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Every Carl Hiaasen novel is roughly the same in a good way. You’ve got a cast of corrupt loathsome inept villains - kinky politicians, real estate developers and racist MAGA rednecks. They are given their comeuppance by a few crazy good people driven insane by the awfulness around them, finally willing to take grand actions. Along the way the plot unfolds with increasingly hilariously intertwined twists.

And I love each one. This is the mango sorbet of novels.

Oh Carl. You only get better at what you practice and you’ve been practicing for so long. Bravo

A series of diaries from an acolyte of a terrible pain cult roosting in a desecrated monastery after the collapse of this world. She writes them secretly with ink of ash, dirt, blood. She hides them and pushes her pain out on the sick sisterhood she’s trapped in.

It’s very very dark - like a bleak poem written black on skin. The wicked glee in the beginning gives way to a deep sad rage at all that’s been ruined and profaned.

Nothing good can grow in this poisoned garden, no clean tool can be forged in this filthy fire. But people can try - and so they do. They grow something they can chew, they beat something brittle out.

The ending made me stare up at the ceiling for a bit.

What an ending.

From Cory Doctorow pluralistic.net/2025/06/18/anarcho-cryptid/#decameron-and-on

Oh fuck I feel sick. This book goes hard.

This is such a feverish nightmare dream.

First page is starting STRONG

Next in the playlist of pain

A creepy fantasy of sorcery woven into the underbelly of glamour and the new world. High stakes among also-rans scraping to get by.

The beginning of this horror novel seems to be mostly about the horror of wage slavery

Wow. This book was incredibly good and I am so happy to have finished it.