Review: Wuthering Heights

5 stars. Wuthering Heights is having a moment. And I am jumping in, face first. One of my reading goals for 2026, after all, is to read more classics, and with all the current *waves arms* discourse, it seemed like the perfect time to give it a try. Dusty carpets, watery porridge, locks of hair and all.

The Moors: has there ever been a more sighed-about gothic setting? When Catherine Earnshaw's father comes home from a trip with a wild young boy instead of promised gifts, he alters the fates of his estate, his children, and his children's children forever. Heathcliff, outsider though he is, bonds with the young Catherine even as he endures abuse, prejudice, and punishment from her family. After Catherine, due to circumstances not entirely beyond her control, marries another, Heathcliff sets himself upon a course of profound, complete revenge. 

It's an extraordinary book. It's extremely readable. It's oddly engrossing. It's fascinatingly-written on a sentence level (those speeches! the literal blocks of dialogue!). Idk if this makes any sense, but the words felt good to my brain. Putting this book down felt like a record scratch, or a velcro rip, as I reluctantly blinked my way back into life. These characters - almost to my dismay - wormed their way into my brain to the point where I would think about them on dog walks, in the car, or running errands. 

It's so gossipy - it's almost like watching a reality tv show, but also more like a soap opera, maybe? The pain of these insufferable people is on brutal display. They all prickle with self-righteousness and resentment and judgement. They are openly mean and vindictive. They are childish and selfish and cruel. There is not a single one who can regulate their emotions properly - it is a guidebook to unhealthy relationships, to fighting unfairly, to making impossible situations more impossible for themselves and for others. I don't quite know how to explain why this becomes so entertaining through the framework of the story, because honestly, it's depressing.

And no, unfortunately I did not feel “primal, sexual” while reading this book - I wish I had, that sounds awesome - mostly I just felt a little perplexed and captivated by the sheer strangeness of what I was reading. This book is about death, not sex. It's about death - or maybe, life after death? - and racism and generational trauma and isolationism and pain and unreliable narrators and yeah, now I'm just saying what everybody else says, because they are all correct.

But look - it is stirring. It is special. It is one of those mile marker books - there's the you before, and the you after reading it. I get it. It's the sort of book you want to immediately start over again, so you can peek into these lives with new awareness and context. I loved it. I loved the masterful turns of phrases ("he's such a cobweb, a pinch would annihilate him"), the details, the moody atmosphere. 

[I have to touch on something - something that has been touched so much it's been crushed into pure, divisive chaos. But I just have to share: having heard about the controversy around Jacob Elordi's casting, I was curious about the references to his character's skin color in the book. And... oh. They were not just references. It is an actual cornerstone of his entire existence. The book explicitly tells us this. Emerald Fennell has made it pretty clear she's not adapting this book - she's playing in the WH sandbox. Still, seems odd. I wonder if there would even be a story here without this crucial character element. But this is Kelly Book Stuff, not Kelly Movie Stuff. I digress.]

I highly recommend reading up on the Brontes - learning about Emily's upbringing and short life was informative and added an interesting layer to the reading experience. (That's a polite way of sharing that I went down an obsessive rabbit hole but I'm scared to mention anything about obsession within range of this book at the risk of Heathcliff outdoing me.) Emily must have been a distinctly astute observer of human nature to have captured its ugliness so vividly. What cycles of aggression must she have witnessed? I read about the Bronte paracosms and the idea that this book was her sandbox, in which she created an enclosed world, is fascinating. And dark. 

So. There you have it. You're welcome. The masses were clamoring for Kelly's thoughts on this book and I am, as ever, happy to give the people what they want. Throw this on the pile: Love it? Hate it? Who cares? Read it.

Wuthering Heights on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Bone Mother

5 stars. I want more. 

This outstanding collection of vignettes - some truly terrifying, others more subtle - weaves traditional figures from Slavic folklore into dark and brutal events from history. Each story is accompanied by a historical photograph; they range in size from a page or two to longer chapters. They are interconnected, but the stories stand on their own, featuring many unique and uniquely terrifying mythological monsters. And of course, the darkest monster of them all: people.

