Reviews of favorite books

Fiction: The King’s Blood by Danial Abraham

12/16/2025

The King’s Blood picks up where The Dragon’s Path ends: The spider goddess has returned to the world, threatening to bring “peace” through endless war, but most are oblivious to the danger.
Cithrin, the rogue banker, now works under a notary who’s a mean-spirited orc (literally); Marcus, the world-weary soldier, still works as Cithrin’s guard, but he’s approached with an impossible quest—to destroy the spider goddess; Geder, the bookish nobleman, is now the prince-heir’s guardian (and champion of the spider goddess sect); Dawson, a powerful noble, has second-thoughts about promoting Geder; and his wife Clara worries about Dawson’s rigid and “archaic sense of duty and his blindness to the inconsistencies of his application of it.”

Cithrin the rouge banker's misery working under the orc-notary is palpable:
Every day [was] another minor humiliation, another opportunity for the notary to remind Cithrin that she controlled nothing, another scathing comment. For weeks, Cithrin had swallowed it all with a smile. And for months after that, she’d at least borne it. If there had been even a pause in the assault, a crack in the dismissive faҫade, she’d have counted it a victory.
There had been nothing.

We meet Marcus in his role as enforcer of the bank’s unpaid loans:
Marcus leaned forward, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He was tired and hungry and the anger that boiled up in him felt liberating. Like anything that felt good, he distrusted it.

Geder is excruciatingly uncomfortable with his rapid rise in social status (and sudden marriageability). Here he is visited by a female seductress:
She laughed and sat on a red silk divan. It occurred to Geder that she wasn't leaving. The combination of unease and excitement was slightly nauseating. He was talking to a woman in his own house with her chaperone present. There was no transgression against etiquette or propriety, but his blood raced through his veins a little faster all the same. Geder licked his lips nervously.

Geder’s exalted status is made possible by his relationship with the spider priests. These priests provide the only recognizable “magic” of the story: they can tell truth from falsehood and can influence minds (including Geder’s) with their words. The magic is made possible by tiny spiders filling their veins.

Here’s noble Dawson speaking to King Simeon, revealing his entitled sense of tradition:
“Order has always been precious and fragile. . . . Every man in his place. Those meant to lead, lead. Those meant to follow, follow. Civilization doesn’t fall into anarchy. That’s how it should be.”

Clara gossiping with noble friends after winter isolation:
For an hour they spoke of everything and nothing, the words pouring out of them all in a flood. Even Clara with her love of winter also saw the joy of talking in company after so many weeks alone. This was how the court wove itself into a single tapestry—small gossip and news, speculations and enquiries, fashions and traditions. Her husband and sons would have made no more sense of it than of birdsong, but for Clara it was all as legible as a book.

All of the characters are tested by the story events, perhaps no one with more grit than Clara. Here she is after her husband Dawson overreaches, doggedly making social calls until her feet ache:
She used all those past moments of grace and unnecessary kindness as a tool now. And like any untested tool, sometimes it would work as she hoped. Other times it would fail under strain. She might never know which was which. Nor did it matter, so long as her children were safe.

There are wonderful world-building details scattered throughout the story. Here the nobles leave their city homes at court for their rural holdings:
The great houses folded up their belongings, put cloths over their furniture to keep the dust away, and returned to the lands that supported them. For a month or two the lords worked their holdings. The tribute of the farmers and potters and tanners accepted in their name and absence were accounted. The magistrates they’d appointed would consult on whatever issues they’d felt the lord should decide. Justice would be dispensed, tours made of the villages and farms, and a plan drawn up for the management of the holding over the next year.

A royal audience chamber:
The walls were draped with silk and tapestries from Far Syramys and find golden chains from Pŭt, the floor covered with Southling-woven carpets from one of the small nations in the interior of Lyoneia. The table around which they all sat was a single piece of carved basalt from Borja; representations of the thirteen races of humanity made up the legs, all supporting a stylized crown. Furniture as political sculpture. The air was perfumed with a musky Hallskari incense that made Geder think of rich rood and ripe fruit.

A poor rooming house:
It stank of old cabbage. And the walls were stained green and black in drips that had dried solid years before. There was a wardrobe with a missing door and nothing inside, and the dirty little window no wider than her hand let in only enough light to condemn the surroundings. The bed was small and stained but it had a mattress. . . . It smelled rank, but it was soft and her body curled against it with the weight of exhaustion.

I also enjoyed how the author showed situations from conflicting points of view.

Here, lithe and graceful Cithrin describes the orc-notary in unflattering detail:
  She was huge, wide across the hips and shoulders both, fat and strong both. She stepped into the room, her tread heavy on the floorboards . . . Heavy jowls and full lips gave her a fishlike expression. When she pursed her lips, the gaps where her tusks had been filed off came clear.
  As the story unfolds, we gain insight into the tremendous pressure the orc-notary is under to make a solid profit at the bank. We also get a fun glimpse of how she views her considerable bulk relative to the smaller humans:
  “I don’t accept being the only good-looking woman in a city full of bendy little twig men,” [she] said, “but it doesn’t change the situation.”

Cithrin’s clear-eyed view of self-aggrandizing Geder:
“He’s one of those boys who needed a mother in order to grow up and didn’t get one. Now he has power and no restraint. He’ll spend coin. He’ll spend lives. And there’s no one to stop him.”

The King’s Blood is a well-written political fantasy with epic stakes and endearing, three-dimensional characters in a fascinating world. Second in a compelling series of five books.

You may also enjoy: The Dragon’s Path (first book of the series),
Age of Ash and Blade of Dream (also by Danial Abraham), Memories of Ice

Fiction: Blade of Dream by Daniel Abraham

12/13/2025

Blade of Dream parallels Danial Abraham’s novel Age of Ash, also set in the sprawling city of Kithamar. The two novels share a gritty, visceral sensibility and realistic characters struggling to make their place in the world, but I found Blade of Dream more cohesive and enjoyable than the first novel.
A wealthy merchant’s son, Garreth, and heir to the throne, Elaine, are the two main characters of this story. A few chapters are written from the perspective of the guard captain, Senit, another blue-cloak guardsman, Kannish, and an Inisch woman-god Aunt Thorn— among others —but the heart of the book is shared by Garret and Elaine. Both characters struggle with their sense of duty and their desire to wrest some joy from the world before they are consumed by the roles they’re expected to play.

