Category Archives: Five Stars
Janice Everet: A Southern Gothic Jane Eyre Retelling
Janice Everet is a Southern gothic historical romance that retells Jane Eyre through the perspective of a blind heroine growing up in the 1930s American South. We follow Janice from a childhood shaped by cruelty and neglect, through her years at a school for the blind, and into adulthood as she becomes a teacher and finds both purpose and love. The book mirrors the familiar arc of Jane Eyre but transforms it, rooting the story in disability representation, trauma survival, and the complicated social dynamics of its time.
As I read, I kept returning to how intimate Janice’s voice feels. Burton writes her with a sensitivity that made me slow down, especially during the painful early chapters. The scenes with Arnold, in particular, are hard to take. They’re written with an unflinching honesty that makes Janice’s fear almost tactile, and moments like the doctor noticing the bruising around her eyes and gently explaining her retinal damage hit me right in the chest. The book doesn’t sensationalize the abuse; instead, it sits with the emotional fallout and lets Janice carry both her pain and her stubborn resilience. I liked that the writing never turns her blindness into a metaphor or punishment. Burton even says in her author’s note that she wanted to challenge that trope directly, presenting blindness not as a tragedy but simply as part of Janice’s life and identity. That intention really comes through.
What surprised me most was how naturally the story shifts from gothic tension to warm, character-driven romance. The scenes with Edwin feel like stepping into sunlight after a long walk in the dark. Their relationship grows slowly, with a gentleness that contrasts with everything Janice has survived. I found myself appreciating the quieter moments: shared meals, woodworking, guiding each other through unfamiliar emotional terrain. Even the small exchanges with side characters, like Janice reading a story to a child on the bus or meeting friends at Pembrook, widen the world and keep the novel from sinking into despair. Burton’s choices here make the story less about escaping the past and more about claiming a future. And because the book is a romance, the emotional payoff lands in a satisfying, comforting way.
By the time I reached the end, I felt like I’d traveled with Janice rather than just observed her. The blend of Southern gothic atmosphere, historical detail, and classic romance gives the book a distinct flavor. It’s not a light read; some chapters sit heavily, especially for readers sensitive to themes of assault, trauma, and systemic prejudice. But the heart of the story is hopeful. It’s a journey toward dignity, connection, and the quiet courage of choosing joy after years of being told you don’t deserve it.
If you enjoy character-centered stories, historical romance with emotional depth, or retellings that genuinely reimagine their source material, this book will speak to you. Fans of Jane Eyre who have wondered what that story might look like with a heroine whose challenges aren’t tied to beauty or sight but to agency and survival might find this version even more resonant. I’d recommend Janice Everet to readers who appreciate Southern gothic atmosphere, nuanced disability representation, and a romance that feels earned and tender.
Pages: 238 | ASIN : B0FYK3JCKG
Dirty South Haiku
Dirty South Haiku sketches a childhood and young life shaped by family legends, Southern landscapes, and the mix of sweetness and grit that sits in so many memories. The book moves through tiny scenes. Grandmas with sharp edges, gumbo secrets, cousins who grow strange, drums and guitars, pageants, honeysuckles, hot sauce, hoodoo, moonshine, and music that hums through it all. Each haiku captures one quick flash. Together, they paint a loose but vivid portrait of a Southern girl growing up around beauty, chaos, and deep roots.
While reading, I found myself smiling at the warmth tucked into these short lines. The poems feel plainspoken and familiar. I liked how the author keeps the tone light, even when hinting at hard things. Nothing gets weighed down. The rhythm stays airy. A poem might nod toward heartbreak or trouble, then slip into a memory of food or song. That contrast felt honest. Life in these pages is messy, yet the speaker holds it with affection. I felt that softness, and I enjoyed it.
Some scenes passed so fast that I wanted a fuller picture, but that is part of the charm. The book plays with nostalgia in a way that feels almost slippery. One moment, we are with a machete-wielding grandmother. Next, we are at a pageant. Then, suddenly, moonshine under a night sky. The jumpiness gave the book a dreamy, scrapbook vibe. I loved that loose flow.
