OF MONSTERS AND MAINFRAMES, fun and funny space cozy horror story

OF MONSTERS AND MAINFRAMES
BARBARA TRUELOVE
Bindery Books/Ezeekat Press (non-affiliate Bookshop.org link)
$9.99 ebook, available now

The Independent Press Top 40 Bestsellers: Fiction For the week ending June 2, 2026

Rating: 3.75* of five

The Publisher Says: LA Times Bestseller ** 2025 Goodreads Choice Award Finalist ** Spotify Best Book of the Year

Spaceships aren’t programmed to seek revenge—but for Dracula, Demeter will make an exception.

Demeter just wants to do her job: shuttling humans between Earth and Alpha Centauri. Unfortunately, her passengers keep dying—and not from equipment failures, as her AI medical system, Steward, would have her believe. These are paranormal murders, and they began when one nasty, ancient vampire decided to board Demeter and kill all her humans.

To keep from getting decommissioned, Demeter must join forces with her own team of monsters: A werewolf. An engineer built from the dead. A pharaoh with otherworldly powers. A vampire with a grudge. A fleet of cheerful spider drones. Together, this motley crew will face down the ultimate evil—Dracula.

The queer love child of pulp horror and classic sci-fi, Of Monsters and Mainframes is a dazzling, heartfelt odyssey that probes what it means to be one of society’s monsters—and explores the many types of friendship that make us human.

I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA NETGALLEY. THANK YOU.

My Review: I remember The Ship Who Sang cycle of stories from the 1960s. Anne McCaffrey'se sentient ship made me both shudder...what a horrifying fate, to be trapped in a partial life as the brains of a machine!...and thrill...no bodily death! incredible adventures no way you'd have otherwise!, but I never once thought of that ship being thought of by its peers and its employers as a possible serial killer. What a cool twist, I thought as I downloaded the DRC. Even cooler because she's named after the ship that brings Dracula to Whitby! And Dracula in space? A cast of Universal Studios monsters helping Demeter clear her name? Hell to the yeah!

Using an AI in place of McCaffrey's human brain while adding a medical AI (called Steward) as a foil, an equal rival, the story gets all the squicked-by-Humankind fun of Murderbot and all the pathos of the misunderstood Other trying to live its life out as it sees fit with the technology-based humor (the AI runs on battery packs, with humorous possibilities well-mined by Truelove) that keeps you on the readerly hop.

It was fun, it was funny, it was a good afternoon's entertainment. I was never inclined to put it down, I wanted to know "...and then what?" but, honestly, it was light on larger ideas so I can't go much over three-and-a-half stars. It's the kind of book I'll recommend for SF fans who aren't squeamish (or arachnophobic) because the counterpoint to the humor is horror. It's a niche that will, I suspect, attract imitators because it goes down so easy.

A story that really does a good job of wiling away a few hours most pleasantly. Don't expect your mind to be blown and make sure the genre is agreeable (very low steam in the romance department, too), and you're okay with spiders and a dose of gore less than a Stephen Graham Jones novel but still there. Smiles await you if those are all true.

YOUR NAME HERE, well...mine was, is yours?

YOUR NAME HERE
HELEN DeWITT & ILYA GRIDNEFF
Dalkey Archive Press (non-affiliate Bookshop.org link)
$9.99 ebook, available now

Rating: 4.5* of five

The Publisher Says: A major literary event over two decades in the making, Your Name Here marks the seismic return of Helen DeWitt (The Last Samurai), and will introduce readers to the riveting voice of Ilya Gridneff.

A book of unparalleled scope and vision, Your Name Here is a spectacular honeycomb of books-within-books. In this death-defying feat of ambition, collaborators Helen Dewitt and Ilya Gridneff weave together America’s “War on Terror,” countless years of literary history, authorial sleight of hand, Scientology, dream analysis, multiple languages, emails, images, graphs, into something wondrous and unique.

