Book Review: The Arcane Arts by S.D. Coverly
Posted on June 10, 2026 Leave a Comment
received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.
The Arcane Arts by S.D. Coverly
Mogsy’s Rating: 2 of 5 stars
Genre: Fantasy, Romance
Series: Stand Alone
Publisher: Del Rey (May 19, 2026)
Length: 382 pages
Author Information: Website
The Arcane Arts was a rather atypical read for me. On paper, a dark academia romantasy with strong thriller elements and shades of erotica is very much outside my usual comfort zone. However, S.D. Coverly is actually the shared pen name of two authors: Dan Frey and Dana Schwartz. While I’m not familiar with Dana Schwartz, Dan Frey is someone whose work I’ve absolutely loved, including The Future Is Yours and Dreambound. In fact, I’d spent the last couple years wondering what he’s been working on and when I can read more from him, and as it turns out, this was the answer. So, my curiosity getting the better of me, I decided to take the plunge. And the results were…mixed.
The story follows Ellsbeth, who has spent her entire life preparing for a future in the arcane arts. Gifted and academically driven, she has every reason to believe she’ll earn a place among the most prestigious magical institutions and researchers in the field. But then, during the most important test of her life, everything falls apart. While on the scrying portion of the exam that would determine her future prospects, she experiences a horrifying vision of her younger sister Birdie dying. Panicked and desperate, Ellsbeth abandons the examinations and rushes to help, only to discover she is too late.
The tragedy cost her more than her sister. Because the exam can only be taken once, her decision meant the collapse of everything she has worked for. Worse, according to the authorities, Birdie died by suicide in bed, which wasn’t what Ellsbeth saw. Convinced the police are hiding the truth, she becomes determined to use magic to investigate for herself. To that end, she travels to Newlyn University and sets her sights on Professor Thaddeus Rawlins, one of the field’s most respected scholars, hoping to convince him to take her on as a student. However, because her interest is in writ magic, a forbidden discipline capable of compelling and controlling others, Rawlins is hesitant, especially since he is already haunted by the consequences of a former student’s involvement with it. Yet Ellsbeth’s intelligence and ambitions intrigue him, so he agrees, believing he can help keep her research within acceptable and legal boundaries. Of course, with both of them harboring dark secrets, as their professional relationship deepens, so too does a mutual attraction that quickly evolves into something far more dangerous.
As I mentioned earlier, this isn’t normally my genre. And I have to say, after a while with this book, it reminded me exactly why. If you’re a reader who loves forbidden romance, dark academia, morally questionable attraction, and all the tensions that come with a student-professor relationship complete with a bit of kink, then I think you’ll have a much better time than I did. The novel commits fully to that dynamic and delivers exactly the sort of sexy romantasy many readers are looking for. Nevertheless, my issue was that it often felt as though every aspect of the story existed solely to facilitate that relationship, even when doing do required the plot and the characters’ decision-making to bend in ways I found extremely unbelievable.
For example, Rawlins initially raises all the objections you’d expect in his refusal to take Ellsbeth on as a student. Making an exception for her would be unfair to others and a professionally risky move that would be academically improper, creating all sorts of complications for himself and the college. But one slight push from Ellsbeth later, he caves almost immediately in a 180 that practically gave me whiplash. More importantly, he’s a professor and should understand the ethical problems involved. Rawlins has direct supervisory authority over Ellsbeth, and even if Newlyn itself doesn’t explicitly prohibit those kinds of student-professor relationships (which might be the least believable part of this whole thing), the obvious conflict of interest should have made him transfer her to another advisor if he possessed even a sliver of morals. Instead, this so-called brilliant genius just barrels ahead. Which is fine, if the taboo is the point, but it makes it hard to take the story seriously.
A similar issue extends to the writ magic storyline. Both Ellsbeth and Rawlin understand it’s highly illegal and dangerous. They repeatedly acknowledge the risks and how a former student is in prison and his life is ruined because of it. Yet they both continue pursuing it without any practical explanation for how they expect this arrangement to work long term. What are they going to do when it comes time for Ellsbeth to present her thesis? Are they simply going to ignore the inconvenient questions the university will ask? The whole thing feels less like a plan and more like two delusional people hoping future consequences somehow won’t materialize.
But in the end, what frustrated me the most was how the central mystery got pushed aside. Birdie’s death is the reason Ellsbeth embarks on this journey in the first place, the emotional and narrative foundation of the whole story. Yet there were long stretches where I genuinely forgot that was supposed to be the main driving force because the plot kept shifting its focus so heavily toward the romance, the flirting, and the relationship drama. I was honestly close to bailing around the halfway point, but thankfully the story eventually remembers its original premise and begins steering back to the mystery. Once that happened, things improved drastically.
On another positive note, the writing itself is quite strong. I could definitely see traces of Dan Frey’s influence, particularly in the way the story incorporates emails and written correspondence into the narrative, which is reminiscent of his experience with epistolary storytelling. It’s just unfortunate that even those felt a little awkward at times because the emails rarely sounded like messages actual people would send. While the prose was fantastically polished, the voices often felt overly literary and self-conscious, especially compared to how the characters would speak during face-to-face conversations.
And yet, despite all these complaints, I kept reading. That’s probably worth acknowledging, I suppose. Yes, the book frustrated me often, but it also managed to maintain just enough intrigue to keep me from putting the book aside. Whether that’s because there was actually something compelling beneath all the issues I had or because I had reached a point where I was too invested to quit, I’m honestly not sure. Probably a bit of both.