I would recommend Dirty South Haiku for readers who enjoy poetry that is easy to slip into and full of mood and memory. It fits anyone who likes Southern culture, family stories, or short poems that carry a lot of heart.
Pages: 39 | ASIN : B0DXQG5C42
Olympus or Oblivion
Reading Chrissy Dargue’s Olympus or Oblivion feels like being dropped into a wild, bawdy, self-aware pantheon where celebrity fantasy, personal philosophy, and unapologetic filth collide in the most chaotic way possible. The book introduces itself as an erotic satirical anthology, then immediately proves it can deliver on all three fronts. Each chapter follows a fictional sexual encounter with a different Hollywood icon, framed as both myth and judgment, and the voice that guides it is loud, human, furious, sentimental, and very funny. It moves fast, plays hard, and somehow manages to build a whole moral framework while describing sexually explicit escapades. The tone is intimate and irreverent and completely in control of its own madness.
As I read, I kept feeling a blend of admiration and “what the hell just happened” amazement. The writing is quick, chatty, and sharply observant. It has that feeling of sitting with a friend who tells a story so confidently that you follow, even when it plunges off a cliff into a disaster of sex toys, tree frog cigarettes, emotional vulnerability, or misplaced anatomy lessons. I loved the honesty here. The narrator is flawed and hilarious and often furious at the world, yet there is so much heart behind the jokes. The Henry Cavill chapter swings between worship, frustration, and affection with an almost musical rhythm. Depp’s chapter, on the other hand, crashes into surreal farce, tenderness, and genuine madness, and the contrast really shows off what the author can do. I laughed a lot. I winced a lot. More than once, I was slightly horrified, then impressed by how quickly the story made that horror feel warm. There is something bold about how the book refuses to hide the narrator’s desires or insecurities. It made the comedy sharper and the emotional punches landed harder.
What surprised me most was the philosophical streak running under the chaos. For all the sex and satire, the book is also a meditation on power, desire, loneliness, and the strange ways we try to judge the people we want. The Olympian framing is funny but also revealing. Every encounter becomes a test, not for the celebrity but for the narrator’s own values, boundaries, and hunger for connection. Even the absurd moments, like fainting from frog toxins or sketching a diagram of a vulva to keep a confused man on track, carry a sort of emotional grit. The narrator wants to understand people. She wants to be understood in return. I found myself weirdly moved between the jokes. Sometimes the writing gets messy on purpose. Sometimes it hits a poetic rhythm that blindsided me. The mix works because the voice stays genuine.
I’d recommend Olympus or Oblivion to readers who enjoy sharp humour, chaotic storytelling, sex-positive honesty, and big, unstoppable personality. If you like fearless writing, emotional whiplash, and stories that show both the ridiculous and the tender parts of being human, this book will hit the spot. It’s funny and vivid and unexpectedly sincere, and it left me feeling like I had just witnessed someone telling the truth in the most unhinged and heartfelt way possible.
Pages: 401 | ASIN : B0FLQL7VHN
Tiger and My Eye Patch
A young girl begins her summer burdened by an eyepatch meant to correct her lazy eye, and the weight of it grows heavier each time her classmates sneer. Branded “Pee Wee the Pirate,” she endures a name flung at her by children blind to the harm it causes. Relief arrives only when she escapes to Johnson City, where her grandparents wait with open arms, and with Tiger, their towering, gentle Great Dane. Tiger adores her. He offers no judgment, no mockery. Just warmth. Yet Tiger’s size and enthusiasm often land him in trouble, and before long, the girl’s courage and ingenuity are put to the test as she tries to save the companion who has quietly saved her.
Tiger and My Eye Patch, written by Colleen Lent, is a children’s story best suited for readers around ages 3 to 8. Its spirit echoes classic series like The Berenstain Bears, delivering an abundance of life lessons without losing its sense of play.
