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Medusa: Or, Men Entombed in Winter
This book hit me in ways I didn’t expect. Medusa follows Peter and his daughters as they flee from something dark and unspoken, snow chasing them the whole way. At first, it feels like a family story. A man on the run, a diner breakfast, a reunion with a father he barely knows. But then it starts flipping back in time, and suddenly we’re deep in the cold heart of academia, with radical college students, cult-like movements, and ideas about truth, power, and rebellion that start out philosophical but turn dangerous. It’s part thriller, part tragedy, and part fever dream about how ideas can twist people up until they can’t tell the difference between salvation and destruction.
I’ve gotta say, I didn’t expect the writing to be this sharp. Farnworth’s style feels cinematic, like you can see every snowflake, every cracked diner mug, every shiver of guilt and paranoia. He writes winter so well that I swear I felt cold reading it. The dialogue’s raw and real, especially between Peter and his kids. It’s tender and sad and kind of haunting. But the college sections? Those got under my skin. The way Meddy talks, so sure of herself, so magnetic, it reminded me of that one person in college who could talk you into anything. I loved how the book didn’t tell me exactly what to think about her or Peter; it just dropped me into their choices and let me sit in the mess with them.
Honestly, there were times it made me mad. I wanted to shake the characters, tell them to stop before they burned it all down. But that’s what made it work for me. It’s messy and uncomfortable and feels real, even when it’s surreal. I liked how it asked big questions without pretending to have big answers. It’s about belief, guilt, the weird ways people chase meaning, and how sometimes we destroy what we love trying to make sense of it all.
Reading Medusa felt a lot like diving into Donna Tartt’s The Secret History, that same haunting mix of intellect, obsession, and the slow, beautiful unraveling of people who think they’re smarter than their own downfall. If you like stories that start small and snowball into something much bigger, something that rings in both your heart and your head, this book’s worth your time. It’s for readers who like dark winter tales and flawed, complicated people.
Whalers
Kyle Farnworth’s Whalers delivers a genre-defying, thought-provoking thriller set in the atmospheric backdrop of New Bedford, Massachusetts. Once a prosperous whaling town, New Bedford now struggles with poverty and decline, setting the stage for a gripping and emotional plot. The story follows Ethan Callahan, a middle school English teacher, whose life is upended when he becomes a suspect in the disappearance of a former student. Faced with a crumbling reputation and a haunting accusation, Ethan is forced to confront not only the external challenges of clearing his name but also the inner demons that have long shadowed his existence.
Farnworth’s skillful use of narrative voice is one of the novel’s strongest elements. Ethan’s perspective feels both personal and relatable, making it easy for readers to connect with his struggles. The raw disappointment and deep sense of defeat in some scenes resonate vividly, offering a glimpse into his deflated spirit. These emotional undercurrents lend authenticity to Ethan’s journey and draw the reader closer to his character.
The theme of personal transformation runs deeply through Whalers, leaving a lasting impression. Ethan’s battle with his inner ghosts is central to the story, and Farnworth portrays his struggles with striking realism. Ethan’s reliance on alcohol, whether it’s Coors Light, vodka nips, or wine, becomes a coping mechanism for his pain. Yet these choices lead to further mistakes, such as an encounter at a strip club with a character named Amber. These moments paint a picture of a man at odds with himself. Redemption comes when Ethan attends an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, beginning a path toward healing and self-discovery. The honesty in these scenes makes his eventual transformation all the more powerful. Some scenes brim with despair and evoke a visceral response. Readers who have experienced hitting rock bottom may find themselves deeply empathizing with Ethan’s sense of hopelessness.
Farnworth has crafted a novel that captures the messy, complex nature of human imperfection. Whalers is an emotional rollercoaster, offering moments of heartbreak, resilience, and introspection. Fans of thrillers like Louise Penny’s The Grey Wolf or John Grisham’s The Reckoning will find much to admire here. The book is especially suited for readers who appreciate characters with depth and flaws, as well as stories that challenge and provoke reflection. Prepare to feel a spectrum of emotions as you immerse yourself in this compelling tale.
Pages: 228
LITERARY TITAN 