I often find myself drifting through the literary landscape without much awareness of the buzz surrounding upcoming releases, which means I occasionally miss out on noteworthy titles. This brings me to Queen Esther by John Irving, an intriguing sort of prequel/sequel to his 1985 The Cider House Rules. That novel was adapted into a film in 1999, a project that Irving scripted himself and for which he won an Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay. It’s one of my all-time favorite movies— rare is the case where the film surpasses the book, but in this instance, I think it genuinely does. Admittedly, I have a copy of the book tucked away somewhere on my shelf, gathering dust.

I wasn’t even aware of Queen Esther’s existence until it appeared as a Christmas gift, which took me by surprise. How had it flown under my radar? My usual sources—other book bloggers—seemed to have little to say about it. After a quick look at Goodreads, I found the reviews were decidedly mixed, with many verging on negative. This contradiction piqued my curiosity. What could elicit such a range of responses? I intended to read just a few pages that Christmas afternoon, but the story quickly drew me in, compelling me to devour much more than I had planned.

However, as I turned the pages in the ensuing days, my initial intrigue began to fade. After a staggering forty-year absence, Irving returns to the world of St. Cloud’s orphanage, where Dr. Wilbur Larch first encountered Esther, a Jewish girl whose life has been irreparably scarred by anti-Semitism.

Ah, remember those blissful days when movies lingered in theaters for four to five months, allowing us to revel in the big screen magic before succumbing to the temptations of rental shelves at Blockbuster? It feels like a lifetime ago. Nowadays, films seem to sprint from the silver screen to digital rental platforms in the blink of an eye—just weeks after their theatrical debut! It's a perplexing shift, leaving me pondering if studios might pocket more dough by keeping their cinematic gems out of our living rooms a little longer. But I digress—who am I, just a seasoned moviegoer mourning the golden age of cinema?

So, let’s venture into the world of Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale, shall we? This is the third and final chapter of the beloved Downton Abbey movie saga—though I can't help but wonder if some ambitious soul might just whip up another spinoff or tempting remake down the line. Let’s not dwell on that unsettling possibility just yet. The film made its grand entrance in cinemas on September 12, and within a mere month, it’s already gracing digital platforms for rent and purchase. Apparently, it managed to rake in around $80 million at the box office—not too shabby for a British series born from the hallowed halls of PBS! Who would have imagined a $50 million budget finale sprouting from a humble TV show?

I have a love-hate relationship with fictional series that continue long after the author's death. It's a contentious issue in the literary community—it sparks debates, deliberations, and, at times, outright fury. Whether the extension of a beloved series was part of the author's grand design or a last-minute decision made by their estate or publisher, fans react with passion. Personally, I fall into the camp that doesn’t mind as long as the new author or authors are given proper credit on the cover and it's not, cough, cough, ghostwritten. In my eyes, the utmost priority is that the story is well-crafted. Different writers have their own narratives and styles, but I want to see these new authors treat the source material with respect rather than mimicry.

Take, for example, the late Clive Cussler (1931-2020). His novels have continued to thrill fans even after his passing. And you know what? The new authors get their due credit right on the cover—although let’s be real, Clive’s name still dominates the page like a ship's captain who refuses to be overshadowed. The latest installment is The Iron Storm, written by Jack Du Brul, marking the 15th adventure in the Isaac Bell series that kicked off in 2007 with The Chase. It follows the relentless, no-nonsense private investigator Isaac Bell, who prowls the streets of early 20th-century America like a sleek cat on the hunt.

About the Book 

Can this undercover agent save the woman he loves—or is her heart as counterfeit as the money he’s been sent to track down? 

It's another day, and here's another book from my TBR stack that's been collecting dust on my desk. The title is Far Side of the Sea, written by Kate Breslin and published by Bethany House in 2019. It's set in my least favorite historical setting - World War I. Typically, I don't care to read about the era. I prefer my historical romances set in the 19th century. Nevertheless, like any reading champ, I turned to Chapter One on page 9 and gave the novel everything I have, which means it received my full attention in between rounds of coffee.

Available on Paperback & Kindle.

About The Book

How can a meek wallflower help a returning war hero whose dreams are plunged into darkness? 

Mary Bloomfield has no illusions. Her chances for matrimony have long since passed her by. Still, her circumstances are pleasant enough, especially now that she has found purpose in assisting her father with his medical practice in England's beautiful Lake District. Even without love, it's a peaceful life. 

That is until Adam Edgerton returns to the sleepy district. This decorated war hero did not arrive home to acclaim and rest, but to a new battle against the repercussions of an insidious disease. Mary's caring nature cannot stand to see someone suffer--but how can she help this man see any brightness in his future when he's plunged into melancholic darkness, his dreams laid waste by his condition? 

Available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and WildBlue Press.

About the Book

UNDER A FULL MOON: The Last Lynching in Kansas tells of the tragic abduction and death of an eight-year-old girl at the hands of a repeat offender in 1932. This crime stands apart as the last mob lynching in Kansas. Based on true events, this account takes a deep dive into the psycho-social complexities of pioneer times and their impact on this particular crime and the justice meted out to the perpetrator.