Garreth, as eldest child, will inherit the family business—a duty that weighs heavily. Here he describes the cutthroat competition among the merchant houses of Riverport, the trading enclave in Kithamar:

The merchant houses of Kithamar were at constant war with each other, but it was a war fought with favors and alliances and a firm eye on how to wring advantage out of every situation without quite crossing the law. That it was usually bloodless made it no less intense.
In another passage:
. . . the slow and civilized battle of money and time, the triumph or ruin of a rival house or the despair of one’s own collapse. Riverport moved through the hours of light and darkness with the deliberate, studied violence of a wrestler bending his opponent’s leg until the joint gave way. That was commerce, and it ran its course without pity.

Elaine, heir to the throne, feels equally burdened by her position:

The great secret of noble blood is it gives you everything because it costs you everything.
When her wild-hearted cousin invites her to a night of revelry in a Riverport warehouse, Elaine uncharacteristically agrees. They disguise themselves in masks, but the party is raided. Elaine barely escapes into the river—whose currents are more powerful than she anticipated and she struggles to swim it.

Meanwhile, two of Garreth’s closest childhood friends are in the city guards, and he agrees to accompany them when they raid an underground party in a warehouse. While waiting for them, a water-soaked woman comes out of the river and hides behind the wall where he’s sitting. Rather than turning her in to his friends, he smuggles her home—and the two have a lovely night together, although both know they can never have more than this one stolen evening.

The romantic longing between the lowly merchant and the king’s heir weaves the plot together. There are compelling subplots:

Garreth’s family makes a desperate bid to save the family fortune, and ugly secrets are revealed
Captain Senit schemes to capture his long-time nemesis, Aunt Thorn
Kannish and the other guardsman give us an inside glimpse of life as a city guard
Aunt Thorn the god-woman plays her own long game.

We get an inkling of a secret god-battle when Elaine speaks with the High Priest of the Temple. He says:
“They say there are gods in the streets here and there are. But they are yoked. The Temple brings all traditions together and weaves them into one thing, and that thing is Kithamar. The thread that binds us all together.”

One of the things the author does very well is create physical sensations that put the reader inside the action. Here Garreth kills a man during a sword fight:
The blade pushed into the hard cartilage of the man’s windpipe with a crunch that was unlike anything he had felt. It was just a bit of vibration carried from the steel grip to hand to wrist, but Garreth knew that it was death.

Another richness is that even secondary characters have moments of grace. Captain Senit is a standout. Here an innkeeper gives him a pep talk after a day gone wrong:
“And who’s not a fool? Who gets from the birthing chair to the grave with dignity? . . . We’re all fools. Everyone. That’s why we hate fools so much. They’re the echoes of when we were vulnerable in front of the world ourselves, and that’s hard for us to forgive.”

And the dialogue crackles, as in this conversation between the dessert baker and head cook of the palace discussing changes when a new prince is crowned:
  “That means we’ll be seeing less of that scarred-up fucker form Daris then. Always coming through on errands for the prince and that priest of theirs.”
  “I like [him]. You don’t because he’s foreign and he didn’t appreciate your hardcakes.”
  “They were fucking good hardcakes.”

The novel is full of twists and turns, some echoing events in Age of Ash, but the story unfolds in a standalone format. By the climax, all of the story threads merge together as our heroes make a valiant attempt to save the city from an ancient evil.
Blade of Dream is a suspenseful fantasy novel with compelling characters, an exciting story, and a thoroughly satisfying ending. Highly recommended.

Read other novels by Daniel Abraham: Age of Ash (also set in Kithamar); The Dragon’s Path
Other gritty lived-in fantasies: Memories of Ice, Fire Logic, City of Stairs, City of Blades, City of Miracles

Fiction: Saint Death’s Daughter by C.S.E. Cooney

12/6/2025

Saint Death’s Daughter tells the story of Miscellaneous “Lanie” Immiscible Stones, a budding Necromancer allergic to violence from a family of assassins.
The very thought of violence makes Lanie nauseous as she physically absorbs injuries in the presence of violent actions—which are quite common in the Stones family. Her only companions are an undead revenant, Goody Graves, magically bound to her family line, and the irascible ghost of her grandfather, Irradiant “Rad” Stones who (sort of) tutors her in Necromancy.
Lanie is the heart of the novel: She is endearing but lacks conviction and skill. It’s a delight to watch Lanie grow into her power and cunning over the course of the story yet remain true to her compassionate nature.

Four different countries are introduced in the novel:

Lirat, ruled by the Blood Royal Brackenwilds and historically served by the Stones family assassins. Saint Death and the Fire God Sappacor are their deities.
Quidib, which recognizes twelve gods. Bonded pairs of shapeshifting bird-people and wise ones help defend the country, utilizing magic based on songs and meditation. They view Liriat as a heretical and unbalanced for acknowledging only two of the twelve gods.
Shakmaht, an ancient rival of Liriat, whose wizard Sky Houses were imprisoned during the Northernmost War by Lanie’s grandfather Irradiant “Rad” Stones. Creditors from Shakmaht hound Lanie and her sister (hoping to free the ancient wizards).
The Rookery, ruled by a sorceress-queen and powerful Fascinator magician, the Blackbird Bride—and the Parliament of Rooks, four and twenty wizards under her command.

In the opening, both of Lanie’s parents have recently died and creditors have come calling. In desperation, she writes to her psychotic and cruel older sister, Amanita “Nita” Muscaria Stones, an assassin-in-training at an academy in Quidib. Nita has the power of Fascination: she can influence people’s minds for short periods. She’s used her lethal skill to assume power over a shapeshifting falcon-man, Mak, whom she brings home with her. When Mak tries to poison himself to escape Nita’s clutches, Lanie intercedes, defying the Death Saint to pull him back from the brink of death. For which he is entirely ungrateful.

The love of Lanie’s life is Canon Lir, a nonbinary fire priest and twin of the country’s Royal Brackenwild crown prince. Lanie and Lir have a halting romance that is an intriguing (though minor) subplot.

“Canan Lir was, she was sure, the most beautiful person in Liriat, possibly the world. They were just about her height, plump where she was scrawny, coiffed where she was untidy, and impeccably clad in the petaled vestments of the fire priests of Sappacor.
Their moon-round face was painted like a shining disc of gold leaf, with a design of orange flames on cheeks and chin. . . . Cana Liir’s lips were red, too. What went into that paint to make such a color, such a plump-ripe-red, ruby-gloss red, Lanie did not know—but she could never see it without wanting to nibble it.”

