Why do some characters embed themselves so deeply in your psyche, leaving you craving more adventures? That's precisely how I felt after reading The Last Gunfighter: Ambush Valley by William W. Johnstone and J.A. Johnstone. If you're curious, you can check out my review by clicking here. The characters that captured my imagination and heart are Conrad and Rebel Browning. Conrad is the son of the legendary gunfighter Frank Morgan, also known as The Drifter from The Last Gunfighter series. Why do father and son have different last names? The twist is that Frank played no role in raising Conrad; in fact, after Conrad’s mother remarried, he adopted his stepfather's surname. Following the murder of his mother, which Frank avenged, Conrad became the heir to the Browning fortune. Think banks, railroads, mines. In short, Conrad is the picture-perfect businessman, while Frank is the rugged gunfighter. They’re two sides of the same coin, that is, until everything crumbles in The Loner, the first book of J.A. Johnstone's spin-off series. I was aware of the series thanks to Western Fiction Review, and had even heard whispers of a certain dramatic death from another blog that I now cannot recall, much to my chagrin. There are fifteen books in The Loner series, and my impatient self scoured for the remainder after settling into the first installment.

In The Loner, Conrad's newlywed bliss is brutally shattered when a wretched group of thugs kidnaps his spirited wife, Rebel, with a ransom demand of $50,000. His immediate instinct is to reach out to his father for assistance, but alas, Frank Morgan's whereabouts are unknown, so it falls squarely on Conrad's shoulders to rescue his beloved. Armed with cash and guns, he plunges into the canyons outside Carson City, Nevada, for a perilous exchange that turns sinister. Just when you think he has the upper hand, the gang leader catches him off guard. Spoiler Alert! Rebel meets her tragic end!

Today, I’m shedding light on my latest reading foray: The Yellow Hair, the 10th entry in Dwight Holing's Nick Drake Mysteries. This series flew under my radar until now, but it hums with a vibe reminiscent of C.J. Box’s Joe Pickett books, albeit with a wildlife ranger-turned-sheriff instead of a game warden.

Nick Drake isn’t just any lawman; he’s a Native American Vietnam War veteran. The story takes place in the haunting backdrop of late 1979 or early 1980, and I've deduced this from the brand-new 1980 Cadillac Sedan de Ville referenced on the first page. Now, while the book is marketed as a "Contemporary Western," I'd argue it straddles genres better suited for a breezy mix of Joe Pickett and Tony Hillerman's Leaphorn & Chee novels. Sure, there are Western elements, but don't expect gunfights at high noon or dusty saloon brawls. This isn't the Wild West.

Now, let’s talk about the plot: Nick’s tenure as sheriff gets off to a brutal start with a double homicide; a couple found dead in a scene so meticulously fabricated to resemble a tragic murder-suicide that it’s almost a paint-by-numbers tragedy. Convenient, isn’t it? A smooth lie crafted to soothe the masses, but Nick’s far from fooled. As he begins peeling back the layers of this rotten onion, he finds himself embroiled in a two-front battle.

On the internal front, he’s grappling with a motley crew of green deputies who’d need more than just a badge and a uniform to keep the peace. On the external front? A ruthless political machine, fueled by shadowy figures hell-bent on burying him before the truth sees the light of day. Outmaneuvered and isolated, Nick is caught in a high-stakes game, and he must strike first and strike hard.

Lately, I’ve developed a strange fascination with autobiographies and biographies, especially those chronicling the lives of pulp-era authors. It’s like my aging mind is reaching back to the frontier of literature, drawn to old stories of grit and creativity. Among those who pique my interest is the Western author Ben Haas, born Benjamin Leopold Haas (1926 - 1977). A prolific writer, he churned out the first sixteen books in the Sundance series, as well as the Fargo and Culter series, under the pen name John Benteen. His 1968 Double D Western, Big Bend, written under Richard Meade, sits proudly on my shelf in hardcover.

