Five Mini Reviews from 2025

I've been proud of my cadence this year on Words Like Silver — for the most part, sharing a healthy volume of book reviews — but in looking at my Read in 2025 list, I'm definitely itchy to share some titles I haven't yet gotten to, whether I plan to extend my thoughts or just leave them as-is. As you might be able to tell, these are books I have small snippets of commentary on but maybe not enough for a full review (some, I’ll analyze further though. To be determined.) So my comments on these are perhaps smaller and pickier than my usual.

So, here's a first batch of some of the books I've finished this year:

The Last Letter by Rebecca Yarros

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Everyone right now is talking about wanting to self-educate and build curricula and accumulate knowledge and I'm like—I need to actively scale down on that front. Sometimes I need brain go brr. You might be familiar with Rebecca Yarros from her cult-favorite Fourth Wing, which I did love for its escapism, but she got her start writing a string of military romances (lol — respectfully. That romanticization on O'ahu is already strong.)

The Last Letter is about exactly what you'd expect considering her background. But I need to tell y'all: instead of reaching for A Little Life when you use a book example of "tragedy porn" or "trauma porn," this is the new standard. She throws deaths, childhood cancer, etc. etc. towards the characters, and they're both so tortured. It was one thing after another—which, in fairness, is a critique I had of Iron Flame, the sequel to Fourth Wing. Contrast and room to breathe are necessary in what I consider "good" pacing or else impact doesn't hit as hard.

I don't love books like this, which is why I'm also not a fan of Nicholas Sparks either.

Naturally, here's the setup: Ella's so independent/can't take no shit, and Beckett falls in love with her from afar because she doesn't need anyone and is the tough single mom. C'est classique! Also, some major plot holes re: mistaken identity.

But that last 10% of the book is what really cinches that (lol.) After one of the child twins battles cancer and survives, naturally the other one passes away in a freak rockslide incident the day after the first is declared cancer-free—compounding that sweet ol' trauma of being a special-ops-turned-search-and-rescue guy who finally feels like he has a family. Because of course he has to be the one trying to find his buried, adopted son.

So, yes, it's a tearjerker and heartwrenching and a bit of an eye roll in that "I've never met anyone like you" way you'd expect from such a highly selling romance, which I'm all cool with, but it goes just too far to make me be like, "alright, that just seems like you're being gratuitous." There’s a line. I've told everyone I've talked to lately about this book because of how floored I was by its choices, because I'm still caught up in the audacity of it.

Revolve by Bal Khabra

Y'all know I went down my hockey romance rabbit hole this past summer, and Bal Khabra is one of the authors who fits within that canon. Her latest — releasing this fall — is about the bad boy hockey captain who gets kicked off the team after a failed drug test and the injured couples skater trying to regain her footing after a devastating injury and her partner's abandonment.

This was cute and enjoyable, albeit really heavy-handed in a way I never vibe with in a romance. Overall, it's a solid addition to the series though; it scratches the itch even if that looks like clubbing you over the head with its points (said respectfully.)

Only one detail immensely bothered me, and that's that I almost wish the author had avoided mentions of the Olympics entirely, because her participation in the Olympics was treated so casually as to not be convincing whatsoever in a way that ultimately drove me crazy. Her training, redemption, background, identity, etc. needed to be a whole lot more intense because it was basically just used as an "Oh yeah, I went to the Olympics" with no follow through on what that actually meant or felt like.

Overall though: likable, fun, solid romp for a plane ride. A little saccharine, but still a good time. Out in October!

Red Doc> by Anne Carson

I love Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson, and so I was eager to read Red Doc>. It's a follow-up, and it's strange per her usual. What I associate with Autobiography of Red is loose, longing Greek symbolism combined with synesthetic, experimental writing. And this one is definitely experimental. While I love poetry, I don't frequently read novels in verse either.

I consider myself a pretty "with it" reader, but I had a lot of trouble following what all was happening in a given passage or poem. Of course, there were lines I relished and underlined; there were stunning moments, like the volcano eruption or (the renamed Herakles)'s PTSD, but they were also paired with some truly strange happenings.

I didn't love it quite as much as the original—and admittedly, I reread the original right beforehand and didn't love it quite as much as the first time either—but I respect and adore Anne Carson. She takes risks, and I appreciate how playful she is with language even when she is, quite frankly, bizarre.

This type of treatment is right in line with the type of angst and analysis that absolutely belongs in any study of Greek mythology: monsters or heroes. (Related: Madeline Miller is on my to-read list soon.)

Time of Your Life by Jessa Hastings

I'll go to bat for the Magnolia Parks series or her latest, The Conditions of Will, for their high-low treatment and these very searing moments that pierce the veil, in a way. She handles the messiness of human relationships in a rare, nuanced way that I think nobody else can really do. Regardless of your personal feelings about the author either way, she's distinctive for sure.

Unfortunately, Time of Your Life felt like complete slop to me. She takes risks in what I would call the quality of her books already and they all have this stream-of-consciousness feel that defines her voice, but Time of Your Life had all the drawbacks without any of the strengths, in my opinion. It just felt rushed and sloppy.

I was never convinced by the main couple (which is an issue many have with her original series) and so the rest of it sort of fell apart. I just didn't really have a reason to care about anyone involved, and so the shallowness of the rest of the plot felt pretty grating, especially considering the circumstances are already repetitive.

She's already done this all, and she did it better beforehand. It fell flat, which was frustrating considering you're already up against so many handicaps with her already. I suppose for me, Hastings takes big swings and so is either going to knock it out of the park or completely whiff; up until now, she's been a home run for me, but this one made me falter.

Petty pet peeve, also: this book is supposed to take place in the '90s, so there are a lot of references to movie stars and whatnot to orient her protagonist as the It Girl to watch in London. Hastings does an amazing, giddy job painting the going-out scene of that era, but 1) I think any amount of references like this dates a work already and 2) I actually think it's really creepy and strange to use real people's names in the context of having (fictionally) slept with the main character. It just feels invasive and like a violation of their privacy and reality. Like "oh, when you hooked up with Heath Ledger." (I mean, we all love Heath Ledger, but—it just doesn't feel respectful, so really bothered me.)

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck

Of Mice and Men is obviously one of Steinbeck's most iconic works, and it's short. Most people remember its ending, and probably dissected it in your English class.

Right now, I'm going through a major obsession with Steinbeck, to the extent that I actually read his biography (and I'm not a fan of biographies.)

Of Mice and Men is powerful in the way that all Steinbeck is powerful, exploring the question of "what all you are responsible for" and "when groupthink eclipses the individual and how that warps identity." Like Cannery Row and East of Eden, it discusses intentions vs. reality and who is actually innocent.

In that sense, it's a good introduction. I think I prefer all his others for their vividness, etc. just because Of Mice and Men is really such a quick glimpse and so conversational versus the kind of sprawling casts I love from Steinbeck, but it's still good.