News The Batman: Part II The Batman: Part II Villain Tease Sparks Speculation About Hush, Court of Owls, and More But seriously, it’d be cool if it was Hush. By Vanessa Armstrong | Published on September 18, 2025 Credit: Warner Bros. Comment 0 Share New Share Credit: Warner Bros. The Batman: Part II is now officially moving into production, with filming set to start in April or early May 2026, according to director Matt Reeves. Reeves, who wrote the script for the sequel with Mattson Tomlin, also shared a teaser for who the villain might be when talking on the Emmys red carpet with Josh Horowitz of Happy Sad Confused.  Reeves shared that, for his Batman movies, he wanted to push “even further into the character of Bruce Wayne because the first story is so much about The Batman.”  He added, “I always wanted the movies to be focused on his character… I never wanted to lose [Robert Pattinson, who plays Bruce Wayne] as the center of these stories and so that is what we set our aim on—so picking the villain that digs into what that does, that goes into his past and his life—that was what drove that discussion.”  If that wasn’t enough to intrigue fans, he also said that what we’ll see in The Batman: Part II has “never really been done in a movie before.” The rogues gallery is vast, but there are a few villains that could fit the description Reeves laid out. The most direct, perhaps, is Hush. Hush, aka Tommy Elliot, was childhood friends with Bruce. Unlike Bruce, however, he is a sociopath who tried and failed to murder his parents for money and, once he and Bruce were grown-ups, he concocts a revenge scheme on Bruce because he blames Bruce’s father for saving his parents’ lives and thus ruining his moneymaking endeavor.  Hush is far from the only candidate, of course. Reactor’s Slack was abuzz with other possibilities, including the criminal syndicate The Court of Owls, which has been around since Gotham’s founding, as well as Hugo Strange and Red Hood. Other names that popped up include Scarface, Calendar Man, Mad Hatter, and Man Bat (you never know!).  The possibilities are many, and the speculating is fun while we wait for more news on the sequel, including who will eventually be cast as said villain. [end-mark] The post <i>The Batman: Part II</i> Villain Tease Sparks Speculation About Hush, Court of Owls, and More appeared first on Reactor.

News What to Watch What to Watch and Read This Weekend: A Football Horror Movie You Might Hate and a Brian Eno Movie You’ll Watch (At Least) Twice Plus pictures of beautiful bookshelves! By Molly Templeton | Published on September 18, 2025 Photo: Universal Pictures Comment 0 Share New Share Photo: Universal Pictures The first day of fall is Monday. I’m really sorry to bring this up—unless, of course, you’re one of the people for whom this is very welcome news. (How about both? Can I be both?) In Portland, we’re in that stretch of time where leaves might fall into your drinks when you’re sitting outside enjoying the high-70s perfect weather. It’s crossover season. Unintentionally, this week’s recommendations are a little crossover-y, too: sports and horror, books and architecture, satisfying and unsatisfying versions of a similar plot. And Brian Eno, who crosses over most things, come to think of it. Settle in with your beverage of choice, and don’t forget to call your reps. Football Is Horrifying, Though: Him Okay, so, the reviews for Justin Tipping’s football horror movie Him are far from glowing. “Style to burn and not much else,” says Vulture’s headline. But I still want to watch it. Honestly, this movie deserves my time just for the gory beauty of its first teaser. It’s 10,000 percent a sports ad (“If you want to transcend the game, you have to dig deep”)—one that goes absolutely haywire. And the effectiveness of that trailer choice made me think about bodies, and sports, and all the ways that a body, put through great physical stress, can go haywire in all kinds of “normal” ways. Bodies are weird, no? At least, if you think about them too much. Anyway. I grew up in the kind of small American town where there is so little to do that everyone goes to the high school football game, even if they—like me—have zero interest in football. I’ve seen the clichés. I want to see the actually-making-it-weird version. But it might not be great. Is it worth it? You can only do that math for yourself. Just Look at the Pretty Books as a Palate Cleanser I don’t even remember where this link came from, because it erased all the thoughts in my mind when I clicked it. (Bliss, for a half a second.) “57 brilliant bookshelf ideas for every type of space,” a post from the UK’s House & Garden, requires nothing of you. You can just scroll and admire bookcases. Bookshelves. Beautifully arranged books in tasteful houses. There is, I admit, a preponderance of beige and white walls, and not as much artful chaos as some may wish