A metafictional Pygmalion story reminiscent of Charlie Kaufman‘s Oscar-nominated Adaptation, or Italo Calvino’s If On a Winter’s Night a Traveler; Your Name Here is a rare work of art that captures the process of becoming itself. A reminder that a masterpiece and a doomed voyage look the same at the start.

I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.

My Review: A literary landscape infested with "pullulating DaVinci Codeed masses" decried, a celebration of Arabic language and literature "unthinkable fifty, even ten years ago", a six hundred-page high-concept literary jape that does gymnastics sophisticated enough to impress the literati and cow the middlebrow into quiescence...did I get it? does anyone get it?...this will gatekeep the hell out of Literature and that's a shame. It's fun. I know a lot of people will bounce off the idea of first, second (ugh) *and* third-person narratives in thirty pages, still less the nods and winks to multitudes of novels, writers, stories, movements, that form the matter behind this book. It's a lot. It's meant to be a lot. It's not making the read easy for you.

In 2026 you have immense resources, all free to use and instantly available 24/7/365. to follow rabbit holes to look stuff up. I love that fact, I enjoy that experience; that means I enjoy this read. (I'm not calling it a story, it's not one, it's either no story at all or skatey-eight skabillion of them.) If you're worried someone is Judging You for your uneducated, unsophisticated take on Your Name Here, you're right—they are doing that; turn it around. Judge them for being so snobbish. For making this complicated, convoluted read a critical darling...question their motives, impugn their legitimacy to judge what is or is not Literature. Challenge gatekeepers; good ones, who want to protect standards and increase others' knowledge bases, rise to the challenge to say *why*; snobs sneer and walk away.

Both responses are valid and supported...somewhere...in the text.

I'm not hopeful that masses of y'all will be rushing to get your ten-dollar ebooks of this title. I realize what I've said so far is going to break some brains, tire some eyes, and fail to ignite the fuel of fun that lies inside this chunky book. It's a commitment of time and energy. It's arch, the way Ducks, Newburyport and Milkman (two books I deeply enjoyed) were arch: playing very complex games with The Rules℠, like pretending Pynchon and Italo Calvino aren't difficult to read, will always put some readers...intelligent readers, people who love the act of reading as much as anyone can...right off a book.

I'm hopeful you'll give the book a try. Take it slowly, read it in chunks. Stop wherever it changes tense, for example, and come back later. Try, in other words, different ways to relate to reading a novel. This is a novel that can reward you making that effort if anything you read can.

I've been gate-kept out of offering my opinion on this read because so many have praised it immoderately, and so many have slagged it off so intently for the same reasons others have praised it. That makes writing about a book in any kind of helpful (or intended to be helpful) mode an invitation to those who do not agree with one's opinion to get mouthy. That's tiresome and tiring, and I really did not want to get into it.

I read the most fulsome and the most dismissive reviews I could find. It was amazing to me the precise same book I read, described in similar terms to each other, could lead to such very different personal conclusions. It made me feel the work was well worth calling still more attention to, because this dichotomy of opinion can't be solely about craft; it's about the point of the read.

I found it to be a worthwhile use of my shrinking supply of eyeblinks. I can't give it a perfect rating, I was never panting to get back to it or chewing over some insight until long into the night. It's snobby in the same way I am. It's beautiful in the way I resonate to but know others won't. It's too long.

And I would read it again.

THE SHUTOUTS, keeping apocalyptic tales oddly fresh

THE SHUTOUTS
GABRIELLE KORN
St. Martin's Press (non-affiliate Bookshop.org link)
$14.99 ebook, available now

Rating: 4.25* of five

The Publisher Says: A brilliant queer dystopian novel from the author of Yours for the Taking, following a cast of characters on the margins of a strange and exclusive new society.

The year is 2041, and it's a dangerous time to be a woman driving across the United States alone. Deadly storms and uncontrollable wildfires are pummeling the country while political tensions are rising. But Kelly's on the road anyway; she desperately needs to get back to her daughter, who she left seven years ago for a cause that she's no longer sure she believes in.