Ultimately, The Arcane Arts wasn’t a complete disaster by any means, but it also wasn’t a book that worked particularly well for me. Like I said though, I’m probably not the right audience. While there were elements I enjoyed, they were frequently overshadowed by a romantic plotline that frequently strained credibility. Even so, I’m glad I gave it a chance. Dan Frey remains an author whose books I will still want to pick up, and even though this collaboration turned out to be very different, I always appreciate the opportunity to try something new.
Novella Review: Platform Decay by Martha Wells
Posted on June 8, 2026 6 Comments
received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.
Platform Decay by Martha Wells
Mogsy’s Rating: 3 of 5 stars
Genre: Science Fiction
Series: Book 8 of The Murderbot Diaries
Publisher: Tordotcom (May 5, 2026)
Length: 244 pages
Author Information: Website
A new Murderbot book is always cause for joy, and since it’s been a couple of years since the last one, you can imagine my excitement going into Platform Decay. But as we are eight books into the series, after so many adventures and turning points, I feel like I have a pretty good sense of what works for me and what doesn’t. Ultimately, while the SecUnit remains one of my favorite protagonists in science fiction, this new installment simply landed closer to the middle of the pack. It’s still enjoyable, containing many of the things I love about The Murderbot Diaries, but comes across more like detour than a meaningful step forward.
The story picks up shortly after the events of the previous book, and once again Murderbot finds itself responsible for protecting a group of squishy, vulnerable humans from the usual combination of corporate greed, poor decision-making, and imminent danger, not always in that order. This time, the mission takes it to a massive orbital platform where a hostage situation has spiraled into a full-blown crisis. Among those trapped aboard are members of Dr. Mensah’s family, including children, immediately making the situation far more personal for Murderbot than it would probably like to admit.
What follows is essentially an extended rescue and escape operation. As conditions aboard the station continue to deteriorate, Murderbot must guide its charges through a series of increasingly dangerous situations while dealing with one of its least favorite complications: people. These are frightened civilians with conflicting agendas, messy emotions, and frequent bouts of mistrust. And in what might be the most terrifying aspect of this entire ordeal, the children won’t stop asking uncomfortable questions! Meanwhile, hostile forces are closing in, forcing Murderbot to stay constantly on the move and several steps ahead. Thankfully, our protagonist has had plenty of experience dealing with seemingly impossible situations, even if doing so now comes with a growing collection of inconvenient feelings it would much rather ignore.
Platform Decay was a lot of fun. That said, I couldn’t help but feel like we’ve been down this road before. The main challenge of any long-running series is finding fresh ways to engage both the protagonist and the reader, and this installment occasionally struggles with that. Essentially, Murderbot is tasked with saving innocent lives yet again, from yet another corporate disaster zone. Only the minor details are different, making this feel like a side quest between larger events rather than an impactful sequel with meaningful consequences. In fact, I was hoping for something with a bit more weight behind it, but outside of getting to finally meet some of Mensah’s family members, I didn’t see a whole lot of changes beyond continuing with the status quo.
But there are also plenty of positives. As ever, spending time in Murderbot’s head is an endless source of entertainment, and the narration has so much punch that you can’t forget it. I also like seeing how far the character has come since the beginning. And yet, while our protagonist has made great strides emotionally, that doesn’t mean it has suddenly become warm and cuddly. Murderbot’s deadpan cynicism is what makes this series, and Martha Wells remains incredibly good at making the SecUnit’s personality leap off the page even when the story itself feels smaller.
In the end, Platform Decay is a perfectly decent Murderbot novella, but it does pale in comparison to some of the series’ stronger entries. Nevertheless, it’s fast, entertaining, and easy to devour in a sitting. Bottom line, a middling Murderbot book is still a Murderbot book, and I’ll never not geek out over one even if it’s not a favorite. I’ll keep following The Murderbot Diaries, and here’s just hopnig the next volume will feel a little more substantial.
More on The BiblioSanctum:
Review of All Systems Red (Book 1)
Review of Artificial Condition (Book 2)
Review of Rogue Protocol (Book 3)
Review of Exit Strategy (Book 4)
Review of Network Effect (Book 5)
Review of Fugitive Telemetry (Book 6)
Review of System Collapse (Book 7)
Book Review: Mortedant’s Peril by RJ Barker
Posted on June 4, 2026 11 Comments
I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.
Mortedant’s Peril by RJ Barker
Mogsy’s Rating: 4 of 5 stars
Genre: Fantasy
Series: Book 1 of The Trials of Irody Hasp
Publisher: Orbit (May 19, 2026)
Length: 432 pages
Author Information: Website | Twitter
It’s actually been a little while since I’ve picked up one of RJ Barker’s books, despite the fact that his assassins-focused The Wounded Kingdom trilogy remains one of my all-time favorite fantasy series. So, when I heard that Mortedant’s Peril was not only kicking off a brand-new series but also leaned heavily into mystery, I was immediately on board. I will never say no to a fantasy mystery, and Barker’s name attached to this one made it an easy sell.
The story follows Irody Hasp, a Mortedant, one of a small and generally disliked order of clerics tasked with reading the final thoughts of the dead. It’s a respectable and useful profession, but not one that earns much gratitude due to the nature of the work. Most people view Mortedants with suspicion, and our protagonist’s reputation is even worse than most. Already hovering at the edges of society, he also finds himself tolerated by his co-workers and constantly given the assignments that no one wants.