for. (There is some, though, like the shelves with art hanging on the front of them.) There is a green book nook that I would very much like to read in. There’s a gorgeous cat on a red sofa in a room with red shelves and colorful rugs. There’s so much. I am only halfway through and saving the rest for later. Which Older Fantasy Books Meet Modern Expectations? My favorite online discussion this week was definitely the conversation Eddie Clark started when he asked, “what 80s & 90s epic fantasy holds up best to modern eyes and why?” I am constantly wishing I had more time to go back and read my old favorites—partly because I want to see what does hold up, and partly because I want to see how differently I might feel or think about those books now. The answers to Clark’s question vary, though there is a lot of agreement on Robin Hobb’s Realm of the Elderlings series (serieses?) and quite a few mentions of Kate Elliott, Melanie Rawn (specifically her Exiles series), and Janny Wurts. We can nitpick about whether Tamora Pierce’s books are epic fantasy or not—and there are several similar arguments in the thread!—but I just read Alanna: The First Adventure this week and it was such a joy that I got mad at myself for not having the next three books to hand. There are a few things to quibble with, but Alanna’s fear and frustration and determination are just perfectly depicted. What holds up for you? What do you want to reread? Is fall the perfect time to do just that? I’m Going to Go Have a Good Cry with The Magicians I was not alone in finding the just-ended season of Strange New Worlds underwhelming. The humor wasn’t as sharp as it needed to be; the characters didn’t get enough focus or time to develop; and the finale asked us to be deeply invested in a relationship that’s never quite clicked (and I’m still not over all the unfortunate bioessentialism). But a certain part of the season finale—if you’ve seen it, you know—reminded me of one of my favorite episodes of television of all time: The Magicians’ “A Life in the Day.” In the midst of a quest for some magic keys, Quentin and Eliot wind up living out a whole life while trying to solve a mosaic puzzle. That’s the meat of it. And just thinking about that episode makes me a little teary. It’s beautiful, and in the big picture of the show, it’s meaningful. It also comes at a point when we know these characters, their flaws and foibles and big cracked hearts. It makes sense; it builds things, and it undoes things. And if you would like a good cathartic cry, it will probably give you that.  Wanna Watch a Movie You Can Never See the Same Way Twice? Please forgive me, because I’m about to talk about a movie you probably can’t actually watch right now (though it is coming to streaming eventually!). But the thing is, you should know about this movie so that you can watch it when it is available to you—and then maybe watch it again, because the odds of it appearing the same way twice are infinitesimal. I’m talking about Eno, the documentary about Brian Eno, for which director Gary Hustwit “and creative technologist Brendan Dawes have developed bespoke generative software designed to sequence scenes and create transitions out of Hustwit’s original interviews with Eno, and Eno’s rich archive of hundreds of hours of never-before-seen footage, and unreleased music.” (You can read more about the creation of the film at The Verge.) Listen: Maybe you think you don’t care about Brian Eno. Fair enough. But if you care about art, and creativity, and the creation of some of the last century’s most enduring music; if you care about how people move through the world and make art and keep being curious; if you could use a straight shot of hope—well, then you should watch this movie when you can. The critic Carl Wilson watched it (almost) five times in a row, and wrote, “It was replenishing because while it lasted, Brian Eno made it seem possible to be hopeful without being oblivious or gullible.” If you would like to watch a music documentary now, though, may I also suggest the wonderfully chaotic Pavements, which also takes a variety of approaches to its material (though not quite as many as Eno). I cannot emphasize strongly enough the excellence of 20 Feet from Stardom, a documentary that gives backup singers like Darlene Love and Merry Clayton their due (seriously, you will never listen to “Gimme Shelter” the same way again). On Sunday, Lilith Fair: Building a Mystery—The Untold Story hits Hulu, and I can’t wait. (This oral history of the Fair can tide you over until the premiere.) One of the producers on Lilith Fair is critic Jessica Hopper, who also directed the excellent series Women Who Rock. You should watch that, too. If you like good things.[end-mark] The post What to Watch and Read This Weekend: A Football Horror Movie You Might Hate and a Brian Eno Movie You’ll Watch (At Least) Twice appeared first on Reactor.