Recently, I stumbled upon A Hack's Notebook: An Autobiography by Ben Haas, published as an eBook by Piccadilly Publishing for a mere $1.99. This autobiography was originally released in paperback back in 2020 by Lulu Press. “Wait a minute,” I hear you saying, “Didn’t you mention that Ben Haas passed away in 1977?” Rest assured, you’re not losing your grip on sanity. Tragically, Ben did indeed pass away at the age of 51. However, his family unearthed an unfinished autobiography that contained six chapters. After rummaging through his papers, they couldn’t find the rest of it, leaving us with a patchwork of his life. They decided to publish those fragments alongside Jim Henderson's memoir—Henderson being Ben’s long-time friend—and a scrapbook filled with samples of Ben's artwork, family photographs, and a bibliography. The 2026 edition is lovingly edited by Joel Haas, Ben’s son, who added a nostalgic touch with his personal introduction, Remembering My Father.

When I started reading Rathuun: King of the Prairie by David Fitz-Gerald, I didn't anticipated what I was about to embark upon. Calling it historical fiction seems a bit of a stretch, given that it’s from the perspective of a buffalo named Rathuun. Yes, you read that right: a buffalo. And let me tell you, if you want to grasp the essence of this tale, you’ll need a passport into the peculiar realm of buffalo linguistics. The author himself nudges readers toward a website full of buffalo terms like a guide trying to teach a language on the brink of extinction. Call it a quirk of mine, but I can’t help but feel slightly irked when a book requires a mini-lexicon. Yet, like a stubborn bull, I pressed through my annoyance to see what awaited me across the prairies.

Rathuun isn’t just any buffalo calf; he’s marked by a splash of white on his chin, which somehow makes him feel like a prophet of misfortune from the get-go. Born in a serene canyon, his world plunges into chaos instantly: his twin is murdered by a grizzly bear. The plains are filled with wagons rolling westward in a relentless procession, telegraph wires tattooing the sky, and locomotives roaring like angry beasts across polished steel. All the while, the specter of extinction hangs over Rathuun and his fellow buffalo, as hunters turn the prairie into a veritable slaughterhouse. You’ve got native hunters armed with arrows, herds being driven off cliffs, and an obsessed assassin on a misshapen personal vendetta against the species. You can practically hear the rifles barking, each shot a grim reminder that Rathuun’s days could be numbered. Will he become just another story buried in the dirt of history, left to rot under the relentless sun?

There was a time when the Western novel came roaring back, thanks to a flashy revival that ignited in the late 1970s. Adult Westerns, they called them; your run-of-the-mill tales with a spicy twist of love scenes. Publishers were desperate to breathe life into a fading genre, and for a while, it worked like a charm. Among these was the series Chance, published by Avon Books and penned under the pen name Clay Tanner by the Spur Award-nominated George W. Proctor (1946-2008). Dubbed The Maverick with a Winning Hand, the protagonist, Chance Sharpe, is a slick card shark who owns the riverboat Wild Card. You could easily argue that Proctor borrowed a page or several from the legendary Brett Maverick, but that’s a tale as old as the Wild West itself. Only twelve novels graced this series, published from 1986 to 1988.

Fast forward to my recent thrift store adventure, where I stumbled upon the ninth installment, Chance: Deadly Deal. Maybe it was fate, or perhaps just some cosmic irony, but this book felt oddly familiar. I distinctly remember having owned it in the 1990s, maybe not this exact paperback, but close enough. Back then, I was much too young to be reading Western yarns with sex scenes. I could almost picture my mom snagging it from a garage sale, blissfully unaware of the literary mischief I would engage in. I read everything I could get my hands on, regardless of age appropriateness, thinking I was wise beyond my years. Who knows what ever happened to that first copy? Perhaps it found its way to another garage sale. But I digress. There it sat amid the dust and knickknacks: Deadly Deal. The cover was a siren song, pulling me back into nostalgia, and I couldn't resist the urge to scoop it up.

Hitting the bookshelves today from Grand Central Publishing is the thriller You'll Be Sorry, written by the #1 New York Times bestselling author Lisa Gardner. Fun fact: Gardner kicked off her career in the food service industry, but after singeing her hair a few too many times, she wisely pivoted to writing. Now a self-proclaimed research junkie, she has channeled her fascination with police procedures and the criminal psyche into a string of internationally acclaimed novels that have captivated readers in over 30 countries. Her novel The Neighbor even won the Best Hardcover Novel award from the International Thriller Writers.

