With the sixteen stories contained in these pages, one of the strongest impressions is Jones’ control of voice, the ease at which he effortlessly slips into character, some personalities more relatable than others, with each entry. With Carved in Salt, the collection’s opening story, we are launched directly into emotional turmoil, sustained by prolonged grief. It was actually this story that was released back in 2024 and that contributed to the inception of Rapture Publishing, that put Jones on my personal radar. As you can tell, here he as remained. Yet, as it pertains to this collection, perhaps the best place to start is with the second story in the collection, Wait in the Car, in which we are given Jones’ slant on a very popular horror staple. Experiencing an author’s version of a well-explored, well-loved pillar of the genre in their specific voice is always an enthralling time, especially when their stories are told as tightly and tensely as this. Thus kicks off our first fifty pages.

Moving through the collection, By the Wreck of Peter Iredale is the kind of story that feels so intrinsically linked with the need to understand how our world works beyond the simple mechanics of good and bad. Jones works through what it means to exist in a shade of gray as two friends make an interesting discovery amongst a ship’s wreckage. Some of that coming-of-age magic that we have come to know and love through the horror genre can be found here, heightening every sensation on the page. And speaking of horror magic, Habit of Creature fully displays how format and structure within the genre can revitalize and deliver on our favorite horrific themes, monsters and all.

Alas, concluding this review without mentioning the two stories that set my world ablaze would be a sin; let’s dig into The House of the Horse and No Fare. When thinking about these two stories sitting side by side, it’s hard to not think of them each as an example of what the macabre can offer, both the deeply disturbing and the thoroughly comforting. The House of the Horse is punchy, original horror at its finest with the best uncanny atmosphere à la David Lynch that any horror fan could ask for. It’s lean, it’s mean, it’s bizarre, and it’s so sharp, it’ll draw blood. What more could you want? Glad you asked.

Deserving a paragraph of its own, No Fare stirs the soul and asks the bigger questions about what comes at the end of this life. Jones hones in on one bus driver’s mundanities while also reflecting upon a lifetime that has led to this driver’s current position as she drives citizens around the city, observing where each individual exits. This story inherently feels like one of the best unaired episodes of The Twilight Zone, an inspiration that Jones mentions in his author notes that feels so, so apt. Laced with distinct poignancy, No Fare is the perfect example of where speculative fiction can provide comfort in face of the uncertain. It’s sure, it’s sound, and it’s damn good.

Throwing kindling on the embers of the eerie, uncanny, and often horrific, Tyler Jones has proven absolute command over the horror short story with Arson By Design. Each entry of this collection offers a varied perspective of our own inexplicable itch to burn and what just may be found in the ashes of our own demise. Sometimes it’s horror, sometimes it’s grief, and sometimes, it may just be twisted beauty. Told in such a distinctly profound manner, such fiction ignites the genre, illuminating all that is to offer. And Tyler Jones has struck his match.

Arson By Design by Tyler Jones releases from Rapture Publishing on August 25, 2026.

NOTE: I received an advance copy of Arson By Design from the publisher. Opinions are my own.

The post Arson By Design: Fanning the Flames of Stunning Short Fiction appeared first on Capes and Tights.

A wedding-horror story, a time-loop novel, and dare I say, a punchy study in philosophy and self-regard, Rachel Harrison’s Kiss Slay Replay contains multitudes, wrapped very neatly in a something-blue bow. Willa has ended her engagement to her long-term fiance, Ravi, a choice that felt right in the moment, but has frequently reverberated with “what ifs.” While Willa tries to begin her new life while struggling with massive doubts, anxiety, and let’s label it, depression, time marches on meaning that her attendance at her college friends’ wedding arrives with loads of dread rather than hope. The company of her friends certainly makes things (somewhat) palletable, but Willa cannot outrun herself. The emotions she experiences come in tidal waves after seeing Ravi again and contemplating her identity in this reality. But something strange happens, beyond the questioning Willa experiences. A strange figure lurks in the woods. A day that should have ended in only dead flowers results in dead people. But Willa wakes up. It’s wedding day, again. What a weird, horrifying dream. Or was it? The day begins, again. And again. And again. Is there a way out, or is this Willa’s fate, looped forever?

