of his own. Meanwhile, Cole has troubles of his own, even beyond the fact that his boyfriend's little sister may be a murderer. His new relationship could also compromise his battle for custody of his young daughter, Isa. Before long, he has to choose whether to fight for Gabrielle and sacrifice his relationship with Michael, or fight to stay with Michael and leave the investigation. As the truth begins to come clear, another victim falls at the "doll's" hands, and Gabrielle's memories turn up surprising details.

Porcelain dares to walk a very difficult line in its involvement of real mental health struggles, and blending those with tinges of the paranormal is complex at the best of times. By and large, the book is compassionate but realistic about these struggles, while also being honest about what it's like to live with them and try to look after one's mental health. While it sometimes seems to play with and subvert the old tropes of mental illness being mistaken for demonic possession, it also leans into them in at times. The result is a waveform of tense, compelling scenes offset by (at least for this reader) discomfort with how the story may be falling into old traps. The fact that this is "Book 1" of a series makes me hopeful that this is a slow burn, and that what feels off-kilter may be elevated in future volumes.

THE SOUL THIEF
by S L Howe
Now available

Private investigator Mitchell Bishop has a strange case on his hands. His good friend, Dr. Warren Carter, has memories of doing something horrible to a young nurse named Rosie. But when Mitchell goes to investigate, there is no trace of the girl. However, life begins falling apart for Warren from there... and for Mitchell, whose engagement to Warren's sister Laura has ended under similarly bizarre circumstances.

As the Carter family falls apart and the police come in to investigate, another story is unfolding right under everyone's noses. A local photographer with a sideline in erotic photo cards welcomes in a new model... an innocent girl named Rosie looking to make money for her mother's medical treatment. But nothing is as it seems. The dead are visiting the living, people find themselves in places they don't remember going, and locals are gripped by strange and fleeting compulsions to do terrible things. And despite her seeming ignorance of everything going on, Rosie appears to be at the center of it. The answer lies in a long-buried story in Mitchell's past—but can he put the pieces together before anyone else he cares about is lost?

The Soul Thief is solid gothic horror of an M.R. James style. Using photography—then a relatively new technology—as a jumping-off point for something unknowable and terrifying brings it even more into its era. The horror itself, which is explained in the final chapters, is also an excellent (and ironic) catalyst for characterization. If anything gives me pause, it's that Mitchell's reactions to one of the final act twists feels a bit unbolstered. It's an understandably dramatic reaction thematically without quite enough character build-up to warrant it, which does detract from things a bit as we approach the final battle. But that's one tiny, floating observation in an otherwise fantastic book. The fact that I can call out one thread as slightly loose means that every other thread is extremely strong, and that's no mean feat. Lovers of A Ghost Story for Christmas will warm to this one instantly, and it's a perfect read for this darker time of year.

There are two things I'm an absolute sucker for: inventive tea blends and limited-edition seasonal Stuff. Chapters Tea & Co. has me covered on both fronts, regularly launching book-inspired seasonal and holiday tea blends. The 2024 holiday season sees the return of two of last year's limited-edition blends, plus a new limited blend and one that looks like it'll be sticking around for a while.

If you want to know more about the Candy Cane Forest and Gingerbread Bookshop teas, check out last year's reviews. For the new ones, read on. And if you decide to purchase anything, remember to use the code KARAD15 at checkout for 15% off your order. I do get a small kickback when you use this, but I also fully support Chapters both as a small business and because they give a portion of all their proceeds to mental health charities.

Caramel Cabin (Limited Edition)

The black teas from Chapters are always perfect for tea drinkers like me, who prefer their black tea very strong ("oversteeped," some might say). You don't have to make it this way for it to taste great; but if you do, it will actually survive the long steep and taste fantastic. Even the strongest of their black teas are surprisingly mellow, which is something I noticed with their Second Breakfast blend.