To help pay off the family debt, Lanie’s ruthless sister Nita is tasked by the queen of Liriat with assassinating the Parliament of Rooks.

  Seven years pass, with Nita racking up kills and Lanie left at home to raise Nita’s daughter, Sacred Datura “Datu” Stones.
  Then one of Nita’s kills goes awry and the Blackbird Bride arrives with two of her most powerful Rook wizards. The sorceress vows to kill Nita’s seven-year-old daughter Datu in revenge and make Lanie one of her Rooks.
  This is one of many exciting scenes in the book where Lanie uses her creativity and Necromancy to (barely) survive the Blackbird Bride.

But now that their home has been breached, Lanie, her niece Datu, the revenant Goody Graves, and falcon-man Mak must flee—with the ghost Irradiant “Rad” Stones.

Much of the story involves Lanie learning to use her Necromancy.
Her magic is visceral and fascinating, inventive and macabre—and extracts a price every time Lanie uses it—although on “surge” days (equinoxes and solstices), she is able to use powerful ambient magic to perform her rituals rather than drawing down her own reserves.
Lanie’s Necromancy is unique to this novel, yet reminded me at times of the arduous magic in Nettle & Bone, yet also had blood-magic reminiscent of The Queens of Innis Lear (see list of other related stories below).

The story is full of surprising twists and turns: plans thwarted at the last moment, ecstatic highs turning into crushing lows, victories drawn from desperate defeats, layers of identities revealed in unforeseen ways.

Most delightful was Lanie’s heartfelt and vulnerable connection with the gentle goddess Saint Death, which evolves throughout the course of the novel.
Compelling moral dilemmas also permeate this enticing tale: the lasting legacy of violence and revenge, the transformative power of forgiveness, the pain of grief, and the strength required to do what is right, even when it risks what we hold most dear.

Canon Lir makes an impassioned plea to Lanie at the novel’s climax:
“If we have learned anything from our bloody history, let our lesson be that we are better--you are better—than those who came before us. You are more rational, more compassionate, more able to co-exist with the kindness of the world than with its cruelties. What you decide today will blaze a path for succeeding generations.”

Lanie is a deserving heroine in an exciting and meaningful story. The ending is hopeful and complete yet challenges remain, setting up a sequel. Saint Death’s Daughter was the 2023 World Fantasy Award winner for best novel.

Read other books featuring bonds between humans and gods: Paladin’s Grace, Fevered Star,
The Unspoken Name, The Thousand Eyes, City of Blades, City of Miracles, Little Thieves
Read other books with visceral and dangerous magic:
Greenteeth, Sistersong, The Witch’s Heart, The Queen’s of Innis Lear, Nettle & Bone

Fiction: Most Ardently by Gabe Cole Novoa

11/29/2025

Most Ardently: A Pride and Prejudice Remix is one of a series of novels reimagining classic stories through the lens of historically marginalized groups such as LGBTQ+, racial, or religious minorities. In this particular novel, the main character, Elizabeth Bennet, is a trans boy longing to be recognized as her parents’ son, Oliver.
The story opens with Oliver in a cinched dress that makes him feel nauseous both for the way it distorts his body and because in this guise he’s referred to as a girl. His sister Jane (and another relative) are aware of his desire to be known as male, but his mother Mrs. Bennet is decidedly not—and this deception is a primary source of tension in the novel.

Oliver is attracted to other boys and his first glimpse of Darcy is telling: “The boy’s hair . . . framed his face in loose waves that curled out like a crown. It looked very soft. What would it feel like to run his fingers through it?”
  And on the next page:
  “There was something magnetic about Darcy’s dark eyes, about his slightly furrowed brow as the boy held eye contact with him. Oliver's face warmed, his heart pounding in his ears so loudly the music of the room fell away.”
When Darcy looks away with a look of disgust, Oliver decides, “He needn’t waste a second more of his time with a boy determined to be so miserable.”
  And thus the enemies-to-lovers trope begins!

One night, Oliver sneaks out of the house in boy’s clothes, later running into Darcy and his friend Bingley, who invite Oliver to a men’s club—which leads to more misunderstanding with the socially awkward Darcy when Oliver assumes Darcy resents him for his modest origins. But like many places where the author creates conflict and tension, it is quickly resolved:
“I see,” Oliver said stiffly.
Darcy frowned, looking at him quizzically. Then his eyes widened. “Oh! Apologies, I wasn't trying to imply—I only meant that I hadn’t seen you there before.”

Similarly, when Oliver’s father, Mr. Bennet catches him returning home in menswear, the tension isn’t sustained. There are a couple of pages detailing Oliver’s visceral terror in bodily reactions, leading to this courageous resolution:
“Father,” Oliver forced himself to say before his voice failed him again. “You should know . . .” God, he was trembling. His insides felt like a plucked string, reverberating with sound. “You should know my name is Oliver. And I’m . . . I’m your son.”
Mr. Bennet’s smile grew into a full grin, spreading across his face like a plant turning its leaves to the sun. “You most certainly are,” he said, and then his arms were around Oliver.

When, Darcy and Oliver share a kiss, and the author does a wonderful job expressing Oliver’s excitement and joy:
“Darcy’s mouth was every bit as soft as he’d imagined. His lips brushed featherlight against Oliver’s. A taste at first, then again with slightly more pressure. Kissing Darcy was like sitting in the sun on a perfectly temperate day, eating a fresh plate of strawberries dipped in sugar. Kissing Darcy was like jumping off a cliff into a pool of refreshingly cool water. Kissing Darcy was like sinking into the warmth of his favorite blanket in front of a fire. Kissing Darcy was like drinking hot mulled cider, the steam making his face flush as the hot, spiced liquid warmed him from the inside out.
Kissing Darcy was everything.”

The tension of not being accepted by Mrs. Bennet, Oliver’s mother, resolves relatively easily. Compared to Keyne’s emotional journey to gender acceptance in Sistersong, Oliver’s unconditional approval by his family—proper Mrs. Bennet in particular—feels unearned. But that might be too demanding of this light-hearted fantasy. Superficial characterization aside, the ending is delightful:
“Darcy’s firm chest against his own bound torso triggered a euphoria unlike any Oliver had ever known when he’d pretended to be a girl. This moment, here, kissing a boy as a boy, with Darcy’s warmth like a furnace against his skin, and Darcy’s hands on his back making him feel safe—it was everything Oliver had ever wanted. It was everything he’d dared not to dream.
But it was real, and nothing and no one could take that away from him."
If you’re looking for a gender-queer story with a decidedly happy ending and aren’t particular about deep literary writing, Most Ardently delivers.