This could not have been more up my alley, and it did not disappoint. I don't say this lightly: it's well-written. Not a word is wasted - the author's style packs a punch. I loved that in many of the stories, characters who encounter something dark or unusual aren't really questioned - they are believed, and the issue is addressed according to those beliefs. It's a fascinating angle to examine folklore. And it makes for some scary stories.

Eye-opening, creative, and captivating - my highest recommendation. I want more!

The Bone Mother on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads | StoryGraph

Review: The Road of Bones (The Ashen #1)

5 stars. I agree with other reviewers that this book has a fairly weak beginning, but I was very, very swept up in it when things kicked off. Romantasy (and romance in general) can be a difficult genre to review because the reader's impression depends - almost entirely - on the book checking very distinct, individual, personal boxes. If the book does not check these boxes, or perhaps checks other boxes, reading can actually feel like, at best: a waste of time; worse: a waste of money; worst of them all: an infuriating investment resulting in major ick/cringe instead of payoff/reward (note to self: avoid the superhyped romantasy on booktok).

LUCKILY, this book enthusiastically checked a ton of boxes for me: viking-inspired; solid worldbuilding; fast-paced, addictive storytelling; character names inspired by history instead of a desire to be unique; a nice mix of tropes both comfortable and fresh; consistently great writing; a solid but not OTT impression that the author had done her research; and spice. I just had a feeling, and I was right. This hit the spot - real reading at stoplights energy. 

Silla has grown up on the move: constantly traveling from town to town with her father in a kingdom where the use of magic is feared and punished. When they are attacked, Silla must venture on her own to reach their final destination in the North. She sneaks her way into a monster-hunting gang called the Bloodaxe Crew, and Silla starts piecing together the mystery of her life as they journey on the infamous Road of Bones.

It's actually quite a complex plot, with a lot of twists and turns and discoveries and developments. I wouldn't exactly call it unpredictable, but it is super compelling - I read it in 2 days. There is proper character growth, high fantasy stakes, nightmare creatures, and romance... all soaked in one of my favorite flavors: viking. If Demi Winters can carry this forward without letting the story get too bogged down, unbalanced, or long, I will be delighted. It's impressive what she's done so far. 

The Road of Bones on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads | StoryGraph

Review: The Buffalo Hunter Hunter

5 stars. I'm a big fan of SGJ, but The Buffalo Hunter Hunter is truly on another level. Perhaps the bloodiest book I've ever read, this story takes on vampire lore from a brutal angle. It's not the flowiest read - the prose is intentionally and beautifully antiquated - but needing to slow down and focus on the historical language actually lent itself to some startling moments. In other words, I was concentrating so hard I got jump-scared a few times. 

Let's back up. Written in epistolary format (my favorite), this story also takes on a Russian Nesting Doll structure. In 2012, Etsy Beucarne begins transcribing the journal of her extra great grandfather, Arthur, who, in 1812, writes down the chronicle of a Native American named Good Stab, as told to him over the course of several Sundays while the town around them is plagued by mysterious and violent murders. And that's it - that's where I'll end with the specific details. I would emphasize that this is a deeply American horror story, weaving tragedies gigantic and small into a dark and devastating tapestry. You've been warned.

I suppose I could include a few things that didn't fully resonate with me: the ending, which was super imaginative and unpredictable, but not necessarily what I was hoping for. Etsy, as well - this is a very male book in general, which is kind of understandable but also I sort of... missed female energy, and the female energy that did make it in was honestly just annoying. I've heard that the audiobook version of this is incredible, though, and that Etsy's narrator does an impressive job. So take that for what you will.

I do think that this book is, or will become, foundational historical horror. There's a lot to be said about the horror lens and the way we experience, process, or learn through the act of consuming something scary. I personally - a White female of privilege who received an imperfect but multifaceted education around Native American history - learned a lot. And I have a lot more to learn. As a horror fan, I really enjoyed the creative twists and turns and yes, the buckets and buckets of blood. But the way Jones tackles colonialism, capitalism, cultural memory, fractured identity,  generational trauma... that shit is truly heartbreaking.

The Buffalo Hunter Hunter on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Outsiders

5 stars. I was never assigned this, but I see why it's so often included in middle grade curriculum. It's just full of devastating lessons kids should kick around until they absorb them, maybe years later, maybe even when they are adults. My heart was in my throat by the end of the first chapter. Compulsively captivating, and incredibly deep, The Outsiders is the most emotional reading experience I've had in a long time. 