News Now You See Me: Now You Don’t Now You See Me 3 Trailer Pits the Four Horsemen Against Gen Z Magicians Magic spans generations. Except when it doesn’t. By Vanessa Armstrong | Published on September 18, 2025 Credit: Katalin Vermes Comment 0 Share New Share Credit: Katalin Vermes We’ve got another trailer full of magical moments for Now You See Me: Now You Don’t!  That’s right, the third film in the franchise about four magicians who seem to break up crime syndicates in their spare time is set to premiere in a couple of months. The movie’s latest trailer sees them walking through an upside-down room, using playing cards as a projectile weapon, a really large MacGuffin diamond, and having generational clashes with a group of magicians twenty-plus years younger than them. Here’s the official synopsis for the film, in case you need more details on what the movie is actually about: The Four Horsemen (Jesse Eisenberg, Woody Harrelson, Dave Franco, Isla Fisher) are back—to unite with a new generation of illusionists (Justice Smith, Dominic Sessa, Ariana Greenblatt) for their most global, high-stakes magical adventure yet. Their mission: Expose the corruption of Veronika Vanderberg (Rosamund Pike), a powerful diamond heiress with ties to arms dealers, traffickers, and warlords. Aided by the legendary Thaddeus (Morgan Freeman), the two generations of magicians must overcome their differences to try and defeat their cunning and dangerous adversary, in this magic-fueled heist filled with the franchise’s signature twists, turns, and thrilling reveals—along with some of the most thrilling illusions ever captured on film. Magic, it’s not just for entertainment anymore! The movie is directed by Ruben Fleischer (Venom, Uncharted) and has a slew of writers—Seth Grahame-Smith and Michael Lesslie and Paul Wernick & Rhett Reese—credited as having a hand in the script. Now You See Me: Now You Don’t magically appears in theaters on November 14, 2025. Check out the latest trailer below. [end-mark] The post <i>Now You See Me 3</i> Trailer Pits the Four Horsemen Against Gen Z Magicians appeared first on Reactor.

Excerpts Fairy Tale Retellings Read an Excerpt From Cinder House by Freya Marske Murdered at sixteen, Ella’s ghost is furiously trapped in her father’s house, invisible to everyone except her stepmother and stepsisters. By Freya Marske | Published on September 18, 2025 Comment 0 Share New Share We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from Cinder House by Freya Marske, a queer Gothic fantasy retelling of Cinderella, out from Tordotcom Publishing on October 7. Ella is a haunting.Murdered at sixteen, her ghost is furiously trapped in her father’s house, invisible to everyone except her stepmother and stepsisters.Even when she discovers how to untether herself from her prison, there are limits. She cannot be seen or heard by the living people who surround her. Her family must never learn she is able to leave. And at the stroke of every midnight, she finds herself back on the staircase where she died.Until she forges a wary friendship with a fairy charm-seller, and makes a bargain for three nights of almost-living freedom. Freedom that means she can finally be seen. Danced with. Touched.You think you know Ella’s story: the ball, the magical shoes, the handsome prince.You’re halfway right, and all-the-way wrong. Ella’s father died of the poison in their tea. Ella drank less and so might have lived, and not turned ghost at all, if the house hadn’t shrieked for its master’s murder in the moment she stood, dizzied and weak, at the top of the stairs. Ella flinched, stumbled, and fell. There were fifteen stairs; she struck her head on the seventh. The sound of crunching bone was not loud. But the house gave another window-shaking shriek, as the girl who should have inherited it died not two minutes after her father—the blood of his line reduced to a bright smear on the hard wooden edge of that seventh step. Ella’s stepmother had the stairs carpeted in time for the wake following the double funeral. The carpet was a pretty shade of blue, with brass stair rods, and covered the stain entirely. People trod Ella’s blood unknowingly underfoot, while in the parlour Ella’s stepmother—a pragmatic woman named Patrice—dabbed at her eyes with a pre-dampened handkerchief and nudged her younger daughter whenever the girl looked like she might forget herself enough to smirk. The house had wanted to apologise for its part in her death, Ella figured. It wanted to give her more existence, if not more life. By the time of the funeral, the ghost that had been Ella had only just got the hang of consciousness; appearance would be beyond her for some weeks yet. She was too much the houseto be Ella as well. Some unpeeling was yet to happen. Her awareness drifted from floorboard to windowpane to candlesticks to the wide pottery platter with its red border and its painted pattern of pears and rosemary, which Ella’s greataunt had given to Ella’s parents on their wedding day. At the wake, this platter held fan-shaped cakes made with vanilla and hazelnuts. Ella could feel the delicate scrape of fingers against the glossy surface as the guests took the cakes to eat. It sent a thrill of