Five books I enjoyed, Summer/Winter 2025 edition
- Published
- 30 June 2025
- Tagged
- 2020
- 2021
- 2022 Pt. 1
- 2022 Pt. 2
- 2023 Pt. 1
- 2023 Pt. 2
- 2024 Pt. 1
- 2024 Pt. 2
- 2025 Pt. 1
It's the time once again to write about books I've read. The new book-tracking format I mentioned last time is doing me well - I have half a blog post in draft form about the process of building small CLI tools for just this kind of job - and making it really easy for me to review which books I've read, and which I want to talk about.
The past six months have been a real dive into genre fiction, to the extent I haven't managed for a few years now, brought on by a few recommendations I've received recently. It's been nice.

The Starless Sea - Erin Morgenstern. Sometimes an author just writes a book that's very clearly a love letter to books, and this is one of them. Morgenstern builds a fantasy world hidden just below ours, like Borges but more romantic, perhaps, full of factions and secret societies and masked balls.
The world-building is wonderous, only enhanced by the fact that the main narrative arc takes place in a ruin of the place, long after all its inhabitants have left. In fact, I can't help but wonder if half the magic of this book is the fact that Morgenstern gives with one hand while taking with the other - showing us what wonders this place used to be, but never actually pointing the camera at the Starless Sea in its heyday.
A book this elaborate needs to be a masterpiece to stick the landing, and this is something I don't think Morgenstern quite handles. The climax and denoument just don't seem to hit quite right.

The Dawnhounds - Sascha Stronach. Obligatory New Zealand author inclusion. Possibly the most New Zealand things about The Dawnhounds was the way I found out about the series - a colleague mentioning that a friend of theirs had published a book.
The Dawnhounds starts off as a murder mystery police procedural set in a weird fantasy mid-future Pacific city, and how you react to that is, I feel, a good determinant of whether or not you'll like the book. The thing quickly switches pace into queer near-future fantasy, and I was saddened by this only because of the potential in the murder mystery space.
The book is weird and queer and revels in both of those areas. There is a sequel and I've yet to see if it continues that through to the second book.

Moominpappa at Sea - Tove Jansson. I read several of Jansson's books as a teenager, but I could swear she'd written more than the nine novels she actually wrote. My mind has whole cloth invented several scenes I could sear happened in Moomin books, which (upon re-reading) I've found never existed - six months ago I'd have bet real money that there was a novel where the Moomins go on a proper holiday to something akin to the Riviera, for example. My own personal false memory.
Regardless, Moominpappa at Sea was actually one of the Moomin books that I skipped over as a child. It's a real pity[1] Or perhaps not: teenage me was also sure that Ursula Le Guin's A Wizard of Earthsea was a boring and dour book about nothing much. My taste has improved, I swear.

A Deadly Education - Naomi Novik. I got a few recommendations for books recently from a friend, and this was one of them. A Deadly Education grabbed my pretty rapidly thanks to its weird Battle Royale-esque setup coupled with a nice riff on what I've come to refer tongue-in-cheek as the Zauberkindbildungsroman (lit.: "Magical child coming of age story").
I cannot help but shelf this series alongside Lev Grossman's Magicians series in my head. Tone-wise, the two books are quite different, but they both have a number of similarities beyond just their focus on magical high schools, the kind of people these places would produce, and what happens after these folks graduate.

All Systems Red - Martha Wells. Another recommendation to me. I'd previously read (and not particularly enjoyed, I don't think?) some of Wells' fantasy work, so it took a couple of recommendations for me to pick this series up.
All Systems Red is a great conceit well-executed: a security construct, basically a human being modified Robocop style into a mobile sentient weapons platform and leased out as a service, goes rogue, but rather than kill everyone, it just wants to watch TV all day.
As the series continues, Wells executes a competent pivot from gag novel to introspective series about what it means to be human. But I'm not sure that it really quite recaptures the frictionless joy-in-the-conceit of the first book or so.