Caramel Cabin is coziness in a cup, and is a great alternative for people who want something akin to the Magical Library Butterbrew blend but aren't butterscotch fans. The caramel flavor is balanced out with a little bit of vanilla, and it's absolutely sweet and flavored enough to enjoy on its own. Though I have a feeling it would also make an amazing milk tea.

Buy Caramel Cabin (Limited Edition)

Starry Night Bedtime Blend

I'm not a big herbal tea drinker, but sometimes I need something relaxing and uncaffeinated. The Starry Night Bedtime Blend is Chapters' second bedtime blend, the first being the Shakespeare-inspired A Dream Within a Dream. That one smells fantastic with lots of apple notes; sadly, because the St. John's Wort in it interacts with one of my medications, I can't drink it. So I was hopeful that Starry Night would be a good alternative, and it definitely is.

Out of the bag, the peppermint and spearmint come more to the forefront. But the lemongrass is more prominent when steeped, with the chamomile and mints a little more subdued. While I imagine it's not as potent as A Dream Within a Dream, it's no slouch. It's a bit heavier on the lemongrass than I personally fancy, but it's still nice. And it absolutely will relax you, especially if you steep it strong, which is the main draw.

Buy Starry Night Bedtime Blend

Of the two, Caramel Cabin is (at least to me) the MVP. Get it while you can, and definitely pick up the other holiday blends while you have the chance! And if you've been putting off getting A Dream Within a Dream because of medical interactions, definitely give Starry Night a try.

I wasn't entirely sure whether doing a TBR round-up every month would work for me. But by God, it does. Not only am I getting through my reading pile (which is still expanding with more good recommendations!), I'm also getting my home library in order bit by bit.

No theme this month, as I realized constantly attempting to theme my TBR run-downs would prevent me from grabbing whatever looked most interesting next in the pile. So we've got a combo of things: a book that inspired a movie I love, a Doctor Who novel by a friend, and a weird little puzzle box book from a friend whose recommendations remain solid. Normally I'd have kept it to that nice round five, but the end of the month sort of snuck up on me.

Thanks to everyone who lends and suggests me books. As much as I love penning reviews and helping people find new books, I love being able to escape into things that friends pick for me.

BULLET TRAIN: A NOVEL
by Kotaro Isaka

After seeing the movie and finding out it was based on a novel, I had to give the original a read. The book has been waiting to be read for about a year.

Nanao (a.k.a. Ladybug) is pretty sure he's the world's unluckiest assassin, and today's "simple" job isn't doing much to change that outlook. He had one job: grab a suitcase off the Shinkansen, ride one stop, and get off. But nothing is ever simple for Nanao—because it turns out that suitcase is at the center of another, bigger job. The brainy Tangerine and his Thomas the Tank Engine-loving "twin" Lemon are in possession of the suitcase, as well as a young man who needs to be delivered to his dangerous dad alive (and who currently isn't alive). Meanwhile, an innocent-looking schoolboy known as the Prince is torturing a man named Kimura while Kimura's son's life hangs in the balance. Throw in a poisoner known as the Hornet (who may be two people) and another dead body, and it's going to take more than one stop for Nanao to make his exit.

As the story continues, with the action's location on the Shinkansen pointed out at the beginning of each chapter, the story's many different threads get knotted together more and more tightly. Some simply get tangled up in each other; others have been connected for literal decades. Even if Nanao isn't fully sure what's happened by the end, the reader gets a neatly tied-up parcel of darkly comedic crime.

Originally released in Japan under the title Maria Beetle, Bullet Train is a cinematic read in and of itself. Even if you haven't seen the film, you will feel like you're watching a movie. Isaka blends twisted humor with tense action and moments of genuine contemplation. Sam Malissa's English translation is flawless; nowhere does the reader get the sense that there's any distance between us and the original story. The best part, though, was discovering that there are more books connected to this one. Isaka's writing is downright addictive, and the other two books in the Assassins trilogy are going right in my reading list.

DOCTOR WHO: JOSEPHINE AND THE ARGONAUTS
by Paul Magrs

Penned by a lovely man and lovely friend—I am a year late to the party on this one. Maybe someday I'll read the things my friends write in a timely manner.

