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Passages – A Voyage from War to Peace
Passages follows the life of Miko Papagiannis from his childhood in Greece to his adult years as a physician in the United States. The story opens with a vivid scene on the Aegean where young Miko watches a decommissioned naval ship being destroyed during a training exercise. The grim beauty of the sinking sparks questions about memory, violence, and the unseen weight carried by those shaped by war. From there, the novel moves through Miko’s family history, his father’s struggles as a fisherman, his grandfather’s unspoken wartime scars, and finally Miko’s own encounters with veterans in his medical training. By the time he meets AJ, a troubled veteran who enters his care, the threads of war’s lingering shadow across generations begin to weave into something larger.
This book pulled me in fast. The writing is plainspoken yet emotional in a way that sneaks up on you. Scenes rise and fall with a natural rhythm, and sometimes the simplest moments hit the hardest. Watching the ship sink through a child’s eyes made me feel a pinch in my chest. Later, hearing AJ wrestle with shame and loneliness felt even heavier because the earlier chapters had already planted the idea that war wounds rarely stay in the past. The prose can be earnest, but it never drifts into preachy territory. It just sits with the characters while they struggle to make sense of their own stories, and I found myself rooting for them almost without noticing.
My favorite parts were the conversations that seem small on the surface but crack open whole emotional worlds underneath. Miko talking with his mother about his grandfather lingered with me. It felt honest, almost raw, like things families say only after years of holding back. The book also surprised me with how gently it handled the mentoring relationship between Miko and AJ. Those scenes could have turned clinical or stiff, yet instead they felt human and a little messy in the best way. I liked how the story let silence do some of the work. People don’t always confess their pain neatly, and the author understands that. I wished the pacing between chapters jumped less sharply, but the emotional payoff made the jolts worth it.
Passages felt like a novel written for people who have lived close to hardship, or who have watched someone they love carry invisible weight. It also feels right for readers who enjoy stories about healing that don’t look dramatic but instead unfold in quiet rooms, awkward talks, and brave little choices. If you like reflective fiction rooted in real human experience, this book would be a meaningful read.
Pages: 234 | ASIN : B0FBS569TS
Literary Titan Book Award: Fiction
The Literary Titan Book Award honors books that exhibit exceptional storytelling and creativity. This award celebrates novelists who craft compelling narratives, create memorable characters, and weave stories that captivate readers. The recipients are writers who excel in their ability to blend imagination with literary skill, creating worlds that enchant and narratives that linger long after the final page is turned.
Award Recipients
Visit the Literary Titan Book Awards page to see award information.
Literary Titan Silver Book Awards
Celebrating the brilliance of outstanding authors who have captivated us with their skillful prose, engaging narratives, and compelling real and imagined characters. We recognize books that stand out for their innovative storytelling and insightful exploration of truth and fiction. Join us in honoring the dedication and skill of these remarkable authors as we celebrate the diverse and rich worlds they’ve brought to life, whether through the realm of imagination or the lens of reality.
Award Recipients
Losing Mom by Peggy Ottman
This Is For MY Glory: A Story of Fatherlessness, Failure, Grace, and Redemption
Toil and Trouble by Brian Starr
Visit the Literary Titan Book Awards page to see award information.
The Legacy of Prairie Winds: Third Edition
The Legacy of Prairie Winds is a sweeping historical fiction novel that follows young Johann Gehring, a German immigrant who leaves everything he knows in 1881 to build a life on the wide-open prairie of Nebraska. The book opens with vivid scenes of his family conflict, his difficult voyage across the Atlantic, and his first uncertain steps into a new world. From there, it widens into a multi-generational story about hardship, faith, love, and the slow shaping of a family’s place on the land. The tone shifts between raw struggle and quiet beauty, giving the reader a sense of how fragile and powerful hope can be in an unforgiving landscape.
I kept feeling as if the author were guiding me by the elbow, pointing out details I might miss on my own. The depictions of the Sandhills, for example, stay with me. The grasslands are described with a kind of reverence, but they’re never sentimental. They’re hard, windswept, and sometimes lonely, which makes Johann’s determination feel all the more human. I rooted for him from the start. His fight with his father, his fear on the ship, and his first shaky steps in Nebraska all felt believable because they’re grounded in everyday sensations. The book doesn’t rush. It lets moments breathe, even the uncomfortable ones.
I also appreciated how the story handles the emotional weight of immigration. The scenes of steerage life on the ship, the seasickness, the smell, the fear of disease, and the simple joy of fresh air form a collage of what leaving home really costs. Yet the author doesn’t lean on drama alone. There are tender beats too, especially Johann’s fleeting friendship with Astrid, which adds a spark of warmth in the middle of all the uncertainty. Some passages read almost like oral history, others like a quiet journal entry. The rhythm switches between short, sharp observations and longer, reflective stretches, mirroring the uneven pace of real life. It made me slow down and sit with the characters instead of just watching them move.