But one day, after what seemed like just another routine job, Irody returns home to discover his young apprentice murdered. Devastated by the loss and determined to find the killer, he quickly finds himself caught in an investigation where he is also the prime suspect. Clearing his own name becomes just as important as seeking justice for his apprentice, but what begins as a straightforward murder investigation soon spirals into something far larger. Alongside a newly acquired apprentice and a strait-laced protector assigned to watch over him, Irody must navigate a tangled web of politics, corruption, and conspiracy that reaches the highest levels of the city.
Mortedant’s Peril combines two of my favorite genres, and even having few expectations going in, it still managed to surprise me. What begins as an engaging fantasy murder mystery gradually opens up into something much bigger, supported by excellent worldbuilding, an engaging cast of characters, and the kind of richly imagined setting that makes you want to learn more about it. The story takes place in Elbay, exactly the kind of fantasy city I love getting lost in, one that actually feels lived-in, layered with history and ancient traditions. It’s easy to imagine restless spirits lingering in the very stones that make up the walls of this place. Everywhere you look, there seems to be another secret waiting to be uncovered, making Elbay one of those settings that just leap off the page.
I also ended up really liking Irody Hasp as a protagonist, though it did not start off that way. In the beginning, he didn’t come off as the most endearing protagonist, and every time he went on one of his self-pitying rants, I had to fight not to roll my eyes. And yet, as time went on, as Irody threw himself into his quest of finding his apprentice’s killer, we start to see the person beneath all that bitterness and frustration. For all his complaining and whiny attitude, he’s ultimately driven by a genuine sense of decency. That, along with his pursuit of justice, gradually won me over.
In that regard, the supporting cast helps quite a bit. The dynamic between Irody, his new apprentice Mirial, and his assigned guardian Whisper brings a lot of life and energy to the story, and I especially enjoyed watching their partnership gradually take shape over the course of the investigation. Barker has always had a knack for creating memorable character relationships, particularly mentor-apprentice bonds and the complex interplay of loyalty, trust, and duty. Through these relationships, the novel also explores themes of class division, prejudice, and the way outsiders are often viewed with suspicion, adding another layer of depth beneath the mystery and adventure.
That said, if I have one critique, it would probably be the pacing. The story takes its time getting where it’s going, and there were stretches where the investigation felt more deliberate than urgent. However, that’s hardly uncommon for fantasy mysteries, especially series starters that are trying to establish a new world and introduce a large cast, so honestly, it’s not something I’m holding too strongly against this book. The moments where I found myself wishing the plot would hurry itself along were infrequent, so it’s a relatively minor complaint in what is otherwise a highly entertaining and solid opening volume.
In the end, Mortedant’s Peril is a promising start and another strong offering from RJ Barker, who continues to impress me with his creativity and willingness to try new things. I’m already looking forward to returning to Elbay and seeing where the story will take these characters next.
Book Review: The Temptation of Charlotte North by Camilla Bruce
Posted on June 1, 2026 5 Comments
I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.
The Temptation of Charlotte North by Camilla Bruce
Mogsy’s Rating: 4.5 of 5 stars
Genre: Horror
Series: Stand Alone
Publisher: Del Rey (May 19, 2026)
Length: 448 pages
Author Information: Website | Twitter
I confess, I was a little surprised at the mixed reviews for The Temptation of Charlotte North. As a fan of Camilla Bruce who has half a dozen of her books under my belt, this one ended up being one of my favorites! It had the same deliciously unsettling vibes that made You Let Me In such a standout for me, while also capturing the oppressive atmosphere and creepy dread that I loved in In the Garden of Spite. This one seemed to have it all. ‘
The story is set in the early twentieth century on Margaret’s Keep, a small and isolated fishing island. Charlotte North is the restless, strong-willed second daughter of the wealthiest family in the village, feeling trapped by the narrow future laid out before her now that she is of age to be married and plans are already being made to send her to the mainland. The problem, however, is that Charlotte is already pining over someone else: the island’s handsome new reverend, despite the inconvenient fact that he is already married. Her infatuation does not go unnoticed, least of all by the minister’s wife, who makes her displeasure abundantly clear to Charlotte’s parents. Mortified by the potential scandal, Mrs. North becomes determined to rein in her troublesome daughter. Already frustrated by Charlotte’s rebellious streak, she escalates her punishments by locking her away in a shed for hours at a time as if she were a prisoner.
But during one such confinement, a powerful earthquake strikes the island, toppling its namesake, an ancient tower that had stood on the edge of the cliffs overlooking the sea for centuries. For many islanders, its destruction actually comes as a relief. The tower has long been tied to local legends and whispered superstitions, and plenty are happy to see the cursed structure gone. Yet not long afterward, strange disturbances begin occurring in the North household. First, Charlotte notices odd noises within the walls. Next comes the needles appearing in impossible places, putting her on alert at all hours of the day. It’s as though someone, or something, is playing tricks on her. And then, there are the knocks. Something appears to have made this place its home, and Charlotte names it the Knocker because that’s how it communicates. Before long, she finds herself fascinated by the entity, intrigued by its supernatural powers and the secrets it knows. But is Knocker friend or foe? Regardless, it seems specifically drawn to Charlotte, making her wonder if it might be her key to escaping the life she never asked for while obtaining everything she has ever wanted.