unfamiliarity through her, all the way up to where the chimneys gasped into the sky. * * * Finally she found the look of a person again. It was summer by then. The sun soaked deliriously into the dark red tiles of her roof and Ella’s stepsisters, like most of the cityfolk, pinned up their hair and went swimming in the river on days when the royal sorcerers declared it free of drowning-sprites. The ghost of Ella looked more or less like Ella had when she died. She was still a sixteen-year-old girl with a strong chin and one foot a size larger than the other. She wore the lavender day-dress with the lace collar that she’d worn on her last day of life; she’d only ever been halfway fond of this dress, but her father had liked it. Buy the Book Cinder House Freya Marske Buy Book Cinder House Freya Marske Buy this book from: AmazonBarnes and NobleiBooksIndieBoundTarget Where the living Ella had been blue-eyed with hair like a wheatfield touched by sunset, her ghost had eyes the impassive grey of stone bricks, and her hair was the red of roof tiles, streaked with the grey-white of lichen and pigeon droppings. Ella determined this by looking in the backs of spoons. She did not show up reflected in glass, nor in mirrors. She had read something about ghosts and mirrors, long ago, but couldn’t remember it now. She only knew she’d become visible to her family when Patrice walked into the upstairs parlour, screamed at the sight of her, and dropped a cup of tea. Ella winced. The smash of the cup hurt like a hand clenched hard in hair, and the trickle of hot liquid on the floor was an unpleasant itch. Still she said, “Hello, Stepmother.” * * * Patrice adjusted to the idea of a ghost remarkably quickly. They’d known the house was on its way to being properly magical: a valuable, respectable thing to have in the family. Her husband hadn’t changed his will when they married. It still left the house to his daughter, Ella. Ella didn’t have a will. And with two silent corpses it was easy for the living to dictate the timeline. Ella fell down the stairs, yes, such a terrible accident, and died first. And her father’s heart stopped from grief when it happened. Everything went to Patrice, by common law. On the day Ella became visible, Patrice, once she’d regained some colour in her cheeks, looked at the shattered cup and the tea seeping into the edge of the rug. “Oh, clean that up,” she said. It might have been automatic. Even before Ella died, everyone assumed that Ella would keep things tidy. Ella cared far more about tidiness than anyone else in the house. She’d always liked things to be clean and neat; always had the urge to move the cushions on the couch so they were evenly spaced. Ella did not want to obey her stepmother. But at the same time—yes, she did. The first real emotion of Ella’s afterlife was urgency. It took hold of her and moved her before she could think. The teacup was solid when she touched it; or else Ella became exactly as solid as the teacup needed her to be, for exactly as long as was needed to scoop up the pieces and set them on a table. She could feel the rug beneath her knees. It was not like feeling-a-rug had been when she was living. She was the rug. She was the wet tassels at its edge and the soiled woollen pattern, and that urgency would be a knot within her until they were set right. “Very good, Ella,” said her stepmother. “Perhaps you’ll be worth keeping around after all.” Ella felt her second emotion. How does a house, lacking flesh, feel fury? With the fire in its hearth and in the wide black stove. Ella felt anger with her kitchen fires and felt anger with the fifteen stairs, especially the seventh, and she felt anger with the yellow wallpaper that had been half stripped from the walls of her old bedroom and dangled there for weeks while Patrice was in an argument with the decorators. Ella’s stepmother was in no hurry to turn the emptied chamber into a new study. The house had rooms enough. Ella’s bedroom festered like the socket of a pulled tooth. She had been pulled. Violently. How dare Patrice? How dare she stand there in this place she only owned through murder, and look upon Ella’s ghost and feel no shame—and see nothing but a servant? The anger surged and whipped through Ella. An awakening. She snarled and launched herself at Patrice with her hands outstretched, meaning to fasten them around her stepmother’s neck. The two of them, woman and girl-ghost, passed through one another. To Ella it felt like a bucket of steaming suds thrown across a floor. Anger mixed with growing fear now, Ella raced on her ghost legs downstairs, and before she could stop herself had passed entirely through the maid-of-all-work, Jane—who didn’t look up, didn’t shiver at all. She kept on humming as she ran a damp rag down the side of the grandfather clock, ticklish in all the creases of the wood as she sought out the stubborn traces of dust. Ella sneezed. Jane didn’t blink or mutter a blessing. Patrice came down the stairs, watching Ella with wary interest. It had never occurred to Ella before then to try to leave the house, any more than it occurred to a skeleton to pick itself up and leave its flesh behind. Now that fear—a strange salty ephemeral fear, the only