Immersions

Kyle McCarthy

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐
Genre: Literary Fiction

Immersions is the story of two sisters, narrated from the younger’s point of view. Frances’s older sister, Charley, was a superstar dancer, while she herself was still a rising dancer. One day, Charley marries Johnny and decides to leave the limelight, joining a convent, which will be a big shock to her fans and family. Now Frances wants to know why all this happened, suspecting Johnny to have a hand in it.

McCarthy’s prose is undeniably striking. It’s lyrical, sure, but there’s a fragility to it, like every sentence was handled with tweezers. When she’s describing the specific, hollow ache of living between two cultures or that weirdly intense intimacy you only find in your twenties, it’s genuinely beautiful. It forces you to slow down. That said, I did find the polish a bit much at times. There are moments where the writing feels a little too aware of its own beauty, which can pull you out of the story.

The core concept carries a lot of weight. Even when the plot feels like it’s standing still, there’s this low-frequency hum of tension between the two women. McCarthy really gets that uncomfortable overlap of admiration and quiet resentment. It feels honest. It’s the kind of psychological friction that anyone who’s had a "best friend" they also kind of hated will recognize.

But I’ll be honest here, the narration was a struggle for me. It’s reflective and fragmented, which makes sense if you're trying to mirror a drifting headspace, but it creates a massive amount of distance. I felt like I was looking at these events through several layers of tinted glass. Everything has already been filtered, processed, and tucked away by the narrator before we even get there. It’s a deliberate choice, I’m sure, but I feel the style of the narration, where the character keeps addressing me as her sister, is what kept throwing me out of the story rather than keeping me inside it. Sorry, Francess, I’m not your sister!

Naturally, this means the pacing isn’t exactly brisk. The novel tends to circle around a mood rather than moving forward. If you’re the type of reader who loves to just inhabit an atmosphere and doesn't care about "what happens next," you’ll probably find this deeply rewarding. For me, I kept waiting for a bit more urgency. There’s only so much atmospheric lingering I can do before I start checking my watch.

Ultimately, Immersions is a thoughtful, layered piece of work. It treats its themes of identity and memory with a lot of respect. But for all its beauty, the book stayed just slightly out of reach for me. It felt a bit like overhearing a fascinating conversation from the next room—you catch the tone and the occasional brilliant phrase, but you never quite feel like you’re part of it.

Many thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for the ARC of this book. 

Key Themes

• Sisterhood
• Loss of Self
• Love and Envy
• Cultural Liminality

The Caretaker

 Marcus Kliewer

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐
Genre: Horror

Summary

Macy Mullins is twenty-two years old and already worn thin by responsibility. She’s scraping by, trying to keep herself and her younger sister afloat, and when a Craigslist ad promises good pay for just three days of caretaking, it feels almost too convenient. The house is quiet in that way, isolated homes often are. The kind of quiet that doesn’t relax you so much as press in on your ears. Grace Carnswel greets her politely enough, but something about the setup feels… off. Not dramatically so. Just slightly misaligned, like a picture frame hanging crooked on the wall.

What begins as a simple caretaking gig slowly tilts into something larger and stranger. Macy finds herself caught between skepticism and instinct. Is this a grieving man constructing meaning out of tragedy? Or is there, in fact, something ancient pushing at the edges of the property? By the time answers begin to surface, the story has widened beyond one household. The stakes feel less domestic and more existential, though the emotional core—loss, guilt, fear—never fully disappears.

Characters

Macy is easy to invest in. She isn’t written as a horror-hero archetype, charging into danger without a thought, nor is she paralyzed by fear. Her choices may make sense or not. You can see how financial pressure nudges her to stay longer than she probably should. Her protectiveness toward her sister adds weight to her decisions; she’s not just risking herself. That said, there are moments when her internal world seems to take a backseat to the mounting tension. I occasionally wanted to linger with her doubts a little longer, to sit inside her emotional conflict rather than rush toward the next revelation.