When the Third Doctor and Jo Grant attend a presentation at the British Museum, the last thing they're expecting is to be teleported into a world where Greek mythology comes to life. But that's exactly what happens when the MythoScope is unveiled. The Doctor and Jo are just two of four people drawn into this mythical landscape. But things are going awry, and the stories aren't playing out as they should—possibly because the Doctor's old foe, the Master, is also there and intent on becoming even more powerful than the gods of Olympus.

It's those very gods that the Doctor and Jo must petition for help, and soon Jo finds herself recast in the role of Jason, leading the Argonauts to search for the Golden Fleece and set the world of myths to rights. As the world of the MythoScope slowly falls apart around them, the Doctor attempts to make sense of their surroundings. Is any of this real? If so, where are they? And what will happen if the stories don't play out as they should?

Paul Magrs is never afraid to fill his stories with the absurd and the fantastical, and Josephine and the Argonauts is perfect for this. The story blends Magrs's unique style with the tone of old Third Doctor Target novelizations (right down to dubbing the character "Doctor Who" on more than one occasion). He's also an expert at writing in the voices of classic characters. Observant readers may even notice a few familiar faces recast into legendary roles—including what certainly appears to be an eleventh-hour cameo by a Magrs mainstay. The book ends on a surprisingly contemplative note. This story is more about theme than rigid canonicity, which feels right for this miniseries. If you're looking for tidy answers you can fit into a Wikipedia article, you'll struggle a bit with this; if you're along for the ride and fully invested in the concept of "Doctor Who goes into storybooks," you will be extremely satisfied.

THE RAW SHARK TEXTS
by Steven Hall

Recommended to me by friend and Crunchyroll coworker Paul Chapman on account of my adoration of House of Leaves. I started this one a while back, dropped it when life got to be Too Much, and finally decided to pick it up again.

Eric Sanderson wakes up with no idea who he is. His therapist informs him that he's experiencing a sort of fugue state—a loss of memory following the tragic death of his girlfriend Clio Aames—but a series of letters from someone close to him informs him otherwise. Letters from "The First Eric Sanderson" spin a very different tale of living infohazards, quests gone wrong, and a deadly shark that swims through concepts and devours your very being.

Led by notes from his first self, Eric sets off on a dangerous journey, masking with the identities of others and traveling through the liminal spaces under the world he knows. With the help of a long-absent professor and a woman all too similar to his dear departed Clio, Eric learns the truth living in the words and thoughts of the world around him. The zen art of bringing words to life, the terrors of the Ludovician chasing him, and a growing thoughtform of a human named Mycroft Ward all spin together into a frantic, dream-like adventure.

By the end, there are two completely valid ways to read The Raw Shark Texts. One is for what it is: a nightmarish fantasy adventure that waxes poetic on the power of words and concepts to alter our reality in very real ways. The other is as a treatise on grief and a search for meaning and control within it—no matter how tenuous our grasp, no matter how hard we must deceive ourselves. To me, though, the answer is equal parts of both. Much like the encoded fragment at the center of this story, The Raw Shark Texts really is two stories superimposed on top of each other, both feeding off each other in order to be whole, both equally true in their own ways. On top of all that, this book makes stunning use of the printed page. It's not often I get a literal visual "jump scare," but that happened several times throughout the book. It feels like the sort of book that reads you as much as you read it, and I get the feeling every reader will take away something both unique and compelling from their experience with it.

Art by Raine Szramski 

Generally when we write Forgotten Lives stories, we're told to keep it to the "prehistory" of Doctor Who. In other words, no references that would break the immersion of these being pre-Hartnell publications. But since this is just for me, and given my previous blog post and that it works rather well, I'll break that rule. Just this once.

Happy birthday, Doctor Who.

"When is your birthday, exactly?" Swan asked, completely unprompted.

