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The Great Vinyl Reversal

So, can we just pause for a second and talk about this wild world we live in? I swear, every time I think I have a handle on pop culture, it does a 180 and leaves me standing here scratching my head. You asked if vinyl records are really, truly making a comeback, and my honest-to-goodness reaction is: Wait, what? Like, I get that everything eventually comes back—hello, low-rise jeans, which I’m still internally screaming about—but records? That’s a format I personally sent off with a little tear and a “see you never” back in the day.

My Personal Media Journey (Vinyl to CD to Cloud)

I had this monster collection, you know? Probably five hundred or more albums stacked up in those flimsy particle-board shelves that always sagged in the middle. The whole ceremony of pulling out the record, dropping the needle, the little crackling sound as the music started—it was a whole thing. But then, the CD arrived. Suddenly, I had these sleek, shiny discs, and I could skip tracks without lifting my entire arm! No dust! No warping! I spent months converting my entire music life, tossing those big, space-sucking vinyls and replacing them with towering, narrow CD racks that I thought were the absolute epitome of organization. I even convinced myself the “perfect digital sound” was better. I had feelings of superiority, I’m not gonna lie, looking at people still messing with their bulky turntables.

And then, as is the way of the universe, CDs became obsolete, too. Next stop: streaming. Instant access to everything, always. My entire music library now lives in a cloud somewhere, existing purely as ones and zeroes. It’s fantastic for convenience, but you’re right, it feels a little… unreal. It’s like owning a postcard of the Mona Lisa instead of the actual painting.

The Streaming Anxiety is Real

I have definitely felt that little clutch of fear when I’m reminded that my 100-hour-long, perfectly curated playlist of obscure 90s indie tracks could vanish overnight because some licensing agreement went sideways. It happens all the time! We spend all this time building these little digital homes for our music, and they are basically built on quicksand. That’s a serious bummer. It’s a very real concern when you don’t actually own the stuff; it just lives on someone else’s server, like a digital houseguest who could be evicted at any moment.

The Return of Physical Media (Both Kinds!)

But now, the pendulum is swinging back! I was looking on Orville Peck’s site recently—you know I love a good fringed mask—and saw that his new album is being released on both vinyl and CD. A double-whammy of physical media nostalgia! I mean, I genuinely didn’t even know you could buy a new record player anymore, let alone that they are apparently being snapped up by a whole new generation who think the “retro-ness” is cool. I guess the whole ceremony of listening is back. It forces you to sit down, look at the giant cover art—which is a form of artwork in itself, let’s be real—and actually listen to the album as a complete piece of work, not just a bunch of songs shuffled around.

Why CDs Are Staging a Coup

And yes, people are buying CDs again! The cost of a new vinyl release can be seriously steep, and honestly, the sheer volume of old CDs floating around means they are ridiculously cheap to pick up secondhand. It’s physical, it’s permanent, and if you’re one of those people who believes the uncompressed sound is superior—and many audiophiles do feel that deep, resonant sound of the CD can’t be matched by streaming—then it’s a total win. Plus, you get those awesome booklets with the lyrics and the thank you notes. It’s a physical memory of the music you love, and I think that’s what we were missing in the age of all-digital, all-the-time. There’s something so satisfying about holding your favorite album in your hands. It connects you to the art in a way tapping a phone screen just doesn’t.

Full Circle and Ready to Spin

So, here we are: after ditching vinyl for CD, and CD for streaming, we are looping back to… owning things! The human desire for a tangible, holdable object, especially when it comes to art, is apparently hard-wired. It makes me feel a little less crazy for still buying actual paper books. I guess I need to start budgeting for a turntable and figuring out where I’m going to put the racks, because this full-circle moment in music history is actually kind of charming.

I’ve been sitting on this for a while, kind of like when you know you’re going to leave someone but you keep waiting for a sign, or a horoscope, or maybe a nudge from the universe. But nothing dramatic happened—no big betrayal, no yelling match—just this steady drip of “ugh, seriously?” every time I opened another New York Times article over the past year. And now here I am, officially canceling my subscription and wandering off with The Guardian like someone craving better company.