One of the things I loved most about this novel was its structure. The Temptation of Charlotte North is told through three distinct points of view. Charlotte is the central figure, occupying that difficult space between victim and instigator. She’s strong and determined, but her youth also makes her impulsive, selfish, and motivated by desires she doesn’t fully understand. Another POV belongs to Ruth, a schoolteacher who had grown up on the mainland. As an outsider, she provides a fresh perspective on the island’s strange customs, as well as a grounded counterbalance to the increasingly chaotic events plaguing the North family. Finally, there’s Jasper Hill, the village’s idealistic minister and the object of Charlotte’s desires. Through him, the author explores guilt and temptation and the ways human beings rationalize our mistakes and bad decisions. Together, these three viewpoints create a fuller picture of both the mystery and the community of Margaret’s Keep itself.
Speaking of which, the setting is absolutely stunning. Margaret’s Keep isn’t merely a backdrop but serves as the very foundation upon which the story is built. Bruce does an excellent job capturing the feeling of a tiny, isolated community cut off from the wider world, where traditions, beliefs, and old ways of thinking have endured for generations. The islanders live deeply religious lives, yet many also cling to centuries-old folklore and old wives’ tales, taking them far more seriously than outsiders ever could, and are quick to show disapproval when customs are disrespected. All of this creates an atmosphere thick with unease from the very beginning, and the isolation is palpable.
Even though the pacing is slow, it’s very much by design. The story follows classic gothic fiction conventions, prioritizing mood and character psychology over action. The prose takes its time building tension, unfurling layers upon layers of mystery and unease, and in that regard, the novel reminded me quite a bit of the work of Laura Purcell, whom I consider the queen of modern gothic horror. In fact, if there’s one thing I wish had been different, it would be the ending. For my tastes, it was a little too open-ended, the kind of conclusion you’d expect from a book setting up the next installment in a series, but as far as I know, that’s not the case here. It didn’t ruin my experience by any means, but I did come away wanting a bit more closure.
Ultimately, The Temptation of Charlotte North won’t be for everyone. If you’re looking for fast-paced thrills, this probably isn’t it. But if you enjoy books that slowly wrap themselves around you and tighten their grip, there’s a lot to love here. Fans of Camilla Bruce’s darker, moodier novels should be especially pleased, and for me, this was exactly the kind of gothic horror I love to immerse myself in.
Book Review: A Parade of Horribles by Matt Dinniman
Posted on May 28, 2026 9 Comments
I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.
A Parade of Horribles by Matt Dinniman
Mogsy’s Rating: 4 of 5 stars
Genre: Fantasy, Science Fiction
Series: Book 8 of Dungeon Crawler Carl
Publisher: Ace (May 12, 2026)
Length: 704 pages
Author Information: Website
Saying that I was excited for A Parade of Horribles feels like gigantic understatement. Dungeon Crawler Carl has become one of my favorite ongoing obsessions, and thanks to the rapid-fire releases of the earlier books, I was able to tear through the first seven installments. This was the first time I actually had to wait, but I have to say, the anticipation was half the fun. Gotta love seeing this series explode in popularity over the last couple years because Dinniman really has built something special here, an action-packed sci-fi fantasy litRPG that’s equal parts ridiculous, heartfelt, and chaotic.
A Parade of Horribles brings us to the tenth floor, giving Carl, Donut, and the remaining crawlers barely a moment to breathe after the absolute carnage and fallout of the Faction Wars on the previous level. They thought the worst was behind them, but true to form, the dungeon has prepared yet another brutal setup, this time built around a deadly racing game that feels a bit like Mario Kart meets Mad Max. While the scale of the dungeon remains enormous, the field has narrowed considerably. Only several thousand crawlers remain, but their numbers are about to be whittled down further in this cutthroat, no holds barred competition designed to kill them all.
However, Carl has never been particularly good at sitting back and accepting impossible odds when the lives of the people he cares about are on the line. He wants to get as many of them out of the dungeon alive as he can but also knows he can’t guarantee the survival of every crawler during their individual heats on the racetrack. But perhaps there may be other ways to protect them? Meanwhile, the dungeon itself is evolving into something far more unpredictable and dangerous as the AI grows increasingly more unhinged. Out in the wider universe beyond the crawl, the fragile balance between alien factions and their galactic governments is also beginning to break down under the weight of everything that’s happened. Before long, the cracks in the system will become impossible to contain, threatening to bring entire civilizations crashing down along with them.
In this book, only a relatively small number of crawlers remain, and even our group of core characters has become reduced. For example, a certain someone who was a member of Carl and Donut’s party is no longer in the dungeon, for reasons I will not spoil, and I felt their absence keenly. This does give the story a very different feeling compared to the earlier books. Also, this isn’t the only area growing more streamlined, as I can feel Dinniman trying to simplify things in other ways. And honestly, I can understand why. In addition to the character roster, over the course of the series we have seen the world-building, game mechanics, dungeon lore, alien factions and politics all balloon into something massive. At some point, trimming is required to keep things manageable, and A Parade of Horribles definitely feels like part of that process.
I also noticed how the world outside the dungeon feels less present this time around. Earlier books constantly reminded us of the audience tuning in, watching Carl’s journey and showering his feed with septillion follower counts and likes. Presumably, everyone in the universe is watching by default, which makes sense narratively, but I did miss the broader sense of scale and spectacle. On the flip side, it did help keep the focus tighter on the immediate danger and the increasingly desperate attempts to survive what’s coming next.