David, on the other hand, may be the book’s most compelling presence. His grief over his son Caleb hangs over everything. Whether the rites are acts of devotion or delusion remains frustratingly unclear, in a good way. He’s pitiable and unsettling at the same time, which isn’t easy to pull off. Grace and the supporting cast function well within the framework of the story, though they don’t quite break free of it. They feel purposeful rather than fully dimensional. That’s not necessarily a flaw, but it does keep the character work from reaching something deeper or more transformative.

Writing Style

Kliewer’s prose is clean and controlled, leaning heavily on atmosphere. Descriptions of the setting grow more vivid as the danger escalates, though the writing rarely calls attention to itself. Dialogue flows naturally. The pacing, especially in the first half, is tight. If anything, the restraint in the prose may contribute to the feeling that some emotional beats pass a bit too quickly. The chapters are fairly short, making the reading feel fast. 

Final Thoughts

Having read and loved the author’s previous book, “We Used to Live Here," I’m giving this one three stars. The Caretaker sits comfortably in the “Just Okay” category. The premise is strong, and the opening chapters genuinely pulled me in. There’s an effective slow-burn quality that keeps you turning pages, even when very little is overtly happening.

Still, it doesn’t quite reach the depth it seems poised to achieve. The buildup is slow, and that’s okay, but it feels just too carefully layered, and the climax feels slightly compressed by comparison. A few character arcs might have benefited from more space to breathe. Even so, there are flashes here and there that might linger afterward. It’s unsettling in patches, maybe memorable in moments. 

Many thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for the ARC of this book. 

Key Themes

• Grief
• Guilt
• Isolation
• Responsibility
• Burden
• Trauma

Save the Date

 Mallory Kass

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Genre: Contemporary Fiction + Rom-Com

Summary

Save the Date by Mallory Kass is a rom-com that combines three fun tropes from different movies into one package. The book follows three women:

Marigold: The Bride

Movie: Sweet Home Alabama

Trope: The heroine is engaged to a perfect fiancé (Jonathan). She suddenly discovers she is still legally married to her ex-husband (Hugo), and the divorce papers were never finalized. She leaves her wedding rehearsal to go to Canada to finalize the divorce. Marigold rekindles feelings along the way.

Natalie: The Bridesmaid

Movie: My Best Friend’s Wedding

Trope: Natalie is the bridesmaid and her best friend. She’s also best friends with the groom (Jonathan) and secretly loves him. She helps a lot with the wedding, and emotionally, she is drained by her conflicted feelings between betraying Marigold or her own heart.

Olivia: The Sister

Movie: Picture Perfect

Trope: Olivia is so attracted to Andrew, but her heart is crushed when he brings a date to the wedding. Jonathan’s best man (Zack) suggests that the best way to make Andrew jealous is for him and Olivia to fake a relationship. And of course, we know what will happen next.

Characters

The characters are quite lovable here. I think the author did a great job with the characterization and their depth. This is not a single hero or heroine story. Mallory Kass made sure all the characters got their due in terms of their present ground as well as their backstories. The girls and their stories were very easy to distinguish from each other. However, because the plot follows predictable romantic beats, the characters sometimes feel guided by the needs of the trope rather than fully organic growth, making them engaging and likable but not always deeply layered.

Writing Style

The writing style in Save the Date is light, accessible, and easy to get into. It relies a lot on conversations between the characters. The chapters are short and rotate between the three girls’ perspectives in third-person style. The author in her story is more focused on internal thoughts and emotional tensions than on descriptive world-building. The prose is clear and polished, which serves the story efficiently. 

Atmosphere:

This is a wedding-centric atmosphere, which makes it emotionally charged—filled with drama and romantic tension in a good way. It is very suitable when you are in the mood to read something light and accessible, rather than heavy or angsty

Final Thoughts

Overall, I found the story to be a fun ride, following the three women with their different emotional stories. Yes, the plot follows familiar tropes and will feel predictable, but the execution of these tropes and the way they were combined into one big plot made things truly interesting. The epilogue was excellent and not expected at all. 

