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Drums of a Distant Tribe – A Son’s Message from the Great Beyond
When I first opened Drums of a Distant Tribe by David H. Hutton, I expected a memoir of sorts, maybe a straightforward walk through one man’s life. What I found instead was something much richer. The book moves through the author’s childhood, his brushes with danger, his youthful adventures, his confrontation with the Vietnam draft, and the long search for meaning after deep personal loss. It weaves together moments of joy, recklessness, grief, and revelation. At its heart, it’s a story about survival, resilience, and the search for truth about life and what may come after death.
Reading it felt like sitting across from someone who has lived more lives than most people can imagine. Hutton’s writing is vivid, sometimes poetic, sometimes raw, and always deeply personal. I admired how he captured the energy of his youth, from climbing water towers to chasing music that defined a generation. At the same time, I felt his fear and despair when the draft threatened to cut his life short, and later, when tragedy struck his family. The way he blends memory with reflection is emotionally potent. It reminded me that even ordinary choices can ripple through a lifetime, and that sometimes the line between recklessness and courage is paper-thin.
What struck me most was the honesty. He doesn’t hide from the ugly moments or try to paint himself as a flawless hero. The vulnerability in his storytelling gave the book a real pulse. At times, I found myself frustrated by his choices, then just as quickly, I felt protective of him, like I was watching a close friend stumble and get back up. His reflections on faith and death are heavy but not preachy. They feel like someone thinking aloud, searching alongside the reader rather than teaching from a pulpit. That humility, mixed with the depth of his experiences, gave the book an emotional weight.
I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys personal memoirs that are more than just a recounting of events. It’s especially powerful for those curious about the Baby Boomer generation, the turmoil of the 1960s and 70s, and the lifelong search for meaning that follows. But really, it’s for anyone who wants to be reminded that life is fragile, that survival is never guaranteed, and that hope can come even after the darkest nights. Drums of a Distant Tribe is not just one man’s story. It’s a mirror, and reading it made me take a hard look at my own.
Pages: 203 | ASIN : B0C1HJF3WZ
Lips: Kiss the Lips that Lie
The book begins with a haunting scene of a father walking into the cold vastness of Lake Michigan, and from there it stretches into a sweeping and layered narrative that mixes family history, secrets, art, desire, and the way the past claws its way into the present. At the center is Davis Beckwith, heir to a complicated family legacy, and Selene, a young Englishwoman whose charms and tangled impulses drive much of the story forward. Their relationship unfolds against a backdrop of wealth, decay, and long shadows of tragedy, with the author weaving together voices, memories, and settings in a way that blurs the line between truth and invention.
Reading it pulled me in slowly at first, like wading into deep water. The prose has a deliberate, almost meditative rhythm, and sometimes it lingers on detail long enough to feel claustrophobic. Yet I found that same attention to detail intoxicating. The rooms, the objects, the little observations of human behavior felt alive. I loved the way the author treats silence and absence with as much weight as spoken words. At times, I was frustrated with how opaque the characters could be, but that frustration worked in the book’s favor. It mirrored the way secrets seep into family life, how you can love someone without ever really knowing them.
Emotionally, the book left me uneasy and restless. I alternated between admiration for the writing and irritation at the characters, especially DB, who often seemed passive to the point of vanishing. Selene, on the other hand, is magnetic and maddening, brimming with contradictions. I didn’t always like her, but I couldn’t look away. The novel made me think about the lies we tell ourselves and others, and how much of love is invention. I felt caught between awe and discomfort, which is not a bad place for a novel to put me.
I’d recommend this book to readers who like fiction that doesn’t rush, who enjoy atmosphere and layered family drama, and who don’t mind a story that raises more questions than it answers. If you like being unsettled and pushed to look harder at the ties that bind people together, LIPS is well worth the read.
