Movies & TV Widow’s Bay 10 Reasons You Should Watch Widow’s Bay A second season is on its way, but in case you need convincing… By Alex Brown | Published on July 1, 2026 Image: Apple TV Comment 0 Share New Share Image: Apple TV There’s a not insignificant chance that if you’ve been on social media at all the last month or so you’ve heard the good news about our Lord and saviour Widow’s Bay. It is currently about 40% of my personality (another 40% is still being occupied by Heated Rivalry). If you haven’t yet tried this show, here is my pitch for why you should.  It’s [insert quirky comedy] meets [insert weird horror] Parks & Rec meets Twin Peaks. Schitt’s Creek meets The X-Files. Northern Exposure meets Gravity Falls. Ted Lasso meets Courage the Cowardly Dog. The Good Place meets Eerie, Indiana. To do horror comedy right, you have to expertly balance scares with laughs. Sometimes what you end up with is a story that leans too heavily on one or the other so it becomes a horror story that is occasionally funny or a comedy with some scary bits. Widow’s Bay deftly walks the horror comedy tightrope. Even the scariest moments have humor weaving through them. Often, the humor is the horror—consider the Sea Hag or the Boogeyman.  Katie Dippold, the creator of Widow’s Bay, came up with the idea originally as a spec script for Parks & Recreation, a show on which she was a writer and co-producer. The Parks & Rec vibes are strong, especially in episode 5, “What to Expect on Your Trip.” As has been repeatedly pointed out, Dippold is also the person behind the infamous meme of the Babadook at the wine party, and that is really the perfect description of what this show is. It’s genuinely funny and actually scary. For my fellow wee babies who don’t handle horror well, be prepared to watch some of it with your hands over your eyes. Image: Apple TV The cast Matthew Rhys! Kate O’Flynn! Stephen Root! Dale Dickey! Kevin Carroll! Jeff Hiller! K Callan! Hamish Linklater! Chris Fleming! Betty Gilpin! This is Rhys’ first time as a lead in a comedy and he plays the straight man so well. There’s an old joke about how if a Black person realized they were in a horror movie the first thing they’d do is leave, and Carroll plays the sheriff exactly like that. He has noped out of the whole thing before the show has even started. No ma’am. Kingston Rumi Southwick is a relative newcomer, but he is very talented. He brings depth and heart to Evan, a character who could easily be written off as a stock teen character. Something else I appreciate is how everyone looks like real people. It’s not to say no one is hot—do not even get me started on my weird little obsession with Matthew Rhys—but that no one looks plastic or fake. No one looks like they wandered off a catwalk or out of a studio executive focus group. The cast look like they could be your neighbors or coworkers. You need a show like this to feel crunchy and grounded or else it becomes too fantastical. (Yes, I said “grounded” about a show with a clown killer.) The crew With directors like Hiro Murai, Andrew DeYoung, and Samuel Donovan (all of whom have strong TV directing careers), as well as Ti West (who did the X film series), you know a show is going to be good. There are folks like music supervisor Toko Nagata (who also worked on some Mike Flanagan properties) doing perfect music cues and composer David Fleming creating incredible horror movie music homage instrumentals. And then you have everyone else on the crew, far too many to list here, banging out hit after hit in cinematography, editing, effects, casting, set and art design, costuming and makeup. Of course, I can’t forget the writers room doing their craft at peak performance. Every single person on that set worked their ass off. Image: Apple TV The details This is a show practically designed for multiple viewings. Every time you’ll pick up some little thing you never noticed before. Lights flicker ominously, strange faces appear in mirrors, unsettling artwork hanging on the walls. Some of my favorites: Rhys does a slightly different accent from everyone else; the newspaper article about a priest who got eaten by a whale and whose death was called a “sacrifice;” the way Patricia’s mug moves off the book; that Tom’s wolf calendar has a car crash as the photo for July. “Dead baby. Dead baby. Lesbian.”  This show is eminently quotable. The entire cast deserve their own personal Emmy for line readings. “Except for the teeth.” “I know you asked me to be supportive, but I have my qualms.” “Once again, I’d like to remind everyone that it is not mandatory that you speak.” “Alright, fuggos, let’s go.” “There’s no rush to the augmentation of the soul, folks.” “These jackrabbits had six kids, and some of them have a few of their own, but you know what they say, ‘A family that swims together, drowns together.’” Tom: “Have you ever heard of the trolley problem?” Ruth: “You mean back in ‘42 when we tried to build one and all the workers disappeared?” “Not yet. Not yet. Not yet. RUN.” “Old woman. Possibly damp. Faster than old woman should be!” “It’s perfectly safe to drive by the old hospital. You just can’t stop.” “Can’t do anything right today.” “I was just about to show Arthur the witch trial. Great source of pride. We caught ‘em. We burned ‘em.” “But he got bit by an animal and became that animal.” Image: Apple TV So. Many. Horror. References. Widow’s Bay is a love letter to horror movies. Jaws, Halloween, The Witch, The Village, Evil Dead, The Blair Witch Project, The Wicker Man, The Exorcist, several Alfred Hitchcock movies, and at least half of Stephen King’s backlist, among many others, pop up in one way or another. Sometimes it’s through shots or costume choices, sometimes it’s a specific moment in those movies, and sometimes the reference is a commentary on a trope, such as Final Girl Scream Queen Patricia’s slasher episode. It’s clear that the folks working on this show have a deep appreciation for horror, as well as a critical eye for its weaknesses. Ladies, ladies, ladies Many of the women on this show are middle aged or older. There are a couple teenage girls, but for the most part, the show reflects on what it’s like to be older and facing down societal pressure. We see women who are lonely and are haunted as adults by the consequences of choices they made as children, and women who defy social norms and thrive in that. Women are often discussed (usually by men) in terms of what they aren’t—young, mothers, married, etc.