The Slow Fade-Out

I’ll be honest: I hung on to the Times longer than I should have. Partly because it’s the Times, and partly because canceling anything online is weirdly annoying. You know those websites that hide the cancellation button like it’s a national security secret? Yeah. That.

But the real issue was the vibe—this persistent smoothing-over of Trump and the general political mess, like everyone should stay calm and treat the whole thing like a mild policy disagreement instead of…well, what it is. Every time they framed something as “unusual behavior” or “unexpected rhetoric,” I’d squint at the screen the same way I look at a bad Yelp review for a restaurant I know is terrible. You know exactly what’s going on—you just don’t trust the wording.

There’s this term people throw around: sane-washing. And wow, did I start noticing it everywhere. It’s like watching someone try to pretty-up a raw onion. Sure, call it “rustic” all you want, but we both know it still stings your eyes.

My Breaking Point Was… Everything

There wasn’t a single moment when I said, “Alright, that’s it.” It was more like a collection of sensory annoyances: the taste of lukewarm coffee while skimming headlines that tiptoed around what should’ve been bold statements; the feeling of my shoulders tensing every time an article gently massaged a political talking point into a bland, palatable lump; the quiet little exhale I’d make whenever I clicked over to The Guardian and felt like I could actually breathe again.

And then there was the bigger thing—the trust piece. Somewhere along the way, I realized I just didn’t trust mainstream outlets anymore. Not for the stuff that actually matters to me. Everything started sounding…polished in a way that makes me suspicious. Like someone dusted the truth with powdered sugar right before handing it over. I don’t need powdered sugar. I want the weird, slightly lumpy batter underneath—the one that hasn’t been smoothed into a PR-friendly pancake.

Why The Guardian Gets to Stay

The Guardian feels like a friend who shows up at your door with takeout and says, “Okay, let’s talk about this mess.” There’s an energy to it that I actually connect with—sharp, but without trying to scare me; grounded, but not resigned; passionate without slipping into ranting uncle territory.

Plus, they’re not afraid to call things what they are. No tiptoeing. No sugar dusting. No “maybe this is perfectly normal if you squint hard enough.” Just actual reporting that doesn’t make me want to roll my eyes so hard I strain something.

And yeah, sometimes I disagree with them—but I trust them more. That says a lot.

My Move to Indie Media

I’ve been drifting toward indie media for a while now, probably the same way people drift toward small cafés when the giant coffee chains start tasting like burnt cardboard. There’s something refreshing about outlets run by actual humans who don’t have eleven layers of corporate varnish over their words.

The voices feel clearer. The motives feel less tangled. And there’s a sincerity there—sometimes messy, sometimes ranty, sometimes oddly charming—that feels more honest than anything I’ve gotten from the mainstream press lately.

It’s like eating vegetables from your neighbor’s garden instead of the supermarket. They may look a little crooked, but at least you know they weren’t grown in a vat under a fluorescent light.

So… Goodbye, Times

I thought I’d feel guilty canceling, but I honestly don’t. I feel kind of…relieved? Like I cleaned out a closet that’s been annoying me forever and finally let go of a jacket I never liked in the first place.

The Guardian stays. Indie media stays. My sanity stays.

The Times goes.

And you know what? I think this is going to be a much healthier year for me—newswise, at least.

You know I had to talk about this one! I finally caught the sequel to Mascarpone, and while it was definitely worth watching, my brain is still processing that it didn’t quite give me the same rush as the original. Get ready, because we’re talking about Antonio (my swoony boy!) and his messy, messy love life.

Quick Info:

Title: Mascarpone: The Rainbow Cake (Original: Maschile Plurale)
Year: 2024
Directed by: Alessandro Guida and Matteo Pilati
Staring (Main actors): Giancarlo Commare (Antonio), Gianmarco Saurino (Luca), Michela Giraud (Cristina)
Where I watched it: HereTV

Queer-o-Metter

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 (Yeah, this one is maxed out. It’s a beautifully, sometimes painfully, gay film about identity and dating as an adult. The chaotic queer energy is strong.)