The Doctor looked up from his book—something in an alphabet Swan didn't recognize—and ran a hand backwards over his short hair, as though clearing locks of his long wig out of his face. It must have been a motion of habit, as the wig in question was currently hanging from a peg on the hat stand near the TARDIS door. "I don't see why it's relevant."

"Curiosity."

"Hmm."

Swan bent her gaze back to her needlepoint. "Mine is the first of February."

The Doctor made another noncommittal sound. Swan couldn't tell whether that meant he'd grabbed the information and filed it away or ignored it completely. She'd only been a passenger on the TARDIS a little while, with her run-in with the Sisterhood of Karn taking place in a nebulous "not long ago," but she was already sensing changes in the Doctor. Well, not changes, she assumed. What she was seeing was likely the status quo, and the Doctor had deemed her familiar enough to witness it.

"It's just," she said again after a long silence, "that's the sort of thing you tell each other, isn't it? When you're friends."

"Is it? I wouldn't know."

He said it so casually. But he glanced at her as he did, as if expecting a riposte. She wasn't sure what that riposte might be. He sighed—was he disappointed?—and closed the book. "Mine is a long-lived race, Swan. Things like birthdays and age stop mattering after a while."

"I see." She remembered something about that. The Citizen, the man who'd taken her hostage assuming she had a connection to the Sisterhood, was apparently of this same long-lived race. The Citizen had been very indignant about it, this alleged longevity, but the Doctor's annoyance appeared to be of a different kind. "Even so," she pushed, "you must know when it is."

The Doctor tutted: an airy, theatrical sound that Swan had learned usually meant a monologue was incoming. "Birthdays. Really. For someone like me? Does a storm mark the anniversary of its birth? Do the planets pause their revolution to celebrate another journey 'round the sun? Did the Once and Future King have a birthday?"

"I expect he did," said Swan.

Another tut.

"Just because we don't know when it was doesn't mean he didn't have one. Everyone is born." Swan said the last with a sort of dramatic intonation she initially felt it deserved, like a great discovery laid out before fellow academics. But it wasn't all that clever, now that it was out in the air.

The Doctor looked at Swan, stunned to a degree that her statement hardly warranted. Then he frowned. Scowled, really. "Yes, well. It's a silly thing to get all worked up about, at any rate. You only get..." He eyed Swan, and for a moment she fully believed he'd done some quick maths in his head. "... a few dozen birthdays." Whatever maths he'd done, he opted not to share them with her. "Get hundreds, thousands, and they'll soon lose their appeal."

He turned on his heel and wandered into the depths of the TARDIS, and it wasn't until she was falling asleep in her room later that night that Swan pieced together what she might have done.

* * *

"You never told me when your birthday was," Swan said a few weeks later. It was a very different mood today. The Doctor was taking her to the theatre, though it was nothing like the theatres she was used to. It was a murder mystery by a writer born after her time, but whom the Doctor assured Swan would be everything for decades to come. As would the play. Now they were walking back toward the underground, the Doctor doffing his hat gallantly to fellow theatregoers who gawked at the two of them. Swan, for her part, had gone looking for an outfit more of the time and place, and found it pleasant to have all eyes on someone but her.

"You," the Doctor shot back with a smile between bows, "never told me why you wanted to know."

"I did."

The Doctor wagged a gloved finger at her. "You gave me an excuse. A decent one, but still not the real reason."

Swan frowned. "And you got cross. But you always get cross."

"Nonsense." The Doctor gestured to his whole person, as if to debunk her statement. "I'm a delight."

She fell silent. "Why were you so excited about this being performance one? You wrote it on my program."

"Ah. Well." The Doctor produced Swan's program from one of his coat pockets. "In years to come, that will matter. This show will run uninterrupted for years and years. Theatregoers of the future will have the performance number stamped on their program. Some will be in the tens of thousands."

"And people don't get bored of it?"

The Doctor shook his head, beaming. "Never. Never ever. I certainly haven't."

"So it won't lose its appeal after hundreds, or even thousands?" Swan asked pointedly.