You'll Be Sorry is set in the eerie charms of Shereford, New Hampshire, and follows Raquel and Theo Collins. Here we have Raquel, a renowned interior designer, and Theo, a brash financial hotshot, whose romance took a tragic turn. To escape their grief, they retreat to a remote town, hoping for a fresh start among the ghosts of the past.

Their new home? The Dixons’ family lodge, once the crown jewel of the mountains, now a shadow of its former self. Three decades ago, on a fateful August night, the entire Dixon family—two parents and their four kids—vanished, leaving only a trail of bloody footprints and a mystery shrouded in whispers and speculation. As the Collinses settle into their new digs, the long-forgotten echoes of the past resurface, mingling with the new inhabitants of the creaking old lodge.

For Amanda Grady, Shereford’s newly minted police chief and daughter of the officer who helmed the Dixon case, it's a bittersweet experience. Reviving the long-abandoned lodge might signal hope for the town, but not everyone is thrilled about the Collinses moving in. As she grapples with her father’s legacy, it becomes clear that some secrets refuse to stay buried.

It's astonishing to realize that the Adult Western series The Gunsmith has reached the ripe old age of forty-four, a year younger than I am; yes, the passage of time is a cruel companion, and I'm feeling every tick of the clock as I write this. It's the creation of J.R. Roberts, the pseudonym for the late Robert J. Randisi (1951-2024); this series stands as the last bastion of Adult Westerns from the 1980s. Following Randisi’s passing in 2024, his stepson, Marcus Pelegrimas, has stepped up to the plate, spinning new tales inspired by a query Randisi submitted before his untimely death. If the name Marcus Galloway rings a bell, it’s likely due to his work on the Snake Oil series, the Man From Boot Hill series, and several titles in the Ralph Compton books, solidifying his status among Western aficionados.

This brings us to my review of The Gunsmith: Tent City, the 496th installment, released in June 2026 by Speaking Volumes, LLC. While I could call it the latest addition, that wouldn’t exactly be truthful since the 497th title, Skinwalker, has just hit the shelves. I’ll have my thoughts on that one once I manage to snag a copy.

So, here’s the heart of the matter: our protagonist, ex-lawman Clint Adams, or as he’s known, The Gunsmith, is wrapping up a brief stint as a poker tournament enforcer in Leadville, Colorado. His journey to, well, who knows where, is abruptly thrown off course by the frantic appearance of a redhead named Mandy, a widowed damsel fresh off a narrow escape from four male kidnappers. Clint, ever the gallant knight willing to brave the wild west for a pretty face, can't turn a blind eye to her distress... but he could never predict the dangers he's about to be swept into.

When did legendary Wild West outlaw Billy the Kid crawl his way into the fabric of mainstream culture? Was it in 1882 when Pat Garrett, the man who ended his life, published The Authentic Life of Billy the Kid? (Although technically, he had a ghostwriter, Marshall Ashmun Upson.) Or was it in 1948 when Brush Bill Roberts strolled in claiming to be the infamous outlaw himself? Perhaps it was 1988, when Emilio Estevez donned a bowler hat and roamed the screen as Billy in the film Young Guns? Regardless, Billy the Kid continues to haunt our collective imagination like a restless specter.

I've long been enthralled by Billy the Kid; in fact, I had a wall plaque of his famous wanted poster proudly displayed in my childhood bedroom. Maybe it’s because my name is Billy, or maybe because as a kid, he felt like a kindred spirit; an outcast bound by fate. I even remember the nostalgia of late '80s Billy the Kid apparel; I had a shiny belt buckle and a few shirts that made me feel like a renegade at recess. Of course, my parents took me to see Young Guns in theaters when I was probably a bit too young; but hey, that was a different time.

Over the years, I’ve read a range of books about this enigmatic outlaw. Recently, I read Sing to Me Billy the Kid, written by Frances Bonney Jenner and published earlier this year by Speaking Volumes. It popped onto my radar thanks to a publicist who reached out, and naturally, I couldn’t resist the chance to jump into its pages.

Yeepee! It’s the weekend, and here I am, venturing back into the realm of Western reviews. Well, sort of. This one’s more of a horror-sci-fi cocktail set against a Western backdrop. Does that still count as a Western? I suppose it does! The book in the spotlight today is Trouble at New Barnsley, the first book in the Legends of the Alchemist Hunter series by James Collins, who also wrote A Joyful Noise. Earlier this year, the author reached out about his work, branding it a 'weird Western.' My curiosity was piqued, and I couldn’t resist the pull to review it, though I’ll admit it took me a tad longer than I planned to get my thoughts together. But here we are!