Readers who enjoy multi-POV rom-coms with a wedding backdrop should definitely check this one out. To me, it was a satisfying and engaging pick that earns a solid 4-star rating. 

Many thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for the ARC of this book. 

Key Themes

• Romantic Conflict
• Romantic Reconciliation
• Second Chance
• Wedding Backdrop
• Love vs. Societal Expectations
• Personal Growth
• Self-Discovery

Cleo Dang Would Rather Be Dead

 Mai Nguyen

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐
Genre: Contemporary Fiction

Summary

Cleo Dang Would Rather Be Dead follows Cleo, a woman whose life splinters after the stillbirth of her daughter. The novel begins right inside that rupture, with no attempt to soften either the physical aftermath or the emotional shock of loss. Grief here isn’t abstract or poetic; it shows up as bodily pain, simmering resentment, numb stretches, and sudden flares of rage. As the world continues to move forward, Cleo remains in some kind of state of denial, rejecting that she has lost her child.

As she pulls away from her normal, ordinary, usual stuff, her relationships start to suffer. Her grief causes her marriage to be more complicated, and her friendship with Paloma becomes particularly strained. Paloma gave birth to a healthy baby at the same time Cleo lost hers, and that parallel—once incidental—turns unbearable. Cleo’s grief often surfaces as sharp, sometimes darkly funny internal commentary, which seems to underline just how isolating “out-of-order” loss can be. Even the kind gestures she keeps getting from her friends and family don’t seem to be having any effect on her, leaving her feeling more alienated than comforted.

Then, when Cleo takes a job at a funeral home, she encounters death in its many variations and meets people handling loss in different ways, be it different rituals or beliefs. The funeral home becomes a kind of emotional holding space. It is less suffocating than her home, yet mercifully free of any expectation that she should be “getting better.”

Through these encounters, the novel traces Cleo’s slow, uneven drift toward something that might resemble survival. This isn’t a story about healing in the tidy, redemptive sense. It’s more concerned with how a person keeps going when grief feels permanent, unfair, and stubbornly unresolved.

Characters

Cleo is a compelling but often difficult protagonist. Her voice is caustic, bitter, and unfiltered, which makes her grief feel lived-in rather than curated for sympathy. At times, her internal monologue circles the same emotional ground, occasionally to the point of fatigue. Still, I feel that repetition appears intentional, and trying to echo the way trauma traps people in loops they can’t easily escape. Her emotional stagnation isn’t accidental, though it may try some readers’ patience.

The supporting characters have their own purpose, but they largely function as emotional counterpoints rather than fully developed individuals. For example, Paloma, in particular, represents the uncomfortable coexistence of love and resentment, though her characterization sometimes feels flattened just to sharpen that contrast. For the most part, these characters exist in relation to Cleo’s grief, and few are given arcs that extend much beyond it.

Writing Style

Mai Nguyen writes in a first-person voice that feels confessional and often confrontational, blending graphic physical detail with blunt emotional honesty. The prose tends to linger on discomfort, refusing the safety of lyrical distance. I think this approach gives the novel its immediacy and emotional punch, though it can also feel heavy in longer stretches. The style seems less interested in subtlety than in making sure nothing painful goes unacknowledged—a choice that works powerfully at times and less so when the intensity becomes unvaried.

Setting

The novel unfolds in contemporary Toronto, moving between Cleo’s home, the hospital, and the funeral home where she later works. These are ordinary, recognizably mundane spaces, which quietly reinforce the idea that grief doesn’t happen in dramatic isolation. 

Atmosphere

I’d say the atmosphere is raw, oppressive, and emotionally claustrophobic most of the time. Although the novel is advertised to have dark humor, I personally didn’t feel much of that. The grief and sadness are what prevail in this story. 