Pages: 339 | ASIN : B0F9FYY7ZD
Santa’s Last Ride
Santa’s Last Ride tells the story of a family at the North Pole where Santa Claus is nearing the end of his career. His son, Chris, is expected to take on the role of Santa, but he has little interest in reindeer or flying and harbors a deep fear of heights. His daughter, Kristy, however, adores the reindeer and dreams of soaring through the skies. The story unfolds with humor, family tension, and a lot of heart, exploring tradition, expectations, and the possibility of change in a world bound by old rules.
I found myself grinning through the opening chapters. The playful back-and-forth between Kristy and Chris had the messy, real feel of siblings who know exactly how to get under each other’s skin. What struck me most was how ordinary family dynamics were woven into this magical setting. The North Pole felt less like a faraway fairy tale and more like a farm kitchen or workshop down the road. The dialogue often landed with warmth. I liked that it didn’t shy away from showing Santa as tired and even vulnerable, weighed down by age and pain.
The story leans on familiar Christmas imagery, but the book is charming. I would have liked more moments where the tradition of Santa collided with the modern world. Kristy’s longing to step into a role she’s told isn’t hers felt both funny and frustrating, and I caught myself cheering her on. The writing had a cozy rhythm that made the chapters fly by.
This is a story about family, tradition, and courage dressed up in the glitter and frost of the North Pole. I would recommend it to middle-grade readers who enjoy holiday tales that mix humor with heart. Kids who love Santa stories will find a lot to laugh at, and adults might smile at the way it reflects the small struggles of growing up and letting go. It’s best suited for anyone who wants a warm, lighthearted read in the glow of Christmas lights.
Pages: 105 | ASIN : B0DD4LR8QP
Singing Through Fire
Singing Through Fire follows Lara, a brilliant young lawyer whose life takes an unexpected turn when chronic illness derails her dream career. Told in four acts, the memoir reads like a stage play filled with drama, sarcasm, faith, and raw honesty. It begins with her legal triumphs, then moves into the heartbreak of physical collapse, spiritual wrestling, and an ongoing struggle to reconcile suffering with belief in a loving God. Alongside this journey of pain, there’s also humor, romance, family loyalty, and moments of surprising joy. The book is not just about illness. It’s about the human fight to make sense of loss and to keep faith alive when everything feels upside down.
What I enjoyed most was the voice. Lara writes with sharp wit, biting humor, and a willingness to laugh at herself even in the darkest places. One moment I was laughing at her courtroom jokes, the next I was gutted by her descriptions of vertigo so severe the world spun out of control. The style isn’t polished in the way some memoirs try to be. It’s messy, emotional, and jagged, which makes it all the more real. I found myself pulled into her contradictions: one page proclaiming trust in God, the next shaking her fist at Him. That tension felt authentic, and it gave me permission to admit my own doubts instead of pretending to have tidy answers.
Sometimes the sarcasm felt like a shield. I admired her honesty but also felt exhausted by the relentlessness of the struggle. She doesn’t shy away from bitterness or raw complaint, which made the book heavy in stretches. Yet, that same rawness is what gave the story its power. In those rare moments of light, when hope cracked through, it felt earned.
This isn’t a book for someone looking for neat answers or a “how-to” on suffering. It’s for anyone who’s been angry at God, who’s wrestled with pain that makes no sense, who’s felt cheated by life and still dared to hope. Singing Through Fire is a raw, funny, and heartbreaking read that stays with you. I’d recommend it to anyone who values honesty over polish and wants to see what it looks like to keep stumbling forward in the dark with faith still flickering.
Pages: 512 | ASIN : B0FN3PVZZV
Forces Outside Our Control
Lily Starling and the Storm Riders follows the captain and crew of a starship who, while on a routine rescue mission, get ambushed by a group of raiders wielding the power of a cosmic tempest. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
The first book is about agency—Lily finding her own way, claiming an identity, learning she has a voice in her own story. For the second book, I wanted to put her up against something she couldn’t just outwit or outfight. There are forces in life that are simply bigger than us, no matter how defiant we feel. You can raise your middle finger to them all you want, but they don’t go away.