Speaking of which, what I continue to love about this series is how every floor delivers something different. The vehicle race mechanics on the tenth offer new ways to play, and despite the high stakes, they are genuinely fun and full of the over-the-top scenarios that this series thrives on. Characters are dodging traps, engaging in sabotage, and pulling off increasingly ruthless strategies even as the story’s darker themes continue building in the background. The humor is still there, of course, but the mood has gotten noticeably heavier as Carl and Donut begin approaching problems with the cold pragmatism of hardened, seasoned crawlers.
Finally, even though I had a great time, I confess A Parade of Horribles comes in slightly lower for me compared to the previous books, but that honestly says more about how absurdly high the bar for this series has become than anything else. The pacing did feel a little off towards the end as certain plot points were rushed, and these were developments that probably could have benefited from more breathing room considering the importance of this final stretch. Sometimes the solutions to conflicts also feel like they materialize a little too conveniently and not as organically as before, but the author’s incredible creativity along with his sheer confidence are usually enough to push through any plot hiccups before things get too bogged down.
All in all, I greatly enjoyed A Parade of Horribles. Even when it gets messy, it remains wildly entertaining. The emotional investment is there. The humor is laugh-out-loud funny. The tension still works. And Carl and Donut are still the best duo ever. More than ever, this book feels like the calm before something huge, with all the buildup pointing towards a momentous endgame looming just over the horizon. I can’t wait to see how Matt Dinniman will bring this insane, hilarious, awesome ride home.
More on The BiblioSanctum:
Review of Dungeon Crawler Carl (Book 1)
Review of Carl’s Doomsday Scenario (Book 2)
Review of The Dungeon Anarchist’s Cookbook (Book 3)
Review of The Gate of the Feral Gods (Book 4)
Review of The Butcher’s Masquerade (Book 5)
Review of The Eye of the Bedlam Bride (Book 6)
Review of This Inevitable Ruin (Book 7)
Book Review: The Dorians by Nick Cutter
Posted on May 24, 2026 11 Comments
I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.
Mogsy’s Rating: 3.5 of 5 stars
Genre: Horror
Series: Stand Alone
Publisher: Gallery Books (May 19, 2026)
Length: 400 pages
Author Information: Website
A few years ago, I read about Canada’s expansion of its MAiD program, which stands for Medical Assistance in Dying, allowing eligible patients with grievous medical conditions to legally seek physician-assisted death. What struck me most though, is that its framework is considered one of the most permissive in the world. While many countries strictly limit this option for terminally ill adults, Canada does not. And ever since learning about it, I had a feeling authors would eventually begin writing stories related to the emotional and ethical implications, and I was right. The Dorians is probably the second or third book I’ve read recently that explores themes surrounding right to die, bodily autonomy, fear of decline, and how far people are willing to go in order to end their personal suffering. Nick Cutter, the pseudonym for critically acclaimed Canadian author Craig Davidson, takes those themes and pushes them into full-blown horror science fiction territory.
The story follows a group of elderly characters nearing the end of their lives for different reasons, who have all independently sought out MAiD. Each of them is approached by a mysterious doctor named Astrid Marsh, who offers them the chance to participate in a highly experimental but life-altering treatment at her secluded research facility on a remote island. Some of these individuals are terminally ill and out of medical options, while others are simply exhausted by old age and feeling like they have become a burden to society. What they all share, however, is regret. That lingering hope of a chance at a do-over is what drives a lot of them to at least hear Dr. Marsh out, even for those who have already made peace with the idea of assisted death.
And indeed, it turns out what the brilliant doctor has planned is nothing short of revolutionary. In her research, she has discovered a way to not only stop aging, but to reverse the biological clock completely, restoring youth to those willing to participate in her study. Of course, the treatment comes with enormous risks, and it is definitely not for the squeamish. The experiment centers on the hydra, a primitive multicellular organism known for its apparent biological immortality as they do not age due to their stem cells existing in a constant state of renewal. And now, Dr. Marsh and her team have found a way to harness those regenerative properties and integrate them into human hosts. Despite the uncertainty and hideousness behind the process, it’s not hard to see why many of the participants would take her up on the offer.
After his last few novels, Nick Cutter feels fully back in his element with The Dorians. As much as I admire some of his weirder, more ambitious work, I truly think he’s at his strongest when he’s tackling straightforward body horror with a tightly managed cast of characters and a more focused premise. After all, what’s more anxiety-inducing than the idea of aging? Losing control of your body is terrifying enough, but losing your mind right alongside might be even worse. That fear sits at the center of this novel, and the author digs into it with all the grotesque detail he’s become known for.
And yes, the body horror absolutely delivers. I simply love it when horror novels incorporate a biological component, and if you’ve read Nick Cutter before, you already know he has a talent for making certain biological processes feel disturbing in the most skin-crawling ways possible. But what really makes the novel effective, and also what I think is its greatest strength, is that the horror here isn’t necessarily of the “jump scare” variety, nor would I say it is scary in the traditional sense. Instead, it’s unsettling on an idea level, paired with vivid and sometimes nauseating imagery that becomes harder and harder to look away from.
But while Cutter clearly had a lot of fun exploring the nightmarish possibilities of Dr. Marsh’s hydra experiment, we still have a strong emotional thread running beneath all the biological ick and gore. For one, the elderly participants all came to the island thinking they were staring down the final stretch of their lives. Many of them carry deep loneliness, resentment, or fear about what’s coming next. In some ways, I wish the story had spent more time unpacking these ideas related to the characters’ anxieties and regret about aging, which might have helped flesh them out more as individuals. Instead, the plot spends a lot of time delving into the backstory and psychology of the main antagonist. While important and interesting in its own right, it also pulled the focus away from the others, and by the end, the villain was honestly the only character who really stuck with me.
