Us Against You was an emotional follow-up to Beartown that digs even deeper into the heart of a small town torn by conflict, loyalty, and identity. Backman tells the story so well; you feel every bit of the tension, love, and heartbreak. He captures the messy, tight-knit dynamic of Beartown perfectly, especially how dangerous it can be when people stay silent instead of speaking hard truths. One of the standout themes is toxic masculinity. Backman does a great job showing how damaging it is when boys and men are expected to bury their emotions, act tough, and solve everything with violence. It is honest, sometimes painful, and incredibly timely. The characters are complicated and real, and even when you disagree with their choices, you understand them. Backman's writing is full of empathy, and his insight into human behavior makes this book hit hard in all the right ways. Overall, Us Against You is a beautifully written, thought-provoking story about community, belonging, and the courage it takes to stand up even when it feels like the whole world is pushing back.

I’ll be honest, this book includes one of my most dreaded lines in fiction: “letting out a breath they didn’t know they were holding.” And not just once, but multiple times. Still, in spite of that overused phrase, I absolutely loved this novel. The mystery at the novel’s core unfolds gently, revealing a beautiful portrait of human (and non-human) connection. Van Pelt writes with sensitivity and wit, infusing the story with warmth and hope without straying into sentimentality. The characters feel real in that quietly flawed, endearing way, and their lives begin to intersect in ways that are subtle at first but become incredibly meaningful by the end. And then there’s Marcellus. I did not expect to be so emotionally invested in an octopus, but his chapters might have been my favorite part. His voice is clever, a little jaded, and surprisingly tender. Those sections added such a unique perspective and helped set the book apart from anything else I’ve read recently. Despite the cliché breath-holding moments, Remarkably Bright Creatures completely won me over. It’s thoughtful, original, and quietly powerful in a way that lingers long after you’ve finished.

This book is wild. It reads like a true crime docu-series written by someone who spent way too much time on Tumblr in 2014. The fact that it’s basically a fake true crime book about a fictional murder but still manages to feel realer than half the stuff you see on Netflix is honestly kind of insane. The story is about the murder of a teenage girl, Joan Wilson, by three of her classmates in this little seaside town. But it’s not just a whodunit; it’s a total breakdown of how stories like this get told (and sold). It’s filled with fake interviews, blog posts, forum threads, weird side tangents, and just the most cursed internet energy. It genuinely felt like scrolling through a chaotic Tumblr tag from 2014. I mean that in the most nostalgic and disturbing way. That said… this was not an easy read. Not because the writing is difficult, but because the subject matter is rough. There’s a lot of violence, manipulation, and just straight-up disturbing behavior, especially from the narrator, who’s this totally self-absorbed true crime writer. Half the time you’re cringing at how unethical he is, and the other half you’re cringing at how much you’re enjoying the story anyway. It's uncomfortable on purpose. What really blew my mind was how much it felt like being back on Tumblr during the peak of true crime fandom. Remember when people were romanticizing serial killers? Yeah. That vibe. Clark nails that weird blend of obsession, aestheticization, and moral distance that made those communities so bizarre and addictive. Penance is dark, clever, and deeply unsettling. If you’re into books that mess with format, blur reality, and make you question your own media habits, this one’s for you.