Multiple layers of brilliance cohabitate within Kiss Slay Replay from nuanced explorations of adored time-related conflicts, thematic examinations of weddings, and chiefly, character studies that contemplate what the hell we’re doing here on this big rock floating through space. Zoomed out, we see a wedding day that seemingly exists in a vacuum; but, so aptly, Harrison flips such an idea on its head to become a day that never truly ends with unfathomable ramifications. This is what makes time loops fascinating lenses to study why we must endure, what lesson we’re supposed to learn, or what wrong we are supposed to right. A loop strategically placed on a wedding day loaded with so many implications, societal expectations, and raw feelings harvests a landscape rife for introspection through Willa, a woman whose timeline is less than certain. And what has this world taught us about uncertainty? To fear it.

What Kiss Slay Replay does best is that it throws all the fear in the world at us (in so many creative ways), hurtling through time and space to bring us to the instances that we often question: words said in a different tone, an event that should have taken place a day later, picking a different person, or thoughts that should have remained unspoken. Rachel Harrison brings an enigmatic concept that has long preferred to thrive in the dark, doubt, and hoists it onto a platform. Doubt, especially in the context of weddings, anxiety, and depression, is something that is condemned; why do anything if you aren’t sure?

And where does this fear and doubt land us: paralysis. Is that really the answer? Hell no, as Harrison screams through her deeply moving prose.

Willa’s journey through this repeated day, the cycles she endures, are met with death (again, so creatively) time after time. Yet, she is able to change, to examine, to wrestle, to give up, to try again, and to fight for a return to the timeline she belongs. Harrison proves that doubt doesn’t go away with a simple attitude change, a checked “no” instead of “yes.” Doubt is a constant despite how little or how often we repeat ourselves; it is a companion we can learn to shake hands with, to maybe figure out how to make peace with, to live with. And what is living? Trying. Doing. Loving (ourselves, most importantly), in spite of it all.

The only way out may be through, and the through is hard. It’s messy, it’s complicated. It will kick your teeth in, never apologize. But the out always exists, ready for us to find it. We will screw up. We will say the wrong things, spend time with the wrong people, and place goals on undeserving pedestals. Time, despite our unwieldy protestations, marches on anyway. And in an act of defiance to time’s inevitability, maybe we should kiss the wrong person, take a wrong turn, or be vulnerable anyway. Maybe we should make mistakes more than once, try new things, change ourselves, lose ourselves, and find ourselves all over again. Maybe we should live.

Written with her signature wit, charm, and brilliant horrific nuance, Rachel Harrison’s Kiss Slay Replay transcends any genre of fiction to remind us all that life is bigger than the singularities we are conditioned to mentally frequent. As we hold Willa’s hand through every different, hellish iteration of a day expected to sing a singular note of very specific joy, reminders of a life worth living are brought to the forefront, messiness and all. Willa’s story, entwined with death and hurt and joy, is one that instills hope amidst a backdrop of increased stakes, intense suspense, and lightning-fast pacing. This hope is not the kind of hope that calls for a miraculous “happy” outcome, but the kind that gives us the resolve to dig down, to find the grit, and to see another tomorrow. Resilience in written form, Kiss Slay Replay is a gift, and Rachel Harrison’s unique, essential voice has never been more timely.

Kiss Slay Replay by Rachel Harrison releases on September 8, 2026 from Berkley Publishing. The audiobook is available for preorder via Libro.fm!

NOTE: I received an advance copy of Kiss Slay Replay from the publisher. Opinions are my own.

The post Love, Death, and the Loop: Kiss Slay Replay by Rachel Harrison appeared first on Capes and Tights.

Following a violent confrontation with her mother, Judith Rice finds herself breaking free of the only life she’s known. Where she’s going and what she’ll do is anyone’s guess, but she does know one thing is for certain: she must leave. In the wilderness of Georgia, Jude finds a home in disrepair, a house with untraditional occupants, personality, and seemingly a life of its own. Despite the uncanniness of the forest and the home itself, Jude finds herself in communion with nature, not only making peace with her dwelling, but herself in light of all she’s endured. It’s a life marked by less than traditional means and solitude – that is until a woman arrives on Jude’s doorstep in need of refuge. This arrival marks a departure for Jude, a flickering reminder of her need for connection leaving her adrift in the life she thought she had once conquered. As this visitor and Jude grow further acquainted, deeper truths are revealed, and Jude must contend with the life she’s been given, the life she’s destroyed, and the life she must rebuild.