Ultimately, The Dorians was for me a really entertaining return to form for Nick Cutter. It’s gross and packed with the kind of body horror that gets under your skin, but it’s also thoughtful and emotionally messy. The novel does have some issues, but I still feel like it’s one of his stronger works and well worth checking out if the premise speaks to you.
Book Review: The Franchise by Thomas Elrod
Posted on May 21, 2026 8 Comments
I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.
Mogsy’s Rating: 3 of 5 stars
Genre: Science Fiction, Fantasy
Series: Stand Alone
Publisher: Tor Books (May 12, 2026)
Length: 368 pages
Author Information: Website
At first, The Franchise seemed exactly like the kind of speculative fiction I’d go for. While Thomas Elrod’s debut joins an increasingly popular vein of cautionary sci-fi tales about the dangers of technology, what really makes it stand out is the way it portrays reality entertainment to almost grotesque extremes.
The story begins with the meteoric rise of a beloved fantasy series created by an author who spent his lifetime fiercely protecting his work from studio executives eager to cash in on adaptations, merchandising, and every other possible spin-off opportunity. However, after his death, the rights fell into the hands of an heir far more interested in profit than artistic integrity, and before long, the franchise saw itself ballooning into a massive multimedia machine. Movies and toys were only the beginning. Using cutting-edge technology, corporations eventually figured out how to create a fully immersive fantasy world populated by real participants who have had their memories altered and identities rewritten. Some volunteered willingly, at least at first. Others became involved under far murkier circumstances.
The result is something that goes far beyond your typical theme park experience. The people inside this manufactured reality truly believe in the new roles they are given, whether they are queens, knights, wizards, or peasants living in this medieval fantasy kingdom. Meanwhile, outside the illusion are the producers, scriptwriters, hired actors, and handlers working behind the scenes to turn this entire enterprise into marketable entertainment. An entire ecosystem is required to manipulate events in order to maintain interest and increase profits, all the while trying to stop the entire operation from collapsing under its own weight. As you can see, the comparisons to The Truman Show, Westworld, and even Game of Thrones are apt.
And really, that’s where the novel shines most: the concept itself. Elrod clearly has a lot to say about fandom, capitalism, exploitation, as well as the toxic aspects of our entertainment culture in general. The book utilizes satire in a lot of it commentary, presenting a near future where spectacle and profit matter more than basic humanity. As the story progresses, the lengths corporations are willing to go for ratings and audience engagement become increasingly absurd, but intentionally so. There’s a darkly funny thread turning through much of the book, and much of it actually works surprisingly well.
That said, a concept, even a fantastic one, can only carry you so far. Eventually, the story started losing me. As the focus shifted more heavily towards individual narratives, leaving behind the more intriguing mechanics of the plot, The Franchise gradually became less engaging instead of more. Structurally, it was also laid out in a way that was inconducive to maintaining momentum. Eventually, all the time jumps and rotating perspectives took their toll, breaking up the flow and making things feel increasingly disjointed.
Ironically, I also found myself far more invested in the happenings outside the fantasy world than within it once the situation became clear to readers. After the curtain is pulled back, revealing the inner workings of the system, the actual fantasy story line loses a lot of its appeal. Instead, more important questions are brought to the forefront relating to the ethics, psychological consequences, and horrifying implications of a society willing to normalize all this for entertainment. Exploring those speculative elements is where the novel feels strongest and most at home, and this is what I mean when I say that the concept is consistently stronger than the story built around it.
That said, I really enjoyed The Franchise, even though I found myself less invested by the end than I was at the beginning. At the end of the day, though, this is one of those novels I admire more for its ambitions than for the actual reading experience. The ideas are genuinely great, the scope is impressive, and there are stretches that absolutely work, like the intrigue in the early chapters and some of the later thematic explorations. I just don’t think the novel ever fully balances all its moving pieces into a cohesive whole. Still, for a debut, there’s a lot to like here, and I’d definitely be curious to check out Thomas Elrod’s future work.
Novella Review: Dead Weight by Hildur Knútsdóttir
Posted on May 17, 2026 8 Comments
I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.
Dead Weight by Hildur Knútsdóttir
Mogsy’s Rating: 3 of 5 stars
Genre: Horror
Series: Stand Alone
Publisher: Nightfire (May 26, 2026)
Length: 160 pages
Author Information: Website
After enjoying The Night Guest, I was pretty curious to see what Hildur Knútsdóttir would do next, especially since her style seems tailor-made for weird little psychological horror novellas. Unfortunately, Dead Weight ended up being a bit of a letdown. First off, I don’t think it was marketed correctly. While it’s pubbed by a horror imprint, I agree with a lot of other reviewers who felt this didn’t feel like horror. For me, it was barely even a thriller. Maybe a low-key suspense story would be more accurate? And yet, the tension hardly builds. Instead, the book mostly drifted along in a kind of muted haze before arriving at a strangely underwhelming ending.