"Of course n..."

Swan stared up at him. The Doctor stared back.

"... oh, don't look at me as though you've got me cornered with logic. You haven't got me cornered with logic."

"Do you know what I think?" Swan mused.

"I rarely know what you think, Mademoiselle Swan."

"I think you don't know when your birthday is."

The Doctor blanched. For a moment, his eyes flashed with fear that didn't reach the rest of his face. Then he smoothed his expression. "Nonsense."

"I don't think it's that you've had too many. I think it's that you've never had one."

"Listen." The Doctor pulled Swan out of the flow of pedestrian traffic. "I've just given you a lovely and educational evening out, one that most young students would be thanking their teachers for for days on end, and you decide to poke a stick in my bicycle spokes. That's not very upper-class of you." He huffed. "Or maybe it's extremely upper-class of you, I'm not sure."

Swan reached into her pocketbook. "Fine. You want the real reason. Here." She shoved a crumpled bit of fabric into his hand. "I wanted to know when to give this to you, but since you won't tell me... happy early birthday. Or belated. Or whenever."

He opened it up. It was a handkerchief, embroidered clumsily but caringly with rose garlands around the hem.

"Swan... this is..."

"It's dreadful, I know. I told you, I'm only good at reading and-"

The Doctor laid a hand on her head. "Thank you."

She beamed.

"... it is dreadful."

"Shut up."

The Doctor folded the handkerchief carefully and tucked it into a coat sleeve. "Why, though?"

"I... I used to make them for my parents. For their birthdays. And I realized..."

"Ah. Well." Even in his full regalia, wig and hat and gloves and all, the Doctor suddenly looked extremely awkward. "I was aiming more for 'austere tutor' than 'adoptive father,' but we must take what we get, I suppose."

Swan started to speak, but the Doctor cut her off. "Pick me a birthday, then."

"Sorry?"

"Not today," he went on with a wave of his hand. "It's already taken with something rather big."

"Oh." Swan thought. "Then... the 23rd of November."

"Why?"

"It's..." Swan smiled nervously. "The birthday of one of my favorite astronomers. Pierre Charles Le Monnier. He was recognized for his work before he was my age. Seeing all the work he's done since then has always made me think... well. Maybe I can do great things." She paused meaningfully. "And you've done that, too. So."

The Doctor coughed. "Well. I suppose it'll do. Though frankly, two masters of the cosmos on a single day feels a bit overcrowded."

Swan had learned to recognize the Doctor's moods, even if only a little. And she saw the smile he was pushing down, felt the lightness in his step as he walked her back to the entrance to the Underground. He was, if he'd allow himself to be, a bit happy.

 

As I mentioned in my London diaries for this year, I did finally buckle down and see The Mousetrap. It's been running for 72 years, so there's technically no real concern of it suddenly stopping its run. But there is that little part of my brain that assumes that the minute I decide I can just see it "whenever," this pillar of English theatre will suddenly collapse just to spite me. (Don't laugh, it happened with a really good chicken restaurant so now I have trust issues.)

Recognized by the Guinness Book of World Records as "the world's longest-running play," Agatha Christie's The Mousetrap is what I guess we'd term a "cozy murder mystery" in this day and age. It takes place in a massive country house turned guest house, just after a major murder has made it into the papers. As demonstrated early in act one, literally anyone in the cast could be the murderer, and they could absolutely kill again. The audience is silently invited to play detective as the story spins out, with the final twist being one of theatre's best-kept secrets.

Or at least it was 'til someone put it up on the Wikipedia article. But I didn't look before I went because that didn't feel sporting.

I was present for the 29,811th performance of this history-making play. So... is it worth it?

Yeah sure I think so.

The Story

I, frankly, do not care that you can look up the ending online. I am keeping my summary spoiler-free. The cast asked nicely at the end and by God I shall listen.