—but the tone always implies that the audience should bristle at this condescension. Horror movies are filled with mothers defending their children or hot young women being chased by monsters. When we get single, childless women in their forties, they’re often the villains or treated like pathetic, miserable cat ladies. Widow’s Bay revels in older women being exactly who they are, flaws and all. Image: Apple TV Dudes, man One of the key themes of the show is “frightened men who will do desperate things,” and all the implications that brings. Fatherhood, in all its joys and terrors and cruelties, is a central theme. We see a lot of fathers and father figures trying to navigate masculinity and toxic societal expectations. So much of what Tom is trying to do on the island is wrapped up in his complicated relationship with his son, Evan. It’s thrilling to see how the writers keep peeling back layers to reveal more about them as people and as father and son, thus shifting our understanding of everything that came before. Tom starts off the season as the mayor in Jaws, veers into being the father in The Shining, and becomes something much more interesting by the end. My only complaint is that the show is heavy on cishet white dudes and light on BIPOC and queer characters. I hope they diversify the cast next season. The lore I won’t get into this too much so as to not spoil anything, but what I love about the lore is how thoughtful it is. At first, it seemed like this show was going to be a season of random monsters of the week. But by the end of the season we can see how each creature not only furthers the plot of the season arc, but offers a ton of character development for the character dealing with them. The monsters are tailored to that character as much as they are to revealing bits and pieces of the island’s lore. I really hope in the second season we get episodes where Rosemary, Dale, Bechir, and Evan get their own lore encounters. And speaking of a second season… Image: Apple TV We’re getting a second season! If all of the aforementioned reasons aren’t to try the first season, maybe knowing it’s already so beloved by fans that Apple TV is fully invested in making more of it. This show is so damn good. It’s going to be very hard to bump it off the top spot in my Best TV of 2026 list, and it’s definitely in the top five of the 2020s. It’s firing on all cylinders (pun intended). Bonus reason: Patricia. Patriciaaaaaaa. P A T R I C I A. Patriciapatriciapatriciapatriciapatricia. No, I will not be elaborating. Bonus bonus reason: If I had a nickel for every time Hamish Linklater played a community leader who encountered a malevolent entity on a rundown New England island town, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.[end-mark] The post 10 Reasons You Should Watch <i>Widow’s Bay</i> appeared first on Reactor.

News The Odyssey Odysseus’ Long Journey to Theaters Is Almost Over With the Final Trailer for The Odyssey Have you checked on your local Classics department lately? By Molly Templeton | Published on July 1, 2026 Screenshot: Universal Pictures Comment 0 Share New Share Screenshot: Universal Pictures In just over two weeks, Christopher Nolan’s long Odyssey will end—I mean, begin. It will begin by appearing in theaters. The final trailer for the film has just arrived and, curiously for a movie that’s nearly three hours long, contains mostly the same footage we’ve already seen in the previous two trailers. The voiceover is different, and we finally get the quickest looks at both Elliot Page and Lupita Nyong’o (who plays two roles), but the greatest trailer hits are all here: Robert Pattinson’s Antinous mocking Tom Holland’s Telemachus, who is pining for his daddy (literal, not, uh, figuratively?); Anne Hathaway’s Penelope looking distraught but firm; men row a boat very forcefully in an attempt to escape Charybdis’ whirlpool; and the same two shots of Argos, Odysseus’ dog, at different ages. The dog evokes the greatest swell of emotion. Horses will be Trojaned; very large men will be fought; the many suitors for Penelope’s hand will clash. And Odysseus himself (Matt Damon) will defy the gods. The man just wants to get home to his wife, you know? Reportedly, it’s not just Nolan fans that are excited about Nolan’s new epic; according to CNN, “Odyssey fever grips the Classics world.” This is, perhaps, the most charming thing I have yet to read about this film. “I hope there is a surge in interest,” said UC Berkeley professor Kim Shelton, who teaches ancient Greek and Roman studies. “I am teaching my class on the Trojan War this fall for that exact reason.” One hopes the Classics profs are happy. The Odyssey is in theaters July 17.[end-mark] The post Odysseus’ Long Journey to Theaters Is Almost Over With the Final Trailer for <i>The Odyssey</i> appeared first on Reactor.