Lent draws from her own childhood, and that honesty radiates through the narrative. The sharper emotions, the confusion, and the vulnerability surface in the protagonist’s perspective and give the story a lived-in quality. Her world feels colored by past hurts, yet not dominated by them.
Joy still rises. It unfolds through tender moments with her grandparents and through the undeniable bond she forms with Tiger. The giant dog, good-natured yet misunderstood, mirrors her own struggle. His size invites assumptions, and he, too, carries the burden of being judged before being known. Their connection emerges naturally from shared experience, and it becomes the emotional heart of the tale.
Tiger and My Eye Patch maintains a light tone, but beneath it runs a clear thread of catharsis. Lent writes toward healing her own and that of any child who has ever been singled out for being different. The lesson she imparts, treat others with kindness, especially when they stand apart, is delivered with grace rather than force. Paired with lively, colorful illustrations, the story becomes both a comforting read and a meaningful one, offering young audiences a narrative they can enjoy again and again while absorbing its gentle wisdom.
Pages: 32 | ASIN : B0FV9W4242
The Manglers of Carraig
The Manglers of Carraig drops readers straight into a city split by wealth, fear, and the eerie green glow of warding gems. It follows Conell Byrne, a boy fighting to keep his family alive in a world where monsters stalk the night and the rich hoard their safety behind iron fences. His desperate attempts to protect his sister and his mother collide with the power games of men like Garban the loan shark, and the story pulls that thread tighter as the dangers grow. Alongside this grim struggle is Riona, a jeweler whose bold designs using mangler claws spark outrage among the elite. Their stories move on separate tracks at first, one soaked in survival and the other in ambition, yet both expose the city’s deep fractures and the unseen costs of living in Carraig.
I found the writing fast and punchy. Scenes land quickly and hard. I especially liked how the book lets moments breathe right before everything goes sideways. Conell racing through dark streets with only gemlight to save him had me clenching my jaw. The author leans into sensory details that linger and refuses to clean things up for comfort. I felt the grit of the lower districts and the cold shine of North Hill. I felt Conell’s panic when he returned home and found the door broken open and the ominous quiet inside. The emotional hits come simply and directly, which makes them incredibly impactful.
The worldbuilding grabbed me, too. I appreciated how the author mixes small human choices with the big looming terror of the manglers. It all feels grounded even when the story dips into the grotesque. Riona’s chapters were a surprise. They twist into subtle power struggles and hidden desire. Her jewelry made of claws could have been a cheap gimmick, but it ends up saying something about the people of Carraig and what they choose to look away from. I enjoyed how these two storylines sit far apart but rhyme in the way everyone is just trying to survive something, even if the monsters look different.
By the end, I felt a strange mix of sadness and curiosity about where the story might go next. I would recommend The Manglers of Carraig to readers who enjoy dark fantasy with heart, quick pacing, and a world that feels alive even in its ugliness. If you like stories about people pushed to the edge and forced to make impossible choices, this one will stick with you.
Pages: 188 | ASIN : B0FX3WVJ1C
The Elephant in the Ivy
The Elephant in the Ivy by Alexander Greengaard is a playful campus spy story that blends secret games, academic life, and personal loss. The book follows Alison Ashe, a theater student at an Ivy League school, who plays a hidden espionage game between departments. What starts as lighthearted intrigue grows into something darker. Stakes rise. Friendships strain. Death becomes real. The story moves through classrooms, quads, dorms, and late-night walks while asking how much performance and pretense shape real life.
I enjoyed the writing style a lot. It felt loose and confident. The voice has humor and warmth. I laughed often. I also felt a pit in my stomach more than once. The dialogue snaps. The inner thoughts feel honest and messy. I liked how the book never tried to sound smart for the sake of it. It trusted the reader. The pacing worked for me. Some scenes flew by. Others lingered in a good way. I felt close to Alison.
I kept thinking about performance and identity when reading this book. Everyone in the story plays a role. Students act like spies. Professors play at authority. Institutions play at fairness. The game mirrors real power structures and privilege. That resonated with me. The book talks about gender and class without lecturing. It just shows you. I felt anger at times. I felt joy too. I liked that the book respected fun and silliness while still taking emotions seriously. That balance is hard, and the author pulled it off.