For other enjoyable stories with gender-queer characters, try Sistersong, Spear,
Light from Uncommon Stars, The Four Profound Weaves, or The Bruising of Qilwa

Nonfiction: The Salmon Cannon and the Levitating Frog by Carly Anne York

11/28/2025

The Salmon Canon and the Levitating Frog: And Other Serious Discoveries of Silly Science is as fun to read as the title suggests.
  The book is full of fascinating information, including the novel experiments curious scientists set up to discover intriguing aspects of our natural world.
  The focus is on basic science, which is “driven by curiosity and the observations of nature, not by immediate demands for application.”
The author says, “every question, no matter how seemingly silly, is fueled by a profound sense of wonder and a hunger to understand.  It’s not just about idle musing; it’s about piecing together the colossal jigsaw puzzle that is the universe, one tiny piece at a time.”
Here are some highlights of the research findings~

Jake Socha and his team discovered how some snakes in Southeast Asia fly:
“By contorting their body into a concave shape, they were essentially turning their entire body into a wing. . . . Not only were the snakes performing a behavior that seemed impossible, but they were also doing it in a completely different way than had been documented in any other flier or glider.”

One of the most intriguing stories in the book is that of Patty Brennan, who studies duck reproduction.
Ninety-seven percent of male birds don’t have penises. Brennan suggests that over millions of years of evolution, “female birds have chosen less coercive males with smaller penises to the point where penises disappeared. Without a penis, it is practically impossible for a male to copulate without the female’s consent.”

Male ducks, however, are notorious for forcing copulation on females. In fact, they have a “lengthy, corkscrew-shaped phallus.”
The vaginas of female ducks are “filled with labyrinthine elaborations.” What’s interesting is that “when the female is penetrated by a male she didn’t choose, she maintains her inner maze to thwart reproduction. But when she finds the right guy, she’s able to open a clear pathway for fertilization.”

For 300 million years, cockroaches have been “marvels of evolution.” Scientist Kaushik Jayaram was interested in how they “can get into just about any tiny space—a roach is typically over half an inch tall but can squeeze into gaps just a tenth of an inch wide.”
He learned that the shiny plates of the cockroach exoskeleton “are like overlapping shingles—they can slide over each other, allowing for extraordinary body contortions. This clever design enables cockroaches to flatten and wooden out under pressure, a nifty trick when you need to fit into the narrowest of escape routes or . . . withstand being squashed.” Cockroaches also have fascinating sex lives.

A physicist named Andre Konstantin Geim at the High Field Magnetic Laboratory provided the levitating frog of the title. “In a move he would later describe as ‘somewhat unprofessional,’ he cranked up the electromagnet [in his lab] to its maximum power and poured a bottle of water into the core of the very expensive apparatus."

"That’s when it happened—droplets of water began to levitate inside the machine. [They tested other objects like a piece of pizza.] Next, the team decided to experiment with a living being. They quietly borrowed a small frog from the biology department, cranked up the magnets, and placed the frog inside the machine. And there it was: the first ever levitating frog. Not only was the experiment a success, but the frog appeared quite comfortable floating in midair.”

The author has a wonderful storytelling style:
“It was a late night alone in the lab for Peter Fong of Gettysburg College when he accidentally knocked a bottle of Prozac into an aquarium of clams. As the pills sank to the bottom of the tank, along with his heart, he noticed something strange: the clams started spawning, releasing eggs and sperm into the water at startling rates.”
Now, in commercial clam farming, using Prozac helps the farmers create synchronous spawning, thus “farmers can increase their yield and raise a uniform crop.”
Because many clams and other bivalves are endangered, “Fong’s good (mis)fortune [may give] us the key to preventing their extinction.”

The author is also quick to point out the ethical dilemmas of using animals in basic research.

Several scientists contributed to the discovery of incredible clotting factors in horseshoe crab blood, leading to a test that can “rapidly indicate the presence of contaminants in medical solutions by forming distinctive clots within just a few hours. . . . About 450,000 horseshoe crabs are harvested for this purpose each year [presenting] a complex ethical and environmental dilemma. Thankfully, scientists have been hard at work to find an animal-friendly alternative to horseshoe crab blood, and the research looks very promising.”

There are a lot of other fun stories in the book, including:

The salmon cannon developed by Whoosh Innovations, a pneumatic tube the helps salmon bypass dams and other barriers to spawning upstream (hilariously spoofed by John Oliver).
The punching power of mantis shrimp: 200+ pounds of force delivered at speeds of up to 68 miles per hour, “accelerating at the same order of magnitude as a bullet fired from a gun.”
The unusually long and bumpy fins of humpback whales (which makes them super-efficient swimmers, and helped develop exceptionally aerodynamic wind turbine blades).
Blob balls of fifty-thousand blackworms that “can unravel in just a fraction of a second” and may provide clues to recycling medical masks.

Many of the studies have profound impacts on human lives. Basic research on the extraordinary abilities of rats to detect specific scents has translated into many life-saving applications.

APOPO, a Belgian nonprofit, trains African giant pouch rats to detect tuberculosis in blood samples and unexploded mines underground.
“According to their 2022 annual report, 534,230 patients were screened for TB, and an additional 27,059 cases were found after failing to be detected in a [false negative] lab test.
. . . The same APOPO report claims the rats have been instrumental in detecting 1,544,744 land mines and other explosives, liberating an estimated 2,193,278m people from the constant threat posed by these hidden dangers.”

The book concludes with a chapter on exploring political attacks on basic science. Patty Brennan, the scientist studying duck penises came under intense negative scrutiny.
“Critics labeled her as sick and a deviant for her focus on animal genitalia. Brennan’s own reflection of this time tells of the profound psychological toll these criticisms can take. Mortified, she feared being perceived as a fraud even by her professional community. In her words, she wanted to crawl under her desk and never come out again. Her experience is evidence of how vulnerable one becomes when publicly pushing the boundaries of knowledge.”
Brennan bravely advocated for herself by writing an op-ed that was published by Slate. She and some colleagues also crafted tips on handling similar attacks.
The Salmon Cannon and the Levitating Frog is a serious look at “silly” science, which is both entertaining and thought-provoking. Highly recommended.