Column Science Fiction Film Club 6 Things I’ve Learned From Watching More Than 100 Sci Fi Films From campy cult classics to high art, every movie can teach us something about passion, artistry, and storytelling By Kali Wallace | Published on July 1, 2026 From Le Voyage dans la Lune (Georges Méliès, 1902) Comment 0 Share New Share From Le Voyage dans la Lune (Georges Méliès, 1902) I’ve been writing this column for a little over two years, and during that time I’ve watched and written about more than 100 science fiction films. That’s not a lot of movies for a real cinephile, but I didn’t go into this as a real cinephile. I went into it with a fondness for sci fi movies, a scattering of knowledge, and a desire to know more. Now, I have a much greater fondness, a lot more knowledge, and an even stronger desire to know more. So I’m going to use this completely arbitrary milestone to look back at some of what I’ve learned along the way, while recommending some gems from among the films I’ve watched, especially those that might otherwise go overlooked or underappreciated. From Ikarie XB-1 (Credit: Filmové Studio Barrandov) 1. People have been making sci fi movies for as long as they’ve been making movies. But you might not know it from looking at a lot of general film history. Sure, every film history book or documentary will mention Georges Méliès A Trip to the Moon (1902), but quite a few will then just sort of skip to a brief mention of Metropolis (1927), then skip again to the post-war Atomic era films, give an obligatory nod to 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), and only really acknowledge sci fi movies as a load-bearing part of the film industry with the release of Star Wars (1977). It’s not universal, but it is oddly common for film critics and scholars to treat the current preponderance and success of sci fi films as a recent and baffling phenomenon. There are a lot of reasons for that and, yes, some of those reasons are that some people who write film histories are pretentious, or learned about film history during an era when gritty realism was in fashion. But you barely need to scratch the surface to see that aliens, rocket ships, mad scientists, and time travelers have been there all along, and not just in Méliès’ trick films and their imitators. As soon as Méliès and his contemporaries demonstrated to the world that film could show us things that do not and cannot exist, that’s what filmmakers started doing. A lot of the earliest films have been lost, a great many more have been dismissed as silly, unimportant thrillers or horror flicks, but they’ve always been around, and people have always been watching them. Check out: Ikarie XB-1 (1963), directed by Jindřich Polák. A wonderfully stylish, gorgeously designed Czechoslovak film about humanity’s journey into deep space. World on a Wire (1973), directed by Rainer Werner Fassbinder. I know that a German television miniseries about corporate malfeasance and virtual reality in the ’70s is a tough sell for fans who come to sci fi for whiz-bang adventure, but I promise this one is worth watching. From Man Facing Southeast (Credit: Cinequanon Pictures) 2. Every film contains a little bit of somebody’s passion. We all know about the big passion projects, the films that one director or screenwriter or producer or actor wanted to make so badly they threw a lot of time, effort, and money into getting them made. But alongside all the Spielberg films and Tarkovsky films and Cameron films, there are quite a few movies that were made just to make money. They are the movies made quickly, cheaply, and without a whole lot of care—but even in those movies, there is always some aspect that somebody cared very strongly about. Even Rocketship X-M (1950), which was made in a whirlwind to capitalize on another film’s release, contains thoughtful themes and beautiful artwork. Even It! The Terror From Beyond Space (1958), which was made in about a week from borrowed ideas and spare props, has a memorable monster suit made by Paul Blaisdell. Even Planet of the Vampires (1965), always intended to be schlocky monster feature, has a wonderfully effective atmosphere and tension. Not all of the movies I’ve watched for this film club are good. But movies are a complex artistic ecosystem of different parts, and there is always somebody, somewhere in the production doing their job with genuine skill and creativity. Check out: Save the Green Planet! (2003), directed by Jang Joon-hwan. A truly bizarre film, but it commits to its premise and tone so completely that it manages to be funny and brutal and bleak and brilliant all at the same time. (It’s recently been remade as Bugonia, but I don’t care about that, because that version doesn’t star Shin Ha-kyun in the lead role.) Man Facing Southeast (1986), directed by Eliseo Subiela. Movies like this are why I dislike it when people reduce science fiction to being about ideas or technology. Sci fi is also about people. Messy, complicated, loving, selfish, contradictory people, and it’s lovely to find a movie that captures that so well. From Aelita (Credit: Gorky Film Studio) 3. The ability to create entire worlds out of glue, paint, random junk, and elbow grease requires artistry and craftsmanship worth preserving. When I first start writing this column, I didn’t have terribly strong opinions about what goes into making a movie’s visual effects. I always sort of thought, well, if it looks good, it can be CGI, it can be practical, it can be whatever. I don’t think that anymore. Before anybody starts typing furiously in comments, let me be clear that I’m not saying no movie should ever use computer-generated effects. I think computer visual effects have done fantastic things for what can be portrayed in film. Some of the most visually compelling films, like The Fifth Element (1997) and The Matrix (1999), use a clever combination of computer and practical effects. But I also very much think that deprioritizing practical effects to the point where the industry is losing artists and abandoning decades of knowledge, skill, and craftsmanship is bad for the art of filmmaking. It is also, on a much grander scale, bad for humanity. I don’t care if it saves money. (It also doesn’t always save money. A lot of lower-budget films, like Moon [2009], use practical effects because that’s the more economical option.) But even if it did, saving money is not the goal of art, and art’s value cannot be measured in how much it enhances some rich asshole’s investment portfolio. Artistic skills are not only worth developing and supporting if they are cheaper than an alternative. Filmmakers make more interesting movies when they use the vast variety of tools at their disposal. That includes working with computer visual effects artists, yes, who are immensely skilled workers and deserve to be treated much better than the industry currently does. But it also includes working with costumers who know how to make clothing, with miniaturists who know how to create cityscapes, with painters who know how to make backgrounds, with sculptors and puppeteers who know how to make monsters. Artistry and craftsmanship have a profound collective value when combined in the project of a film. One of the best things about movies is the way so many levels of expertise and creativity come together to transport us into another existence for a couple of hours, and that whole process, from the concept art and storyboards to the finished movie, is worth understanding and protecting as a showcase of human ingenuity, creativity, and skill. Check out: Aelita (1924), directed by Yakov Protazanov. It’s not a perfect movie, but oh, does it do a marvelous job creating a unique, unsettling Martian world through set design and costuming. A great early example of making other worlds look