I would recommend The Elephant in the Ivy to readers who want something smart. It is great for people easing back into reading. It is also good for students and educators who enjoy stories about school life with a twist. If you like humor, secret worlds, and characters who feel real and flawed, this book is worth your time.
Pages: 167 | ASIN: B0FXS7BVPK
Ida Chatfield
The book follows the life of Ida Chatfield and tells her story from childhood on the Missouri River to her disappearance in Aspen in 1886. It mixes historical records with imagined moments that fill in the spaces between the facts. It feels like a full life unfolding, even though her real life ended at only eighteen. The book also weaves in real news articles that reported her missing and later confirmed her death. The mix of truth and imagination gives the whole thing a strange and lingering weight.
While reading, I often felt pulled into Ida’s voice. The writing felt warm at times and then cold in a way that mirrors frontier life. I found myself caring for Ida as if she were someone I’d once known. Her memories of Nebraska and Colorado felt vivid and earthy. The sadness around the deaths in her family hit me harder than I expected, especially the loss of her sister Jennie. The author sits close to Ida’s emotions and lets her tell the story in a plain and honest way. That plainness worked on me. It made the mystery of her final night feel personal.
The book pushes you to think about how people in the past were misunderstood, especially women. It shows how easily a person’s life can be shaped and misshaped by the stories others tell. The newspapers tried to fit Ida into neat explanations that never felt right. Reading those old clippings frustrated me. They felt careless and quick to judge, and it hurt to see how little room she had to define herself. At the same time, the fictional pieces brought her back to life with softness and patience. I loved that contrast because it made me think about how we all want to be remembered for who we were, not for the blur of a headline.
By the end, I felt a quiet ache for Ida and for every forgotten person whose life was cut short or brushed aside. The book works for readers who enjoy historical nonfiction but want more heart in the telling. It also works for readers who crave a mystery that will never be perfectly solved yet still offers something meaningful. I would recommend it to anyone who loves frontier history, family stories, and character-driven tales filled with emotion.
Pages: 280 | ASIN : B0FHJVCV7V
The Little Girl’s Mother
The Little Girl’s Mother drops us straight into a police station that turns into a battleground and then never really lets the tension slip. It follows a family whose daughter witnesses a murder and suddenly becomes the target of a powerful criminal syndicate. The parents, both former military with heavy pasts, step back into a world they hoped to leave behind. The story twists from procedural chaos into a dark rescue mission, something between a thriller and a raw look at what parents might do when no one else can keep their child alive. It moves fast. Sometimes brutally fast. And it carries a steady drumbeat of fear and determination.
Reading it, I felt myself leaning in, almost holding my breath. The writing hits with a kind of straight shot energy. There is no drifting around. The scenes move with hard edges and sharp turns. I liked that. It pulled me right into the panic, the cold choices, and the way the parents shift from frightened to focused. I cared more than I expected to and sometimes caught myself rooting for them in ways that surprised me. The emotional weight lands strongest when the parents talk to each other or when they steady their daughter. Those moments feel real. They cool the fire just enough to let the story breathe before it kicks off again.
Some scenes in the workshop are rough. Not because they are gory but because of the calm way they unfold. The tone made me uneasy in a way that felt intentional. I could sense the author pushing me to sit with the question of what desperation does to good people. I liked that the book did not try to pretend those choices are clean or noble. The pacing can feel intense. Yet the emotional through-line keeps things grounded and stops the story from tipping into pure action for its own sake.
I would recommend this book to readers who like high-tension thrillers and stories about families under extreme pressure. It fits readers who enjoy military backgrounds, tactical problem solving, and moral knots that do not come undone easily. If you want a story that grabs you by the collar and refuses to let go, then this will absolutely hit the mark.
Pages: 217 | ASIN : B0FHSHXY18
LITERARY TITAN 