One Line Summary

The newly self-assured baker Antonio learns that being hot and single is great, but getting over your ex is a whole different type of emotional trauma—especially when said ex shows back up looking amazing and annoyingly happy.

Standout Scene

Okay, there’s this one moment where Antonio and Luca actually talk—like, truly talk—in what feels like forever. It’s not some dramatic fight, just this quiet, desperate conversation about what they used to be and what they’ve become. Giancarlo Commare’s face just melts with regret and yearning. You can almost feel the air go thin. I was like, “Ugh, this is why I need to stop texting people from 2018.” The cinematography was gorgeous, too; the light was all soft and moody. Seriously, that scene is going to stick with me.

Favorite Line:

“For me, loving means choosing, it doesn’t mean collecting.”

Plot Summary

So, we pick up with Antonio living his best life! He’s a successful pastry chef now, running the gorgeous bakery he opened in the first movie, and he’s finally confident in who he is after his big breakup. He’s dating, he’s thriving, you know the drill. But life is never that simple, right? His old flame, Luca (Gianmarco Saurino), the one Antonio was totally obsessed with, shows up again. This brings all the old feelings rushing back, and Antonio, who thought he was over it, completely loses his equilibrium.

The movie then follows Antonio as he tries to figure out if he should fight for the past he idealized or embrace the future he’s building. He’s also trying to navigate his friendships, especially with his straight friend, Cristina (Michela Giraud), who is, honestly, the voice of reason and also the queen of sass. It’s all about second chances—or realizing that some things are meant to stay beautiful memories. It’s emotional, but also funny, because Antonio is just such a disaster sometimes.

Would I Rewatch?

Maybe — with wine.

Review

Let me just say, I had high hopes for this one because I truly loved the first Mascarpone. And honestly? While it was entertaining and definitely worth the ticket price, I just don’t think the sequel had the same unique magic as the original. The first film was about Antonio’s internal rediscovery, and it felt so fresh and personal. This one, while emotional, sometimes felt like it was treading familiar ground, and I missed that feeling of total immersion I had before.

That said, Giancarlo Commare as Antonio is still absolutely swoon-worthy. He’s got this incredible ability to show immense vulnerability without needing huge dramatic scenes. You can see the shift from the confident, stylish baker to the panicked, insecure ex-boyfriend just in the way he holds his shoulders. I truly felt his ache. It’s tough watching a character you love make all the wrong moves because they are scared of being alone, you know?

Gianmarco Saurino as Luca is also fantastic. He plays Luca with this quiet strength. Luca isn’t the villain; he’s just a person who had to move on, and his return forces Antonio to finally grow up. The chemistry between them? Still fantastic. But I just couldn’t shake the feeling that the plot spent a little too much time circling back to old hurts.

Cristina, his sidekick, is the comedic relief and the essential tough-love provider, though. Michela Giraud is just hilarious; every time she’s on screen, I breathe a sigh of relief because I know she’s about to give Antonio a dose of reality. The movie is real—it’s about choosing yourself and your future—but the original just did it better for me.

Final Thoughts

Go watch this! Seriously, it’s entertaining and definitely a must-see for fans of the first film, especially just to see swoony Antonio again. It made me laugh, it made me tear up a bit, and it made me want to bake a giant, brightly colored cake. It’s a solid flick about adulting and emotional maturity, but it’s not the masterpiece its predecessor was. Love the Italian cinema aesthetic, though—everything still looks so vibrant and a little bittersweet.

The Cinema Club Verdict:

⭐⭐⭐ – I’m docking two full stars because it didn’t have the unique magic, emotional punch, or fresh narrative drive of the original. Still a fun watch, though!

If you’ve seen Mascarpone: The Rainbow Cake — or have a film I need to add to my queue — let me know in the comments or yell at me on BlueSky

You ever have one of those habits that makes absolutely zero sense on paper, but you stick with it anyway because it just feels… weirdly comforting? That’s me and cheesy holiday romance movies. And trust me, nobody is more confused about this than I am.