otherworldly. Attack the Block (2011), directed by Joe Cornish. Sometimes all you need is a block of council flats, a cast of unknown actors, a man in a monster suit, and something to say about prejudice in modern society, and you’ve got genuine movie magic. From Kin-dza-dza! (Credit: Roskino) 4. Approaching art with an open mind is a habit that develops with practice. When I started writing this column, I decided that I was going to approach each movie with a willingness to see what it had to offer and a desire to find something interesting to talk about, whether that comes from its story, its production, its context, or its legacy. I didn’t really know what that would look like, living as we are in a time when media criticism is going through an existential crisis and nuance is decidedly unfashionable. I don’t find the flavor of film commentary that only points out flaws very interesting, so I wanted to avoid that, even when casting such a wide net in my selections that I knew I would be watching many films that are outdated, or offensive, or badly made, or not to my tastes. But I like learning things, and movies are complicated creations from a complicated global industry. I soon realized that there is, in fact, always something worth talking about, and I can rarely predict ahead of time what that’s going to be. I don’t love all the movies I watch, but I do genuinely watch each one trying to appreciate what the filmmakers were doing with the tools they had available to them, even if their intentions come from a vastly different context or perspective, or if in the end they didn’t quite work overall. “I don’t like it” or “This isn’t for me” or “This has some problems” do not necessarily mean “This is a waste of time” or “This isn’t worth thinking about” or “There is nothing to get out of this.” Also, once I got into the habit of doing that for movies, it became easier to do it for other kind of art and media as well: music, books, games, visual arts, fashion, etc. It turns out the world is much richer and more interesting when we approach it with the idea that art doesn’t have to be perfectly suited to our personal tastes to be worth understanding. Check out: Kin-dza-dza! (1986), directed by Georgiy Daneliya. Of all the movies I’ve watched for this column, this is without a doubt the one that has required the most willingness to go along for a baffling ride. This movie is so fucking strange. It might be off-putting, especially if you go in looking for sci fi adventure rather than, say, surreal absurdism about the collapse of the Soviet Union. But everybody should give it a chance. Dead Mountaineer’s Hotel (1979), directed by Grigori Kromanov. Another strangely alluring oddball from the Soviet era, this Estonian noir film is weird and moody, with a wonderfully unique visual style. Also a very cute dog. From La Jetee (Credit: Argos Films) 5. Sci fi cinema is a valuable historical artifact. It’s a joke but it’s got some truth to it: if you ask ten people to define science fiction, you’ll get fifteen different answers. One thing I’ve learned as I’ve researched the history of sci fi cinema is that the conversations people are having today—about the purpose of sci fi, about whether it is inherently forward-thinking or reactionary, about who makes it and for what audiences, about whether ideas or people are more important, about the role of science and technology—have been there all along in global sci fi cinema. Science fiction in general, and sci fi cinema in particular, is not inherently bleak or hopeful, optimistic or skeptical, reactionary or progressive; it encompasses all of those things and more. What it is, however, is responsive. Film as an art form grew up with the 20th century, and sci fi is a genre well-suited to capturing snapshots of change across the tumultuous past hundred and twenty-some years. From the films of German Expressionists during the Weimar Republic to the works of the early years of the Soviet republic, from the escapist extravaganzas of the Great Depression to the anxiety-ridden films of the post-WWII Atomic Era, from the experimentation of the French New Wave to the weary realism of the New American cinema of the ’70s, from the push-and-pull of earnest optimism and pointed political criticism of the Reagan era to the big ideas of the ’90s, and continuing into the new global expansion after the turn of the millennium, sci fi cinema has always been a medium for reflecting the hopes and fears and anxieties and doubts of the time in which it is made. Check out: Boy and the World (2013), directed by Alê Abreu. This Brazilian movie is one of the most beautiful animated films I’ve ever seen, with some of the most wonderful music, showing the heart-wrenching story of the life of both a man and his people through the lenses of colonialism, industrialization, and revolution. La Jetée (1962), directed by Chris Marker. The short film that inspired 12 Monkeys is a fascinating example of what film can do, and what kind of world it can create, using references to real history and imagined futures, with still photograph storytelling that doesn’t normally feature in motion pictures. From High Life (Credit: A24) 6. There’s always room for new favorites. I’ve selected some of my long-time favorite films for this column, and it’s been a lot of fun to watch them again, learn new things, and read other people’s thoughts and feelings. I still love Alien (1979). I still love The Thing (1982). I still think The Iron Giant (1999) is perfect. But there is no point in embarking on a project like this thinking that I already know all I need to know about what I like or dislike. Stalker (1979) was an unexpected revelation to me. It’s hard to explain the emotional impact of watching Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (1992) first as a teenage girl, then as an adult, and finally understanding all of the horror and pain in the story. I’ve turned into the kind of person who will bring up the socio-political context of Godzilla (1954) at dinner parties just because I think it’s fascinating and need to share. If they don’t throw me out of the party, I’ll start doing the same with Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956/1978) before dessert. It is such a joyous thing to find a new favorite and to know there are many more out there waiting to be discovered. Check out: The Long Walk (2019), directed by Mattie Do. The young Laotian film industry is so small most of it could probably fit inside a single theater, so I had no idea what to expect from this film. It’s a beautiful, mournful exploration of violence and sexism and loneliness and grief, all wrapped up in the science fictional structure of a time loop. It’s stunning and affecting and I still think about it regularly over a year later. High Life (2018), directed by Claire Denis. A film from a renowned director starring an A-list actor can’t exactly be a hidden gem, but I still think this movie has not gotten the attention it deserves from sci fi fans. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it when I first watched, but I’m still thinking about it much later. It’s intense, disturbing, sometimes outlandish, and unapologetically bleak, but it’s also beautiful in a way that really gets under the skin. So there you have it: The 100-ish movie milestone, and there are so many more to watch. I promise I still have the films you’ve all recommended before on my ever-growing list, but please comment below if there are any movies you would like to see discussed in the future! Next week we’ll return to our regular movie-watching schedule with Colossus: The Forbin Project (1970). You can find it online in a few of the usual places.[end-mark] The post 6 Things I’ve Learned From Watching More Than 100 Sci Fi Films appeared first on Reactor.