A book as lush as On Sundays feels difficult to talk about without gushing; the sheer artistry and care placed by Scholfield in Jude’s story emanates from every page. One of the greatest achievements of a novel like this is the very assured style in which this story unfolds, the unwinding of twisted roots and festering family trauma. Schofield paints illustrious landscapes with her prose pertaining to concrete settings, complex characters, and elusive emotional states alike. This is a novel that teems with brilliance on numerous levels, giving tactile dimension to the uncanny, the fleeting, and the unimaginable.

Make no mistake, as gorgeous of a novel as On Sundays is, horror, isolation, desperation, trauma, violence, and, above all, hurt, grow legs and frolic in the vibrant landscape of Scholfield’s making. This is a Southern Gothic through and through, not just for its physical placement, but for the sociological attitudes and norms that are so deeply explored. Resentment, generational hate, and undeserved veneration are main characters as real as Jude, fostering deep, harrowing conversations surrounding identity on the other side of such harm. The imagery and personification instated with the wilderness that Jude learns to call home feels so indicative of the unruly nature of our own pasts and hauntings, the places we find ourselves in constant (sometimes heated) conversation regarding who we are and who we want to be.

And most impressive of all, Scholfield seems to be sharing a seat next to Shirley Jackson, chatting about places with just as much life as humans, their ability to remember pain, and act out in their own hurt. I write this with the utmost sincerity: On Sundays reads as a direct conversation with The Haunting of Hill House in every sense, from the smallest of details to the grandest of themes. Crafting a story with such signature flair while tapping into the iconic, Scholfield takes this horror classic into such socially relevant territory, delivering arresting commentary on topics of social rights, sexism, sexuality, and more.

Brilliant in every right, On Sundays She Picked Flowers by Yah Yah Scholfield is, simply put, remarkable in every sense. Drawing upon Gothic themes that resonate so deeply in the here and now, Scholfield so gorgeously explores the topics that hurt the most with utter beauty and poise. Never has horror hurt and hypnotized in such a fashion. Gripping, unique, and damn impressive, On Sundays She Picked Flowers is certainly a literary horror classic.

On Sundays She Picked Flowers hits bookstores everywhere on January 27, 2026 from Saga Press. The audiobook is available for preorder via Libro.fm!

NOTE: I received an advance copy of On Sundays She Picked Flowers from the publisher. Opinions are my own.

The post On Sundays She Picked Flowers: A Profound Modern Southern Gothic Classic appeared first on Capes and Tights.

To be frank, no one is writing abhorrent men like Monika Kim. As with The Eyes Are The Best Part, feelings of intense rage are hard to ignore while traversing the pages of Kim’s books, visceral and consuming. This is mostly thanks to the stellar character work instituted that has readers sitting front and center to injustice, violence, and violation at the hands of men with little to no regard for their female companions. While Molka may be fiction, the issues are far from so, a truth that is resoundingly apparent in a world infatuated with technology and dismissive of regulations. What is more horrifying than an ever-growing beast with no governance, no care, no concern?

Beyond the implications of characters who are truly upsetting, the societal impact of the horrors displayed in Molka are downright harrowing. Dahye finds herself in a situation that feels like the definition of the saying, “Out of the frying pan and into the fire.” The repeated injection of malbehavior within Kim’s characters speaks to a wider commentary on social attitudes towards issues of voyeurism and violation. In other words, readers are shown the prevalence of an inhumane culture surrounding our humanity, not a mere character flaw on an individual basis. More horrifying still.

While these barbaric practices, actions, and personalities truly make the horror in Molka shine, Monika Kim also writes with a very tactile poignancy surrounding grief, loss, regret, and resolution for justice. Through Dahye’s character, we are not acquainted with just a victim of cruelty, rather an agent for change within her family, a vow to correct the assumptions she once made, and a violent journey to keep others from suffering her same fate. It’s an emotionally wrought journey that Dahye embarks upon, one laced with harsh truths.