So the storm became that unstoppable force. It isn’t just a backdrop, it’s a presence—something ancient and impartial that challenges the crew at every turn. Lily has to confront what it means to face chaos after she’s already defined herself. She’s grown, but she’s still running from her heart, still scared of commitment, and still making messy, very human decisions. Some of the consequences this time around are unavoidable. I wanted to see how she—and the people around her—hold up when survival itself is on the line.
The supporting characters in this novel were intriguing and well-developed. Who was your favorite character to write for?
Xynn, without a doubt. She plays a much bigger role in this book, and her dynamic with Lily is becoming one of the central threads of the series. They’re opposites—Xynn is organized, methodical, practical, while Lily is impulsive and emotional—and that tension makes every scene between them spark. I hit a point while drafting where I realized something was missing, so one night I sat up in bed and wrote an entire novella about their time together on Adius II between books. That’s how real they feel to me—sometimes the story just demands more space for them to breathe.
Beyond that, I had so much fun bringing in new voices. Charlie and Tevya were a blast to write, and Ronin—well, who doesn’t love a good villain? But Xynn and Lily together are where a lot of the emotional heart of Storm Riders lives.
What were some themes that were important for you to explore in this book?
A big one was the idea of forces outside our control. The storm is a metaphor for that—chaos that no one can outrun. I think the pandemic left us all with a deeper understanding of how uncontrollable events can reshape our lives, and how our reactions to them can send us in completely different directions.
Another theme is faith twisted into extremism. I grew up in a religious environment, and while that gave me empathy and perspective as an outsider, I also saw firsthand how beliefs can be damaging or dangerous when taken too far. That’s woven into Leviathan’s Hand in the book, which is less about any specific faith and more about how conviction can be distorted into violence.
I also wanted to explore Earth. Lily didn’t want to go back—she dreaded it—because she already knew it could never be the place she once imagined. And she wasn’t eager to reopen her own past. That visit forces her to confront the tension between leaving the past behind, letting it haunt you, or finding some middle ground. For her, it’s not nostalgia—it’s reckoning.
And threaded through all of this is a layer of hypocrisy. If you look closely, it comes up again and again: institutions, leaders, even individuals who claim one thing but act in another way. That contradiction is part of what the crew—and Lily in particular—are wrestling with in Storm Riders.
I hope the series continues in other books. If so, where will the story take readers?
The main arc will be at least five books—possibly more if spin-offs grow out of it—but there’s a clear throughline I’m building toward. Book three, Lily Starling and the Death Machine, continues some of the threads from Storm Riders while taking a few turns I don’t think readers will expect.
The central theme this time shifts toward the institutions we put our trust in every day. When you start peeling back the layers, you may find less to believe in than you hoped. Any organization with great power, even one with the best intentions, carries secrets. The questions become: where is the line that finally causes you to lose real trust? Is it possible to do good from within a flawed or corrupt system? Or does integrity mean walking away?
And of course there will be plenty of adventure—space chases, a manhunt across the stars, friends pitted against each other, and a mystery or two to keep readers guessing. I’m just as excited as anyone to see where the adventure takes us.
Author Links: GoodReads | Threads | Facebook | Website | Instagram | TikTok
Lily Starling thought she’d finally found her place among the stars. But when a routine rescue mission turns into a devastating ambush, she watches in horror as the Storm Riders—a ruthless band of spacefaring raiders—vanish into the chaos, taking her closest friend with them.
Now, with the Salamander crippled and the galaxy on edge, Lily must convince her crew that the Storm Riders are more than just pirates. They are zealots, wielding the power of a cosmic tempest the Union refuses to understand—one that may have been set in motion long before Lily was even born.
As the hunt takes her to the farthest reaches of known space, Lily must rely on unlikely allies, question everything she’s been taught, and face the growing storm within herself.
Because the leader of these zealots is hiding a dark secret.
And if Lily can’t stop them, the storm will swallow everything.
We Can Do This Better
The Adoption Paradox weaves together your story, historical records, and interviews with nearly a hundred people from across the “adoption constellation” into an unflinching look at the industry’s ethical and emotional complexities. Why was this an important book for you to write?