Books Jeaniene Frost Where to Begin Reading the Work of Jeaniene Frost Jeaniene Frost’s new romantasy series is just the tip of the iceberg By Lyndsie Manusos | Published on July 1, 2026 Comment 0 Share New Share Do you remember the vampire boom of the early 2000s? As a Millennial, I remember reading the Twilight series in high school, feral for the angst and the love triangle. I remember watching the Blade sequels and reveling in the hype of the True Blood series.  In addition to film and television, there was also a spike in the popularity of vampires in urban fantasy and paranormal romance literature. Some have alluded this boom to a post 9/11 desire for escapism, especially after all the horrors experienced. One could also argue that this is why romantasy has exploded recently in the publishing sphere–we are seeking to escape the horrors again (i.e. pandemic, rising fascism, xenophobia, transphobia,and  racism.) I highly recommend listening to Sarah MacLean and Jennifer Prokup’s romance podcast Fated Mates, which touches on this history in a few of their paranormal romance episodes.  To quote the writer K.S. Walker, whom I chatted with about this—and whose fiction you really ought to read—this genre has provenance. Look back to the 2000s—urban fantasy and paranormal romance walked so the genre boom we’re seeing now could run. Like Ilona Andrews, there are authors who were a part of the last boom and are back again.  Case in point: Jeaniene Frost.  Most recently, Jeaniene Frost has a new romantasy series, released in May 2026. The first of the Beautiful and Beastly series, A Curse of Beasts and Magic is a take on Beauty and the Beast, with the narrator, Raine, having to deal with an ancient beast that has taken residence in her body. Frost is a veteran in creating strong female characters who rise above their traumatic pasts (though, they probably could still use some therapy). Half-vampire Catherine “Cat” Crawfield from the Night Huntress series, which began with the first book, Halfway to the Grave, in 2009, is like Raine in her determination to keep the human part of herself, no matter how powerful the other part of her becomes. This determination, and at times desperation, to hold onto that humanity, is prominent in Frost’s work. You can’t go wrong on which series to start with, but to understand Frost’s oeuvre, I recommend starting at the beginning. Night Huntress To fully appreciate Frost’s latest release, start with the Night Huntress series, though it’s by no means a requirement. A Curse of Beasts and Magic and the Night Huntress series are not connected in any way, but as a fan of Frost’s work, it was a delight to witness both Frost’s trademark wit, spice, and action scenes along with Frost’s evolution and growth in the genre.  The main Night Huntress series revolves around Catherine “Cat” Crawfield, a half-vampire who hunts the undead in revenge for what was done to her mother, and for her own existence. In the first book, she’s captured by Bones, a vampire bounty hunter. Bones offers to train Cat to better hone her battle skills, but in the process, Bones and Cat fall for each other. Cat realizes that not all vampires are evil, and what follows in the series are the ups and downs of their relationship as well as growing personal and global stakes as the human and supernatural world collide.  My favorite book of the Night Huntress series is the fourth in the series, Destined for an Early Grave. In this book, Cat begins to have nightmares about a powerful vampire, Gregor, who claims that Cat belongs to him. What follows is a wild–and unsettling–ride of trying to keep Cat’s nightmares from giving away her location, while also dealing with Bones’ growing suspicions and fears. It takes their relationship to a whole new level and magnifies the issues they’ve been trying to look away from. Frost does not hide from showing the occasional ugliness that appears in Cat and Bones’ relationship, and I find that very refreshing. There’s a large cast of characters in the Night Huntress series, and Frost deftly manages to give so many wonderful layers to every side character—so much so that there are multiple spinoff standalones and series. Frost spotlights two main characters who were secondary, or even barely mentioned, characters from the original Night Huntress plot arc. The Night Huntress Universe In addition to Cat and Bones’ arc, there are multiple spinoff standalone and extended series following characters in the Night Huntress universe. It’s been a while since I’ve read these, but I do remember enjoying the spinoff standalone First Drop of Crimson, which follows the characters Spade and Denise, each of whom are friends of Bones and Cat, respectively. Like Cat, Denise struggles with her more monstrous side, and Spade helps her turn her fears into confidence, independence, and strength.  Night Prince The Night Prince and Night Rebel series are longer spinoff series that focus on secondary characters in the Night Huntress world. These series can be read on their own, without reading Cat and Bones’ story, but you’ll definitely be rewarded with additional context if you have the Night Huntress series under your belt.  The Night Prince series follows Vlad Tepesh. Vlad—yes, Dracula, but don’t call him that—is a prominent secondary character in the Night Huntress series, and Night Prince continues his story as he meets a new character, Leila, as the heroine.  Leila is human, but she has dark powers. Not only can she harness electricity, she can also divine someone’s darkest secrets with a single touch. Because her powers match Vlad’s own, enemy vampires attempt to use her to get to him. Once they meet, however, passion ignites, and with their powers combined, you can probably guess that there will be fireworks. Lots and lots of fireworks. Night Rebel The Night Rebel series is the most recent series in the Night Huntress universe, with the last book, Wicked All Night, having been released in 2021. This series follows master vampire Ian Flannery, a chronic rule breaker in the world of vampires. Now he’s in the biggest trouble (yet) of his undead existence: a demon named Dagon has claim to his soul. To break the claim, Ian has to partner up with a warrior who is truly his opposite, but as we know in the romance, opposites deliciously attract. Veritas is the Judge Dredd equivalent to vampires. As a law guardian, she plays police, judge, jury, and sometimes executioner for vampires who cross very carefully drawn lines. Ian should be someone she punishes, but since she, too, has to take down Dagon, they team up. What follows is a series of their growing love and heartbreak.  