I mean, I’m the guy who doesn’t put up a tree. I don’t hang lights. I’m not out here sipping peppermint lattes while wearing an ironic sweater with a confused-looking reindeer on it. Honestly, if you walked into my place in December, you might think I skipped straight to February and decided winter was optional. My version of holiday decorating is maybe lighting a candle that smells vaguely like cinnamon if I’m feeling bold. That’s it.

And romance? Yeah. Not exactly my go-to genre. I can handle it in small doses, preferably tucked inside something else—mystery, noir, ghosts, magic, explosions, you get the idea. The only time I want my heartstrings tugged is if a ghost does it. Literally.

But then December creeps up on me—always earlier than I’m prepared for—and suddenly I’m slipping into this bizarre alternate self. A version of me who loves holiday rom-coms. The cheesier the better. The kind where the leads meet in the world’s smallest town where everyone knows everyone, there’s a bakery that only seems to sell gingerbread, and someone has a tragic backstory involving a snow globe.

And the weirdest part? I watch them secretly.

Like, I’ll curl up on the couch—no tree, no twinkly lights, no Michael Bublé defrosting anywhere—and I’ll put on something with a title like Snowflakes & Second Chances or Mistletoe Mix-Up. And then I’ll just… enjoy it?
What is that about.
Where does this seasonal transformation come from?
Why does my brain flip a switch and go, “Oh yes, I crave wholesome strangers wearing red scarves”?

I have absolutely no explanation.

But I do have favorites.

Oh, do I have favorites.

Let me tell you about the one that started this whole thing: The Knight Before Christmas.

It’s cheesy in a way I genuinely admire. Vanessa Hudgens falls for a medieval knight who time-travels to modern Ohio during Christmas. And I don’t know what happened in the writers’ room for that one, but I hope they all got cookies and a bonus because it hits some strange, delightful part of my brain. Every time he looks confused by, like, an electric kettle, I’m in my happy place. I rewatch it every year. Every. Year. Like some kind of ritual I never signed up for but now can’t skip.

Then there’s The 12 Dates of Christmas, which is basically Groundhog Day but with mistletoe and awkward flirting. I love it. I actually love it. Kate keeps reliving Christmas Eve and has to figure out how to stop sabotaging her own love life. I don’t know if I learn anything from watching it, but I swear it puts me in a better mood than most self-help books.

And speaking of holiday bliss, let’s talk about one of the real gems: Make the Yuletide Gay.
A gay Christmas rom-com where the awkwardness is relatable, the humor is warm without being sticky, and the characters feel like people I might actually want to know. The mom alone? Iconic. It feels like hanging out with a fun friend who refuses to let you disappear into your anti-holiday cave.

What makes these my comfort movies? No clue. Zero. Nada. I’ve tried to analyze it—believe me, I have. I’ve considered everything from seasonal nostalgia to brain chemistry to maybe being possessed by a cheerful December spirit who just wants me to believe in love for two hours at a time. But I’ve got nothing.

And honestly, that’s fine. Some things don’t need a thesis.
Some things are just little joys you stumble into and hold onto.

The best part—and please don’t spread this around—is that I watch these totally in secret. My spouse has no idea. None. If they walked in unexpectedly, I’d probably pretend I was watching a documentary about snowplows or a gritty true crime series about missing fruitcakes. Meanwhile, it’s usually me, under a blanket, watching two dorks fall in love while baking cookies for a festival that only exists in that movie’s universe.

But now you know. And I’m trusting you with this information.
So, hush. Pinky swear. Not a word.

As we roll toward that time of year again, I can already feel the pull. Somewhere deep inside me, a tiny voice is whispering, “You should rewatch A Knight Before Christmas. You know you want to.”
And I do.
I really, really do.

Alright, I’m off to pretend I’m above this kind of thing… while mentally queuing up a list of movies involving strangers bumping into each other in Christmas markets.

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Brooklyn nights were never this terrifying. Shadows with teeth prowl the alleys, and a blood-red moon is rising. Armed only with forbidden knowledge, his sister’s faith, and a golem who grows more human by the day, David has to fight back. The Golem’s Guardian – grab your copy HERE.