Almost 40 years later, another mother, Ava, and her daughter Brook are on the run as well, from the climate change relief program known as The Inside Project, where they've spent the past 22 years being treated as lab rats. When they encounter a woman from Ava’s past on the side of the highway, the three continue on in a journey that will take them into the depths of what remains of humanity out in the wilderness.

At the same time, way up North, weather conditions continue to worsen and a settlement departs in search of greener pastures, leaving behind only two members, drawn together by a circumstance and a mystery they are destined to unravel together.

Set in the world of Gabrielle Korn's Yours for the Taking, The Shutouts tells the captivating story of those who have been shut out from Inside, their fight to survive, and an interconnectedness larger than all of them.

I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA NETGALLEY. THANK YOU.

My Review: A woman who's a teenager right now is writing letters to Orchid, her young daughter in 2041, a daughter she has not seen in some time. It is heart-wrenching because Kelly's letters are written as a mother who did the best she knew how to do tries to cross a ravaged US in a planet-scale climate apocalypse. She is not having an easy time of the trip. It is a terrible world and a terrible personal situation in that world—no one ever *wants* to leave their child behind. Switching to 2078, we have the second strand of the story, not epistolary but Orchid's third-person cinematic PoV, very close to the character.

This is the main way Author Korn creates investment in her not-very-active story. I have not read the first book, and I didn't feel the lack of the background mostly because I was always inside the field of vision of the narrator of each section. There might be apocalypse unfolding around them, but I'm...insulated...in their bubble of awareness and attention. It *should* feel slow, cut off from the world, instead I'm deeply enmeshed in the characters' feeling world, connected to their emotional responses to the situation. It works a lot better than I thought it would.

In large part, I think, because by using this technique, Author Korn is able to bring the reader through almost sixty years of immense upheaval without making that upheaval the matter of the book. I've sort of reached a saturation with The Climate Apocalypse as the story. Author Korn doesn't make me do the day-by-day; she lets me see the horrors through the eyes of a survivor of the horrors. In 2078, I'm in the world the apocalypse left, and as I'm in the limited viewpoint I'm seeing and responding to the parts that are in Orchid, the narrator's, attention. The centrality of Ava and her daughter Brook pull the mother/daughter bond along with us as we experience with Orchid the toughness needed to survive in this world.

It's an intense experience, and it's all queer all the time. It's that piece that warmed me the most. The world's collapsed and we're still here, we're in the survivors and doing great things with the space we take up. The intense personal commitment to mitigating the horrors, to ameliorating the suffering of all while incurring intense personal suffering from sacrifices made...well...it's quite a step from the usual queer fare I see everywhere. As the world fractures and fragments it's so lovely to see these queer folk making their very best efforts to extend survival and the opportunity to thrive so generously.

I'd give it all five stars if I hadn't felt rather pulled around to little enough purpose by some of the parts where Kelly's narrating her efforts to reach Orchid...I get it, it's really demanding, let's focus on how it makes you feel not what it's exacting from you. Likewise there are moments where Orchid's in motion for, well, for the sake of it it seemed to me.

I cavil; I would not say these issues were terrible, only niggling. It's a read that stands alone, yet makes me wish I'd already read its predecessor. Fine work indeed.

GEORGE FALLS THROUGH TIME, a modern Canterbury Tale

GEORGE FALLS THROUGH TIME
RYAN COLLETT
William Morrow (non-affiliate Bookshop.org link)
$14.99 ebook, available now

Rating: 4.25* of five

The Publisher Says: Less meets the year 1300 in this exhilarating and thoughtfully genre-defying literary novel about a man transported through time in a moment of extreme stress, whose modern anxieties are replaced by medieval brutalities

Newly laid off George’s internet bill is in his ex-boyfriend’s name. He’s got a spider-infested apartment, and two of the six dogs he’s walking in London have just escaped. It’s pure undiluted stress that sends him into a spiral, all the way to the year 1300.