I started out wanting to write a deep exploration of adoption’s emotional complexities from all sides. I’m very new to this internal awakening in my life’s journey. As an adoptee from a standard closed adoption from 1965, I had an overall good experience. As my parent’s only child, I felt loved and accepted for the most part within my family and our larger culture.
Then in 2020 with both of my adopted parents gone, I finally started to search for my birth family, which fueled the emotional curiosity that led to this work. I read books written by adoptees about their search. Then others about the birth mothers who relinquished us back in the era I was born in. What I learned shocked and saddened me. I felt this deep inner shift, and started questioning the typical storyline I’d always been fed. It was one thing to know that in ’65 my mother didn’t have the same choices I did growing up in the 1980s. It was another thing to come face to face with how badly many of these young women were treated.
There was more to tell in all of this I was sure, but I didn’t see any other books out there that had the voices and the deep research and thru lines for everyone in the adoption triad: adoptees, along with birth and adoptive parents. So, I decided to audaciously tackle that niche myself. That’s what started it all. This book is for me, in part, but my hope is that in reconciling the stories within, others find it helpful too.
What were some ideas that were important for you to share in this book?
There is no one adoption story. Ever. There are many sides, and all have this vastly diverse lived experience, even within one family. You can have an adoptee who feels completely seen and understood by the people who raise them, and another who feels isolated, lost and alone and their parents have no idea they are struggling. That’s heartbreaking. Adoption always begins with a loss, and our society completely forgets that narrative in popular culture. It’s just assumed we are lucky as adoptees, and that our families are fantastic! The truth is it’s often a mix.
There are misconceptions and oversimplifications about adoption and foster care among the general public. Adoption can heal, save lives and fulfill its potential to create a loving home for a child who needs one. But in modern times that is not generally what’s driving a relinquishment. Infant adoptions usually occur due to a lack of resources experienced by the natural parent(s). Then, understand we have allowed commercialism and an unchecked profit motive to proliferate within an industry that is responsible for the placement of children into homes. How can that possibly be beneficial for those affected or our society at large? Most people are complexly unaware of these realities. What gets lost in the shuffle of that are the needs of the adopted person. Not just as a youngster, but for their entire lives.
When we make assumptions about people, we flatten out their stories and miss the depth and nuances that are part of each and every family. I can have a good adoption story, and there is always some sadness behind it. We need to live in places of truth, both fiercely and gently with each other, and how we build or defend our families.
What was the most challenging part of writing your book, and what was the most rewarding?
Definitely stories of abuse were the hardest to hear, and it was also I think essential for those folks to feel seen and heard. Listening and sitting with them through their pain was validating for both them and me. Receiving the trust from all of those interviewed was by far the most rewarding experience.
The other bonuses have come from adoptees, adoptive parents and birth parents who unknown to me have already shared how the book has helped them feel affirmed, taught them something, or caused a shift in their mindset. They are the reason – because we can do this better.
What is one thing that you hope readers take away from The Adoption Paradox?
If parents are more informed before they adopt, their kids do better and are less likely to struggle. If natural parents and treated with dignity and fairness by our statutes then their rights are protected, because they deserve nothing less than that. My hope is the general public will understand our laws need revising and modernizing beyond the way we currently practice adoption.
In most states, we still overwrite adoptees birth certificates as part of this legal process and seal them away – inaccessible without a court order. Why can’t we create a “certificate of parentage” that doesn’t overwrite a person’s truth of who they are, where they came from, and deny them access to their medical history? Everyone in this story deserves better than these archaic systems we currently have.
I am not anti-adoption, but I am interested in our culture evolving to embrace a better future for how we practice adoption and answer the real needs of families interacting with the child welfare system. The most important thing is that we talk honestly with each other and listen. I hope my book begins and stirs that conversation. Thank you!
