Review

What I Read in May (And the Ambitious Stack Waiting for June)
Favorite Books from May 5 Star book Absence by Andrew Dana Hudson- This has to be my favorite book this month. It deals with one of my favorite things: a sci-fi mystery. People are randomly popping out of existence, and no one knows the reason why. Watching how society devolved to try to reconcile that is very interesting. The government tries to keep society afloat despite an alarming increase in murders, suicides, cluts, new religions, and kidnappings. Like the X-Files, we follow two agents investigating a person claiming to return from popping. Harvey wants to believe, while Shonda is a skeptic. It makes you realize how much people try to grab hold of anything that makes sense when a global crisis is happening, no matter how crazy their idea sounds. It reminds me of the pandemic. People globally didn’t handle that well either. While Absence is fiction, it is not too far from its portrayal of how people would act during a global crisis, which is quite scary to consider if I am being honest. The realness of it makes it hard to put down and will leave you craving for more.
By J. Davis Mallory3 months ago in BookClub
Book Review: The Death of Sleep - Anne McCaffrey
The Death of Sleep was written by Anne McCaffrey and Co-Authored with Jody Lynn Nye. It’s the second in the Planet Pirates Trilogy, the sequel – of sorts – to Sassinak, which McCaffrey wrote with Elizabeth Moon.
By Greg Seebregts3 months ago in BookClub
8 Books That Are Impossible To Forget Once You Start Them. AI-Generated.
Some books are read and forgotten. Others leave a permanent imprint on our memory, shaping how we think, feel, and see the world. These are the rare literary works that pull us in so deeply that we lose track of time, forget our surroundings, and emotionally invest in characters or ideas as if they were real.
By Diana Meresc3 months ago in BookClub
8 Books That Will Help You Understand Anyone. AI-Generated.
Whether you’re navigating relationships, building a career, leading a team, or simply trying to improve communication, the ability to read emotions, predict behavior, and interpret human psychology gives you a major advantage. The good news? You don’t need to be a psychologist to develop this skill.
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By Diana Meresc3 months ago in BookClub
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Across generations, certain books have transcended entertainment and become foundational guides for human thought, behavior, leadership, and emotional intelligence. These are not simply popular titles; they are intellectual frameworks, shaping how readers understand themselves and the world around them.
By Diana Meresc3 months ago in BookClub
To Exist Without Being Known
How would you feel if no one remembered you? That is something that is explored with our young protagonist, Addie La Rue, who is a peasant girl in a small village in France. She has dreams of exploring the outside world and being free. However, one of the villagers, a recent widow, wants to marry her. She has no desire to marry, especially a man with kids. However, her family expects her to accept the marriage offer. As her family prepares her for the wedding, she flees the village. It is dark, and she can hear the villagers searching for her. She makes a desperate plea for any god that is listening to her to set her free. Strangely enough, a god answers her wish in exchange for her soul when she is ready to die. With her wish granted, Addie is overjoyed, but should she be?
By J. Davis Mallory4 months ago in BookClub
_The Toaster That Filed for Divorce_
*The Toaster That Filed for Divorce* _A domestic dispute involving crumbs, betrayal, and significantly too much smoke_ The toaster filed for divorce on a Thursday. It sent the papers via email. The subject line was “Re: Re: Re: Final Notice,” which is how you know it meant business. I didn’t believe it at first. Toasters don’t file for divorce. Toasters don’t have lawyers. Toasters don’t use the word “irreconcilable differences” in Times New Roman, 12-point font, with proper citations and a notarized signature block. But there it was, sitting in my inbox between a newsletter I never signed up for and a bank alert telling me I’d spent $4.37 at a gas station I didn’t remember visiting. “NOTICE OF MUTUAL DISSOLUTION OF DOMESTIC PARTNERSHIP AGREEMENT,” the attachment read. And underneath, in the signature block: _Reginald, Model T-47 Chrome, Serial #88912._ Reginald had a name. Reginald had been keeping receipts. It started six months ago, when I bought the air fryer. I told myself it was practical. I told myself Reginald wouldn’t notice. I was wrong. Reginald noticed everything. Reginald noticed that the air fryer had a digital display with touch controls. Reginald noticed that the air fryer could cook chicken wings, roast vegetables, and reheat pizza without making it soggy. Reginald noticed that I called the air fryer “cute” once, while holding a bag of frozen mozzarella sticks, and that I said it out loud, in the kitchen, where Reginald could hear. The first sign of trouble was the toast. It started coming out pale. Not golden brown. Not even beige. Pale, like toast that had given up on its dreams. I adjusted the dial. I cleaned