I’m writing this with a mug of coffee cooling just a little too fast beside me, the kind where the steam disappears before you’ve even had three sips—just tragic—but it’s fine because I’ve still got Thanksgiving leftovers in the fridge and honestly, that alone is enough to carry me through a week.

Yes, I had a sweet holiday. The kind where everyone actually showed up in a good mood (minor miracle), nobody spilled gravy on a carpet, and the pies vanished at a pace that suggested we were all training for a speed-eating competition. I came home with a plate of extras—stuffing, a slab of turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce that looked like it still remembered the can it came from—and I’m not ashamed to say that every bite tasted like victory.

I don’t know why leftovers hit different. Maybe it’s the calm after the holiday bustle. Maybe it’s eating cold turkey at midnight like some kind of secret ritual. Whatever it is, it works. I’ve been grazing on it all weekend with a contented little sigh every single time.

Meanwhile, the writing desk has been calling my name in that soft but firm way it tends to do. You ever get that feeling where your characters are tapping the glass, like: Hello? We’re waiting. That’s Lucien Knight for me lately. Coat collar up, cigarette nearly out, standing in some shadowed hallway in my brain like a noir painting. I’ve been polishing up book two in the series, smoothing dialogue, layering atmosphere, and finding all the places where commas like to multiply like rabbits.

The story is behaving itself more than usual. Every time I sit down with the manuscript, something clicks. Lucien walks through a scene a little sharper. A clue reveals itself with just the right kind of bite. I love the stage where a book starts feeling like a book, not a pile of words trying to form a synchronized swimming routine.

So yes—progress is being made. That’s my little victory lap for the week.

Speaking of Lucien—because honestly, when am I not talking about him?—if you haven’t met him yet, you can start with his first adventure, Murder at at the Savoy. I’m proud of that one in a way that makes me want to pat the cover every time I see it on my shelf. He’s prickly, brilliant, tired, and drawn into more supernatural nonsense than any reasonable person would tolerate. Which, of course, is why I adore him.

If you’re curious, or if you just want a gritty paranormal noir mystery to curl up with while the weather does its moody late-Autumn brooding, you can grab a copy right here: Murder at the Savoy

I still smile thinking about how it turned out.

There isn’t much else to report this week. And honestly, that’s kind of lovely. After the chaos of holiday meals, busy kitchens, family chatter, and too many dessert choices (not that I’m complaining), there’s something nice about slipping back into a quieter rhythm. Writing. Reading. Walking. Simmering stew weather.

I’ve been lighting candles at night—soft amber glow across the room—while I clean up my manuscript. It feels companionable, like sharing the space with someone who knows when to stay quiet. If you’ve never edited a novel by candlelight, I recommend it. Makes the ghosts behave. Usually.

Anyway, that’s what life looks like from my side of the screen today. If you’re working on something creative, I hope it’s treating you kindly. If you’re still sitting on turkey leftovers… more power to us both.

Some Things I Thought Were Worth Sharing

Reading this piece on fans—the sweet ones, the chaotic ones, and the “oh no, please don’t do that” ones—felt way too relatable today. Solid boundary tips here: https://writersinthestormblog.com/2025/11/fans-the-good-the-bad-plus-6-tips-for-preventing-the-ugly/

Want readers to feel your story, not just read it? This article on emotion in editing romance & women’s fiction is your ally. https://writersinthestormblog.com/2025/11/how-to-edit-emotion-in-romance-womens-fiction/

Queer country just turned up the heat: Orville Peck teases his new EP Appaloosa with Zane Phillips looking mezmerizing-shirtless. Worth a peek. https://www.gayety.com/orville-peck-zane-phillips-appaloosa

Charlie Larson flips on the floor and flips the script—elite gymnast, unapologetically queer, andapparently the living twin of Timothée Chalamet (who knew?). Worth a read. https://www.queerty.com/charlie-larson-on-being-a-champion-gymnast-his-beyonce-alter-ego-getting-mistaken-for-timothee-chalamet-20251120/

