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.

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.

As a long-time Trekkie, I find myself scratching my head over an unusual marketing move: why release a Star Trek novel in December 2025 for the franchise’s 60th Anniversary when Star Trek: The Original Series doesn’t reach that milestone until September 8, 2026? It seems like a misstep for a niche franchise that thrives on its legacy. If Star Trek: Identity Theft ^[*], the twentieth entry by Greg Cox, had launched just a month later, it would have felt far more aligned with the commemorative spirit. In a way, it feels like a missed opportunity, a decision that might alienate the very fans who are supposed to celebrate.

The novel invites us back to the familiar world of Captain James T. Kirk and the crew of the USS Enterprise-A, eschewing the modern iterations of Star Trek. I find myself among those who view the newer series as a separate entity, like a bubble universe apart from the rich tapestry of the classic shows and films that are, indeed, better. My hope is that this particular phase of storytelling is winding down, making room for a return to the essence of what Star Trek once was.

♰ Welcome to The Midnight Horror! ♰

Where do I begin this tale of cinematic woe? Tonight's Midnight Horror pick, Predator's World, is a work of such questionable merit that it feels less like horror and more like a softcore adult monster spoof gone awry. Judging by its DVD cover, I anticipated a gloriously cheesy B-sci-fi flick. But oh, how I was mistaken! Instead, I found myself ensnared in a bizarre realm of racy antics, brought to life by former adult star Bree Olson, whose name graces the cover alongside YouTuber Shawn C. Phillips. This seemed to promise something intriguing, but even Phillips, appearing as a hologram in two brief, forgettable scenes, couldn't salvage this sinking ship.

The film, penned by Cameron T. James and helmed by director Jeff Leroy, spins a tale as follows: the TITAN 1C space cruiser—ostensibly the most luxurious star-liner ever crafted—collides with a meteor shower, forcing several survivors into a desperate escape pod. Alas, their plight takes a dire turn when they land on a planet teeming with bloodthirsty aliens, who take their sweet time hunting them down, one hapless soul at a time. Any chance of salvation hinges on their ability to cobble together tech from the remnants of their crash. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place!

♰ Welcome to The Midnight Horror! ♰

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I'm not one to sip on spirits, but a splash of liquid courage might have smoothed the jagged edges of my Midnight Horror marathon. Oh yes, some of these cinematic misadventures were so cringeworthy that I nearly reached for a drink. Today's featured horror gem is The Killing House, a flick that you can probably stumble upon streaming for free in the murkiest corners of the internet.

Written by Cheng Peng and helmed by Ding Wang, this film presents a simplistic narrative. Picture this: three near-strangers—Chi, Christine, and Reino, played by Duojie Suonan, Chloe Mercedes, and Picardy Jean-Pierre—find themselves inexplicably imprisoned in a mansion. Here, they are coerced into participating in a deadly game that no one signed up for, a contest where only the most ruthless can escape. The stakes? They have to eliminate each other until one victor stands tall, drenched in the metaphorical blood of their former allies.

Marketed as a horror flick, The Killing House serves up just one truly terrifying experience: the realization that you’ve sacrificed precious moments of your life to watch what feels like a low-budget student film, desperately trying to grasp at sci-fi and action elements. Where's the hero when you need them? It’s more drama wrapped in confusion than spine-tingling terror. I sat there, scratching my head in bewilderment. Am I watching a VR game gone awry? Has someone pulled me into a chaotic alternate reality? I half-expected a clumsy homage to Sliders with its half-baked CGI wormhole effects—if only those wormholes could slide me right out of there. And that villain! He looked like a rejected character sketch from a low-rent superhero comic. Seriously, was the mask budget trimmed to dimes?

♰ Welcome to The Midnight Horror! ♰

I must confess, today's post is arriving late, but trust me, I had my reasons. After enduring the sheer torture of the 2018 (or perhaps it was 2017) comedy-sci-fi-horror abomination known as The Jurassic Dead, I needed some time to clear the jumbled mess that had become my mind. It felt as if my brain cells had staged a mutiny, and I had to wait for them to recover before attempting to put my thoughts into coherent sentences. Let me tell you: this movie is an unholy disaster! I loathed every second of it! The blame falls squarely on the shoulders of the filmmakers—the directors (yes, there were two of them), the writer, the producers, and, of course, the actors. They each contributed to this chaotic train wreck, and I am more than willing to unleash my wrath upon them.

Let's talk about the plot—if you can call it that. Picture this: a ragtag group of redneck mercenaries teams up with a bunch of tech-savvy students after America is hit by an EMP attack. In the midst of the chaos, they stumble upon the source of their troubles, a mad scientist named Dr. Borge, who has inexplicably managed to create a living T-Rex. But this isn’t your average dinosaur; oh no! This one has a nasty habit of turning anyone it bites into a zombie. So, our ragged heroes must scramble to survive and avert the apocalypse at the hands of this ultimate undead predator.