Author Links: GoodReads | Facebook | Website
Adoption impacts countless families worldwide, yet the voices of those directly involved—especially adoptees, the central focus of the process—are rarely highlighted. In The Adoption Paradox, nearly one hundred individuals are interviewed, from domestic, international, and transracial adoptions, as well as foster care, along with adoptive and birth parents, therapists, experts, and allies. These narratives reveal both the love and the emotional costs borne by everyone affected, exposing adoption as a complex and challenging experience. Healing is possible with the right support, but addressing adoption’s hidden issues requires activism to confront unethical practices that lack oversight. These moving stories shed light on unaddressed pain and systemic flaws, calling for a more transparent and compassionate approach to adoption.
The Glass Pyramid
The Glass Pyramid by Vesela Patton follows the journey of Ahamoset, a young girl in ancient Egypt whose fierce ambition and vivid dreams set her apart from those around her. She longs for love, respect, and ultimately power, while navigating a dangerous world of family conflict, betrayal, and mystical encounters. At its heart, the book weaves together palace politics, sibling rivalry, and encounters with a strange otherworldly figure named Sekhem, who guides her toward a destiny larger than herself. The story blends history with myth and imagination, creating a sweeping tale that shifts between daily life in the New Kingdom and spiritual journeys through dreamlike realms.
The imagery is often stunning. Scenes of gardens, palaces, and feasts are rich and sensory, making me feel like I was walking alongside Ahamoset. Her mystical visions, especially those with Sekhem, pulse with strange beauty and unsettling wonder. At the same time, the cruelty of her brother Wajmose left me shaken. His violence made me angry, even sick at times. This clash between brutality and beauty gave the story a raw energy, but it also made the reading experience jagged, almost exhausting in places.
I admired the ambition of the book. It doesn’t just aim to tell a simple historical drama; it tries to marry myth, philosophy, and morality with personal struggle. This works especially well when Ahamoset pushes against the limits of her world and dreams of a future she is told she cannot have. At times, the writing leaned toward the reflective, with stretches of dialogue that carried a lesson-like tone, slowing the pace of the story. I wanted more chances to see Ahamoset simply as a young girl before her destiny pressed in. Still, the richness of the prose and the author’s clear passion for the story shone through. That dedication gives the book its strength and keeps the reader engaged.
The Glass Pyramid is a story I would recommend to readers who enjoy lush detail, mythic overtones, and tales of young women striving against the odds in rigid societies. If you like a mix of history, fantasy, and moral struggle wrapped in vivid storytelling, this book is worth your time.
Pages: 234
Exits
Exits is a collection of poems that moves in and out of nature, memory, and mortality with a sharp eye and an unflinching voice. Pollock balances images of birds, leaves, storms, and insects with meditations on illness, grief, and human cruelty. Each poem feels like an opening and a closing at once, a gesture toward beauty that never ignores the shadows pressing in around it. The artwork paired with the text deepens the mood, giving the reader both a visual and lyrical way to linger with themes of death, decay, and renewal.
I found myself pulled into the tension between delicacy and brutality. The spider spinning its web, the butterfly pinned by a child’s cruel hand, the leaves clinging through winter, these images stayed with me. Pollock’s language is careful, yet it carries an undercurrent of urgency, as if each word knows it has little time left. Some poems made me pause and reread, not because they were obscure, but because they struck me with a sudden intensity. Others, like “Steve’s Balloons,” were so unexpected that I had to smile even while feeling the melancholy underneath.
At times, the heaviness of the book pressed down hard. Illness, biopsy, syringe, tube, the clinical intrudes often, and it brought me back to my own brushes with hospitals and fear. That familiarity made the reading even more raw, and I appreciated Pollock’s honesty. He doesn’t romanticize suffering, but he does find ways to trace light through it. There is also a musicality to his lines that reminded me of older poets, the kind whose rhythm stays in your body long after the words leave your mouth. That mix of craft and emotion gave the book both polish and heart.
I would recommend Exits to readers who like poetry that doesn’t look away. If you’re drawn to reflections on life and death, or if you find comfort in nature as a mirror for human experience, this book will speak to you. It’s not an easy read, but it’s a meaningful one, and I think anyone who values honesty wrapped in artful language will find something to hold onto here.
Pages: 45 | ASIN : B0BXVJB79N
LITERARY TITAN 