So, what’s the story about, you ask? It centers around U.S.T.S. Marshal John Fellman, a True Science Marshal and a legendary Alchemist Hunter whose name strikes fear in the hearts of deranged scientists in the West. He’s a cowboy with a mission, bringing judgment to those who tinker with the very laws of nature. When he’s contracted to investigate a string of bizarre deaths at New Barnsley ranch, our intrepid marshal gears up to confront yet another alchemical monstrosity. However, lurking in the shadows are dangers greater than he anticipated. His brainy, firebrand partner, Dell Ginsley, accompanies him as they journey to the ranch nestled at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. Just beyond the picturesque facade of the mansion lies a web of deception and sinister threats that could swallow them whole. John and his crew must race against time to uncover the New Barnsley menace before it spreads its malevolent tentacles beyond the ranch.

The fourth season of Amazon Prime’s Reacher series is just around the corner, and it hit me like a sledgehammer that I still hadn’t read the latest Reacher novel, Exit Strategy. I raced to my TBR pile, blew off the dust like I was unveiling a long-forgotten artifact, and jumped right in. As the 30th installment in the Reacher saga, this book marks the second solo venture by Andrew Child, Lee Child's younger sibling. They still print Lee’s name in bigger letters on the cover, which almost feels like sibling rivalry in print form. I should confess I had tried to read this book more times than I’d care to admit since getting my review copy from the publisher last year. But something about those initial pages kept throwing me off. Maybe it was the unmistakable feeling that Lee Child's hand wasn’t guiding this ship, a detail you can’t quite articulate but feel deeply, like an itch in your brain that you can’t scratch.

The plot kicks off in classic Reacher style: he finds himself in a random coffee shop in Baltimore, sipping black coffee like the lone wolf he is, with two refills because why not? Just as he’s about to glide out into the world, a young guy brushes past him in the doorway. In Reacher’s world, that means a quick mental check: cash, passport, all accounted for. No drama there. Next stop? A store to grab a coat because he never carries a suitcase. Just something hefty enough to fit a man built like a bank vault but simple enough to toss aside when he chases the sun. But then, as he pulls out his cash, he discovers an unexpected addition in his pocket: a handwritten note pleading for help. Intrigued, he sets off on a new mission.

One of my favorite horror novels is Ira Levin's Rosemary's Baby, so it was only natural that I would gravitate toward The Captive, which was published in 2025 by Hell’s Hundred, an imprint of Soho Press. The blurb claiming it's "Rosemary's Baby for our conspiratorial 21st century" piqued my interest even more. It’s penned by Kit Burgoyne, a pseudonym for the horror author Ned Beauman, whose work I wasn’t familiar with before diving into this novel.

The premise is certainly intriguing. Luke and his underground anti-capitalist revolutionary group have plotted their most ambitious operation yet: kidnapping twenty-three-year-old Adeline Woolsaw, the heiress to a vast and shadowy conglomerate that appears to have tentacles in everything from military installations to mental hospitals, commuter trains, call centers, and prisons.

However, their plans take an unexpected turn when they snatch Adeline from her world of privilege. To their shock, she’s on the verge of giving birth, and to complicate matters, she might not mind the abduction; after all, it might just be her chance to flee from her tyrannical parents. Her family has struck a deal with an ancient malevolence of almost limitless power, and they will stop at nothing to retrieve the newborn. Their aim? To usher in a hellish new reign on Earth with their grandchild enthroned as the puppet ruler.

Today, I’m venturing into the Ambush Valley, the 17th installment of The Last Gunfighter series, which was kicked off in 2000 by the late William W. Johnstone (1938-2004). The last solo effort in the series from Johnstone was Renegades in 2005. After that, Fred Austin stepped in for Savage Country in 2006, paving the way for J.A. Johnstone, William's niece, to join the fray, starting with the fourteenth book, The Devil's Legion. However, I am unsure about his niece's involvement in the actual writing of the books. A "Publisher's Note" appeared in later installments, detailing how the Johnstone family selected authors to complete unfinished outlines and craft new tales, breathing fresh life into the series.