When he comes to, George recognizes the same rolling hills of Greenwich Park. But the luxuries and phone service of modernity are nowhere. In their place are locals with a bizarre, slanted speech in awe of his foreign clothes, who swiftly toss him in a dungeon. Despite the barbarity of a medieval world, a servant named Simon helps George acclimate to a simpler, easier existence—until a summons from the King threatens to send his life up in flames.

George Falls Through Time is as much an inward journey as an outward one: an immersive exploration of identity and dislocation that pits present-day sensibilities against a raw and alien backdrop, a strangely perfect canvas for the absurd anxieties of our modern lives. It's a profound meditation on the nature of desire perfect for fans of Madeline Miller and The Ministry of Time.

I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA NETGALLEY. THANK YOU.

My Review: No one I've ever known is not in need of challenges to become their best self. Of course, like all other circumstances in this life, the challenge can be met, or lost, failed, or left with mixed results. I think the strength of this book is its calling-forth of George's inner winner.

What works less well for me is Simon, the medieval version of George's modern self-abnegating submissive self. At least in George Simon is serving a worthy master, a thing George never found in modern times. Simon doesn't have a PoV so we can't learn why he chooses to be this person to George, this being stream of consciousness, and George is quite understandably overwhelmed by the brain-bending reality he's in the reign of Edward I. George is, howsomever, a *major* whiner, which is a big part of what he works through in the story. What does Simon see in him? I never knew. To the story's credit neither does George, and he's explicitly amazed and humbled by it.

Of course with all time-travel narratives there are practical hurdles to overcome that Author Collett largely sidesteps (a good choice in my opinion) by using the stream-of-consciousness narrative technique. It takes a good third of the book for George to think about the *way* he was transported to 1300 instead of the *why* of it. The "how" really makes all the difference. If you don't know how you got somewhere how do you ever figure out how to leave?

And about George...his historical ignorance lands him at a point he knows literally not one thing about, which fact freaks him out. As does the language the locals speak. It's a clever resolution to that giant, existentially threatening fact that earns the book its half-star bump. I'm not quite fully on board with the dragon being what it was, nor with the resolution this provided. That's the missing three-quarters of the fifth star. Both of those opinions are the remaining cavils I have to this funny, often rib-ticklingly so, story of a fish so far out of water he might as well be an octopus on Everest.

George's many mistreatments in modern times, most of which seemed to me to stem from his utter inability to see what people were quite plainly after from him, snap into focus when he's chucked into a medieval dungeon. How his life changes from there is a ride through a decade of the most torturous kind of therapy (pun very much intended) in a short time, with the steadying hand of Simon to hold. Why Simon does not get a PoV is...well, I missed it, so I'll leave it at that. The publisher compares this to Less, a book I deeply disliked; it's an apt comparison. George has a little more reason to feel whinging moaning self-pity, being trapped (?) 700 years in the past at a time he knows nothing about. It's the best thing that's ever happened to him. He needs to be shook. What could shake you more than being gay, alone, ad then finding a partner and a purpose and a core after being moved through time and meeting a dragon? He's the safest time traveler ever because he's too ignorant to cause any paradoxes. He's marginal in his life and marginal in the past; it's not like anyone would much miss him, but here in 1300 he's been through horrors yet found purpose and a shot at lasting, imperfect cobbled-together(!) happiness.

What I wanted but lacked in The Ministry of Time I wanted here too, but there was enough fun sex between George and Simon that I'm more forgiving. Oh yeah...sex...eww-ick homophobes should not even consider this story. At all.

It's a journey of self-discovery in a way I didn't expect, wasn't fully on board with, yet related to and resonated with. A bit like the Franklin's Tale from the other end of the fourteenth century, it's a bit overwrought; a bit overinterested in sex for its plot; but, overall, the message of self-discovery and giving one's self permission to live with purpose, well worth reading.