The story takes place at Monkswell Manor, now owned by Giles and Mollie Ralston and soon to open as a guest house. The married couple have four guests on the docket for opening: Christopher Wren (not that one), Mrs. Boyle, Major Metcalfe, and Miss Casewell. A fifth guest, calling himself Mr. Paravicini, also arrives amidst a raging snowstorm that cuts off the Manor from the outside world.

Just before the action of the play begins, a woman named Maureen Lyon is murdered. The killing hangs over the entirety of the play, initially because every person who walks through the door appears to be dressed fitting the description of her murderer. But the murder veers closer to Monkswell Manor when they receive a visit from Detective Sergeant Trotter, braving the snowstorm to tell them that the murder is in fact tied to this very manor.

The prehistory of The Mousetrap unfolds bit by bit, with nearly every character having some tie to the much older tragedy believed to have inspired this murder. Someone else in Monkswell will die... and by the end of the first act, they do.

From there, the story becomes a locked-room mystery, with the story of an abused young brother and sister underscoring the action from the past. The murderer is in their midst—and if the constant appearance of "Three Blind Mice" is any indication, one more person will die on this night.

The Twist

"But she's just said she's not giving away the twist!" I'm not. But I do still want to talk about the fact that it exists, its place in theatrical history, and its place in mystery fiction as a whole.

It was interesting coming in as an audience member in 2024, relatively immersed in all sorts of detective fiction (both as a reader and an occasional writer). In many genres, we're in an era where pretty much every twist that can be twisted has been twisted. Things that were once surprises are now tropes, and it can be difficult to remember that when going back and viewing the trope-maker. Nowadays, we "twist" stories by mashing up genres, or fitting a genre or medium used to tell one type of story to another type of story. (Magilumiere Co. Ltd., for example, subverts magical girl tropes by using them to tell a story of finding satisfaction in an adult work environment.)

In other words, the twist of The Mousetrap has emerged in other detective fiction in the decades since. But in the time it was written, it was very new and very subversive and was something of a commentary on the whole genre itself. If and when you go to see it yourself, bear that in mind: this is of another era. This is history-making for more reasons than "lots of performances." You may guess the twist (I did and then second-guessed myself), but it's because Christie herself helped to grow the murder mystery genre with her works (this play included).

And if you don't guess the twist, I don't blame you. Like I said, I second-guessed myself. And there are enough red herrings to jar and pickle for the winter. But even those red herrings (or at least most of them) have a purpose in the larger plot.

The Writing

It won't surprise you to know that the writing for The Mousetrap is Very Good Actually; nor will it surprise you to know I'm especially intrigued by it. A book and a play are two very different beasts, requiring two very different writing methods. Books are read leisurely (by some, I hear); plays happen in a set time at a set pace. With a book, you can flip back and check things you may have missed or reference things that seem important. In a play, you're on a ride and you're not getting off 'til it's over.

As a person of very flighty brain, I was initially concerned about having to remember multiple suspects/potential victims as Giles and Mollie started going over their ledger. But I love the trick Christie pulled here: finding reasons to repeat the names of the lodgers several times in list form—checking their reservations, swapping their rooms, etc. By the time the house was full, you had "Christopher Wren, Mrs. Boyle, Major Metcalfe, Miss Casewell" lodged in your mind.

Each character's personality, motivation, and (chiefly) reaction to everything going on around them differs enough that even if a name slips your mind, everyone stands sufficiently apart. This is naturally well done on the actors' part, too, but it's also very rooted in the writing. Miss Casewell's snide, aloof exterior is worlds apart from Mollie Ralston's professionalism thinly spread over a waiting panic attack. Every character also has layers, and seeing those layers fall away to reveal someone completely new and different and vulnerable is amazing.

There's a reason Agatha Christie is as celebrated as she is. And if for some reason you haven't already seen it in book after book, The Mousetrap will show you.

In short—I went to see The Mousetrap because I love Agatha Christie, and because it's A Thing You Do when you're in London. You go see the forever play with the secret ending. But the focus on its cultural significance fell away as I got into the story, and yeah, there's a reason it's gone on as long as it has.