At the center of The Last Gunfighter saga is Frank "The Drifter" Morgan, a legendary figure renowned and feared across the Wild West. After six tumultuous months, Frank has taken a rare breather, settling into the role of town Marshal in Buckskin. It’s not his first experience donning a badge, but this stint promises to be the longest by far.

Frank’s son, Conrad Browning, is now a man unto himself, married to the spirited Rebel Callahan. Following the death of Conrad's mother, the pair inherited the Browning empire, which includes banks. However, Frank has little interest in the family's business affairs. He prefers to leave those matters in the hands of lawyers to ensure fairness prevails. Yet, the peace is shattered when a gang led by Cicero McCoy pulls a daring heist, making off with eighty thousand dollars from one of the banks. McCoy, in a sinister twist, hides the loot in Ambush Valley before turning on his own men, leaving a trail of bodies behind. Captured by bounty hunters, he’s sentenced to a long, bleak twenty-five years in Yuma Territorial Prison.

Reading a novel by a new author—at least new to me—is always an exciting experience, especially when there’s positive buzz surrounding them. This has certainly been true for Lane R. Warenski, who is known for his Western adventures, particularly the Frontier Scout series. His latest installment, Silent Stalker, is the fifth book in the series and was published in April by Dusty Saddle Publishing. I must admit that I had a review copy sitting on my Kindle for several months. Due to family commitments and responsibilities, the eBook was put on the back burner, but it was never forgotten. Now, I’m eager to share my thoughts on the book.

The story unfolds with Caleb Miller, also known as the Night Tracker, a man whose reputation as Chief Scout for the 2nd Cavalry out of Fort Laramie precedes him. As his wife prepares to bring their child into the world, Caleb must make a heart-wrenching decision: to brave the perils of the plains or return to Springfield and welcome his newborn among family.

What follows is a treacherous journey home that forces Caleb to take the responsibility of escorting orphaned twins, Clara and Cloe, through a landscape alive with danger: outlaws, hostile war parties, and the unknown. Along their perilous route, they encounter Gray Owl, the Silent Stalker, a young Pawnee warrior whose intentions towards Cloe are complicated yet rooted in mutual respect. What begins as a cautious alliance between Caleb and Gray Owl soon blossoms into a deep and meaningful friendship, a bond forged in the fires of adversity.

Finally catching up on some winter reading during the summer. Yep, that’s me, the procrastination king. While the world basked in sunshine, enjoying picnics and fireworks, I dove into Cold Zero, a military thriller by Brad Thor and Ward Larsen, published by Atria/Emily Bestler Books back in February. It had been languishing in a pile of ARCs, gathering dust, until I decided to blow off the grime, sit down, and read the damn thing.

So, what’s it all about? It unfolds like a MacGuffin story, starting with the audacious disappearance of Hemisphere Airlines Flight 777, the most advanced jetliner ever built. The aircraft vanishes without a trace over the North Pole, succumbing to sabotage and crash-landing on the icy wasteland. The surviving passengers find themselves in a chaotic, frigid landscape, but the real tempest is yet to come. Hidden in the wreckage is the prototype of a groundbreaking technology capable of tipping the scales of global power. Now, Washington, Moscow, and Beijing are racing against one another to seize it—whatever the cost. Caught in the eye of this storm are CIA operative Kasey Sheridan and Brett Sharpe, a former fighter pilot turned first officer. With enemy forces closing in, they must navigate the perilous Arctic terrain, escorting both the device and its creator to safety before rival superpowers turn the frozen expanse into a war zone. As the clock ticks and temperatures plunge, the fate of the free world hangs in the balance at the top of the globe.

Today, I’m unpacking The Familiar Stranger, a posthumous collaboration by Steve Kelton and John Bradshaw, which marks the fifth entry in the "Hewey Calloway" series started by the late Elmer Kelton (1926-2009) in 1978 with The Good Old Boys. This series has seen a gradual evolution over the years, with The Smiling Country following in 1998 and Six Bits a Day in 2005. Elmer's son, Steve, wrote the fourth entry, The Unlikely Lawman, pub. in 2022. Tragically, Steve Kelton was in the midst of writing The Familiar Stranger ^[*] when he passed in March 2022, and his wife, Karen, entrusted John Bradshaw with completing the manuscript.