Jeaniene Frost is exceptional at crafting one of my favorite tropes in all of literature, which is bringing the gang back together. Add in the romance and fantasy aspect, and the gang often includes powerful couples from earlier standalones and related series. You can count on superb Avengers Assemble moments, especially in the last book in the series. Broken Destiny The Broken Destiny trilogy is entirely separate from the Night Huntress world. This series has its own urban fantasy mythos and worldbuilding, including other realms. It follows Ivy, who believes she has hallucinations, seeing otherworldly things and beings. After her sister goes missing, lost in another realm, Ivy realizes what she sees is real.  Adrian is bound by an ancient legacy to eventually betray Ivy, but he agrees to help her search for the relic that might release her sister. Adrian knows much more than he lets on, and try as he might, he can’t seem to stop his growing desire for Ivy.  What follows is a series of various realms and dances with destiny. Can they overcome fate to be together? Will they choose the world and those they love, or each other? Jeaniene Frost utilizes stakes so well in her series. One of my favorite thoughts reading any type of romance is “How will they get out of this one? How will their relationship survive?” A truly talented author will make it work in the end, and it will be satisfying as hell. Beautiful and Beastly Frost’s Beautiful and Beastly series is the newest, starting with A Curse of Beasts and Magic. I remember hearing about this series while working an event for Wild Geese Bookshop, the indie bookstore I work at—I overheard someone in line say excitedly to her friend, “Have you heard about the new Jeaniene Frost book?” To which my ears perked up, and I leaned in with “Jeaniene Frost as in Halfway to the Grave Jeaniene Frost?” Much excitement ensued, and I practically ran to Edelweiss after the event to learn more.  This series is entirely separate from the Night Huntress world, but as I mentioned earlier, it is rewarding to have read Frost’s earlier work before diving into this. The main characters, Raine Stone and Remington “Remy” Byrne, remind me of Cat and Bones in the best way, yet they are very much their own unique characters.  At the heart of a Curse of Beasts and Magic is Raine’s battle with a beastly entity that has lived inside her since her family was murdered by it when she was a teenager. By killing the creature that murdered her family, Raine became its new host, and in the years since, she has fought to make sure that its appetites are only appeased against violent, insidious individuals. Raine has even managed to use this entity’s powers to heal but at a cost.  When Raine saves an elderly man with little memory from being abducted, she doesn’t realize the man is related to the wealthy and powerful Remington “Remy” Byrne. Raine learns that Remy also happens to be a Warden, a powerful supernatural figure whose purpose is to keep humans safe from other, more powerful supernatural species and mediate power struggles between factions. Remy shows Raine a world she never knew existed, as well as help her take control of the beast inside her. What they could not anticipate, however, is how connected their pasts truly are, and how much they will have to fight to keep each other and those who they love safe.  From Frost’s website, there are two more titles listed in this series, and forewarning: A Curse of Beasts and Magic ends on somewhat of a cliffhanger (your mileage may vary on what you define as a cliffhanger, but I have questions! Anticipation!). I very much enjoyed the romance and battle scenes of this book, and I suspect fans of the current romantasy boom will love Frost’s latest addition to the genre.[end-mark] Buy the Book A Curse of Beasts and Magic Jeaniene Frost Buy Book A Curse of Beasts and Magic Jeaniene Frost Buy this book from: AmazonBarnes and NobleiBooksIndieBoundTarget The post Where to Begin Reading the Work of Jeaniene Frost appeared first on Reactor.

Excerpts Science Fiction Read an Excerpt From The Felicity Complex by august clarke Six women, lab-designed to serve billionaires in a luxury fallout shelter, rebel against their programming after the end times arrive. By august clarke | Published on June 30, 2026 Comment 0 Share New Share We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from The Felicity Complex, a dystopian SF satire by august clarke, out from Erewhon Books on July 28th. Welcome to the Felicity Complex! Constructed during the height of the Cold War, our unique hotel is prepared to protect you, the billionaire class, from nuclear annihilation! Shielded from radiation and supplemented with closed air systems and hydroponic gardens, this resort bunker offers a prime existence underground: full gymnasium and spa, gourmet meals, top-tier medical care, and the best in entertainment.Meet Hallelujah! Grown in a lab and educated in the ways of concierge hospitality, she believes in her duty to comfort the Lord-anointed refugees of the apocalypse. (Even if her lover Anastasia disagrees. Even if her creator Dr. Younghusband is disappointed in her.) Don’t worry—everyone is safe from communists in the Felicity Complex!Look, Hallelujah, guests have finally arrived! Hallelujah and her sister specimens have waited ages for you. Never mind the secrets other rich survivalists may be hiding. Just make sure they don’t notice the violent intentions behind our staff’s wide, wide smiles…A sendup of traditional womanhood and lampooning the paranoias of the elite, The Felicity Complex questions the ambitions behind the entitled few who plan for the end times—and who truly survives them. Buy the Book The Felicity Complex august clarke Buy Book The Felicity Complex august clarke Buy this book from: 1Before The specimen resembles a girl. It has tits. It has no concept of identity beyond its murky understanding of itself as Specimen 679-b, which isn’t exactly a name or title. The tubes down its throat and wrists are hooked up to some unseen display. It drifts otherwise untethered in the narrow confines of a glass vat, submerged in milky fluid, and stares directly at the fluorescent lamps overhead. The lamps buzz. A fly buzzes too, and bounces suicidally off the long, skinny bulbs. This is the only movement in the room. The specimen is playing a game. The game is a race. Staring directly at the light hurts, which is the point. It fries