The Mousetrap is currently being performed at St. Martin's Theatre in London's West End.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska

It's a new month with new book reviews... and new news! I am now writing for (among my usual haunts) Boss Rush Network, where I will be sharing many of my book reviews. After this month, a lot of my niche/genre reviews will go there. I'll still be doing book reviews over here monthly, since not every title I find is necessarily the kind of thing they're looking for. I'll also still be doing the TBR reviews I established last month. In other words, very little will change here, but there will be more elsewhere. And that's a good thing!

Thanks as always to the lovely authors and publishers who send me their books.

ELEVEN HOUSES
by Colleen Oakes
Available Now

Life on the haunted island of Weymouth is strange, but it's also the only life Mabel Beuvry has ever known. She's one of the island's Eleven Houses: families that stand against the dead as they travel from sea to shore, attempting to make their way to the mainland. Houses stand divided, taking the brunt of the dead's attacks house by house after each storm. And after House Cabot's refusal to help led to the death of beloved family, she's content to keep it that way. Until Miles Cabot arrives.

Miles is a rare outsider whose mother left the island and forgot her bonds to it, so his return means several lessons in everything it means to be from Weymouth. That means hazing from the fellow boys, but also difficult talks with Mabel as the two try to work out their quickly-evolving relationship. Not every encounter will be pleasant, though. There are things that even Mabel doesn't know about herself, and a lot of old wounds that need healing as the biggest Storm in decades threatens their shores.

Right off the bat, I wish publishers would stop comparing their books to Twilight in ad copy like it's a good thing. Twilight carries with it a lot of baggage concerning consent and uneven power dynamics, and it's not even the best example (or even a good example) of love across forbidden boundaries in YA fiction. Eleven Houses has a lot of difficult conversations throughout it, but they're ultimately in positive directions. Delicate issues of mental health, bullying, and gender divides are all handled with a compassionate touch without diluting the drama or the romance. Most of all, it's a very atmospheric book, with several flavors of Gothic horror woven among its many houses. It's a great choice for lovers of romance who also enjoy a dash of The Horrors.

EVERY ARC BENDS ITS RADIAN
by Sergio de la Pava
Available Now

Riv del Rio didn't travel to Colombia looking for a new case; rather, the poet/detective was seeking reprieve after a tragedy involving the woman he loves. But a case falls in his lap via a family friend. Carlotta Ochoa's daughter, Angelica Alfa, has vanished. As Riv and his cousins explore the missing persons case further, they discover an unpleasant truth: the powerful Exeter Mondragon is pulling the strings, preventing her investigation from being pursued. But Riv won't give up, even when all signs point to the brilliant young woman already being dead.

The further Riv digs, though, the more unsettling things he finds. Angelica possesses a phenomenal, practically incomprehensible, level of intelligence. Her father was involved in some bizarre business ventures of his own. And when Riv finally comes face to face with Mondragon himself, the situation explodes into a crisis far beyond a single missing person. What the detective now faces involves the nature—and the future—of existence itself.

Every Arc Bends Its Radian is a peculiar book, and that's a compliment. It begins as a somewhat philosophical detective story before going completely off the rails in its second half. The whodunnit (and the "why," although that's a far denser topic) is addressed by the end, but the mystery is a means to an end. This book courts ideas of faith, what it means to be human, and what role our ever-advancing technology plays in our evolution. If I have a complaint, it's that indications of speakers in long conversations are rare. This isn't an issue when Riv and a second character are debating back and forth, since there are only two players and their personalities speak for themselves. But in early chapters, when Riv is in conversation with both of his cousins and they are of similar minds, it becomes difficult to follow the thread of conversation. That aside, this is a surprising and challenging book that will thwart some readers while intriguing others. Personally, I'm in the second camp.