By the end, I felt the book was less about the events themselves and more about how people hold on to themselves while the world shifts under their feet. The prairie becomes a character. So does the wind. So does hope. If you enjoy historical fiction that feels intimate rather than sprawling, or stories about immigration, family legacy, and the grit behind ordinary lives, this book will speak to you. It’s a gentle but steady read, ideal for someone who wants to be immersed in a place and a time rather than hurried through them.
Pages: 380 | ASIN : B0FC2Z7SP8
In the Face of the Foe
In the Face of the Foe brings together three wartime tales that follow British prisoners of war and the strange mix of fear, grit, and shaky hope that shapes their survival. The story opens inside Stalag XXA, where boredom and danger sit side by side. Men spar, argue, dream, and stumble into choices that could kill them or free them, sometimes on the same night. The early chapters move from camp politics to tense missions beyond the wire, and the book keeps piling on moral knots that force each character to decide what they are willing to risk and who they want to be.
As I moved through the book, I felt myself leaning in, drawn by the rough humor and the raw strain between the men. The writing feels direct and sharp. It never hides the ugliness of fear. It also never forgets that soldiers can be petty and foolish and brave all at once. I liked how the author gives room for small moments that say more than the big ones. A quiet exchange over stolen cherries, the sting of a bad joke, the uneasy pause when a guard appears in the dark. These details felt honest, and they gave me a sense of standing right there in the mud with them. The dialogue sometimes slips into playful banter, and I found that mix of light and dark strangely comforting. It felt real in a way that polished war stories often miss.
The book kept raising questions without preaching. What does loyalty look like when every man is starving? What does courage mean when the cost falls on someone else? Some choices hit hard. One scene with a child had me holding my breath because the moment felt too close to the edge. The tension built slowly, then snapped tight. The writing does not tidy up the mess afterward, and I appreciated that honesty.
It is a story for readers who enjoy wartime fiction that focuses more on people than battlefields. Anyone who likes character-driven plots, moral puzzles, and a close look at the fragile ties that hold people together will find a lot here. I would recommend it to readers who want grit without glamor and heart without sentiment.
Pages: 508 | ASIN : B0G1K6GG7F
The Romanov Legacy: Ahead of the Storm
The Romanov Legacy II: Ahead of the Storm by Fred G. Baker is a sweeping work of historical fiction that imagines the escape of two Romanov children in the final days of Imperial Russia. The story follows Alexei and Anastasia after their flight from captivity near Yekaterinburg, guided by loyalists of the White Army as civil war erupts around them. Baker blends real events with imagined rescue efforts, focusing on danger, secrecy, and survival during the collapse of the old order. The book moves through military action, quiet hiding, and emotional aftermath as the children face loss, fear, and an uncertain future.
I enjoyed the pacing and clarity of the writing. Baker writes in a clean, steady style that keeps things moving without confusion. I never felt lost in the geography or the politics. The scenes feel grounded and physical. Cold barns. Dark rivers. Mud, hunger, and fear. I felt the tension early. Some descriptions were a bit longer than needed, but I did not mind. They helped me settle into the world. The dialogue feels natural most of the time, and the emotional beats land with honesty. I felt real dread during the execution revelations and real relief during moments of safety.
I liked the ideas behind the story even more than the action. This book is clearly about loyalty, moral duty, and the cost of history on children who never chose their fate. I felt angry reading parts of it. I also felt grief. Baker does not soften the cruelty of the era, but he does offer a sense of human decency through characters like Tupolev and Anna. I appreciated that balance. The book does not feel preachy. It feels mournful and stubborn and hopeful all at once. I liked that the Romanovs are treated as people first and symbols second.
I found this book to be emotional and thoughtful. I would recommend it to readers who enjoy historical fiction with emotional weight and alternative history angles. It is a good fit for anyone interested in the Russian Revolution, lost possibilities, or stories about protecting the vulnerable during chaos. When I think about this book next to other popular Romanov novels, it feels more grounded and more urgent. Books like I Was Anastasia or The Lost Roses spend more time on mystery, romance, and shifting timelines, while this one stays locked on danger and survival. It reminds me more of a wartime escape story than a court drama. The scope is narrower, but the tension is stronger. I felt closer to the characters here than I often do in historical epics, and that made the story hit harder for me.