Read more books about our natural world:  Sounds Wild and Broken, If Nietzsche were a Narwhal,
The Forest Unseen,  The Underworld,  The Light Eaters,  An Immense World,  The Hidden Life of Trees

Read more on specific natural wonders:  Plant-Animal Hybrids, Cockroach Sex, Lesbian Lizards,
Moss Piglets, Universes (of Microbes) within Us, Glutinous Cicadas, Whacky Weeds,
Serving Plants, Human Hunters, Being a Bird, Night Creatures, Animal Emotions

Fiction: Hemlock & Silver by T. Kingfisher

11/24/2025

“I had just taken poison when the king arrived to inform me that he had murdered his wife.”
This opening line from Hemlock & Silver sets the ironic tone of this reimagining of the Snow White fairy tale. The novel has a villainous queen, a magic mirror, and a languishing twelve-year-old princess named Snow, but the novel forges a path distinct from the typical Snow White story.
The main character, Anja, has been obsessed about poisons and their antidotes since she was a child. The king hires her to cure his daughter Snow, who is wasting away from an unknown illness. The court physicians have been unable to help her; Anja is the king’s—and Snow’s—last hope.

The primary storyline is the mystery of who and what is poisoning Princess Snow. Anja’s investigation proceeds in a logical, straightforward manner, until she takes a bite of the apple she’s testing for poison and subsequently falls through a magic mirror. This experience shakes her belief that magic isn’t real, which is further undermined when Snow’s one-eyed cat starts talking to her.
The one-eyed cat names himself Grayling, and he’s a hoot: refusing to come when he’s called, and maintaining his independence and superiority to humans at all times.

Anja’s description of Grayling when they first meet:
. . . it was short-haired and skinny, and it was missing an eye. Also, it had an expression like it was thinking about disemboweling everyone in the room. . . . I inclined my head politely to the cat, who gazed at me in silent contempt. Its one good eye was sulfurous yellow.

Grayling speaking after Anja falls through the mirror:
“You’re not very observant are you?” The cat yawned, showing a ribbed pink gullet. “But you’re not bad at petting cats, so I suppose some allowances must be made. You fell through the mirror just now, while you were holding me. We’re on the other side of the silver now.”
More snippy dialogue from Grayling:
“I do not like to repeat myself,” said the cat. “I particularly don’t like to repeat myself for humans.”

And Grayling describing a human he loved:
His thin voice grew thinner and sharp as a papercut. “She was no one, and nobody missed her. Except an old one-eyed cat that she’d pulled out of a pond once.” He turned his head and began savagely grooming his shoulder, not looking at either of us.

Other key supporting characters are Anja’s two bodyguards, who take very seriously their duty to protect her from whomever is poisoning the princess.
As the story progresses, the bodyguard Javier becomes an active participant in solving the mystery. Since Anja tends to speak and act without forethought, he balances her by urging caution and calm deliberation. For example, when they debate smashing the magic mirror but fear this will alert the poisoner: “You can’t unbreak a mirror,” he said. “We’ll leave it for now and do it later if we must.”

I enjoyed how Kingfisher reveals the theology of this world as part of the storyline. Here are Anja’s thoughts when her stomach gets upset after eating the apple (which reveal how religion is generally practiced):
The stomach is sacred to Saint Sheep, although some claim it’s actually sacred to Saint Fish in His Trout aspect. If you’re making a pilgrimage to ask for help with an ulcer, you’ll probably want to hedge your bets and visit shrines to both. If you’re puking your guts out, who you pray to is entirely up to you.

The author also adeptly reveals Anja’s character through well-structured flashbacks:
. . . It’s not nearly as awkward as when you were thirteen and you begged Scand [her tutor] for months to attend a real autopsy and, when you did, you had to be sick halfway through. . . . The shame I’d felt when I walked back into the operating theater, knowing everyone had heard me being violently ill behind the curtain . . . no, this could never be as bad as that.

Another flashback example:
My sister Catherine had hit me on the side of the face with a bowl once. (It wasn't intentional, she was getting it down from the shelf and didn’t see me, and I stepped right into it.) What I remember is a bright flash in my vision and then a moment when the whole world slewed sideways and then snapped back into proper configuration.
This was like that, only without the flash or the headache. I felt the world shift around me.

Kingfisher’s use of language is another of the book’s delights. Here’s Anja’s elation after her trip through the magic mirror:
My chest felt as if it were full of ecstatic bees.
A description of a maid’s hair:
The maid who showed me to my room had hair that looked as if it was about to devour her head and go in search of other prey.

Although the mystery of Snow’s poisoning is the primary throughline of the novel, a slow-burn romance simmers in the background:
“You think you’re not cut out for this? I’m a mere guard.”
“There’s nothing mere about you,” I shot back.
An indescribable expression crossed his face, and then he was holding my eyes again, a little bit too long.
Saints, this is not the time. Not with everything else going on. And anyway you hardly know the man.

The author deftly summarizes their first lovemaking:
For the record, it is not easy to make love to a man with badly bruised ribs. . . .
“I would like to try that again,” I said, “when I’m not afraid that you’ll puncture a lung if you get too enthusiastic.”
“This seems like an excellent plan.” He idly stroked his fingertips over my wrist, right where the skin was more sensitive, and I shivered. He made a noise, a furry sort of chuckle deep in his chest, and I decided that I wanted to hear that noise again, preferably as soon as possible.

Despite the passion and tenderness between the two lovers, the author doesn’t imply a simple happily-ever-after. Instead, Kingfisher makes clear that their relationship is a work in progress with the closing line of the book:
I went to collect my rooster, my snake, and my love, and to discover what happened after that.

Twelve-year-old Princess Snow is more resourceful than any of the adults credit her, and she’s smarter and more courageous than the reader is led to believe, which provides a nice twist in the story’s climax.
In the two final chapters, Anja confronts the poisoner, lays out how the whole magic mirror progression started, and ties up the remaining loose ends of the mystery, providing a completely satisfying conclusion to a delightful story.
Hemlock & Silver is a perfect read for lovers of retold fairy tales, suspenseful fantasy mystery novels, and (or) stories with romantic elements that neither overshadow the main plot nor follow tired tropes. Highly recommended.