Ponyboy belongs to a group of guys called "Greasers," considered lower class than the affluent "Socs." These two groups are essentially rival gangs, often clashing in fights and other violent ways. The youngest of three Greaser brothers, Ponyboy, is booksmart and sensitive and well in tune with the rules - spoken and unspoken - of the streets. When he and his best friend Johnny get in trouble, they run away, escalating an inevitable confrontation between their enemies and the group they consider family.

Reading the reviews for this is actually fascinating - from the "mehs" to the queer interpretations to the political fear mongering to the outright denial of harsh truths to the glowing praise to the unhealthily obsessed. I do wish I'd been assigned - I'd love to unpack this in a classroom setting.

I'm unsure if you can respond to, or evaluate, this book without taking into account that the author was a teenager when she wrote it. Does this factor account for its brilliance, its style? Her age undoubtedly informed the book's perspective, but it's tremendously mature, and wise... it captures perfectly the way young people crash up against the loss of innocence, certainty, and hope. There are also components of it that do seem immature, or overly simple, or reminiscent of a young person's perception or imagination. No less important, though, or without merit.

This book also presents an incredibly interesting depiction of young men. I don't know if I've encountered a similar exploration of masculinity: the way men fight, seek connection and comfort, identify or relate to each other, how they dream and deal with those dreams, or the loss of those dreams. And of course - I've been thinking a lot about this lately, as I think a lot of Americans are - the class and social warfare aspect, the haves and the have-nots...

I could go on and on. Of particular interest to me was the way adults were depicted - not as a reliable and universal authority, but capable of good and bad, which was again fascinating from a young person's point of view. And the idea of honor... and the cycles of violence... as I said, I could go on and on.

Highly recommend.

The Outsiders on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Witchcraft for Wayward Girls

5 stars. I'll be honest: I hate it when female characters get pregnant. This bothered me before I really even had words to explain it - way before the internet discovered the word "trope." I thought it was boring, silly, and cheap. A lot of dramatic things can happen to a woman that don't involve pregnancy - why do we return to it over and over again? 

Sure, it is absolutely a dramatic thing to happen IRL. Yes, mothers absolutely deserve representation. But I can tell when pregnancy is used as a lazy plot point, like for the sake of a cliffhanger, instead of a genuine factor in a character's development. I can tell. And it drives me crazy.

Imagine how emotional it felt, then, to read this book, in which pregnancy is a major theme, and is in fact written about intentionally, powerfully, and graphically - and woven into horror, my favorite genre, by Grady Hendrix, one of my favorite authors - and how emotional it felt to feel engaged and not put off, to really lean into the narrative because it involved pregnant witches, female empowerment, and revenge...

Fifteen-year-old Neva, pregnant and due in August, is sent to the Wellwood Home in Florida: a secluded refuge for so-called wayward girls. There, stripped of her name and given a new, anonymous identity, she’s told it’s for her own good: she will deliver her baby, surrender it for adoption, and return to her old life as if nothing happened. But isolation breeds rebellion. When the girls are given a book of witchcraft, they begin to test its power. As their bodies and spirits transform, they start to redefine what it means to be “wayward.”

Grady Hendrix gets better with every book, I swear. His writing is so tight now, so full of heart - he's always been amazing at writing hopelessness, which makes it that much more amazing when the tables turn. His signature immersive slang is on full display here, as is his research into the time, place, and spaces in which the story takes place. 

I agree with others that the supernatural aspects of the plot didn't perhaps pack as big of a punch as they could have. I would also argue that they didn't need to, because the reality in which he drops us is horrific enough. The fact that he could take a situation so disturbing, so dark, so depressing, so backwards, so infuriating, so disheartening and make it even the slightest bit amusing and warm and hopeful is really incredible.

And I don't think he does it for shock value, as shocking as some of these details read on the page. I don't think he does it so we sit there in awe asking "how could we have been so ignorant as a society and enforce this ridiculous ignorance on others?" Because that is a question that has never gone away, and likely never will. Trust me, I ask it daily, about things that happen... daily. He carves another entryway into this particular issue and it is truly through the hearts and souls of these women. I felt their female resilience, and resistance, in my bones.