its eyes with the lamplight, then counts through the duration of the itchy, fizzy, healing feeling that follows. How fast can the specimen repair its retinas? So fast! The specimen’s personal best is twenty Mississippis. It’s trying to get its time down to fifteen. This is a bad run. Its eyes are still fizzing at thirty. Around the specimen, complex white boxes blink and hum, but it has become completely desensitized to the various box sounds. Its world is made of beige control panels with brown knobs, racks of blue wires, towering steel implements, and other glass vats. This specimen doesn’t know if there are other specimens in those vats. Other specimens probably existed at some point, for instance Specimen 1 through Specimen 679-a. Sometimes things fail in this laboratory and that pisses the scientists off. They curse and smoke cigarettes inside when that happens. The inciting incident could be the death and dissolution of other specimens. Who’s to say? The specimen has limited vision beyond the lamp above it. It can’t investigate. The lamp game is getting boring. The specimen considers bashing its head against the glass. It seems like something to do. A busted face would be more complicated to heal, so could make for a higher-stakes game. The idea gains momentum for the specimen. It thinks about what would happen to the milky fluid and the tubes in its face. It thinks about the possible skull-glass sounds. Glass is breakable! If it breaks the glass, perhaps somebody will show up and give the specimen attention. The specimen likes attention. It’s so exciting when somebody comes by to talk to it. Maybe Doctor Younghusband would visit. Now that’s a thought. Maybe he’d make a note on his clipboard. Maybe he’d examine the wound and personally chart its progress. Maybe he’d say, That’s interesting. Thirty-one Mississippi, thirty-two Mississippi, thirty-three Mississippi. The purple splotches fade from their vision. Embarrassing stuff. The specimen experiments with a headbutt. Thunk. The glass doesn’t break. Dull thud of pain, then something new: worry. The tube tugs at the back of its throat, which is irritating, then frightening. It gags, tries to swallow, and suddenly the glass vat shrinks. The specimen is trapped. It can’t extend its arms. It kicks and twists its hips, the milky fluid sloshes against the walls of the vat, and the tubes in its wrists scrape against the inside of its skin. Drugs and acclimation only last so long. It properly notices the tubes for the first time in a while. It hates the tubes. The tubes feel separate from the specimen, invasive. It looks at its wrists, and its body growing around the tubes implanted there. Hot-pink meat twines up the plastic like ribbons on a ballerina’s shoe. The specimen was shown a picture of a ballerina recently. It was on a slideshow. The specimen bites down hard on the tube in its mouth and screams. A machine above the specimen beeps like crazy. The laboratory door groans open and is quickly followed by the comforting squeak of loafers on vinyl. The scientists are here! The specimen prays that they will save it. “Jiminy Christmas,” says Doctor Slagle. He’s a scrawny man with shiny hair and a thick mustache. He wears a necktie with blue and brown stripes and his lab coat is too big for him. He has other qualities the specimen cannot parse in the middle of its panic attack. He looks like a weasel. He has tiny pointy weasel teeth. He fumbles his rubber-gloved hands over the vat’s latch and opens it. Cold air on the specimen’s face. Its nose and brow float just above the fluid’s surface. Milky liquid clings to its eyelashes in big, shiny dewdrops. Doctor Slagle lifts the specimen’s wrist out of the fluid. He feels for its pulse, measures it against the information on the monitor. He mutters something. Next, he measures the new growth of the specimen’s errant flesh around the tubes, then pinches the flesh ribbons and unwinds them. It hurts when he pinches. His eyebrows scrunch up. He produces a scalpel from somewhere and slices off the flesh ribbons. Ouch. He nabs the severed flesh with tweezers and stashes it in a little vial. The flesh ribbons writhe around in the vial, then go slack. He grimaces. He blinks at the cut he made. Not enough Mississippis have passed yet. It’s bleeding a lot. The milky fluid in the vat is turning pink. He peers at the specimen’s face. Contorted in terror. It is trembling all over. The specimen can’t speak while intubated, and the screams come out mangled and slurred. He says, “Okay. Tranquilizers, Pye.” The specimen doesn’t know how many scientists are in the room with it. It tries to count. It needs to know what’s going on. Doctor Pye grunts. He’s been looking at the monitor, the specimen can see him now from its vantage in the vat. He twists some knobs, then turns his back on the specimen. He fills a needle, flicks it. He loads up the specimen with a potent translucent liquid. The tranquilizer hits. Smoothness rolls through the specimen. Everything feels good. It no longer cares about the tubes or how many doctors are watching it. It chews on the plastic, dazed. The cuts on its wrists seal shut around the tubes. Itchy, funny. The water is still pink. “Now that we’re done freaking out,” says Doctor Slagle, addressing the specimen. It’s clear when he’s talking to the specimen because he overenunciates his consonants. “It’s a big day for Project Materia Prima. We got a new funding lead. Smile!” It smiles around the tube. “Just like that. Now, Doctor Younghusband is giving Mister Pink a tour of the laboratory today. Mister Pink is a very rich man. His money is Project Materia Prima’s only shot. If he likes you, we can afford to keep you alive. This is make or break, vat baby.” Doctor Slagle’s eyes flash. His pupils are huge, and the specimen can see itself reflected in them. He leans closer. He smells like sweat and bubble gum. His stripy tie dangles over the specimen’s face. The fabric brushes the tip of its nose. He says, “You’ve gotta do your very best impression of a normal human woman. You’ve got to sell it, Specimen 679-b. It’s life or death. Continuation or destruction. If we can’t sell you, that’s curtains. I’m going to take the tube out. Don’t bite me. Do not bite me. Understand?” The specimen looks at the curls in his hair. It tries to count the curls, but the curls are a maze, and the specimen is lost inside it. Wandering spirals forever. The curls have no beginning and no end and are therefore innumerable. They churn like waves in the ocean. Cresting, breaking, flowing. The specimen