The story follows Unnur, a lonely and emotionally detached woman living a quiet, isolated life in Reykjavík, when a black cat suddenly begins showing up in her apartment uninvited. Trying to do the responsible thing, she tracks down the cat’s owner, a young woman named Ásta, who arrives looking visibly flustered and more than a little unsettled when she comes to collect her pet. It quickly becomes clear that Ásta is dealing with serious problems of her own, though Unnur initially wants no part in getting involved. Still, the cat, Io, keeps returning to her apartment, almost as if it has chosen Unnur for itself. Before long, the situation becomes even harder to ignore when Io unexpectedly gives birth to a kitten in Unnur’s bed.
Distraught over moving the mother and newborn, Ásta convinces Unnur to let Io stay temporarily so that the kitten can be raised in a safe and stable environment. Ásta admits that her own home doesn’t have that kind of security right now, though she promises to stop by regularly to help care for the cats. Reluctantly, Unnur agrees, and what begins as an awkward arrangement slowly develops into an uneasy friendship between the two women. As they spend more time together, the story begins exploring their personal lives, their loneliness, their unhealthy relationships, and the things they’ve quietly convinced themselves to tolerate. Beneath the surface, a growing unhappiness hangs over both women, tied up in the emotional weight of the choices they keep making.
To be fair, the setup itself isn’t bad at all. I did find myself drawn to the atmosphere and to Unnur’s character at first. While Knútsdóttir’s writing style is admittedly a little rigid and aloof, I can’t help but wonder if some of the original prose’s texture and nuance might have been lost in translation. Regardless, it works surprisingly well for a story built around people navigating emotional scars or dealing with hardship. There’s a quiet strangeness to the novella that kept me reading, especially in the opening chapters, where just enough intrigue is established to hold your attention and carry you forward.
But the further I got, the more I found myself wanting from the story, which became a problem when the book never really delivered what I hoped it would. Despite delving quite intimately into both Unnur and Ásta’s lives, Dead Weight never quite develops the momentum or depth required to make their relationship feel fully realized, which made the ensuring crux of the novella feel less significant than it should have. I didn’t feel much urgency or escalation, even when darker elements started unfolding. Everything felt oddly distant and rote. Quite honestly, the cats ended up being the most compelling part of the whole book. Between Io and her kitten, there were genuinely more cute moments than tense ones (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, I guess).
The biggest issue for me, though, was the lack of payoff. The novella spends its entire runtime hinting at something more, but when it finally arrives, it barely feels like a climax at all. To be fair, I might just be used to reading more intense horror and thriller, thus making this feel way more subtle and tame. Even so, I had expected more impact to justify all the buildup. I don’t think the short length was the issue either, because the ending itself feels abrupt in a way that doesn’t make the book feel complete. It just kind of stops, and I was left wondering, beyond the obvious metaphor of ridding yourself of life’s burdensome liabilities, what was the point?
Still, I can’t say I disliked Dead Weight. A bite-sized novella, it’s an easy enough read and it worked perfectly well as a palate cleanser for me between heavier books. Although it was mildly frustrating because I wanted more, it still works as a decent diversion for an afternoon.
Book Review: Steel Gods by Richard Swan
Posted on May 13, 2026 10 Comments
I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.
Mogsy’s Rating: 2 of 5 stars
Genre: Fantasy
Series: Book 2 of The Great Silence
Publisher: Orbit (March 31, 2026)
Length: 448 pages
Author Information: Website
This review is probably going to be full of unpopular opinions, but the thing is, I don’t get it either. In recent years, I have become a big fan of Richard Swan, I also absolutely loved the first book of this series, and yet, Steel Gods ended up being a huge disappointment. While I devoured Grave Empire effortlessly, I spent most of this second novel struggling to stay interested and wondering when it was finally going to click, forcing myself to keep going because I genuinely believed it would eventually get better. Just stick with it, I told myself, and when you’re done, you’ll be glad you can roll straight into book three. But heck, by the end, I honestly wasn’t even sure I wanted to continue the series at all.
Picking up after the events of the previous novel, the world of The Great Silence continues devolving into more chaos as the boundaries between the mortal realm and the afterlife begin to break down. The big baddies, the Vorr, which are horrifying interdimensional beings that fed on souls, have breached the land of the dead and invaded the world of the living. Their influence spreads through the empire like a plague, inflicting mind rot upon their victims, turning them into soulless, hollowed-out husks like zombies.
But instead of working together to try to stop the infection, those with power begin looking for ways to exploit it. Among them is Count Lamprecht von Oldenburg, who uses thaumaturgy to turn the mindless horde into his own personal army. He’s also batshit insane. Meanwhile, Ambassador Renata Rainer is continuing her diplomatic mission, traveling to the heart of enemy territory in the hopes of recruiting new allies. Lieutenant Peter Kleist, on the other hand, has managed to survive the treacherous wilds, despite his youth and lack of experience being constantly tested along the way. Now he finds himself back in the haunted wilderness, compelled by the need for answers, even as the weight of everything he has already endured begins to catch up with him. Across the wider series arc, the story continues to unfold through multiple POVs scattered around a rapidly destabilizing world, each trying to prevent it from slipping into total collapse.
This sequel should have been a slam dunk, but what surprised me most was how different this book felt compared to Grave Empire. Same world, same continuity, many of the same characters, and yet for me, the energy was completely off. For one, the focus of the first book was much tighter, whereas this one felt sprawling in a way that diluted a lot of what originally hooked me. The character perspectives are diverging once more, introducing more threads but also more distance. It gave the book a disconnected quality, like everyone was wandering through separate stories instead of participating in the same one.