The plot revolves around Hewey Calloway, who intended to breeze through Durango, Colorado, on his way to a friend’s place northeast of the city. A year out from his home range with a herd of young horses, he expected a straightforward journey: deliver the horses, pocket the payment, and head home. However, fate plays a different hand, and a year later, Hewey finds himself still in Durango, sensing the pull to explore new territory rather than returning south.

It isn't long before his path leads him to a cabin amidst a biting rain. Inside, he encounters a sickly young man who desperately tries to shoo him away. This man, battling smallpox, ends up caring for Hewey when he himself contracts the disease. Just as Hewey starts feeling better, the young man vanishes, and the next morning, a Pinkerton detective arrives with a posse on the hunt for a wanted bank robber.

It's no secret that I hold a profound admiration for Robert Bloch's Psycho, the 1959 horror novel that screenwriter Joseph Stefano masterfully adapted into Alfred Hitchcock's classic film of the same name in 1960. While my affinity for Psycho and its sequels—excluding the completely unnecessary 1998 shot-for-shot remake by Gus Van Sant, which I prefer to forget—runs deep, my heart truly belongs to Hitchcock's 1954 thriller Rear Window, starring James Stewart and Grace Kelly. Hot on its heels is 1940's Rebecca, a cinematic classic, largely due to my newfound love for Daphne du Maurier's works. And then there's that nostalgic tie between Psycho and 1963 The Birds, a film loosely rooted in du Maurier's short story. The latter, alongside 1964's Marnie, has sparked intense debate over the years regarding the alleged mistreatment of actress Tippi Hedren by Hitchcock—a dialogue ignited by Donald Spoto's The Dark Side of Genius: The Life of Alfred Hitchcock (1983) and echoed in Spellbound by Beauty: Alfred Hitchcock and His Leading Ladies (2008). The latter work inspired the BBC/HBO film The Girl in 2012, which escalated claims of Hitchcock's purported sexual harassment of Hedren, a matter fiercely contested among those who worked with Hitchcock and film scholars alike

This backdrop leads us to the recently published A Century of Hitchcock: The Man, the Myths, the Legacy ^[*] by Tony Lee Moral, who, as a chronicler of Hitchcockian lore, aims to unravel these lasting narratives. With a fresh perspective grounded in new archival research, unpublished interviews, and a critical reevaluation of existing biographies, Moral challenges the entrenched views that have shaped Hitchcock's reputation over time. He carefully revisits the contentious claims regarding Hitchcock's supposed abuses, particularly scrutinizing Spoto's portrayal of his relationship with Hedren. Through the lens of Spoto's interviews, Moral reveals contradictions within longstanding claims and shines a light on the embellishments and distortions that have tainted Hitchcock's legacy for too long.

It's been a while since my last Western read. Life's little complications can often overshadow the joy of blogging, and my blog, more of a passion hobby than a primary focus, has taken a backseat amid recent events. My father's surgery in late April has been a significant distraction. As he prepares for another operation, my time and energy have dwindled. It has led to a reading slump that’s been quite the unwelcome guest. But here I am, ready to share my thoughts on The Last Ride of the Dirty Creek Gang by William W. Johnstone and J.A. Johnstone.

Now, let’s address the elephant in the room: ghostwriters. The new Johnstone’s books are notorious for the mystery surrounding their authorship, and I can't help but wonder—who’s really behind the pen? If anyone has insights, I’m all ears. This particular book hails from the March 2026 release batch. With the decline of mass-market paperbacks, we’re now treated to a trilogy of titles every other month, albeit at a steeper price and larger format. My local Walmart has stopped carrying these books altogether, squeezing their book section to a mere shadow of its former self, prompting me to turn to Amazon ^[*]. 

Every reader has their guilty pleasures—authors they turn to for a quick escape, even if they know the stories may not be literary masterpieces. For me, that author is Freida McFadden, the pen name of Sara Cohen. I've read four of her books so far, and without fail, I snatch up every new release, promising myself that I'll read them all eventually. This brings us to her latest thriller, The Divorce ^[*], published by Poisoned Pen Press. I picked it up on release day, not intending to read it right away; it was destined for my Freida McFadden shelf, collecting dust for the foreseeable future. However, boredom struck the following night, and I found myself opening the book. Three-quarters in, and I was hooked, finishing it off the next day. Was it a page-turner? Well, that depends on your definition. I was never bored.

