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!