Captivating, gut-wrenching, and powerful. Required reading.

Witchcraft for Wayward Girls on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Race the Sands

5 stars. Aww, this was amazing. It's a fantasy book that leads with kindness and offers a warm escape. Made me feel good. Reminded me of the fantasy books I grew up with - easygoing but sophisticated and immersive at the same time. Layered and complex without seeming too academic or pretentious. Heroes to root for and villains to hate. Maybe a lesson or two. Very readable - I inhaled it. It's fun.

The inhabitants of Becar, a desert kingdom, are on edge. The Emperor has died, and his brother is poised to take the throne. He cannot until the previous Emperor's soul is found, reborn into a creature as-yet-unknown. Augers, powerful soul-readers who keep the peace, search high and low. Meanwhile, they prepare for the kingdom's major tournament, a monster race. Trainer Verlas, an ex-rider with a stubborn streak and a checkered past, is determined to find a rider motivated enough to help her win, securing stability for herself and her young daughter. She finds it in Raia, a young and brave girl seeking freedom from her toxic family. But not everything is as it seems in Becar: together they must navigate insidious plots, secret identities, dangerous threats and mortal enemies to claim the big prize.

Really, really appreciated the multiple POVs in this one. Not only was the perspective of the coach refreshing (her age - a maternal heroine! - motives, and driving forces struck me as atypical compared to what's popular these days - and, very, very importantly, they didn't seem OTT intentional or token-y), but each character had a truly distinct voice, plus a reason to be there! It just flowed. Nothing out of place. Nothing obvious or forced. 

I hesitate to express this, but I've been thinking a lot recently about the ~ state of things ~ in the book world, and about how with technology and social media we have gained so much: self-published authors! a sense of community and pride! book sales! rediscovered classics! random viral moments! lightweight ereaders! instant recommendations! terms to describe the tropes we know and love but couldn't identify or articulate before! 

And also lost so much: a sense of quiet, or privacy, around reading, even writing; full autonomy and ownership over content; a reliable, accepted concept of artistic trust and license; perhaps an author's freedom to play around and incorporate things and publish something without needing to do a trope reveal, a cover reveal, a blurb reveal; without needing to post the teasers or seek the viral moment so desperately - and yes, authors, it does come across as desperate. I don't blame you. These are desperate times. 

That was a very long, roundabout way of saying simply this: I really loved reading about a found family without feeling like it was being shoved down my throat.

If I had one teeny, tiny, itsy bitsy complaint, it would be that it ran on a teeny, tiny, itsy, bitsy bit too long. Maybe one episode could've been cut? Maybe one minor character's POV chapter? IDK - it's irrelevant. This was absolutely a five star read. Consider this an extremely enthusiastic recommendation. 

Race the Sands on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The White Road (Charlie Parker #4)

5 stars. Oh man. So dark. So good. Feeling a little worn out by some of the similar themes and plot devices - oh no, is Rachel in danger again? - but I still absolutely devoured this, and delighted in the way things went so super disgusting, disturbing, and dare I say - demonic. 

The White Road actually opens with a familiar trope: Charlie Parker is called down to South Carolina to help an old friend, a lawyer, defend a young man accused of murdering his lover. The victim: a member of a wealthy and influential white family in Charleston. The accused: a poor Black kid from a rival family whose mother and aunt disappeared without a trace decades ago. 

Parker's investigation reveals way more than expected, including an evil that goes back farther than the crime. Meanwhile, the villain of the last book, Reverend Faulkner, puts in motion a plan to exact his revenge and avoid rotting in jail like he deserves.

Who is guilty, who is innocent; justice versus vengeance; monsters old and new and unlikely; shame; madness; human nature. If I had read this 15 years ago I probably would not have thought of it as political as I do now. It does not shy away from aspects of America that require uncomfortable but necessary examination. It feels especially harrowing today, as America slides backwards under our feet. On the other hand, it almost makes the ending that much more satisfying.

This series often comes recommended for fans of True Detective, but I have to say - I didn't really sense those vibes in the first 3. In The White Road, though: not only does Connolly immerse you in the deep South (impressively, for an Irishman), he makes you sit there for a while, mosquito-bitten, sweaty, suffocated by the hate and blood that poisons the land down there. It did remind me of TD, seasons 1 and 3 specifically, and I look forward to chewing on the themes that crisscross both works.