Read other fabulous books by T. Kingfisher: Nettle & Bone, Thornhedge,
What Moves the Dead, A Sorceress Comes to Call, Paladin’s Grace, Swordheart
Read other novels based on fairy tale retellings:
Sistersong; The River Has Roots; Thorn; The Book of Gothel
Read other fantasy mysteries: The Tainted Cup, A Drop of Corruption
Read these fun fantasy fairy-tale collections:
The Starlit Wood; Kissing the Witch; Not a Princess

Fiction: Little Thieves by Margaret Owen

11/11/2025

Although Little Thieves is a romantic fantasy for young adults, the depth of theme and characterization are more typical of fantasy novels written for adult readers. The main character, Vanja, is a sixteen-year-old thief and former maid who has survived abuse and neglect from her parents and employers. She’s created her own way in the world by being clever and resourceful, yet remains hindered by fear and resentment. Vanja’s journey of healing forms the heart of the novel.
It's also a story of power and powerlessness, of privilege and disadvantage, of resentment and forgiveness. And it's a deft, nuanced exploration of the power dynamics of abuse, and the ways humans both seek and resist self-empowerment and healing

Little Thieves is a loose version of The Goose Girl, though it provides a more complex take on the classic switched-identity story and weaves in other fairy-tale themes. For example, the prince is actually the Big Bad Wolf, and there are references to thorns, pricked fingers, and red roses reminiscent of Briar Rose (Sleeping Beauty).

Each section within the book begins with a “Once upon a time . . .” fairy-tale that sets the stage for the following narrative.
In the first, Vanja’s biological mother abandons her to the gods Death and Fortune, who become Vanja’s godmothers. We also see snippets of Vanja’s life as a chambermaid, and get a compelling riddle-tale foreshadowing the novel’s climax (“Once upon a time, three maidens went to a wolf’s wedding”), which heightens the tension over Vanja’s fate while giving nothing away. This tale ends with the line: “Which of the maidens was I?” harkening to the classic riddle-rhyme, “As I was Going to St. Ives,” but more meaningful and with much higher stakes than the nursery rhyme.

The novel is set in a Germanic-inspired medieval world where same-sex relationships are not preferred, but neither are they vilified. Same for transgendered individuals. A female-female romance between two secondary characters plays a critical role in the transformative arcs of the two characters involved.

In the novel’s opening, Vanja is stealing jewelry from the nobility hoping to amass enough wealth to flee to another country. Her two God-mothers, Death and Fortune, decreed that on her thirteenth birthday she must choose to serve one of them for all time. Unable to choose between them—because she loves them both—and hurt that they want her to be a servant rather than a daughter, she refuses and decides to leave the country where they're worshipped.
Vanja’s clever thievery was one of my favorite parts of the book. These passages reminded me of my favorite heist stories, with Vanja several steps ahead of everyone else . . . until she isn’t. But even when seemly trapped with no escape, she never stops scheming and trying to overcome all obstacles.

Another fun aspect of the novel is Vanja “code-switching” between impersonating the beautiful, blond princess and reverting to her plain, chambermaid persona when convenient.

On her way home from the opening heist, Vanja runs afoul of a local Herne-like forest deity who curses her for stealing one of the god’s talismans. Vanja begins sprouting rubies and diamonds (a twist on the fairy tale Diamonds and Toads), triggering sometimes farcical—but always dangerous—greed in others.
The forest god’s half-mortal daughter Ragne comes along to supervise the curse until the full moon, when Vanje will either extricate herself by amending her greedy ways, or become a pile of jewels.
I enjoyed Ragne’s curiosity about the mortal world of her unknown father and her naive questions. It was especially fun when she falls in love with another character and asks about kissing.

Other antagonists thwart Vanja’s plans, the most dangerous being her betrothed, a war-like prince. A young noblewoman who tormented Vanja when she was a chambermaid also tries to undermine her.

Another adversary is Emric Conrad, a junior prefect sent to investigate the robberies. He appears easily flustered and overwhelmed, stammering through early interviews of Vanja. Very different from the menacing Conrad of the original Goose Girl fable.
We discover that Emric, like Vanja, is more complex than his initial presentation conveys. He carries emotional scars from trying to live up to his father’s legacy and expectations, and from painful social awkwardness around his less brilliant peers.
Emric serves as a foil, a threat, and a potential romantic partner for Vanja, though the enemies-to-lovers trope never feels forced or simplistic.

The mutual attraction between Vanja and Emric and their desire to outwit each other, provides for nice plot surprises. And their relationship is only one of Vanja’s evolving relations with other secondary characters, the most meaningful being with the princess whose place she usurped. The theme of earning forgiveness through changed actions was a strength of the storyline.

There are a number of supernatural creatures in the novel such as a kolbold who keeps the hearthfires and nachtmahren who feed off nightmares. I wasn't entirely sure what the magical “rules” were of these creatures, the nachtmahren in particular. They seemed able to change size, and both feed off people and enter inside them at one point.

  I would’ve liked more about Vanja’s relationship with her two godmothers, and more on the nature of gods in this world. There is mention of Low Gods and High Gods, but it was never clear to me what this distinction meant.
  Other weaknesses were secondary characters and plotlines not critical to the storyline, including an over-the-top scene with an animated statue. This sprawl gave the novel a frantic feel at times, but overall the story was well-constructed and kept my interest.
  In the end, characters are redeemed, evil is vanquished, and love blossoms.  Little Thieves is a fairy-tale retelling that is both original and surprisingly complex.

For other retellings of The Goose Girl, read A Sorceress Comes to Call and Thorn
For other “romantasy” novels, try Swordheart, Paladin’s Grace, The Unspoken Name,
The Thousand Eyes, Fire Logic, Earth Logic

Nonfiction: Tiny Experiments by Anne-Laure Le Cunff

11/4/2025

Tiny Experiments: How to Live Freely in a Goal Obsessed World is full of actionable ideas for living a fulfilling creative life. The author weaves scientific research with personal experiences and testimonials to make the case for embracing curiosity.
She says, “Our collective focus on the ladder of success is what gives rise to the proverbial rat race of modern life: if only we can climb one more step—if only we can get that promotion, give that big presentation, grow our online audience, hire a team, buy that house—then we will finally feel at peace.”
Her antidote is to explore our innate curiosity and discover what excites us. “What makes you come alive? [Discover] the experiences that light that spark.”

