Dystopian fiction has long fascinated readers with its ability to reflect the cracks in our own societies through exaggerated, often terrifying, futures. In Utopia?, R.A. Rowlingson takes up this challenge with remarkable assurance, offering not merely another bleak vision of tomorrow but a layered narrative that combines political intrigue, social critique, and deeply human storytelling.

Patrick Tooban has achieved something rare: a historical novel that feels at once grand in scope and intimate in detail, scholarly in grounding yet poetic in telling. The Oak and the Eagles is not just a story about a forgotten figure of Celtic history — it is an invitation to step into a world where oak and eagle, prophecy and memory, flesh and spirit, are woven into the fabric of life. Readers who accept that invitation may well find themselves lingering by the fire, listening for the echoes of Calgach’s tale long after the book is closed.

No Free Speech for Hate is a work of conviction, scholarship, and humanity. It is bold without being strident, rigorous without being dry, and urgent without being alarmist. In the current climate—where words have never carried more weight, and where democracies everywhere are being tested—it feels like essential reading.

Jack Landon, a thirteen-year-old Goth with a knack for getting into trouble, is sarcastic, stubborn, vulnerable, and instantly sympathetic – the kind of protagonist you root for even when he makes questionable decisions. His life is turned upside down when he finds himself pursued by a mysterious man, stunned by a robot, and whisked into a completely unfamiliar reality. Here he meets Dorothy, a so-called Guardian Angel who is equal parts wise, chaotic, and hilarious. She offers Jack biscuits, sweets, and tambourines as if these are the essentials for surviving both adolescence and interdimensional crises.

At first glance, Aftermath might appear to be a straightforward war story — paratroopers dropping into enemy fire, crackling radios, the weight of a revolver in a soldier’s hand. But Patrick Smart isn’t writing a soldier’s adventure yarn. He is writing about what happens after. The title itself is the clue. This is less about glory on the battlefield and more about the scar tissue left behind: the fractured psyches, the attempts to find routine after chaos, the sense that violence has bled into everyday life in ways that no discharge papers can erase.