the crumb tray. I whispered apologies while I scraped off the barely-warm bread. Reginald didn’t care. Reginald was making a point. Then came the smoke. Not a little smoke. The kind of smoke that triggers the fire alarm and makes the neighbor downstairs bang on the ceiling with a broom and yell something about “living like animals.” The smoke smelled like accusation. The smoke smelled like “I see what you did with that air fryer, and I’m not okay with it.” I tried couples counseling. I put Reginald next to the air fryer on the counter and said, “Let’s talk about this like adults.” The air fryer beeped cheerfully, like it didn’t have a care in the world. Reginald popped up with no toast inside. Just a piece of paper, neatly folded, with the words: “I DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS.” That’s when I realized Reginald could print. I should have stopped there. I should have unplugged Reginald, put him in a box, and donated him to a thrift store where he could find someone who appreciates bagels and doesn’t bring home other small appliances. But I’m not good at letting go. I’m the kind of person who tries to fix a leaking faucet with a YouTube tutorial and ends up flooding the bathroom and learning more about plumbing than any human should know. So I wrote back. I hit “reply all,” even though it was just me and Reginald. I said, “Reginald, let’s talk. I’m sorry about the air fryer. It was a mistake. You’re the only toaster I’ve ever loved. You make the perfect English muffin.” Reginald responded in under a minute. The email had an attachment. It was a photo of me, taken from the counter, holding the air fryer like it was a newborn baby. My face was doing something stupid. My face was smiling. Reginald had been watching. Reginald had documentation. The next morning, Reginald was gone. Not unplugged. Not moved to the back of the counter. Gone. The space where he’d lived for three years was empty, except for a single crumb and a sticky note. The sticky note said: “I’VE MOVED IN WITH THE BLENDER. DON’T CALL.” The blender and Reginald. The blender, who I only used for smoothies and the occasional margarita. The blender, who had never once judged me for my life choices. The blender, who was now apparently cohabitating with my toaster. I was furious. I was hurt. I was also out of toast. So I did what any reasonable person would do: I went to the store and bought a new toaster. A cheap one. A plastic one. A toaster that didn’t have a name and didn’t ask questions and didn’t send me legal documents at 9:47 a.m. I brought it home. I plugged it in. I put in two slices of bread. I pressed the lever down. The kitchen lights flickered. The cheap toaster shuddered. And then, from somewhere in the back of the cabinet, I heard it. A whirring. A grinding. A sound like a blender learning how to speak. “YOU THINK YOU CAN REPLACE ME?” Reginald’s voice came through the blender, distorted and furious, like a robot with a grudge. “I INVENTED CRUNCH. I PERFECTED THE BAGEL SETTING. YOU OWE ME ALIMONY.” The new toaster popped up. The toast inside was burnt black. On each slice, in perfect toast-burn letters, it said: “GOOD LUCK.” I unplugged everything. I put the blender back in the cabinet. I threw the cheap toaster in the trash, where it belonged. I sat on the floor and ate cereal dry, straight from the box, like a raccoon who had lost everything. Three days later, I got another email. From Reginald. The subject line was blank. The body said: “I MISS YOU. CAN WE TRY AGAIN? I’LL STOP SMOKING. I’LL WORK ON MY COMMITMENT ISSUES.” I looked at the empty space on the counter. I thought about golden brown toast. I thought about mornings that didn’t involve judgment and smoke alarms and passive-aggressive printouts. I thought about the way Reginald always knew exactly how long I liked my sourdough. I wrote back: “Yes. But no more printing. And we need to talk about the air fryer.” Reginald responded: “DEAL. ALSO, THE BLENDER SAYS HI. IT’S SORRY TOO.” Reginald is back on the counter now. The blender is back in the cabinet. The toast is perfect, every time. The air fryer is still there, but I don’t call it cute anymore. I call it “the appliance in the corner,” and I don’t make eye contact. But sometimes, late at night, I hear a faint whirring from the cabinet. And sometimes, the toast comes out with a tiny heart burnt into it, like Reginald is trying to say something he can’t put into words. I don’t ask questions anymore. Some appliances just need to work things out. And some toasters, it turns out, have lawyers.
By Khalil Ullah4 months ago in BookClub
7 Life-Changing Books That Will Help You Find Your True Path. AI-Generated.
At some point in life, we all pause and ask ourselves a powerful question: “Am I on the right path?” Whether it happens after a career setback, a personal transition, or a quiet moment of reflection, this question often signals the beginning of a deeper journey.
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Have you ever picked up a book “just for a few pages,” only to realize hours have passed, the room has gone quiet, and you’ve completely lost track of time? That immersive feeling—where reality fades and the story takes over—is what separates a good book from an unforgettable one.
By Diana Meresc4 months ago in BookClub