Some favorite quotes:

Success is showing up, regardless of the end result.
You could even experiment with doing nothing for a few minutes a day.
Making the most of our time isn’t about doing more but being more: more present, more engaged, and more attuned to the quality of our experiences.
Excellence is a marathon, not a sprint.
It’s important to notice when we use learning [i.e. research] as procrastination in disguise.
Remember life is not about how much we do, but how well we do.
there is so much to learn from our mistakes; we should learn to fall in love with them.

The author had a unique and helpful approach to procrastination. She says, “Procrastination is not an enemy to be conquered, but a meaningful signal that something is amiss—a mismatch between your rational aspirations, your emotional needs, and your practical skills. Approach procrastination from a place of curiosity to identify its cause and adjust your course of action.”
She advocates using procrastination as “a signal to reconsider your approach.”

I found the exploration of perfectionism especially helpful. She explains that “We are wired to quickly label situations as good or bad, an evolutionary mechanism designed to protect us from unknown risks.”
This instinct becomes problematic when there’s no certain answer.

Perfectionism is one of the defense mechanisms we fall back on when faced with uncertainty. "[We] cling to our past successes, trying to repeat them [which] limits our imagination by making us rehash old tales instead of facing the discomfort of the blank page."
"When love, acceptance, and attention seem conditional on our achievements, it creates a deep-seated sense of inadequacy that makes us feel that we’re never quite good enough. We tirelessly strive toward unattainable perfection, which not only stifles our curiosity but inevitably leads to disappointment when we fall short of our own unrealistic expectations.”

But “the more we flex our curiosity muscles, the more uncertainty transforms from something to escape to somewhere to explore. …Rather than resisting uncertainty, we befriend it.”
Thus practice not perfection is the goal. She quotes John Maxwell: “The more you do, the more you fail. The more you fail, the more you learn. The more you learn, the better you get.”

Because “failure is an integral part of growth . . . embracing imperfection is necessary to live a life of creative adventure.” She points out that it’s unrealistic to expect to excel at everything simultaneously, and instead we should cultivate intentional imperfection, which "means being deliberate about where you invest your efforts, recognizing that you cannot be at the very top all the time and across all areas of life. It’s about striving for sustainable excellence rather than fleeting perfection.”
She advises letting go of “good” projects to focus on great projects; to put our focus and effort into the activities that excite us the most.

But dropping even mediocre projects can be tough. "The bravest thing you can do, sometimes, is to admit that a course of action is no longer serving you and to bow out.”

“The stigma attached to quitting often clouds our judgment and can keep us tethered to a project that drains our physical, cognitive, and emotional resources. A powerful barrier to taking a break or abandoning a project is the sunk cost fallacy: the irrational reasoning that further investment—be it time, money or effort—must be made simply because of the initial investment, regardless of the current and future value of that project. We have poured so much energy and hope into a project that it feels impossible to withdraw.”
Every author I know has at least one manuscript in a drawer they abandoned when it finally became heartbreakingly clear the story wasn't working—sometimes after many years of investment.

The author advocates “learning in public” as a way of developing new skills in community, but I found this advice problematic. She says, “Find opportunities to document and share that align with work you would be doing anyway. For instance, writers and artists share snippets of works in progress, giving fans a peek while maintaining momentum.”

Before you rush to post your work-in-progress online, consider that this public learning creates an “audience effect,” where a creator alters their behavior to seek social approval. Work shared publicly “becomes content for others to react to, distorting your priorities and skewing them toward pursuing public validation over personal values.”
It also opens the creator to critiques and attacks from “mean-spirited trolls.”
So why does she suggest such a perilous venture? Apparently because it might increase “your chances of being noticed by potential employers, investors, and collaborators, unlocking new career opportunities.”

This theme of becoming a successful entrepreneur underlies many of the anecdotes she uses to “sell” her learning method, which essentially undermines her argument of experimenting for its own sake versus working toward a specific goal of “new career opportunities.”

Tiny Experiments was strongest for me when the focus was on the creative journey, on framing experiments as “just for fun,” and “embracing the adventure of not knowing where your path will lead.”

For more helpful tips read: The Power of Practice, Embracing Fear,
How to Keep House While Drowning, Life Admin

Poetry: You Better Be Lightning by Andrea Gibson

10/19/2025

It’s rare to read a poetry book where every poem is impactful—such was my experience with Andrea Gibson’s You Better Be Lightning.
  The language is straightforward and accessible, and each poem is like an exquisite short story, taking the reader on an intense emotional journey.
  The poem “Queer Youth are Five Times More Likely to Die by Suicide” is an immersive dive into the painful world of LQBTQ+ youth.
  The entire poem is a tour de force, but I found these lines particularly poignant:
Burning for eternity seems five times
more doable than another day in the school lunchroom.

“The Year of No Grudges” begins with this stanza:
I know most people try hard
to do good and find out to late
they should have tried softer.

A second excerpt:
Where I come from, you can drive/
a pickup truck from one side
of the lake to the others, and people
have an unusually high quantity/
of missing teeth and fingers,
but you can still count on them
to buy whitening strips and wedding rings

Another excerpt:
Burning to be better is my favorite
quality on anyone, and you are on fire

The poem “Time Piece” had a couple of stanzas that deeply resonated with me:
My friend wakes up at noon.
Goes to bed at eight. Wants less time
because she wants less pain.
And this quotable passage:
Regret is a time machine to the past.
Worry is a time machine to the future.
Gratitude is a time machine to the future.

My favorite lines in “Every Time I Ever Said I Want to Die”:
Sometimes grief is the fastest route to truth.
Also:
What if we don’t have to be healed
to be whole? There are holes in every inch
Of the fabric that makes me who I am
And:
…a difficult life is not less
worth living than a gentle one. Joy is just easier
to carry than sorrow

“Instead of Depression,”
Call it Hibernation.
…Name your hopelessness
a quiet hollow, a place you go
to heal, a den you dug,
Sweetheart, instead
of a grave.

“What Love Is” tells the story of the poet on tour with their girlfriend and performing near the girlfriend’s estranged parents. Their girlfriend is thrilled that her parents want to see the show, a first step toward reconciliation. The parents are painfully stiff and out of place among the lavender-haired queers in the audience.
The poet has been handed a flyer and asked to announce an anti-fracking protest; the girlfriend’s father works in fracking.
Here are two short scenes from the poem:
Resting the flyer for the protest at my feet so I could announce it near the end, I told myself, If you are going to be anything in the world tonight, you better be lightning. You better find something in you honest enough to strike them.
After the show, the poet feels ashamed because she never announced the protest, a violation of her own progressive politics, but in the greenroom backstage:
. . . her father burst through the door, his head nearly axing a hole through the ceiling, tears, like a giant’s tears, covering his face. I’m seventy-six years old, he said, and I just tonight figured out what love is.
The closing lines:
There is no moral of this story. It’s just a moment in my life where I did something wrong, and the earth, who has never not known what love is, held me anyway.