GRIMM CURIOSITIES
by Sharon Lynn Fisher
Available Now

Lizzy Grimm is, for all intents and purposes, the current proprietor of Grimm Curiosities. Her father has passed away, and her mother's gift for communing with the dead has left her unresponsive. As Christmas approaches and rent is long past due, two new visitors begin frequenting purveyor of oddities. The handsome young noble Antony Carlisle has a sister in a similar situation to Mrs. Grimm, and he and Lizzy soon form a close friendship despite their different social spheres. Meanwhile Mr. Stoke, apparently an old friend of Mr. Grimm, has come seeking a rare collection of anonymously-penned books about the paranormal.

But things are starting to shift, and not just as Lizzy navigates her feelings for Antony. Lizzy begins sharing her mother's gift, seeing ghosts around York. The books Mr. Stoke craves start leaving storage and arranging themselves around the shop. And A.A., the anonymous author of Mr. Grimm's collection, turns out to be closer to home than anyone expected. As Antony and Lizzy try to heal their beloved family members, a decades-old conspiracy—with roots in something more ancient still—emerges.

Grimm Curiosities is a stunning romantasy of manners. For most of the novel, the paranormal remains just under the surface, rearing its head only occasionally until the doors literally burst open and a whole new world spills into Victorian York. If you're a fan of Bridgerton but wish it had a bit of dark fantasy threaded through, this is a perfect read. And as we venture into the dark winter months, it's tonally appropriate, too!

THE SEA HOUSE
by Louise Douglas
Available Now

Mila Shepard is in the business of finding people, but her latest job at Toussaints Detective Agency is a struggle even for her. She's been entrusted with a woman's last wish: the late Elisabeth Quemener has bequeathed a package to her old friend Astrid Oake. But there's no sign of who or where Astrid is, or even that she exists. Every time a new lead pops up, it just raises more questions. Meanwhile, Mila is struggling with a mystery closer to home, as more information surfaces about her niece Ani's late parents.

Mila's investigation uncovers decades of injustice: an apparent murder/suicide, school and hospital cover-ups, and dubious cybersecurity. Even when she gets to the truth, there's still more to uncover—much of it strangely echoing the strife in the life of the now-sixteen-year-old Ani.

If The Sea House is your first Mila Shepard book, you can still slide easily into the central mystery. It reads easily as a stand-alone, while still hinting at an overarching story beyond the bounds of the book that can be appreciated to some degree. The story of the week is, at least for a new reader, far more compelling than Mila's story. That isn't to say Mila's story isn't compelling or is too difficult to follow. All the relevant information is there, but it does become evident as the story goes on that we're missing out on some characterization for these recurring characters. That said, Astrid's story speaks for itself. As a solvable mystery, the pieces fit together cleanly; as a novel, it's compelling and tragic. And even once the mystery itself is solved, there are little loose ends that get tucked in neatly—even some the reader may have forgotten.

STAR TREK: SONS OF STAR TREK
by Morgan Hampton and Angel Hernandez
Available November 12

The Day of Blood has passed, and the younger generation of Starfleet is going through it. Jake Sisko has just been reunited with his family, Quark's nephew Nog continues to contend with being the first Ferengi in Starfleet, and Worf's son Alexander remains under suspicion after his time with Kahless. It seems that only divine intervention could break them out of their respective quandaries... and that's what they get. Well, not exactly.

QJ, the son of the same Q we (and many Starfleet captains) know well, snaps his way into the young men's lives. With a few snaps, he transports all four of them to the Starfleet of another dimension: one perfectly situated to address everyone's lingering issues. Familiar faces fill different roles and deceased people live on, allowing the young men the context and closure they need. But there's a problem: QJ's "selfless" stunt has consequences he doesn't appear to be able to undo, and this god-like youth must face the fact that he might also be here to learn a lesson.

This volume contains all four parts of the Sons of Star Trek comic miniseries. While looking out for cameos is fun (Lower Decks enjoyers will be very pleased) and the story itself has a heartwarming upshot, my favorite part of this edition was actually the father/son artwork at the back of the book. It's a great story to be sure, especially for Sisko and Q fans, but those four stills are the icing on the cake.