THE RUNAWAYS: A Novel, flawed, interesting, but beware the animal cruelty

THE RUNAWAYS: A Novel
FATIMA BHUTTO
Verso Books (non-affiliate Bookshop.org link)
$9.99 ebook, available now

Rating: 3.5* of five

The Publisher Says: The lives of three radicalized Muslim teenagers—two from Pakistan, one from the United Kingdom—intersect in the Iraqi desert as they travel to a jihadi training camp in Mosul.

Anita lives in Karachi’s biggest slum. Her mother is a maalish wali, paid to massage the tired bones of rich women. But Anita’s life will change forever when she meets her elderly neighbor, a man whose shelves of books promise an escape to a different world.

On the other side of Karachi lives Monty, whose father owns half the city and expects great things of him. But when a beautiful and rebellious girl joins his school, Monty will find his life going in a very different direction.

Sunny’s father left India and went to England to give his son the opportunities he never had. Yet Sunny doesn't fit in anywhere. It’s only when his charismatic cousin comes back into his life that he realizes his life could hold more possibilities than he ever imagined.

These three lives will cross in the desert, a place where life and death walk hand in hand, and where their closely guarded secrets will force them to make a terrible choice.

I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.

My Review: What is the process of radicalization? It's ever more timely a question. We in the US are not accustomed to thinking the radicalization process applies to women. In this story, Author Bhutto, whose family has been deeply damaged by radicalized people, treats the process as gender-blind.

I'm glad she did that. In 2026, we need to be aware of how readily educated minds can be co-opted into fields of endeavor I can only think of as anti-social. I'm quite sure Author Bhutto knows each of these people. I'm clear she does not want us to think of them as pieces of a monolithic belief group, but people who found a path to serve a larger purpose and discover a way to live a meaningful life.

Religion being a human thing I dislike and decline to participate in, this story is one I simply read to gain some semblance of understanding for its apparent magnetic appeal to others. I'm no more clear about it now. None of these misguided young people, particularly gay young Sunny, make any tiniest bit of sense to me. I understand none of their motivations any better after the read than before. They're tedious rebellious adolescents. Their path to selfhood and separation from their parents is not one I like or support; I expected that. I wanted to understand at least a little better what inflames the young passions in this cause I don't like or wish success for; not forthcoming. Instead there is an animal cruelty scene I'll never be able to unread.

Not a success for my aims, then; as a novel curiously unsuccessful too. Three PoVs, one deep (Sunny the gay lad...what the hell, Sunny, they'll kill you when they know you're queer!); Monty the vapid rich boy, a gray fog of words and no lightning except an obsession with a girl; Anita...well, what was Anita's PoV? Why was she included when she changed the least of the three?

Monty's mother's religious faith, surprisingly, plays a very small role in this tale pf Muslims becoming radicalized. She is a believer who is not radicalized; why is she not given a role in trying to explain his path's consequences to Monty, instead of abetting him in his course? She is not at all committed to it, that's clear.

I wasn't satisfied on a craft level, then; I didn't get what I'd hoped for; so why am I rating it over three stars? Because Author Bhutto herself is part of a family (follow the link above) terribly impacted by the dreadful roiling cauldron of extremism. I felt her presence in the spaces sh left for me to contemplate the fates of her runaways. It was enough for me to connect emotionally with this flawed novel.

I warn off those squeamish about animal cruelty. Others less sensitive, particularly gay Muslim lads, might get more of a satisfying reading experience.

VILLA OF DELIRIUM, a récit in translation to keep you intrigued this winter weekend

VILLA OF DELIRIUM
ADRIEN GOETZ (tr. Natasha Lehrer)
New Vessel Press (non-affiliate Bookshop.org link)
$26.95 all editions, available now

Rating: 4.5* of five

The Publisher Says: Along the French Riviera in the early 1900s, an illustrious family in thrall to classical antiquity builds a fabulous villa—a replica of a Greek palace, complete with marble columns and frescoes depicting mythological gods.