From “The Test of Time” (note: the poet has Lyme Disease):
“I can’t always tell the difference
between my gifts and my tragedies. What I’ve lost /
in health I’ve gained in access to my own empathy.
And: …there is a test we can take to find out the future.
It’s called the test of time. And what you do is you live/
until you die. And you refuse to let the hands of your clock
curl into fists to fight the [life] lessons off. Even if the lessons /
are brutally hard.

Some quotable lines from various poems:

Do you know fish are so sensitive/snowflakes sound like fireworks when they land/on the water? Do you know sea otters hold hands/when they sleep so they don’t drift apart? (“Homesick: A Plea for Our Planet”)
…my still teenage sister/ was a million miles away/ in a trailer on the other side of town,/ men twice her age offering needles/ for her arm so she could sew herself/ backward, unmake her own life/ one fix at a time. (“Love Letter to the Tick That Got me Sick”)
How did you come to believe/ that hating yourself would protect you/ from other people’s hate? (“Aliens Explain Why They Are Visiting Earth”)
Is my attention on loving/ or my attention on/ who isn’t loving me? (“Wellness Check”)
…every falling leaf is a tiny kite/ with a string too small to see, held/ by the part of me in charge/ of making beauty/ out of grief. (“How the Worst Day of My Life Became the Best”)
We call the weather beautiful/ because there are no more snowmen in Colorado,/ but there are men with cold hearts . . . Who buy stock in war and cancer and poverty. Who buy stock in extinction. (“Not Alone”)

Part of the pleasure of these poems is their well-crafted structure as in the pair of poems: “The Call, Option 1” and “The Call, Option 2,” both concerned with calling someone who sexually abused the poet in childhood.
The first version is vindictive: you will always be held down/ by what you held down. And: …what does the boy you once were/ think of the man you became?
The second version starts with this line: There is a world in which you did not touch me.
She imagines a world where he holds no fear over them: In this world I don’t panic when I see a pink tricycle/ in your neighbor’s driveway . . .

Also impressive, “The Night Shift” takes us on a journey through the poet’s job as night-supervisor at a home for wayward girls. The poem balances the poet learning her duties with harrowing vignettes of the individual girls: one whose mother says she’ll visit but never shows, another who isn’t allowed razors.

This collection of poems is emotionally raw, yet full of grace and lyrical beauty. These are poems where gratitude and forgiveness inevitably triumph over pain and despair. Highly recommended.
Find You Better be Lightning online or at your local library. Gold Medal Winner of the Feathered Quill Book Awards and the Independent Publisher Book Awards.

Another fabulous poetry book: Not a Princess

Fiction: Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie

10/13/2025

Ancillary Justice is set in a far future universe where modified captive humans are merged with a ship’s AI to create a multi-body conglomerate sharing a single consciousness. The story unfolds in alternating timelines: one nineteen years in the past following a unit of these so-called ancillaries joined with the spaceship Justice of Toren; the other in the present following a traveler named Breq on a quest for vengeance.
The story is expertly told, revealing just enough of this fascinating world to keep the reader engaged: intelligent spaceships and their human-ancillary extensions, the endless and brutal colonization of neighboring worlds, and the pervasive caste politics within the Radch Empire.

In the opening chapter we meet Breq, who recognizes an unconscious addict tossed out into the street and chooses to rescue her, at risk of their all-important mission. Of this choice, Breq says, “Sometimes I don’t know why I do the things I do. Even after all this time it’s still a new thing for me not to know, not to have orders to follow from one moment to the next.”

Breq is on a wintry planet where the natives routinely take advantage of interlopers. Breq is aware she’s being cheated at every turn, but it’s irrelevant to her: she’s only interested in completing her mission.
We learn that the Radch Empire doesn’t distinguish by gender and has no gender pronouns, which makes it difficult for Breq to determine the correct pronouns to use on this planet (she generally defaults to “she”). Also, the addict she rescues quickly becomes a liability, further complicating her situation.

It’s in the other timeline that we learn about the ancillaries and come to understand the motivation for Breq’s solo mission. Here we are in the Justice of Toren’s point of view, and more specifically a unit of ancillaries called One Esk on the planet’s surface under command of Lieutenant Awn. The planet has been recently and brutally “annexed” by the empire; Lieutenant Awn and the One Esk ancillaries are there to keep order until the indigenous population is fully assimilated.

The author does a fabulous job conveying the multi-layered consciousness of One Esk: accompanying Lieutenant Esk to visit the head priest of the local temple while simultaneously keeping watch over the village and taking complaints from petitioners in the local office, all of these experiences sensed by different bodies but shared by one singular awareness. Lieutenant Awn is dedicated to the ideals of the empire and One Esk is devoted to the lieutenant.
This group awareness is catastrophically interrupted at one point in the story and the confusion and pain One Esk experiences is palpable. And because one of the One Esk units is destroyed during the same event, we get to see a fresh human prepared to become an ancillary in a harrowing scene that brings home the human cost of creating ancillaries.

The social politics and hierarchy of the empire are also revealed in this timeline. The entire Radch Empire is ruled by Anaander Mianaai, who has cloned herself into thousands of ancillary-like bodies. Once Anaander Mianaai appearsin the story, things change quickly for Lieutenant Awn and One Esk.
About two-thirds of the way through the novel, the two timelines converge as Breq attempts to take her revenge. Characters from the past timeline intrude on the present, vastly complicating Breq’s mission. The suspense ratchets higher when Breq realizes she has underestimated her opponent and must scramble throughout the exciting climax of the story.
The novel gathers momentum as the story unfolds until I literally couldn’t stop reading. It won the Hugo, Nebula, and Arthur C. Clark awards the year it was published, and for good reason: it’s a fascinating and compelling read. Although the first of a trilogy, Ancillary Justice is a complete story with a satisfying arc and a great read for any science fiction fan.

Other science fiction novels to try:
The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet; A Closed and Common Orbit;
All Systems Red; Artificial Condition; Rogue Protocol; Exit Strategy

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