was recently shown footage of several natural landscapes, and the ocean was easily the best one. Very vat-like. Doctor Pye presses down on the specimen’s forehead, pushes it under the milky surface. As he tilts the specimen’s head back, its mouth opens, and Doctor Slagle reaches inside. There is something pleasurable and revolting about how it feels when he drags the tube out of its throat. The specimen likes how discomfort gives way to satisfaction. Liking things is easy right now. Doctor Pye puts the throat tubes away. No luck for the wrist ones, those stay hooked up. The specimen forgets the annoyance as soon as it thinks to be annoyed. Wavy and smooth. Its throat is obviously empty now. Breathing feels hilarious. The specimen coughs. The milky fluid gets in its mouth. It takes a swallow of blood-pink creamy brine. Mistake. Nausea rakes its insides, and the specimen retches and yucks. “Stop that. Be cool,” says Doctor Slagle. “It’s showtime.” “Doctor Younghusband. Mister Pink,” says Doctor Pye. “Boys!” booms a stranger. A molten, embarrassing specialness creeps up the specimen’s belly. It cranes its neck to see its maker. Doctor Younghusband stands perfectly still in the doorway. He is shorter, thinner, and older than anyone else in the lab. He is almost colorless. His tie is gray, and so are his slacks. He wears his necktie with a fancy knot. The specimen wonders who knots his ties for him. It wants to kill whoever that person is. Elegantly, Doctor Younghusband doesn’t say anything. That’s normal. Maintaining a professional mystery is part of his charm. The specimen has heard him speak three times, ever. He doesn’t greet his subordinates, doesn’t inspect the hugely expensive inscrutable equipment in the room, and doesn’t come greet the specimen. He stares unblinking at the fly on the fluorescent lamps. The specimen loves him so. The enormity of the specimen’s love for Doctor Younghusband momentarily obscures the stranger. Then it blinks, and all at once, Mister Pink fills the room. Mister Pink is an immense person in a white linen suit. His yellow hair wafts off his head like his skull is on fire. Apple-red cheeks, bright blue eyes, adorable little snub nose, and a wide, curving mouth. The specimen has never seen anybody so tall before. On tiptoe, this man could bite the ceiling lamp in half. Mister Pink takes huge, cartoonish strides into the laboratory. He runs his bejeweled hands over all the knobs and levers. Whenever he brushes up against something that makes Doctor Slagle or Doctor Pye cringe, he lingers there and tweaks the fiddly bits. He grins from temple to temple and whistles a jolly song. He flips a few switches. Doctor Slagle tries, “That’s—” But Doctor Younghusband silences him with a glance. Mister Pink takes his time wandering around. He looks at everything, touches everything. He traces a stubby finger along a bright blue cable and says in a chesty voice: “Mighty fine place you boys have here. What’s this one do?” Doctor Slagle says, “That one—” Mister Pink pulls the cord. A droning sound cuts out. Doctor Pye says, “Specimen 679-b, sir.” “Do you mind if I smoke?” Mister Pink stands over the specimen. He plucks a cigarillo from thin air and pops it between his huge, square, gleaming white teeth. He lights it before the scientists can say anything. He takes a drag. The smoke cloud swirls around the specimen. Then, he drags up a chair. He sits down beside the vat. “You poor, sweet creature, moldering in plastic Eden. Don’t worry, sugar. I’m here.” He rolls up his sleeve, plunges his thick forearm into the milky vat fluid. He takes the specimen’s wrist just above the tube and props it on the vat’s edge. Its hand dangles over the side. Mister Pink pulls a lacy handkerchief from his pocket. He gently dries the specimen’s hand. Then he shakes out the handkerchief, tucks it underneath the specimen’s wrist, and fishes around in yet another pocket. This time he produces a bottle that the specimen recognizes from magazines. It’s nail polish. Summery red. A smell fills the air. Acrid, sharp. Mister Pink swishes a wet, red brush down the length of the specimen’s index fingernail. Middle next, and so on. As he paints the specimen’s nails, Mister Pink says, “This one’s uglier than the last one, Stephen. How many more options do you have for me?” “This is the sixth and last specimen that’s internally coherent, reasonably sexually dimorphic, non-contagious, and verbal. The rest fall short. You won’t want them,” says Doctor Younghusband. It’s so exciting to hear Doctor Younghusband speak that the specimen doesn’t glean anything from what he says. His voice is crisp and precise. It feels clean. “You’ll make more eventually. For now, I’ll take the lot,” says Mister Pink. He paints the specimen’s thumbnail, then leans back, examines it again. He twists up his mouth. “That’s better. Darling, I am taking you away from this dreadful place. The world outside is dangerous and does evil things to beautiful people, but I’m in hospitality. I’m building a fortress. You’re invited. You’ll work for room and board in the Felicity Complex, my luxury bunker, and you’ll tend the modern kings and geniuses of the free world. If the Communists drop bombs on us to destroy the world, you’ll be the last champion of happiness. Picture the world smashed flat, and you done up in a frilly maid costume making sure civilization persists until tomorrow. Like the sound of that?” The specimen, her now, looks at her red painted nails. She wiggles her fingertips. She pictures it. In her mind, she sees some indistinct metropolis crushed to powder. The orange sky is empty, and the land is gouged and silvery, like the face of the moon. Loud, hot breezes sprinkle poisonous confetti on the rubble. The air itself is evil. There is no life at all. Then, an open gulch. There’s a bedroom at the bottom, like the ones in the movies. Glamorous, stately. Big wooden headboards, feather pillows, velvet throws, marble statues in the corners, candles flickering. Self-billowing curtains that open to nowhere. In the middle of the gulch bedroom stands the specimen as a frilly maid. She imagines her red nails curled around a feather duster. A flick of the wrist and the gloom is gone along with the cobwebs. Champion of happiness! No tubes. Doctor Younghusband jots something down on his clipboard. “Oh, yes,” says the specimen. “I’d like that very much.” Excerpted from The Felicity Complex, copyright © 2026 by august clarke. The post Read an Excerpt From <i>The Felicity Complex</i> by august clarke appeared first on Reactor.