Monika Kim performs a post-mortem on the vile attitudes of entitlement that have become commonplace in today’s world with Molka. With every slice away at the issue at large, Kim exhumes horror after horror regarding the hellscape of ungoverned technology, the growing attitudes of cruelty towards women, and the ease at which such perpetrators of violation move through the world. Yet, we are stapled back together through justice by whatever means necessary, the absolution that such acts of harm cannot go without repercussions. Violent, bold, and angry, Molka by Monika Kim lays bare the injustices of this world with the promise of a settled score.

Molka by Monika Kim releases on April 28, 2026 from Erewhon Books. The audiobook is available for preorder via Libro.fm!

NOTE: I received an advance copy of Molka from the publisher. Opinions are my own.

The post Molka: The Promise of Violent Justice in an Unrelenting, Ungoverned World appeared first on Capes and Tights.

Special Agent Daniel Stansfield has experienced more hurt than most. A deeply traumatic childhood, time spent at war overseas, and an unsolved case are just a few of the things haunting this man, someone who is looking for a break. But, that unsolved case rears its ugly head when killings start again, and Stansfield is called back to Denver to confront all that remains. This is an extremely broad overview of the plot, but this is a novel best read with as little information as possible and a wide open mind.

Headlights is a gripping story for a lot of reasons: bizarre serial crimes, unique characters, and chilling horror to drive this narrative into what may (or may not!) be supernatural/paranormal territory. Perhaps what resonates so clearly beyond all of these technical achievements is the profound messaging behind this, the rawness in which Leede decides to tell Stansfield’s story. Punches are never pulled and the full spectrum of disorientation caused by deep hurt is on full display. Trauma is a ghost lurking around every corner, a reminder of the things we would rather leave in the dark, unattended and isolated.

Yet, Leede shows us, quite gruesomely, may I add, where that kind of isolation leaves us. It’s never an easy thing, looking in a mirror to confront the reasons we feel so raw, why one of the seeming pillars of our existence thrives on pain. Both externally and internally to her characters, Leede pens a reckoning of damn-near cosmic proportions, leading readers into the mouth of chaos with logical crime descending into the realm of the otherworldly. Physical shape is given to the haunting nature of the unresolved, a hulking, terrifying concept. This stylistic choice in the dogged search for truth, for answers, is nothing short of brilliant. But this is not where Leede leaves us.

In one of the most comforting examinations of death and the possibility of what follows, CJ Leede poses an answer of comfort to the greatest mystery of all: what happens next. Death may feel like an endless night, but headlights of hope can still be found in the familiar. It’s hard to not get emotional reflecting back on this type of writing, the type of art that renders so much comfort in a time where such a notion is a rarity. But Leede provides, and the world is such a better place for it.

Woven with a brilliant blend of darkness and shining light, Headlights by CJ Leede exemplifies the best of what the horror genre can accomplish through a superb fusion of crime and otherworldly terror. This is a deeply moving novel, one that manages to stir the soul through profound reckonings of every nature. Haunting, arresting, and most importantly, inspiring, may we all welcome the headlights we find in the long night.

Headlights by CJ Leede hits bookstores everywhere on June 9, 2026 from Tor Nightfire. The audiobook, narrated by Andrew Eiden, is available for preorder via Libro.fm!

Disclaimer: I was given a free advanced copy of Headlights and retained by the author as an authenticity reader during the developmental stage. All opinions are my own.

The post Headlights: Glowing Comfort in the Long Night appeared first on Capes and Tights.

Eric LaRocca pens Wretch with an incredible amount of poetic precision, unraveling the story of Simeon Link with an atmosphere of subjective realism through unique perspective. From the very first page, readers are made to feel drawn in to Simeon’s struggle for closure amidst a sea of grief, an experience that is wholly universal to the human condition. Yet, as the chapters progress, the realities behind Simeon’s state become known at the perfect times, layers unfolding to create deep dread and undoubted unsettledness. With such unease spreading like wildfire, it’s hard to fathom a conclusion that ends in neatness.

However, LaRocca delivers one of the most complete, horribly harmonious endings made possible through a cacophony of stark revelations, cycles with no end, and concentrated horror. Any sense of footing within this plot is absolutely obliterated thanks to the way this novel unfolds, an artful decay of notions previously believed to be fact. Wretch is the kind of novel that asks looming questions regarding hunger, desire, entitlement, and contaminated perception. LaRocca provides answers in earnest, taking the form of all we wish to push away.

Penned with prose that aches with hurt and desire, Eric LaRocca explores the demented repetition of despair perpetuated by grief with Wretch. Such a story elicits deep contemplation surrounding the endless nature of sadness, the contamination it seems to so easily breed under the best (worst) conditions. Possession no longer only belongs to demons or the dead in these pages; no, the living are more than capable of this kind of ruthless hold with little regard for care. Gruesome, gutting, and grotesque, Wretch is a harrowing union of possession and grief, forming a monstrously gorgeous modern horror story.

Wretch: or, The Unbecoming of Porcelain Khaw hits bookstores everywhere on March 24, 2026 from Saga Press. The audiobook is available for preorder via Libro.fm!

NOTE: I received an advance copy of Wretch from the publisher. Opinions are my own.

The post Wretch: A Broken Mirror with the Sharpest Shards appeared first on Capes and Tights.

Online dating is rough, a fact we know all too well in the year 2025. But what if, instead of sorting through the social muck of the living, we turn to the dead for company? A corpse that doesn’t talk back, doesn’t have strong opinions, or doesn’t ghost. That’s entrepreneur Auden White’s vision, a service called Liv where the living match with the dead. It sounds absolutely audacious, especially to Tom Williamson, a venture capitalist who is (unfortunately) tied to this app/service through his employer’s investments. As the money begins to flow, Tom realizes things are even more dire than previously thought. Perhaps the only silver lining is meeting Mara Reed, a woman in Auden’s circle who may just see things the way Tom does. What starts out as a weird social practice snowballs into a monstrous shift in public attitudes, habits, and rhetoric, affecting Tom, Auden, and Mara in unthinkable ways.

I’ll be the first in line to admit the premise of this novel seems rather open and shut, a plot without much room to run. Matching with corpses? Creating space for necrophilia? Hard no. No way that could work. But, I’ll also be the first to loudly admit my wrongness in this presumption as Pierce expertly crafts a social situation of horrifically believable proportions. What makes this seemingly outlandish set-up even more plausible is the darkly comedic moments of stark realization, the political interests that reveal themselves in true dramatic fashion, and the interpersonal drama bubbling beneath all of this. Mara, Tom, and Auden are written with an easy relatability, a familiarity that makes reader investment paramount. All of this is just bloody brilliant.

Even more stunning is Pierce’s unspoken dialogue with all advancements, social, technological, or other, that have emerged in recent years without guardrails. While For Human Use may use the shock factor of dead bodies to usher a response of disgust, the same arguments being made in this text can be applied to the out-of-control growth of AI, the unchecked landscape of the internet, autonomy, and so much more. For Human Use is a smart book, one that combines comedy and shock to oh-so-frighteningly point out that we aren’t so removed from this fictional reality as we think.

Audacious, darkly satirical, and absolutely gripping, For Human Use feels like the most entertaining social study of our current culture, a sandbox where gruesome castles are built under Sarah G. Pierce’s masterful hand. This is a debut novel that feels timely, deeply original, and oh so, captivating through a culmination of real-world anxieties, romantic dramas, and macabre social alternatives. Utterly enthralling and a true achievement, For Human Use is the exact kind of horror we should be reading in 2026, a shining beacon in daring, modern fiction.

For Human Use by Sarah G. Pierce hits bookstores everywhere on February 10, 2026 from Run For It. The audiobook is available for preorder via Libro.fm!

NOTE: I received an advance copy of For Human Use from the publisher. Opinions are my own.

The post For Human Use: A Darkly Satirical View into Living with the Dead appeared first on Capes and Tights.

If there was a version of Fox Mulder who searched for the truth in bars, then it’s safe to say that version would be named Kyle Kouri. And what truth does he seek? While UFOs are cool, Kouri ponders other questions that you and I have probably pondered before as well. Why is addiction a thing? How come grief feels like this? Does anyone every really understand us the way we think we should? Will I ever make it?

A man who is driven by his craft in a few artistic fields, Kouri pens this book with equal parts stern reality and vivacious romanticism. The Problem Drinker is a book that unpacks what it means to be human, to be an artist, in all its impulsive, raw, beautiful, and sometimes ugly ways. And like a true artist, both emotional events and small mundanities are held equal in Kouri’s eyes, instances that are rife with possible meaning and impactful ramifications. This plight for understanding, for truth, in all things proves that answers are sometimes found in glass bottles, sometimes on days of sobriety. Never has such pondering felt so relatable.

The smallest moments are those that shine in this debut memoir, the contemplations of first sips of a drink, recalling bittersweet memories, and the rawness in which these are recounted. This is a book that explores a tenuous relationship with art, the desire to create with meaning, and the fickle need to be accepted, to attain, to accomplish. Kouri is honest about the uncertainties we face in this life, the toll of loss, and the accumulation of grief. This is not a book sprinkled with sugar, rather a cocktail poured with a heavy, bitter hand.

Doused in relatable honesty, Kyle Kouri’s The Problem Drinker offers no solutions; no, it offers something better. It is a weathered face at the local dive bar, a gruff bartender pouring your favorite cocktail in the way only they can. It is a drinking buddy, the best kind of company that may encourage you to pick up an ink pen and jot that idea that’s been rattling around in your brain on a cheap paper napkin. It is a strong shot of liquor, a shock to the system that is equally grounding and otherworldly all at once. And it nearly guarantees a hangover, a wish for more writing like this.

The Problem Drinker by Kyle Kouri releases on June 2, 2026 from CLASH Books.

NOTE: I received an advance copy of The Problem Drinker from the publisher. Opinions are my own.

The post The Problem Drinker: Contemplations in Glass Bottles appeared first on Capes and Tights.

Chris Panatier poses these questions through a nuanced, creative, and bold lens with his dark fantasy novel, Daytide. Described as a “black metal Wizard of Oz,” I can confirm we are not in Kansas anymore under Panatier’s deft, wildly creative influence. The world as we know it is plagued by an affliction known as “The Longing,” a darkness that closes in on an individual with no reprieve from a pill or therapy in sight. But what exists on the other side of The Longing? And when a priest claims to know “the cure” to this demented malady, what does such an antidote look like? Starting in reality then catapulting into a stratosphere of angelic landscapes, Chris Panatier holds a candle to the deeper questions of the human condition, what waits for us on the other side of this life, and begs us to interrogate the narratives we have come to believe.

So much of what makes Daytide a roaring accomplishment is its balance. Panatier knows exactly how to deliver information that builds this incredible world that is connected to a reality that is familiar without ever once taking a tone of lecturing. Instead, the masterful character work at play within these pages does all of the heavy lifting for us in every instance, for both humans and other beings alike. The landscape of Daytide is lush with novel creations, thought-provoking social systems, and entertaining edges to fortify a robust heartbeat at the core of this story. This kind of worldbuilding is the lifeforce behind the compelling nature of this novel, the propulsive “why” that kicks the pace of this novel into high gear.

And as I mentioned previously, the characters of Daytide are what makes this fantastical tome absolutely soar. Adam, Hadriel, Ysgael, Kaya, Ezbiel, the list could keep going. Panatier saddles each character with their own struggles regarding faith, what it means to truly live, and how to find “home.” While this sounds heavy (and it is), the balancing act of believable moral struggle and realistic traits of quirks and personality is sublime. There is whimsy mixed with the macabre, violence matched with humor, shock with gentle understanding. Such a balance is a fine line, one that Panatier traverses with elegance and poise, resulting in a wildly entertaining, emotionally dedicated, and dearly devoted narrative that lingers long past the turn of the final page.

Daytide by Chris Panatier is a lot of things: it is a masterclass in utilizing the fantastical to paint a vivid portrait of our own human dilemmas, it is a captivating, action-packed venture into worlds beyond our own, and most of all, it is a fractured mirror that reflects the morality of power, acceptance of narratives, and the strength to fight. With such unique traits to both its world and its characters, Daytide feels like it exists in a category of its own, one that combines so much of what builds incredible stories that stand the test of time. Under Panatier’s intensely creative and capable hands, Daytide is a novel with wings, one that ascends to the highest tier of masterful fiction.

Daytide releases on February 26, 2026 from Rapture Publishing.