Pages: 292 | ASIN : B0G1JDFZ7B
It Was So Different And Refined
Most Glorious follows a gifted young architect as he navigates shifting empires, secret intrigues, and looming wars to discover how quiet courage can reshape the world. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
The period described in the book is set during the era known as the Dark Ages. What inspired me to write it was that I found that period to be, in fact, very enriching in multiple ways. Building the largest building in the world, Hagia Sophia, was a great example of that, because it was so different and refined from all the large buildings constructed earlier. Another inspiration was that the writings and films about the fall of Rome in 476 made it seem that it was the end of the Roman Empire. The Roman capital was transferred to Constantinople in 330; it had a long and prosperous life until it fell in 1453, almost a 1000 years after the city of Rome fell.
How did you approach balancing historical accuracy with the emotional intimacy of John’s personal journey?
To me, any story needs to have credibility. Accordingly, ensuring the accuracy of historic events was a very important concern when working on the manuscript. Furthermore, John was a young man; he had to grow, learn, and take on more responsibility in changing times. He was technically well-trained not only to consider challenges in construction but also in the beauty of the project. Facing complex architectural issues, an unpredictable emperor, a jealous court, and secret spies, was more than enough for someone who just wanted to build a perfect building.
John’s personal journey was aided by university training, a strong relationship with his companion and mentor, the quiet and surprising love of some family members, and a great confidence in his own skills. Besides the various challenges, John understood that any mistake in the construction of the largest building would be the last error of his career.
What were some themes that were important for you to explore in this book?
As I planned this book, it became obvious that several interwoven themes needed to be explored. These include John’s personal journey, court intrigues, war and conquest, spying, and the construction of an architectural marvel. Without them, the story would not be complete.
The world feels authentic, from Miletos’ shoreline to the Persian court. Which location was the most challenging to bring to life?
Miletos was the most difficult to describe, as its geographical location changed over time. Miletos was a city that likely had several small ports; now, the few remaining ruins of that city are located a considerable distance from the shore. To gain a sense of how the city appeared many centuries ago, I relied on past writings and maps of the city ruins, although knowledge of the history of climate change and Mediterranean terrain was also very helpful.
Author Links: Amazon | GoodReads
However, his journey is not limited to stone and mortar. As John navigates the court intrigues of Constantinople, he finds himself entangled in political power struggles, the chariot-racing factions of the Blues and Greens, and the empire’s ongoing conflict with the Persians. Alongside figures such as the historian Prokopius and the great general Belisarius, John experiences firsthand the ambitions, betrayals, and heroism that shape history.
Blending real historical events with a gripping narrative, Most Glorious brings to life the grandeur and peril of the Byzantine world, showcasing the resilience of those who built its most enduring legacies.
Drinking from the Stream
Drinking from the Stream follows two young men on the run from themselves. Jake, a Nebraska kid turned Louisiana roughneck, flees the guilt of a killing on an oil rig. Karl, a disillusioned American student at Oxford, escapes the wreckage of the sixties and a painful relationship. Their paths cross, and they drift through Ethiopia, Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi and Tanzania in the early seventies, bumping into coups, massacres and love affairs as they go. The book stretches from the Gulf of Mexico to the Great Lakes region of Africa and on to Chile, and it ties private coming-of-age stories to state violence and postcolonial chaos.
I felt like the writing landed with real weight. The prose has muscle and rhythm, and it keeps a steady pace through long stretches of travel and talk. Scenes on the road, in trucks, on ferries, and in cheap guesthouses felt vivid to me. Dialogues carry a lot of the load. Characters argue about politics, race, faith, and guilt, and the conversations feel relaxed on the surface but tense underneath. I could sense the author’s years in Africa in the way a village lane or a border crossing appears in a few sharp strokes. The flip side is density. Historical detail piles up. I stayed invested in Jake and Karl, and in Beatrice, Bridget and the others, because the book lets them be flawed, funny and sometimes selfish, not just mouthpieces for a lesson.
The novel looks at racism and antisemitism inside Jake’s own story, then places him in countries where mass killing happens out in the open and on a terrifying scale. It plays with the dream of revolution and tears it apart. Young Westerners arrive full of ideals, then watch soldiers and militias burn those ideals along with villages. The book keeps asking who gets to walk away and who does not. Jake carries private guilt from the rig into places where guilt comes in rivers. Karl drags his Vietnam-era anger into a world where America is almost irrelevant. I felt anger, shame, and sadness while I read, and also a stubborn hope, because the story keeps circling back to friendship, loyalty, and small acts of courage. The novel does not pretend to solve anything. It simply puts you close to the fire and forces you to look.
I would recommend Drinking from the Stream to readers who enjoy historical fiction with grit, to people curious about East Africa in the early seventies, and to anyone who likes character-driven travel stories with real moral stakes. The book asks for patience and a strong stomach. It pays that back with a rich sense of place, big emotions, and a set of memorable characters.
Pages: 377 | ASIN : B0DXLQTN5M
LITERARY TITAN 