The Reinachs—related to other wealthy Jews like the Rothschilds and the Ephrussis—attempt to recreate "a pure beauty" lost in the 20th century. The narrator of this brilliant novel calls the imposing house “an act of delirium, above all an optimistic act, proof that one could reset time as one could reset a clock and resist the outside world." The story of the villa and its glamorous inhabitants is recounted by the son of a servant from the nearby estate of Gustave Eiffel, designer of the Paris tower, and the two contrasting structures present opposite responses to modernity. The son is adopted by the Reinachs, initiated into the era of Socrates and instructed in classical Greek. He joins a family pilgrimage to Athens, falls in love with a married woman, and survives the Nazi confiscation of the house and deportation to death camps of Reinach grandchildren.

This is a Greek epic for the modern era.

I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.

My Review: I've been years without writing up my notes on this read. It's shameful. I'm so sorry not to have warbled about it...in my defense, it was COVID time.

First off I want to encourage you to take the virtual tour of the (real) villa itself. It definitely blurs the lines between reality and fantasy...both the fact there is a real place, built by real pre-war Jewish aesthetes, and the fact the novel (a roman à clef, surely, though I don't have the key) treats its subject as so close to the mythical world it embodies conspire to give the story a powerful impact. Attributed to the fictional creator pf the fictional villa is the epigraph: "The Greeks discovered glory, they discovered beauty, and they brought to this discovery such jubilation, such an overabundance of life, that a sense of youthful contagion can still be felt even after the passage of three or four thousand years."

As a statement of purpose for this novel that one is spot-on. It's a bit Tom Ripley/Line of Beauty/Saltburn-esque in its insertion of a young lad from an impoverished background into a world he could not even have dreamed up, still less entered. He learns vast amounts of cultural information not widely available to boys of his class as he companions, somewhat à la Patroclus, his wealthy young compatriot Adolphe.

Time passes; the education he gets by being whisked out of his dead-end life leads him to, on a trip with Adolphe and his uncle Theodore (benefactor of Achilles), to do something very wrong; in his turn, wrong is done to him by Theodore who dresses it up as redressing the balance. It is not that at all, it is greed. A set of scales falls from Achilles' eyes, and the reader's; being cultured, being educated and deeply humane, does not being a good person.

Time-jumping decades, we meet Achilles in his famous-artist phase. He might not have profited from his bad deed fortyish years before, but his connection to wealth and high culture is solid, and very useful. As it is 1956, the area is abuzz with the marriage of Grace Kelly to Prince Rainier of Monaco. Achilles uses this influx of strangers to mask his return to the now-derelict villa of his childhood. We all know what he has gone to look for: the object purloined by him, then stolen by Theodore.

Greed and the complicated desire to Win, to Beat Them, are deeply enmeshed with the self-justifying desire to be Right, to get the last word. Humans...such irredeemable scum. Recovering an object? No, no more than the madeleine was the object of Swann's memory palace. Recovering a moment once lived with intensity? Okay...recovering lost, doomed first love? Okay...all of these at once, reviving memory's mood board as it was being edited and stuck into place is rather the project of middle age. In Achilles' case it's quite a beautiful reconstruction. Do we trust him? Is he, in the confines of his mind that is this récit, editing, embellishing, altering the raw material of memory, cutting the scenes into the movie he wants to watch?

This is where the story becomes so much more than the sum of its beautiful parts. In any récit, we're not given the momentous clash between narrator and reality because there is only the one person speaking to us. In this story's case that means reckoning with the nature of memory, the pain of identity being formed as it must always be in tension with Other; it is Achilles' story, but of necessity it is only his story of the myriad he comes into consequential contact with. Author and translator let us be in the flow with Achilles, of sacred name, and hurry no revelations to keep us "engaged" by creating an unnatural action. It is meditative, it is dense, and it is going to be obvious to you in twenty pages if it's one for you pursue.

I'm now approaching Achilles' end-age. I see things as he does, in strobe-flashes of intense memory followed by blind black voids of time. I found Achilles and his remarkable life deeply pleasant company, telling me an involving story at an old man's pace.