I've been so curious to see how Connolly makes the supernatural/paranormal elements more apparent as the series goes on. It could've so easily gone cheesy, or lame, or out-of-place. I was pleasantly surprised, and creeped out - in a good way. I also adored the connections to one of my favorite themes in "The Wasteland," Dante's Inferno, etc. This is literary horror first, everything else second. 

This book really does stand out as fairly spectacular on all levels, from the sentence structure/word choice to the intricate (I needed a visual character web) plotting and pacing to the vibrancy and vibes and to the overall storytelling. More than once I was reminded of a certain prolific horror author who does it better than anyone; who goes deep and wide, and dark. 

Yep, as I mentioned: super dark, super disturbing - on almost self-indulgent levels. Check TWs. You've been warned. I need a palette cleanser. 

The White Road on: Amazon | Bookshelf.org | Goodreads

Review: The Child Thief

5 stars. An epic adventure start to finish. Brom is incredible - what an imagination. I couldn’t predict anything in this story, which is magic to a reader like me; refreshing and memorable. Leave it to him to take Peter Pan and transform it into something incredibly dark and layered and complex, although like many beloved fairy tales, this one actually is a little less charming than it appears at first look back.

Weaving many familiar elements into a twisty, action-packed narrative, Brom gives Peter a new setting, a new tribe of followers, a new mission, and new enemies. Loyal to his Lady, a goddess who protects her enchanted island with a dangerous mist, the elven trickster recruits young lost souls from the human realm to fight with him against invasive threats; primarily, a group of settlers transformed into evil, fanatical creatures… plus some other stuff: an egomaniacal heir running around, an insane demon-obsessed reverend, some fancy swords, pixies, trolls, a river hag… also, everyone is generally just haunted and troubled.

It is kind of a lot to keep track of. Multiple times I questioned if the rich layers of exposition would be worth it or if they felt a bit superfluous. But it is a grand story on a grand scale, and ultimately I enjoyed the ride. Who am I to turn my nose up at multiple climactic twists, multiple fearsome antagonists, multiple character evolutions? Felt like the season of a tv show! Just… prepare for a long journey.

We get the story from Peter’s perspective and that of Nick, an older new recruit who transforms into a strong ally. The writing is cinematic and graphic - it's a deeply violent and disturbing book. While not exactly subtle, the themes are important: religious fanaticism and blindness, running away and coming of age, the ostracism of the different, the tragic futility of war and using violence as means to an end.

Glad I have more Brom to chew on. I want him to tackle every fairy tale - how would he twist The Little Mermaid? Narnia? The Nutcracker? I’d trust anything in his capable hands.

The Child Thief on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Lesser Dead

5 stars. By far one of the most refreshing vampire books I’ve ever read. Horrific and bloody but full of style and flair - maybe even a touch of whimsy. This is my third Buehlman and it’s fair to say all of his books are totally and delightfully distinct. His take on vampires, though, is exactly as fresh and scary as you’d expect from a genius.

The Lesser Dead is a dark character study of Joey Hiram Peacock, a vampire who was turned at 14 in the 1930s. Now living in NYC in the 70s, he’s found a sort of group - coven - who live and hunt together out of Subway tunnels. They are strong as a unit, helping and protecting each other from discovery. Until they encounter something stronger.

It did take me longer than normal to get through this, as it is more of a character study than an active narrative - until the action starts, which it does, brutally. Not for the faint of heart. It sort of sneaks up on you… Joey’s voice is charming, and kind of warm, a bit rogue and forgivably superficial. Cute. And the other vampires in his found family - the world building is super amazing, as is the lore, but the characters bring it all together. I would love more from this dark universe!

And then that ending. Holy fuckaroni, I did not see that shit coming. The whole point of the entire book may have been that gut punch of a twist, but I don’t even care. Beautifully done, really chilling, almost playful. Tempted to do a re-read now that I know what I know. There's a lot more brilliance here than I even realized.

Imagine vampires being scary again, like truly not sexy or sparkly at all. Monsters. It’s like that, and you’ll love it.

The Lesser Dead on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads