Category Archives: Five Stars
Armando and Maisie
Armando and Maisie is a tender collection of poems that tells the story of a man who lives mostly in the woods of Central Park and the dog who adores him. The book moves through small encounters between the narrator, his dog Maisie, and Armando. Each poem gives another glimpse of Armando’s gentle philosophy, his odd wit, his hardships, and his unwavering affection for animals. The story grows quietly and steadily. It becomes a portrait of friendship, aging, loss, and the strange joy of showing up for another creature again and again.
As I read the book, I kept stopping to feel the weight of its simple lines. The poet uses plain talk, almost casual, yet the emotion sneaks up on you. I felt pulled in by the mix of sweetness and ache. The writing is warm and steady. It never tries to impress. It just speaks. I liked that. I liked how the poems let small moments breathe. A dog leaning her weight on a man. A red cap in the rain. A squirrel sitting like a regular at a bar. These little things hit harder than I expected. They felt honest and felt close to life.
Armando’s thoughts on time, change, or space might sound whimsical at first, but they left me thinking long after. I could feel the poet wrestling with affection for a man who is both joyful and worn down. I could feel his fear as Maisie ages. I could feel that sinking sense when someone doesn’t show up to their usual bench. The poems made me laugh at one moment and swallow hard the next. That swing in feeling gave the book a raw, authentic quality.
By the end, I cared about these two figures in the woods. I cared about the man who feeds the birds and the dog who looks for him, whether he’s there or not. I’d recommend this book to readers who like quiet stories with a lot of heart. Dog lovers will melt. City walkers will recognize the strange intimacy of passing friendships. Anyone who has lost someone, waited for someone, or loved someone in a simple daily way will find something here that settles in and stays awhile.
Pages: 67 | ASIN : B0FPDP4PKL
On the Brink—Chaos and Mayhem at the Office
On the Brink is a coming-of-age business novel that follows Dave Powers from a sharp, restless childhood into the pressure cooker of adult ambition. The book traces how early trauma, raw intelligence, and a hunger to succeed push Dave toward entrepreneurship, first in scrappy childhood schemes and later into the unforgiving world of advertising and office politics. It is a story about momentum. How one choice leads to another. How talent can open doors, but character decides what happens once you step through them.
What struck me first was how readable this novel is. Sisti’s writing moves fast and clean, especially in the early chapters. Scenes from Dave’s youth feel grounded and vivid without trying too hard to impress. The fireworks episode, in particular, does a lot of heavy lifting. It is funny, tense, and quietly revealing. You see Dave’s instincts for business forming alongside his blind spots. Sisti has a knack for showing lessons instead of announcing them. When authority figures step in, especially Dave’s father, the moments feel earned rather than preachy. That balance is not easy to pull off.
As the book shifts into adulthood, the tone darkens in a natural way. The office becomes its own kind of wilderness. Less predictable than the woods and far more punishing. I appreciated how author Michael Sisti portrays work culture as something that can shape you or slowly grind you down, depending on how aware you are. There is humor here, but it is the kind that comes from recognition rather than jokes. If you have ever watched a smart person underestimate the emotional cost of ambition, this will feel familiar.
On the Brink feels like a blend of business fiction and a classic coming-of-age story, with a strong autobiographical pulse running underneath. I closed the book feeling like I had spent time with someone who wanted to tell the truth about success, not just celebrate it. I would recommend this novel to readers who enjoy character-driven stories about work, ambition, and personal growth. I think it is especially well-suited for aspiring entrepreneurs, young professionals, or anyone curious about how early life shapes the way we move through the adult world.
Pages: 307 | ASIN : B0DM2V1WBD
Going to Live with Auntie
Andria Williams’ Going to Live with Auntie centers on a young girl facing a profound transition. She leaves the familiar comfort of her home to live with her aunt. The story traces her early days in this new space, shaped by unfamiliar routines and surroundings. Emotions surface quickly. Sadness. Uncertainty. A quiet longing for her parents. Over time, small moments of comfort begin to emerge. The new home slowly feels less distant, offering reassurance as she learns how to live with separation.
One of the book’s greatest strengths lies in its gentle treatment of a delicate subject. Difficult feelings are never dismissed. Sadness, confusion, and yearning are presented honestly and with care. The emotional tone feels sincere and accessible, making the story easy for children to recognize themselves within it. Williams reinforces an important message throughout. Big changes bring big emotions. Those emotions are valid. Sharing them matters.
A particularly thoughtful element appears at the end of the book. A series of conversation prompts invites children and caregivers to reflect together. These questions open space for dialogue. They encourage emotional expression and mutual understanding. What could feel overwhelming becomes manageable. The story extends beyond the page, offering adults practical support as children navigate unfamiliar experiences.
Ponyo Nguyen’s illustrations complement the narrative beautifully. Soft color palettes create a calm atmosphere. Expressive characters communicate feeling without excess. Each image adds emotional clarity, helping young readers grasp the girl’s internal journey. Subtle details reward close observation and deepen engagement. The visuals gently mirror her growing sense of acceptance and safety.
Going to Live with Auntie is a comforting and purposeful book. It suits classrooms, homes, and caregiving spaces alike. For children facing relocation or any meaningful life change, this story provides reassurance. Change can be difficult. It can also bring care, connection, and hope.
Pages: 29 | ASIN : B0DYBNSVMP
The Great Dick: And the Dysfunctional Demon
Barry Maher’s The Great Dick and the Dysfunctional Demon starts with a Harvard professor in the late sixties riffing on Moby-Dick and The Great Gatsby and tossing off the idea of a modern version called “The Great Dick.” The story then jumps to 1982 and to Steve Witowski, a thirty-something screwup on the run from a botched drug deal who stumbles into a brutal assault near an old church on the California coast. He tries to help, kills the attacker in chaotic self-defense, and meets Victoria Fairchild, a luminous stranger with secrets of her own. From there, the book slides into a mix of road novel, noir, and supernatural thriller as Steve gets dragged deeper into a tangle of murder, occult relics, demons that may or may not be real, and his own talent for bad decisions.
Steve opens by flat-out calling himself an asshole, and the narration never lets him off the hook. His inner monologue is sharp, petty, funny, horny, scared, sometimes all in the same beat. The writing leans hard into sensory detail and low-level absurdity, like the reek of the Checker cab or the way cheap weed and an old song drift through the scene right before the attack. The fight on the embankment is brutal and weirdly intimate. Keys in his fist, Latin muttered at the worst possible moment, a truck roaring closer. I could feel the panic in my throat. When the book slows down afterward and lets Steve and Victoria talk, that same energy hums under the dialogue. The tone stays casual and foul-mouthed, yet there is a careful rhythm in the sentences. It feels tossed off in the way really worked-over prose often does. I found myself rereading lines just to enjoy how a joke landed or how an image curved at the end.
The book plays with failure and faith in a way that was thought-provoking. Steve keeps trying to patch his life with lies, quick exits, and a little dope, then suddenly he is neck deep in something that smells like capital E Evil. The dagger with the names of Jehovah, Ahura Mazda, Huitzilopochtli, and Asmodeus etched into the handle is such a great symbol for the book’s spiritual chaos. It pulls Jewish, Christian, Zoroastrian, and Aztec gods into the same creepy object and then hands it to a loser who just wanted to dodge a prison sentence. I liked how the story keeps asking what counts as sin, what counts as choice, and where simple cowardice shades into something darker. At the same time, it never reads like a lecture. It feels like a wild story that happens to drag big questions in behind it.
The book is full of sex, violence, and black humor, yet there are small, quiet moves that give it an unexpected emotional weight, little flashes of shame or tenderness or sheer exhausted relief. The setting, work around coastal California, and the abandoned church give the more supernatural turns a solid, grimy base to grow out of, which I really liked, and the whole thing runs on a kind of nervous, late-night momentum.
I would recommend The Great Dick and the Dysfunctional Demon to readers who enjoy flawed, talkative narrators, morally messy thrillers, and horror that leans into both jokes and genuine unease. If you like work in the vein of Carl Hiaasen or early Stephen King but wish it had more occult weirdness and a bit more sex, this will probably hit the spot. For anyone up for a fast, foul-mouthed, slightly unhinged ride that still has something on its mind, I think this book is absolutely worth the trip.
Pages: 464 | ASIN : B0FKWK2K7C
Book of Me
Book of Me felt like sitting across from Kevin in a diner while he talked me through his life, one wild episode at a time. This nonfiction autobiography-memoir traces his journey from a rough-and-tumble childhood over a butcher shop in Queens to the cookie-cutter dream of Levittown, through hippie days and garage bands, brushes with rock legends, marriages and divorce, a Christian conversion, big wins in real estate, brutal losses, bipolar disorder, cancer, and a late-life run at politics and entrepreneurship. The book is broken into short, titled episodes that move mostly in order, each one another story about how this ordinary guy kept stumbling into extraordinary situations, learning to laugh, get back up, and lean hard on his faith.
The writing keeps the feel of spoken storytelling, which makes sense since Kevin originally told these stories on camera. You can hear him in the run-on excitement of a good memory and the quick punch of a painful one. The style is loose and conversational, sometimes a little meandering, but it feels honest rather than messy, like listening to a friend who has a lot of life to cover and is trying not to leave out the good parts. As a memoir, it reads less like a polished literary project and more like a long, vivid conversation, helped along by the pencil sketches and the playful chapter titles that keep you turning pages to see what ridiculous thing happens next. At times, I wanted a bit more trimming or reflection between the anecdotes, but the energy and humor kept pulling me back in.
I also appreciated the choices he makes about what to show and how vulnerable he is willing to be. Kevin leans hard on self-deprecating humor, especially when he is talking about getting into trouble as a kid, crashing on the ice, or starting one more half-baked business, and that humor softens you up before he walks you into heavier territory. When he writes about his Christian conversion, his mental breakdown and bipolar diagnosis, or facing cancer, the tone shifts in a way that feels earned. He does not pretend to have it all together. Instead, he keeps circling back to this idea that life is about the journey, about falling, learning, and getting back up with God, family, and a few loyal friends at your side. In a genre that can sometimes feel like a highlight reel, it was refreshing to see him include so many moments where he did not look good, or did not win, or just barely survived.
By the end, I felt like I had been on a long road trip with someone who talks a lot, laughs loudly, prays openly, and is deeply aware that he has been both reckless and blessed. This is an autobiography for readers who enjoy true, larger-than-life stories more than careful literary craft, who like faith-driven narratives, and who do not mind a little chaos mixed in with their inspiration.
Pages: 494 | ASIN : B0FJWKDKZR
The Red In The Wrong Profession
When I first opened The Red in the Wrong Profession, I thought I was in for a fairly straightforward piece of Cold War spy fiction. What I got instead was a lively blend of small-town drama, suspicion, and the slow unspooling of secrets hiding in plain sight. The story follows widowed history teacher Spencer and his sharp, curious twelve-year-old daughter, Cecily, as they stumble into a possible espionage plot involving Spencer’s glamorous colleague, Zinnia Tepper. One hidden coded note in a used bookstore sets off a string of unsettling discoveries, drawing Spencer’s FBI-agent brother Preston into a mystery that settles uneasily over the quiet suburb of Halliwell, Virginia.
I liked how the author leans into the ordinary. The setting feels familiar. A bookstore. A cul-de-sac. After-school gossip. The tension grows not because of high-tech spy tricks but because these characters live close together and know each other a little too well. I found myself unexpectedly drawn in by the rhythms of their daily lives. Quinn writes in a way that lets you feel Spencer’s discomfort and Cecily’s excitement without making either of them larger than life. Even Zinnia, who seems over-the-top at first with her dramatic entrances and designer shopping bags, becomes more intriguing each time the facade slips. I liked the way the book let suspicion creep in through small, almost mundane moments.
I also appreciated the choices the author made in shaping the Cold War atmosphere. Instead of drowning the reader in jargon or long political explanations, the book lets the fear and confusion of the era filter through conversations and tiny observations. Characters talk about the Soviets the way people really talk: half-informed, emotional, and sometimes a little dramatic. The coded note Cecily finds becomes a symbol of how fragile normal life can feel when you start wondering who you can trust. I enjoyed that the story didn’t lean too hard into action or spectacle. It stayed grounded, almost domestic, which somehow made the spy elements feel more believable. At times, I wished for a deeper exploration of Zinnia’s inner world, but maybe her opacity is part of the point. Spies, suspected or real, rarely let you all the way in.
By the time I finished the book, I realized it works best for readers who enjoy character-driven suspense with a nostalgic touch. It’s spy fiction, but filtered through the lens of family, community, and the messy edges of intuition. If you’re someone who likes mysteries that build slowly, or stories where a simple moment at a bookstore can set off a chain reaction, you’ll enjoy this novel.
Pages: 200 | ASIN : B0GF76DCW3
Queen Code: The Book
Queen Code: The Book is part memoir, part mindset guide, all wrapped up in this playful idea of a “Queendom” where you are the ruler of your own life. Author Laura Muirhead uses archetypes like the Sovereign, Warrior Queen, Phoenix, Oracle, Rebel Queen, and more to talk about personal responsibility, boundaries, resilience, intuition, money, and legacy. She keeps coming back to her framework of “question, investigate, heal, and grow” and invites you to create your own “personal policies” so you stop living in old family stories and start leading yourself with clarity and self-trust.
I felt oddly seen by the whole “personal policies instead of boundaries” thing. It sounds simple, yet it really resonated with me. The way she talks about drama, victimhood, fear, and that “spin the bottle of blame” had me nodding and wincing at the same time. Her story about fear twisting a basic business transaction into a full-on betrayal saga really stuck with me, because I have absolutely watched people do that. The chapters on sisu, rising like the Phoenix, and the “fractured fairytale” of her childhood all hit a mix of tender and tough that I liked. I could feel her anger and grief under the surface, and that made the whole Queen Code idea feel like it was earned, not just a cute brand.
The language around vibration, manifesting, and co-creation was totally my jam. I loved how she wove those ideas into real-life moments like the horse stable, the house fire, the two homes, all those tiny choices that became big turning points. Those stories felt grounded and magical at the same time, very “as above, so below” in everyday clothes. When the book leaned into the capital letter concepts and repeated phrases like “Queen Code Mastery,” it felt like she was anchoring a whole universe of meaning. The archetype names genuinely delighted me. They felt playful and potent, like being handed permission slips for different parts of myself instead of just labels. And the short chapters, the relaxed voice, and her raw honesty about messy family stuff made it all land in my heart. It felt like sitting at a cozy kitchen table with a wise friend who believes in energy, destiny, and your power to change your life.
I would recommend Queen Code to women who love personal growth books that feel like a mix of coaching and story time, especially if you enjoy archetypes, oracle decks, and a book that helps you understand that you are the Queen of your life. If you want gentle but firm reminders to stop playing the victim, set stronger boundaries, and trust your own inner compass, you will probably dog-ear a lot of pages. I walked away feeling a little braver about tightening my own “personal policies” and a bit more curious about where I can improve my life.
Pages: 115 | ASIN: B0G7X24WRZ
There is Something Fishy About Ed. A Gentle introduction into mental health and eating disorders
This book is a heartfelt, poetic exploration of a family navigating the stormy waters of an eating disorder. Told through the eyes of two young fish siblings, it follows their journey as they learn about their mother’s struggle with “Ed” (short for eating disorder). The story gently unpacks complex emotions, fear, confusion, and love and highlights the importance of communication, support, and coping skills. With a mix of tender moments and childlike wonder, it presents a difficult subject in a way that feels safe and accessible for children.
Right from the beginning, the writing pulls you in with its simple yet evocative language. The author does an incredible job of using poetry to create a rhythm that mirrors the ups and downs of mental illness. At times, the verses feel light and playful, especially when the siblings count fish or share inside jokes but there’s an underlying weight that makes the story feel real. The metaphor of the ocean, the storm, and the lurking presence of “Ed” makes this a powerful and relatable read.
One of the most striking aspects of the book is how it doesn’t shy away from the raw emotions children might feel when a parent is struggling. The book captures that feeling of helplessness kids experience when they sense something is wrong but don’t quite understand it. At the same time, it reassures them that they’re not alone. The way the siblings support each other, like when one comforts the other with a quick fin hug, shows the power of small moments in making a big difference.
The ending takes an unexpected yet imaginative turn when the children transform from fish into humans, symbolizing growth and newfound understanding. It’s a creative touch that reinforces the idea that struggles don’t define a person they evolve, they change, they learn to cope. The final message, “Together we’ll rise! No storm will divide!” leaves readers with a sense of hope and resilience. And the fact that they still giggle about “Fred” (instead of “Ed”) makes it feel authentic because healing isn’t just serious work, it’s also about finding joy along the way.
There is Something Fishy About Ed? (A Gentle) Introduction to Mental Health and Eating Disorders would be a great fit for families wanting to introduce mental health discussions in a way that feels safe and engaging. It’s perfect for kids who might be dealing with similar challenges at home or anyone who wants a deeper understanding of how eating disorders affect not just individuals, but the people who love them. It’s emotional, beautifully written, and, most importantly, filled with hope. Whether you’re a parent, teacher, or therapist, this book is a conversation starter that will leave a lasting impact.
LITERARY TITAN 