thing that existed untethered from any piece of the house, a fear that was Ella’s alone—drove her to the front door. She took hold of the brass knob and wrenched the door open, dashed down the steps to the gate which opened onto the footpath and the busy street— And stuck. She tried again, with more force. No use. The boundaries of her haunting closed around Ella like a skin sewn from simple knowledge: this fence, the walls shared with the smaller town houses on either side, the kitchen door where the deliveries came. The damp stone floor of the cellar. And the tip of the iron cockerel’s crest up where the weathervane swung in the summer wind at the highest point of the roof. Ella stood staring out at the world beyond the house, at skirts and feathers and leaves and flags dancing in a breeze she could feel only with wrought black iron. She screamed for help, she screamed the name of Miss Filigree the milliner who walked within two feet of her, and nobody heard. She took hold of the gate and shook it violently, but her efforts out here on the boundary were weaker than they’d been on the teacup and the door. The gate merely wobbled and the hinges creaked. It drew some glances from passers-by. “Goodness, what a wind we’re having,” said Patrice, from the top of the steps. “It blew our front door wide open. Yes—good day to you.” And then, quiet with triumph—“Stop behaving like a child and come back inside at once, Ella.” Ella obeyed. Excerpted from Cinder House, copyright © 2025 by Freya Marske. The post Read an Excerpt From <i>Cinder House</i> by Freya Marske appeared first on Reactor.

Books book reviews Andrew Joseph White’s You Weren’t Meant to Be Human Pushes a Lot of Buttons Alex Brown doesn’t chicken out of Andrew Joseph White’s intense first novel for adults. By Alex Brown | Published on September 18, 2025 Comment 0 Share New Share I don’t really know what to do with a horror novel like Andrew Joseph White’s You Weren’t Meant to Be Human. I’ve started and stopped this review half a dozen times over the past few days since finishing it. Even now as I type these words, I genuinely don’t know where this review will end up.  First and foremost, you should know that I’m a big ol’ baby when it comes to adult horror. I read a ton of young adult horror—queer YA in particular is one of my favorite horror sub-genres—but little horror written for adults. I prefer my horror in the vein of looming dread rather than creatures bursting out of chests. The book opens with an author’s note that functions as content warnings for pregnancy-related horror as well as suicidal ideation, sexual violence, abuse, self-harm, and combinations thereof. I went into this book knowing that it would push past several of my limits. I still don’t know why I kept reading. Perhaps it was the premise of an autistic trans man falling pregnant in a dystopian near future coming from the mind of one of my favorite queer YA horror novels from last year (Compound Fracture: vicious, brutal, must-read). Perhaps it was because while the content warnings were extensive, they skipped over one specific act (likely to not spoil the novel) that didn’t become apparent until the climax. Or perhaps it was simply because I’d already dropped out of covering two other adult horror novels earlier this year that were too intense for me and I didn’t want to chicken out a third time.  Hm. I’m not doing this right. Let me back up. Crane lives in West Virginia in a not-too-distant future where abortion is mostly illegal and trans healthcare is relegated to black market HRT. After high school, his suicidal ideation hit a boiling point, and that’s when the hive found him. The hive rescued him. The hive made him one of their own. The hive gave him permission to be his true self. Or so it tells him. Or so he tells himself. He transitioned, literally and metaphorically, into his new life. But instead of shedding his old habits and haunted thoughts, they mutated over him into something as terrible on the outside as he felt on the inside.  His lover, Levi, is a vile man who is also infected by the hive. He relishes casual cruelty and lavishes Crane with as much abuse as he desires, and also maybe some he doesn’t want. His and Crane’s relationship is a complicated one, to say the least, one that whole essays could be written on. I am way too much of a sex-indifferent asexual to untangle that sadomasochistic knot, but it was fascinating to read. White takes utterly degrading moments and filters them through Crane’s perspective. We come to understand why he seeks out these encounters, what he gets out of them, and, crucially, what he doesn’t.  His sexual relationship with Levi reflects his bond with the hive. No one knows what the hive—a collection of strange, oversized worms and fly-like creatures—really is, where it came from, or what its ultimate plans are. It needs humans, though, and has pockets of cult-like followers all over the country. It found Crane and brought him into its family, making him do terrible things to others with the promise of being seen for who he is. Until he isn’t. The hive doesn’t truly see him. The hive sees him for how useful he is to it, even when that use forces him to be the person he dreads the most.  