Final Thoughts

At three stars, Cleo Dang Would Rather Be Dead is a striking story about loss and grief, but it was not an easy read, especially if you have picked it up for the promise of dark humor. The good thing about the story is that it doesn’t romanticize loss or rush the recovery. 

I feel the biggest flaw is when the book sometimes lingers too long in emotional stasis, where repetition begins to stand in for depth. While I admired the honesty here, I felt the narrative flow faltered, and by the end, any sense of transformation ended up being muted. This is likely to resonate deeply with readers who recognize their own experiences in it, while others may find it emotionally exhausting or narratively constrained. Yes, I found it to be thoughtful and sincere, but just not entirely satisfying. 

Many thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for the ARC of this book. 

Key Themes

• Child Loss
• Death
• Grief
• Trauma
• Identity After Loss
• Survival

More Than Enough

 Anna Quindlen

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐

Genre: Contemporary Fiction

Initial Impression

This is the first time I’ve read anything by this author, so I had no idea what to expect. The synopsis of the story sounded truly interesting and not something I have read in the past.

Summary
The story centers on Polly Goodman, a New York City English teacher in her forties who’s built a pretty comfortable, if somewhat rigid, life for herself. Everything seems settled until a birthday DNA test throws a wrench into things by revealing a close relative she didn't know existed. It’s a classic setup, but instead of turning into a fast-paced thriller, it's more of a slow-burn look at a personal identity crisis.

Most of the book follows Polly’s everyday grind—juggling classes at an all-girls school, heading to her usual book club meetings, and coming home to her husband, Mark. On the surface, it’s all very "civilized," but Quindlen uses that routine to peek at the messy stuff underneath: the lingering sting of infertility, old heartbreaks, and that nagging question of who we actually are when our biological history is a blank slate.

Characters
Polly is... well, she’s a lot. She’s thoughtful and compassionate, sure, but she spends so much time stuck in her own head that I found myself wanting to give her a bit of a nudge. Her anxiety about aging and her longing for a child feel incredibly raw and honest, but there were moments where I felt like I was reading her diary entries rather than watching a story happen. She can feel less like a person in motion and more like a landing pad for big "Life Lessons."

The author did a good job with some of the side characters. The women in the book club each has her own set of problems, and their different paths in life act as a "what if" mirror for Polly. On the other hand, Mark is just the "perfect" husband. He’s kind, steady, and always there. Honestly, he might be too perfect. He lacks that messy, human friction that would make him feel like a three-dimensional partner rather than just a supportive backdrop.

The Pacing and the Writing

Anna Quindlen's prose is lyrical and carries this gentle weight to it. That said, the pacing is likely to be a drawback for some readers. It was for me. Despite the book being less than 300 pages, it took me some time to get into it and finish it. There are these massive stretches of internal monologue that, while beautiful, definitely stall the engine. It’s the kind of book you read for the sentences, not necessarily because you’re dying to know what happens on the next page.

The Setting

New York is handled well here, too. It’s not the "Sex and the City" version; it’s a lived-in, slightly weary version of the city that feels like a natural extension of Polly’s personality. It’s subdued, a bit

melancholy, and stays pretty much at that one emotional frequency throughout.

Final Thoughts
More Than Enough is a solid, emotionally intelligent look at the things we don't usually say out loud. Quindlen did a great job capturing that specific mid-life realization that life didn't turn out exactly how you planned. This is very relevant to us when we hope for something, and the result is something else.

However, the book’s greatest strength—its restraint—is also its biggest flaw. It’s so quiet that it occasionally risks being forgettable. Sometimes I felt the author wanted to expand many subplots inside a constrained number of pages. If you’re into deep character studies and don't mind a plot that moves at a walking pace, you’ll probably find a lot to love. If you’re looking for a "hook" or a big dramatic payoff, this might feel a bit thin. I'd give it a 3/5: well-crafted and sincere, but it didn't exactly set my hair on fire.

Many thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for the ARC of this book. 