The pacing also dragged for me. Oh boy, did it really drag. Looking back, quite a lot actually happens, but very little of it feels impactful in the moment. Any reveals arrive with surprisingly little weight behind them, or maybe it was just my bored state of mind making major developments seem like they fizzled rather than explode. Entire sections feel bogged down in exposition without much payoff. Chapters would go by where I realized I had been reading for quite some time without feeling any real momentum carrying me forward. Honestly, if the first book hadn’t been so good, making me feel invested in this series, I probably would have DNFed this before the halfway mark.
Part of the issue may simply be that this installment feels much more transitional. It spends a lot of time repositioning the characters, which might explain why they didn’t work nearly as well for me this time around. Here, a lot of them felt strangely flattened or pushed aside in favor of laying down groundwork for future events, leading to less balance and more confusion. I’d thought I had a strong grasp of the characters’ motivations, but after this book, I don’t feel as confident anymore. Not because they suddenly changed, but because much of the book feels emotionally flat and they don’t really develop in particularly exciting ways.
To be fair, Swan still writes well on a technical level. The prose is polished, and the world-building is detailed. Here and there are flashes of genius like the political complexity or the grim atmosphere that reminded me why I loved the first book. But ultimately this sequel just never came alive for me. Whatever momentum Grave Empire had going for it, I simply didn’t feel it here.
In the end, if I had to boil it all down to one thing, I’d say that Steel Gods has a pretty serious case of middle book syndrome. The series began with a much stronger sense of tension and direction, so I know what it’s capable of, but this installment never really comes close to reaching those same heights. I’m now on the fence about whether I’ll continue with the series, but I suppose time will tell.
More on The BiblioSanctum:
Review of Grave Empire (Book 1)
Book Review: This Inevitable Ruin by Matt Dinniman
Posted on May 7, 2026 14 Comments
I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.
This Inevitable Ruin by Matt Dinniman
Mogsy’s Rating: 4 of 5 stars
Genre: Fantasy, Science Fiction
Series: Book 7 of Dungeon Crawler Carl
Publisher: Ace (September 23, 2025)
Length: 870 pages
Author Information: Website
I can’t believe I almost let this slip by, but I just realized I never actually wrote my review for This Inevitable Ruin by Matt Dinniman, and now the next book is basically upon us. Naturally, I had to do a quick refresh, which in this case is doing a reread but with the audiobook this time, and honestly, this is one of those rare occasions where I genuinely can’t decide which format is better. I mean, I almost never recommend audio over print, but Jeff Hays’ performance on this series is just that good. You really can’t go wrong with either pick, but if you’re still on the fence about starting your Dungeon Crawler Carl journey, the audio route is a fine choice.
This seventh installment finally brings us to the long-teased Faction Wars on the ninth floor, an event that has been looming over the series for a while now. It’s an epic showdown whose set up has been in the works since the first book, involving multiple factions, each backed by powerful off-world participants, all thrown into a massive battlefield with one primary objective: be the last one standing.
But of course, thanks to Carl, Donut, and their allies, things are more complicated this time around. As always, crawlers are active participants in this deadly game, but now the NPCs also have their own team, becoming a force to be reckoned with. The usual rules are shifting as well, with protections being stripped away, making permadeath a thing, essentially leveling the playing field. The stakes have never been higher as the different factions go to war and the death toll begins to rise. The closer Carl gets to leading his fellow crawlers to victory, however, the more dangerous the road there becomes. Every win comes with a cost, and despite it all, losing is not an option.
As much as I enjoyed finally seeing the Faction Wars play out, I have to say this was also the point where the sheer size and scope of the book started to work against it a little. While the last few volumes have also been on the longer side, in general they still felt on track and manageable. This Inevitable Ruin, on the other hand, had so much going on, the sheer scale of everything happening made it harder to stay consistently focused. To start, there are a lot of factions to deal with. By design, that means we end up working through clash after clash as we watch Carl and his crawler faction push forward. It’s exciting in bursts, but it also stretches things out, making them feel disjointed. There were definitely moments where it felt like the story was spinning its wheels between major developments, not to mention the fatigue.
That said, I still enjoyed the hell out of this book. Even though the narrative is sprawling in every direction, we’re jumping between battles and checking in on different characters, the overall story still being mindful of tying up lingering plotlines and loose threads. I loved catching up with everybody. The humor is as sharp and ridiculous as ever. The action hits hard, but there are also those powerful emotional moments that hit even harder. These are characters I’ve followed for a long time, and there’s a growing sense that, as intense as things have already gotten, we’re still building toward something even bigger. And you have to give this series credit. Even when it gets messy, it’s never boring.
In the end, This Inevitable Ruin comes in at a lower rating compared to the previous books, but just by a smidgen, and mostly due to the sense that the story is straining a bit under the weight of the massive beast it’s grown into. I still had a great time, and if anything, it’s only made me more excited for what’s coming next. At this point, I am fully locked in and have gone full Dungeon Crawler Carl fan mode, backing the tabletop RPG campaign, buying Mongo shirts, and feeling absolutely ready to jump back in with book 8, A Parade of Horribles.
More on The BiblioSanctum:
Review of Dungeon Crawler Carl (Book 1)
Review of Carl’s Doomsday Scenario (Book 2)
Review of The Dungeon Anarchist’s Cookbook (Book 3)
Review of The Gate of the Feral Gods (Book 4)
Review of The Butcher’s Masquerade (Book 5)
Review of The Eye of the Bedlam Bride (Book 6)
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