It was a slow read. It kept calling me back. I was able to pick right back up after literal years away from it because I was that invested in the man. It's a story I think will reward the reader who can just...go with it. I hope you'll read a sample, see if it's for you or not.

WINTER: The Story of a Season, seasonal celebration of hygge...in tartan

WINTER: The Story of a Season
VAL McDERMID (illus. Philip Harris)
Atlantic Monthly Press (non-affiliate Bookshop.org link)
$22.00 all editions, available now

The Independent Press Top 40 Bestsellers: Non-Fiction For the week ending January 25, 2026

Rating: 4* of five

The Publisher Says: In this radiant work of creative nonfiction, internationally beloved novelist Val McDermid delivers a dazzling ode to a lost world, ruminating on a single winter in her life as she journeys into the heart of the season’s ever-evolving community-based traditions

Val McDermid has always had a soft spot for the bitter clarity of a crisp cold day, the crunch of frost on fallen leaves, and the chance to be enveloped in big jumpers and thick socks.

In Winter, McDermid takes us on an adventure through the season, from the frosty streets of Edinburgh to the windblown Scottish coast, from Bonfire Night and Christmas to Burns Night and Up Helly Aa. Recalling in parallel memories from her own childhood—of skating over frozen lakes and carving a “neep” (rutabaga) for Halloween to being taken to see her first real Christmas tree in the town square—McDermid offers a wise and enchanting meditation on winter and its ever-changing, sometimes ephemeral, traditions.

A hygge-filled journey through winter nights, McDermid reminds us that it is a time of rest, retreat and creativity, for scribbling in notebooks and settling in beside the fire. A treat for the hunkering-down, post-holiday reading season, Winter is a charming and cozy celebration of the year’s idle months from one of Scotland’s best-loved writers.

I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.

My Review: See, that's the thing about "traditions"...they start, and change, and then vanish. They're human-made decisions, all of them. Collective loss of interest is killing awards shows on TV, which were a staple of my own TV-blighted childhood. It felt immutable: Watching the Oscars was a ritual. It might've been the only time our TV was tuned to ABC until the late 1960s. It was a ritual in my teens, too, among the theatre kids I hung out with. Now Disney's taken it away from ABC to go onto Hulu, the corporate streaming service for things they don't think will earn much money.

A tradition of fifty years shifting?! Whaaat? Traditions shouldn't change! They make the framework of our lives!

They do indeed do that. As Val McDermid's compact essay on the rituals she's made and those she's inherited from her family (her mother's improvised soup a good example) of the cold season discusses, how exactly they do that is a matter of decision and choice. Her wintertime activities growing up in freezyfrosty cold Scotland could not've taken place in my contemporaneous Sun-Belt childhood...I've only seen frozen-over ponds maybe three times since moving to New York's heat island in the 1980s, but that's three more than I ever saw in Texas...my own winter rituals of shuffling up wet live-oak leaves to see what was living under them, and putting out the toad house, wouldn't've made her radar.

In remembering her own place in the march of the seasons, Author McDermid offers us many fresh bits and bobs to incorporate into our own seasonal traditions, appreciations of reading she's done while cozied away from cold and wind, foods that warm and comfort, poems she's written and read (nothing is allowed to be poetry-free in this decade, to my disgust) all offer the reader delights to consider adding to their own lives.

What a wonderful read, what a wonderful gift to (self-)gift to the resistant cold-hater and the delighted snugness addict alike. The illustration, not provided to reviewers for reproduction, are charming and atmospheric, though what I'd call pedestrian. I can't offer a fifth star to something that contains this much poetry. I'd probably knock a bit off even absent the poetry because the illustrations aren't that interesting to me, but I know many will enjoy them.

Author McDermid's fiction readers are strongly urged to pick the book up because it is so interestingly in tension with her very noir crime novels. It might very well have been my most enjoyable moment trying to put Karen Pirie into the time young Val sees her first xmas tree in the public square!