Matt's Books and Music

Here are some of the highlights, and one notable low-light, from the past month of my reading life.

Nine Raves

Dodge City, by Patrick DeWitt (2026 🇨🇦-born)

Premise: A would-be draft-dodger takes a drug-fueled road trip across the United States to come to terms with his decision and say his goodbyes to his far-flung family.

Review: This is an astounding novel. While the Vietnam War is the context, the novel is far more about the stories we all tell ourselves, and the murky lines between stepping up and running away. It’s a novel full of conversations, all nuanced, all surprising. I’ve had mixed experiences with this author in the past, but I LOVED this. Absolutely one of the best books I’ve read this year.

Bookish Pair: The Brothers K by David James Duncan (1992)

The Small Ones, by Nazanine Hozar (2026 🇨🇦)

Premise: A former child soldier reflects back on his experiences of the Iran-Iraq War.

Review: It takes great care to write a beautiful novel about ugly things, but that’s just what this is. It shows the ways adults twist religion, enthusiasm, need, and trust to manipulate children to their own ends. And while the book is grounded in the specificity of the ‘80s war, echoes of the past—Persia and Babylon, Persia and Greece, the Arabs and Sasanians, and even English WWII poetry—wash through the text, reminding the reader that the old have always sacrificed the young on the altars of their myths. While I have some quibbles about some of the plotting decisions, overall this is a wonderful literary achievement.

Bookish Pair: For another novel about the connective powers of rivers, Saleem Haddad’s Floodlines (2026)

Centroeuropa, by Vicente Luis Mora (2020, transl. 2026)

Premise: A man moving to a small German town makes a startling discovery when he attempts to bury his late wife: the frozen bodies from past and future European wars.

Review: This is a fascinating piece of literature that highlights the strength of short, speculative, literary fiction. The magic and insight of the story is right there in the premise: this is a story where the past literally refuses to stay buried, and where the powers that be do everything they can not to deal with it. As one character says, “A nation cannot survive with the truth exposed.” But another, “Perhaps there’s no need to tell the truth. Perhaps we know it already?” Big, compelling, and timely reflections.

Adam, Mine, by K. Ancrum (2026)

Premise: Teenage wunderkind Victor Frankentstein races across Europe to learn from alchemists in a desperate effort to undo the consequences of a horrible act that leaves him empathically linked to his victim.

Review: I don’t need more Frankenstein retellings, but this did something special. It takes the basic premise of Shelley’s story as a jumping off point to ponder big questions of empathy, repentance, forgiveness, and justice — and the ways perpetrators and victims find themselves connected.

The Sorceress of Sky Serpents, by Eden Robinson (2026 🇨🇦 🧡)

Premise: A young woman’s ability to commune with legendary creatures makes her a misfit in her community, but may be what is needed when a new threat emerges.

Review: This is a great first volume in a new fantasy series by renowned Haisla author Eden Robinson. The world-building is fascinating and successfully incorporates cultural traditions from along the Northwest Coast region. There’s also strong character development. My only complaint is that this first book is nowhere close to being self-contained. Really, the book just sets up what appears to be the series’ main plot. If that bugs you, you might want to wait to pick this up until the whole series is released. But I do hope you pick it up.

The Birthing Tree, by Amanda Peters (2026 🇨🇦 🧡)

Premise: A Mi’kmaq woman is flooded with memories when she returns to her hometown following the death of her grandmother.

Review: I loved this novel and the way it dives into themes of colorism and passing in Indigenous communities, and the long shadow of grief. I also appreciated its discussion of local traditions of midwifery and women’s health more generally. This is Peters’s third success in as many books and she’s quickly becoming one of the brightest lights in Canadian literature. (I really have to wonder why this wasn’t on the Giller longlist.)

Bookish Pair: Tara Gereaux’s Wild People Quiet (2026 🇨🇦 🧡) deals with some similar issues on the Canadian Prairie

Red Doc>, by Anne Carson (2013 🇨🇦)

Premise: The former monster Geryon, now known only as G, goes on a journey with friends and sits by his ailing mother’s bedside.

Review: Anne Carson, who was recently awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, is known for her works that defy categorisation. This sequel to her groundbreaking 1998 novel in verse Autobiography of Red is no exception, too poetic to be a novel but too novelistic to feel like poetry. But in Carson’s hands, this never feels gimmicky or antagonistic: it simply feels the way it needs to be. If you want a straightforward narrative this won’t be for you. But if you’re interested in phrase-level writing that’s as insightful as it is beautiful, you won’t be disappointed.

Ghost Wall, by Sarah Moss (2018)

Premise: A teenager whose family joins a Summer experimental archaeology expedition struggles to maintain a facade of normality as the group becomes aware of her father’s abusive tendencies, and disturbing fascination with the brutality of ancient life.

Review: This was nothing short of breathtaking; there’s so much creepy, atmospheric energy, and yet there’s never a doubt that the creeping dread and lurking evil is all human in origin. It also did a great job of ‘show-don’t-tell’-ing the difficult but important issue of domestic violence. On a more personal note, it was especially interesting for me since I had just been in the part of England in which it is set last Summer. This was a big unexpected spooky season win or me.

Bookish Pair: The Cossing Places, by Elly Griffiths (2009).

Marina, by Carlos Ruiz Zafón (1999, transl. 2013)

Premise: A Barcelona teenager becomes embroiled in a disturbing mystery after meeting a reclusive girl and her father.

Review: I love a juicy gothic novel in spooky season and this absolutely fit the bill. The translation is sumptuous and brings 1979 Barcelona beautifully to life, and the story fulfills the eerie and disturbing expectations I have for gothic fiction. My only complaint is that it relies a lot on second-hand storytelling, but it’s still excellent.

Bookish Pair: The author’s The Shadow of the Wind (2001) is a much beloved modern classic. (Which I should really re-read some time soon!)

And One Disappointment

Under Story, by Chloe Benjamin (2026)

Premise: A woman grieving the loss of a child and her marriage flees to Antarctica only to be confronted by her ex — and a possible way to make everything right.

Review: The first half of this novel is an exceptional reflection on grief, escape, and women helping women (in STEM no less), with a vivid portrayal of life in Antarctica and mycological research. Unfortunately this 5-star beginning is utterly undone by the second half, which is based in the single most ludicrous, poorly-thought-out alternate universe concept I’ve ever encountered. The logical holes were so obvious and appeared so immediately that it just turned into slop that even the wonderful characters and rich emotional journeys established in the first half couldn’t save. What a disappointment.

Bookish Pair: The Mountain in the Sea by Ray Nayler (2022)

 

Notable Non-Fiction

Magnifica Humanitas, by Pope Leo XIV (2026)

Premise: A theological and anthropological discussion of the possibilities and risks of artificial intelligence and call for strong humanitarian oversight and a restoration of the post-war human rights imperative.

Review: Like many people I’ve been both surprised and dismayed by what seems to be the complete lack of oversight and thought by our leaders when it comes to emerging technologies. In the context of that void, this is a critically important document for anyone wanting to address these concerns. As it happens, it’s also one of the most profound theological documents I’ve read in years. I certainly don’t agree with everything in it — why would I? — but it’s a strong and forceful, to say nothing of faithful, call for the justice and dignity at the heart of Christian faith.