Buy the Book You Weren’t Meant to Be Human Andrew Joseph White Buy Book You Weren't Meant to Be Human Andrew Joseph White Buy this book from: AmazonBarnes and NobleiBooksIndieBoundTarget The book begins not with Crane’s arrival at the hive but with Jess’. Jess is in many ways what Crane used to be, and in some ways still is. With the help of the hive, she escaped the boyfriend who imprisoned her, but how she’s found herself just as imprisoned by the hive. Everything the hive promised Jess has soured, just as it does for Crane when he ends up pregnant and the hive forces him to carry it to term. The humans in the hive cult use the correct pronouns and don’t call him slurs, but if you’re the one being oppressed they aren’t that much different from run-of-the-mill authoritarian assholes. Crane is also autistic and selectively mute. White got me thinking a lot about communication, from who chose to communicate with Crane in a way that respected his need to not use his voice to who didn’t. Crane’s verbal silence was, for him, empowering in a way speech never was. It is the one thing he has total control over, a thing that is just for him and no one else, and he chooses to keep it to himself. Before I read this novel, I’d been thinking a lot lately about the memeification of neurodiversity, particularly through video platforms like Reels and TikTok. Videos of people talking about their neurodivergence in cutesy terms or like their issues are little more than a collection of idiosyncrasies. Real day-to-day challenges getting reduced down to something bite-sized that most people can relate to and that everyone else can laugh at. What we don’t often see are folks with greater challenges such as personal hygiene, communication difficulties, complex sensory needs, food limitations, and other things that aren’t quite so quirky. In other words, we talk about autism like it’s a spectrum but we often don’t treat it like one. White never shies away from exploring that spectrum in his books. He doesn’t write from a perspective of “this is bad, I hate being autistic,” but rather from “this is who I am, deal with it or gtfo.” A story like this could quickly tumble into A Handmaid’s Tale territory, but White has more insightful things to say. This isn’t just a dark dystopian about an autistic trans man going through a dysphoric experience. This is a horror novel. Body horror pops up again and again—heed that Aliens-meets-Midsommar comparison, my friends—as do graphic sexual encounters and psychological terror. The narrative style is unrelenting: violent thoughts, violent acts, violent hopes and dreams. For me, the plot was fairly predictable. Once I got used to the cadence of the horror and figured out Crane’s personality, I could tell where the story was headed. As an avid reader of romance novels, knowing where the story is going isn’t a problem for me. I care more about the journey than the specifics of the destination.  Except this isn’t a romance novel and I couldn’t guess the ending. If I had, I don’t know that I would’ve kept reading. It contains an act that is a hard line for me in fiction. I am a visual reader in that I picture what I see on the page. When I read the word “apple,” I have a very specific image of an apple that pops into my head. When I read, I “see” the scene play out in my mind’s eye. Which is why I have such a hard time with horror. I have to recreate what I read into visuals, and there are some things I don’t want to do that with. There were more than a few parts of this book where I had to skim, and the final confrontation was one of them. White’s choice to write the scene the way he did was probably the correct one for this novel and this main character, but it was too much for me personally.  Now that I’ve talked my way through writing this review (because I also hear what I read on the page in my head as if I were speaking out loud), I think I’ve come around to having a better understanding of why White—and by extension Crane—made certain narrative choices. The book wouldn’t have worked without them, the themes wouldn’t have hit as hard as they did and the power of the story itself would’ve fizzled away like a deflating balloon. This is a book that’s going to push a lot of buttons for a lot of people, in good and bad ways, but I also won’t be surprised when it ends up on a bunch of best-of lists at the end of the year.  So here’s where all this leaves me in terms of my review of You Weren’t Meant to Be Human by Andrew Joseph White. Did I like it? Did I understand it? Do I recommend it? I think my answers are not really, yep, and horror fans should absolutely read it. The content was not what I enjoy reading, and the experience was for me, personally, the literary equivalent of trekking up Mt Everest: arduous while it was happening yet satisfying when done, and with a lot of dead bodies passed along the way. I don’t think I can go through a reading experience like that again, but if I had to go through it at all, I’m glad it was with this book. [end-mark] You Weren’t Meant to Be Human is published by Saga Press. The post Andrew Joseph White’s <i>You Weren’t Meant to Be Human</i> Pushes a Lot of Buttons appeared first on Reactor.