Now, if you came in expecting a colossal, bad-CGI battle between a zombie T-Rex and an army of mercenaries rampaging through a city, prepare for disappointment! The grandeur promised on the Wild Eye Blu-ray/DVD poster is a cruel joke—aside from the T-Rex, which, mind you, is more comparable in size to a raptor than a towering behemoth. I can begrudgingly give the filmmakers a smidgen of credit for attempting to use practical effects for the T-Rex, but I absolutely cannot forgive them for the convoluted, cluttered plot. The blame lies entirely with them. Look, I understand the ambition behind attempting to create a B-level monster flick, but there's a stark difference between making a B-movie with an ironic twist and producing a jumble of incoherent nonsense. Sadly, these filmmakers lack the necessary talent to straddle that line.

The latest entry in the Star Trek literary universe, Strange New Worlds: Ring of Fire, crafted by the ever-talented David Mack, has hit the shelves, ready to thrill the segment of Trekkies who still indulge in sci-fi literature. In a landscape that once flourished with a vibrant literary tradition, the audience has dwindled, yet the fandom endures—smaller, perhaps, but still fiercely loyal.

David Alan Mack is no newcomer to the Star Trek cosmos. With three decades of storytelling for the franchise under his belt, he has penned everything from episodes of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine to contributions to the animated series Star Trek: Prodigy. Mack has crafted novels that delve into the mythos, including the Destiny and Cold Equations trilogies. When it comes to storytelling in this universe, Ring of Fire is undoubtedly in capable hands.

As I let these thoughts swirl in my mind, I can’t help but express my disdain for the current trend in Star Trek cover art. They often come off as hastily photoshopped portraits of actors crudely pasted onto a starry canvas. It’s a far cry from the adventurous spirit of “boldly go”—more like “why even bother?” Why not showcase the majestic U.S.S. Enterprise itself, or better yet, engage a gifted artist to craft an original illustration that encapsulates the story's essence? We’re in the realm of sci-fi here, a world that thrives on creativity. But I digress—let’s delve into Strange New Worlds: Ring of Fire ^[*], a novel from the Gallery that David Mack has thoughtfully woven.

Just looking at the box office numbers, it's clear that M3GAN 2.0 was a complete flop—raking in a paltry $39 million worldwide against a reported budget of $15 to $25 million. In comparison, the first film nearly reached the $182 million mark globally. However, despite whatever its earnings are from digital and physical media, it flopped hard. I still had a curious itch to see it, but not enough to shell out serious cash at theaters. Seriously, theater owners must rethink those outrageous ticket prices if they want moviegoers to return.

As for my journey with M3GAN ^[*] (2022), I came to it late—much like the awkward kid who shows up to the party after everyone has already left. I initially dismissed it; the trailers made it look downright silly. No matter how many people raved about it, I resisted. Then I was struck down by a nasty flu bug, found myself curled up in a recliner, wrapped in a blanket, with nothing to distract me. That’s when I stumbled upon the film streaming on Peacock. With nothing else to do, I clicked play. And what do you know? I actually loved it! No sugarcoating here—it's dumb and campy, and it features the emotionless charged performance of Allison Williams, and somehow, despite all that dreck, it entertained me in a wonderfully absurd way. So, despite the cacophony of negative buzz around the sequel, I still felt drawn to give it a chance, hoping for that same brand of mindless fun.

Now, onto M3GAN 2.0. Imagine this: an autonomous android, engineered to be the ultimate weapon, threatens M3GAN's beloved Cady. M3GAN persuades her creator, Gemma, to give her a shiny upgrade, transforming our beloved A.I. diva into an even deadlier force. Decked out with wild enhancements and her iconic attitude, M3GAN faces off against a wannabe techno-terror in a showdown that could have crowned the ultimate queen of mayhem.

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the SPACE HOLES: FIRST TRANSMISSION by B. R. Louis Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

The Star Trek "litverse" concluded last week with the publication of Star Trek: Coda: Oblivion's Gate by David Mack.

The Ashes of Tomorrow, book two Star Trek: Coda trilogy, beamed down to bookstores on October 26th from Gallery Books. I got my hands on a copy before the publication and read the book within a few days. I intended to post a review at the end of last month, but life things happened, and I'm just now finding the time to share my thoughts with everyone.

It seems there's a rule that if a genre television or movie series has a big fanbase, then tie-in novels will soon follow. Once the series has run its course, all media tie-ins come to an end. There are a few exceptions, such as Star Trek and Star Wars. The Star Trek franchise has been kicking out novelizations since 1967, and the first original novel, Mission to Horatius, came out one year later. To date, there have been over 850 Star Trek books published.