NOTE: I received an advance copy of Daytide from the publisher. Opinions are my own.

The post Daytide: A Novel with Beating Wings of Captivating Creativity appeared first on Capes and Tights.

This title alone suggests a bleakness reigning supreme, a ruthless patriarch dictating the vast majority of lives from a regal throne adorned with tears and anguish. And, thanks to this, before a dragon is ever mentioned on the page, we know exactly who we are dealing with in the oversized, fire-breathing iguana, King Sorrow. But let’s set the stage a bit more before we plunge into the long dark. Six college-aged friends inadvertently shackle themselves to a dragon, King Sorrow, who demands death once a year, at this group’s choosing. Should they default to no choice, one of the six must be sacrificed themselves. This deal is made under the assumption that the terms and conditions of this contract with King Sorrow will last for only a year, but to everyone’s horror, this is a lifelong engagement blessed in blood. Spanning decades, King Sorrow is a novel that devotes itself to understanding humanity in the face of evil, the impossible choices we humans face every single day, and what it means to save and be saved despite the monstrous capacity we possess. Into the long dark we go.

When we talk about saviors, those who actively save day in and day out, we often think of grandiose images of men with beards and saintly halos, those who turn the other cheek when met with conflict, or elderly women in habits passing out loaves of bread to starving children. It’s a lofty image promoted through religions, faith systems, and, what feels like, staunch believers of black and white morality. Yet, in the year 2025, the act of saving looks inherently different as evidenced by his nearly thousand-page tome.

You see, as Hill so gorgeously, heart-wretchedly, and expertly proves, the act of saving never once looks the same, never takes the shade of jet black or pearly white. No, Hill’s saviors swear, they fuck up, they repent, they hurt, they yearn, they kill, they bleed, and they hate. But most importantly, the characters in King Sorrow love fiercely, are loved intently, and are willing to be loved. They grow and change and fluctuate and the words used to build these people are some of the most compelling pieces of fiction come to life. More than anything, Arthur, Colin, Van, Donna, Gwen, and Allie prove hope.

This next paragraph could be dedicated to the technical astonishments of this novel: the exquisite pacing that is sustained for an enthralling 900ish pages (yes, that number is correct, and I do mean enthralling), the ease of access to a fantasy system rooted in reality, and the thriving creativity around this sandbox Hill plays in. But I think this space is better suited for the emotional intelligence behind the fiction of King Sorrow. You see, Hill gives us a hypothesis with this novel, asserting that we are all worthy of love and saving even out our ugliest, most foul, demented versions. Not only does he postulate this notion, he proves it time and time again with his character arcs, particularly in the character of Donna McBride, a woman whose basis of existence is fueled by anger but only through the ferocity of her capacity to love. And may I just give Joe his flowers now for his portrayal of real female characters, a facet of this book that affected me more than I can say.

As we see through King Sorrow’s violence, triggered by these six friends (and other things that are too spoiler-y to mention), the world is full of terrible things, terrible people, and the truest propensity for evil. Hill never shies away from just how hard living is when it feels like the odds are forever stacked against you, the dark cloud of doom forever pouring on our heads. It’s a feeling we know all too well, truth be told. Yet, this fact is a coin with another side, a blazingly brilliant possibility for joy, love, and redemption. Most importantly, for both the good and the bad, Hill proves that nothing is binary. We humans live in gradients of gray, grow in blinding light, and wane in endless darkness. Living is a spectrum. We can hurt, we can kill, we can abuse, but we can also forgive, we can heal not just ourselves, we can love.

The world may be filled with dragons, trolls, and other variants of entities out to thrive on harm and destruction. But, the world is also full of us, people with the greatest potential to change, to save, to shine. Slaying dragons feels like big business, noble business, but the truth of the matter is that dragons come in all sizes, all of which we are capable of confronting and often times defeating. We can stand. Joe Hill’s King Sorrow is the book we all need right now, the reminder that nothing is ever too late, that we are capable of so much even in the face of the seemingly unbeatable. This is a love letter to hope, a shining beacon in the long dark.

King Sorrow is available at bookstores everywhere from William Morrow. The audiobook is available via Libro.fm!

NOTE: I received an advance copy of King Sorrow from the publisher. Opinions are my own.

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