Key Themes

• Identity and Self Discovery
• Family, Chosen & Biological
• Infertility and Motherhood
• Aging
• Memory Loss
• Female Friendship

Gone With the Wind

 Margaret Mitchell

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Genre: Classics + Historical Fiction + Romance

Initial Impression

I watched the movie adaptation many years ago and loved it, but I never read this classic. So this is the first time I read it. I didn’t rush in reading the story and took my time to read and digest every chapter of this very long story. 

Summary

Gone with the Wind is essentially a massive, sweeping look at Scarlett O’Hara—a character who is, frankly, pretty difficult to like at first. She’s a headstrong young woman raised in the lap of luxury on a Georgia plantation right as the American Civil War is about to tear everything apart. The biggest disadvantage of watching the movie adaptation before reading the book is that it becomes too difficult to imagine Scarlett as anybody but Vivien Leigh. 

The book kicks off at Tara, her family’s estate, and it doesn't take long to realize Scarlett is completely fixated on Ashley Wilkes. He’s a "gentleman" in the traditional sense, but he’s also frustratingly indecisive. It’s this unrequited crush that really drives the early plot, setting up a story that's less about moonlight and roses and more about what happens when societal upheaval hits a person who isn't used to hearing the word "no."

When the war actually starts, Scarlett’s life doesn't just change, it evaporates. You see the South go from this gilded, comfortable existence to a place defined by blockades and total economic collapse. It’s gritty. And it is a picture that shows us no war would do any good for anybody. I really wish warmongers learned that!

Scarlett deals with actual starvation and loss, and this is where the book gets interesting. She stops being a "belle" and starts being a survivor. It is a bigger transformation for her character. She’s often pretty ruthless and makes some morally questionable choices just to keep the roof over her head at Tara, but you can’t help but respect the decisions she made.

Then there’s Rhett Butler. He’s pragmatic, a bit of a rogue, and seems to be the only person who actually sees through Scarlett’s act. Again hard to think of or picture him as anybody but Clark Gable! Their relationship is a mess of pride and misunderstandings, but it’s arguably one of the most intense dynamics in literature. 

It’s a long road through the war and the Reconstruction era, and by the end, Scarlett is barely recognizable compared to the girl at the start. It ends on a note that I’d call "bittersweet," though "haunting" might be more accurate. It leaves you thinking about what she actually gained versus what she lost along the way. And that we should be grateful for what we have instead of feeling miserable over things that we don’t own. 

The Characters

Margaret Mitchell really leaned into the "flawed protagonist" trope before it was cool. Scarlett is selfish and impulsive, but that’s why she feels real. If she were perfect, the book would be boring. Her growth feels earned because it’s forced upon her by genuine trauma. 

Rhett, Ashley, and Melanie serve as these different pillars of how people handle a world full of sickness and death. Melanie, in particular, acts as a fascinating foil to Scarlett’s cynicism. Even the smaller roles, like Mammy, Prissy, or Scarlett's father, Gerald, feel like they have a history. They aren't just background noise; they represent the specific values and quirks of a society that was being systematically dismantled.

Writing, Atmosphere, and Setting

The writing is lush, maybe even a bit over-the-top at times, but it paints a very clear picture. It’s written in the third person, which gives you this cinematic, bird’s-eye view of Atlanta burning or the quiet tension of a dinner party. The atmosphere is really good, and that same atmosphere was beautifully depicted in the movie as well. 

As for the setting, the South in this book is almost like a character itself. The author goes into lots of details, whether it is the cultural norms or the physical landscape. She successfully created this heavy atmosphere of nostalgia mixed with a lot of tension. You really feel that sense of loss as Scarlett’s world crumbles, but the book manages to balance that with her sheer refusal to give up.

Final Thoughts

It took me a while to finish the book, but that was really worth it. I’d give it a solid five stars, mainly because it manages to be a massive historical epic without losing the intimate, messy emotional stuff. It’s a story about ambition and love, but it’s also a bit of a cautionary tale about pride.