The protagonist, Naomi, wasn’t relatable, but her story was undeniably intriguing. I found myself eager to uncover what would happen next. And true to McFadden’s style, the characters rarely are who they seem. The twists and turns, designed to shock the reader, are part of the ride, but I anticipated one of them. Predictable? Absolutely. Yet, that didn’t ruin the fun; the unraveling mystery was a thrill in itself.

Books are profoundly subjective; what thrills one reader might leave another in a state of dismay. As I wade through Star Trek: Picard: To Defy Fate, my feelings are mixed, teetering on the edge of apathy. On one hand, Dayton Ward’s intricate depictions of the Trek universe resonate with my longtime affection for the franchise, and I typically relish his writing. On the other hand, I can’t shake off that the narrative is a convoluted mess, cluttered with an overabundance of nostalgic references that often feel more like fan service than substance. The dialogues seem awkward and out of character. To make matters worse, the story suffers from a maddening repetitiveness, reiterating events and rehashing explanations we’ve already digested in prior chapters. Sure, 2026 marks the 60th anniversary of Star Trek, but To Defy Fate hardly seems worthy of such a momentous celebration.

Set in 2401, mere weeks after the harrowing attack from rogue Changelings and remnants of the Borg Collective, the story unfolds as the Federation grapples with an arduous recovery process, one that requires rebuilding not just ships, but trust and hope. Newly minted Captain Seven of Nine, alongside her first officer Commander Raffi Musiker, embarks on a tour of the U.S.S. Titan-A, which is mired in a lengthy repair and refit. Yet, amidst their exploration, they succumb to an enigmatic temporal event that leaves them both incapacitated, with Seven slipping into a deep coma.

In an unexpected twist, the familiar faces of Admiral Jean-Luc Picard and Dr. Beverly Crusher are confronted by Wesley, Crusher’s son, now a quasi-ethereal Traveler traversing the labyrinth of time and space. He brings ominous tidings of unidentified forces intent on unsettling the very fabric of reality. Despite their initial efforts to contain the disturbance, the chaos only escalates, spiraling out of control.

Call it nostalgia or sentimentality, but I’ve been craving a trip down memory lane to revisit the original tie-in adult novels of The X-Files from the late 1990s, a hallmark of my teenage years. Despite the show's meteoric rise during its original run, only six novels were published from 1994 to 1999 (seven if you include the novelization of the feature film Fight the Future). It's worth noting I’m not counting the middle-grade or YA titles. I first picked up the first book, Goblins, during my Junior High days, and even then, I couldn’t help but notice the dissonance in tone. If you can overlook the copious f-bombs that were never uttered in the series, the writing style feels surprisingly juvenile. Perhaps back then, I was just a young reader grappling with stories meant for adults.

Written by the late horror maestro Charles L. Grant, Goblins is his first of two contributions to The X-Files, the other being Whirlwind. Admittedly, it’s not a literary masterpiece; at best, it reads as an average thriller. I felt that way in 1994, and here I am in 2026, revisiting the same worn paperback while listening to the 2015 audiobook from Blackstone Audio. Why indulge in this modest narrative again? Nostalgia is my only answer.

At its core, Goblins is a traditional monster-of-the-week tale. Considering the television series premiered in September 1993 and the book was released in January 1994, I imagine Grant didn’t have much material to work from. It’s as if he were navigating a murky landscape in which the characters of Mulder and Scully hadn’t yet crystallized into their iconic selves. Mulder occasionally rings true, but moments later, he morphs into caricature traits that feel entirely out of character. And Scully? The version presented here is a shadow of her television counterpart, an enigma wrapped in inconsistencies. It seems the characters, much like the series itself, were still in development, which is likely why Goblins feels so disjointed. For the record, this isn't fanfiction. Grant was contracted by HarperPrism, lending his voice to what is an official tie-in. Whether readers choose to accept it as canon is debatable, but it certainly doesn’t fit the mold of fan-created content.