People always ask if they should just watch the movie. Look, the film is a visual masterpiece, and the performances are iconic, but it honestly skips over a lot of the psychological depth you get in the pages. The book lets you sit with Scarlett’s internal monologues and gives a much more nuanced (and sometimes darker) look at the South’s transformation. It’s a long read, but it’s one of those "timeless" stories for a reason. It’s a lot more complicated than the book cover makes it look.

Key Themes

• Survival and Resilience
• Love and Desire
• Social Change and Class
• Pride and Identity
• War and Its Consequences
• Memory and Nostalgia

How to Kill a Guy in Ten Dates

 Shailee Thompson

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐
Genre: Horror + Romance

Initial Impression

The synopsis sounded really good, and it was the perfect book for the season, so I decided to give it a try and see how entertaining it is.

Summary

Jamie Prescott is basically every film student I knew in college—she’s doing her PhD on the overlap between rom-coms and slasher flicks. Her academic life and real life have a head-on collision when she and her best friend, Laurie, hit up a speed-dating event. It’s supposed to be a night of bad small talk and cheap street food, but then the power goes out. When it comes back on, Jamie’s date is dead at the table with his throat slit. Talk about a bad first impression.

From there, the doors are deadbolted, and a masked killer Jamie calls "Heart Eyes" starts picking everyone off. Jamie has to use her mental library of horror tropes just to stay alive. The plot gets even weirder when it seems the murders aren't random; the killer appears to be "courting" her, trying to turn her into his "Final Girl." She ends up in this bizarre romantic triangle with the other survivors—including a guy named Wes who is definitely suspicious—and she has to figure out if she’s the leading lady or just the next victim.

Characters

Jamie is... a lot. She’s got a "smart mouth" and a total obsession with cinema that makes her a fun narrator, but I’ll be honest: her constant meta-commentary on movie rules can get a little irritating. It is hard for me to believe that during such a horrific time, one would think about what had happened in a certain movie! At times, she feels less like a real person and more like a tool for the author to show off horror movie trivia. Luckily, her friend Laurie is there to act as a foil. She’s a "documentary-lover" and much more grounded, which balances out Jamie’s more theatrical vibes.

The rest of the cast, including the "mysterious" Wes, mostly feel like archetypes. Wes is described as a "wolf in Bill Pullman clothing," which is a vibe, but since the killing spree moves so fast, it’s hard to get attached to anyone. Most of them are gone before you even learn their last names.

Writing Style

Shailee Thompson writes in this fast-paced, first-person style that’s honestly pretty addictive. It’s witty, self-aware, and reads like a love letter to the genre. It will be interesting to see where the author will go from here. Will she concentrate on horror or romance? I guess time will tell about her future plans.

Setting and Atmosphere

Most of the action happens in a multi-level nightclub, which turns into a total death trap. The shift from the "red velvet" basement to the creepy, quiet upper floors makes the whole thing feel like an isolated stage play. While the author has done a good job with the setting, I feel the atmosphere was a bit lacking for me. I enjoy horror stories to be chilling and atmospheric. This story had the action but lacked the proper atmosphere. One of the reasons must be the movie trivia that the main character was obsessed with. I feel that would make you feel this story is more of a parody slasher film like “Scary Movie”. If that was the goal of the author, to make it a parody, she has succeeded.  

Final Thoughts

Overall, it’s a fun debut. A fun mixture of survival instincts with romantic ones. It’s smart, but maybe too smart for its own good sometimes. All the trope-referencing can occasionally pull you out of the story just when things are getting dangerous.

I’m giving it a 3-star rating. It’s high on concept and wit, but it lacks the emotional weight to make the stakes feel "real." Still, if you’re a cinephile looking for a light, "criminally addictive" weekend read, this is probably right up your alley.

Many thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for the ARC of this book. 

Key Themes

• The Intersection of Horror and Romance
• Survival Through Tropes and "Rules"
• The "Final Girl" Archetype
• Dating as a "Dangerous Pastime"
• Reality vs. Performance