Plot full of action but your pages feel flat? Maybe you’re missing microtension—the subtle unsaid clash that keeps readers engaged. Worth a read: https://www.livewritethrive.com/2025/11/17/microtension-a-must-in-your-fiction/

Just dug into this post by Joanna Penn from Author Nation 2025: human connection > everything, constraints spark creativity, and plan for the curveballs. Excellent stuff.
https://www.thecreativepenn.com/2025/11/17/lessons-learned-from-author-nation-2025-with-joanna-penn/

If you love queer pop culture throwbacks, this one’s for you: 20 icons from Ricky Martin through Matt Bomer who were serving it two decades ago. https://www.queerty.com/from-ricky-martin-to-matt-bomer-20-queer-celebs-that-were-serving-it-20-years-ago-20251120/

Disney’s “first openly gay character” is… a beaver voiced by Fortune Feimster. 🦫 Wild, obvious, and kind of brilliant. Check how the internet is reacting: https://www.queerty.com/disneys-newest-first-openly-gay-character-is-a-beaver-voiced-by-lesbian-icon-fortune-feimster-20251117/

If you’re an author you’ll want to read this: predatory law firms are circling the Anthropic settlement—pressuring writers to opt-out and chase big payouts instead of taking guaranteed funds. Link → https://writerbeware.blog/2025/11/07/predatory-opt-outs-the-speculators-come-for-the-anthropic-copyright-settlement/

Struggling with the saggy middle? This article on connecting your big plot points and bridging the gaps is exactly what your draft needs. Link: https://www.helpingwritersbecomeauthors.com/connect-plot-points-keep-story-moving/

An elderly gay man, haunted by a handsome avatar of death, and now it’s being adapted from Stephen King’s “Mister Yummy” — possibly his gayest horror ride yet. https://www.queerty.com/an-elderly-gay-haunted-by-a-young-hunk-mister-yummy-might-be-stephen-kings-gayest-horror-story-20251119/

Trailer dropped for A Friend of Dorothy starring Miriam Margolyes & Stephen Fry. Lonely widow meets unexpected visitor — heart-wrenching, unexpected, got me. https://greginhollywood.com/see-trailer-for-new-short-film-a-friend-of-dorothy-starring-miriam-margolyes-and-stephen-fry-248522

If you write characters in a hospital or clinic, check this: real-life patient behaviour is even weirder than fiction. Inspiration = unlocked. https://www.boredpanda.com/funny-stupid-patients-msn/

Turns out writers create more than just stories—check out how Barbara Pym’s diaries reveal real-life stalking, obsession & fiction mirroring life. Wild. https://lithub.com/on-barbara-pym-author-and-stalker/

Need a pick-me-up? Kids say the darnedest things—these quotes on Jimmy Fallon’s site had me snorting into my coffee. https://www.boredpanda.com/funny-kid-quotes-jimmy-fallon-msn/

“If you call us fascists, we’ll arrest you.” Yup, this satire from McSweeney’s nails the absurdity of power-structures denying their own authoritarian vibes. Give it a read. Sharp and biting. https://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/we-are-not-fascists-and-if-you-call-us-fascists-we-will-arrest-you

I share much more than this on my BlueSky account each week. Click HERE to follow me.

I just finished reading The Year I Lived Twice (2024) by Alex Woolf, and I wanted to share my thoughts with you all. Fair warning: this is not a fluffy feel-good read. It dips deep into grief and regret, so go in steady.

Okay — first off: yes, overall I liked the book. The concept grabbed me. Jason Harris (our main guy) loses his younger brother Archie in a fire, and then (after a weird accident) he wakes up one year earlier — with Archie still alive — and gets a shot at trying to prevent the tragedy. I mean — time-loops plus sibling love plus tragedy = my kind of emotional cocktail.

What I loved: The early pages had me really invested. I could feel Jason’s grief, the weight of what he’s lost, the ache of “if only I could change one thing.” The book captures that sting of loss in a way that made my heart tighten. The twistiness of the time-loop mechanics kept me curious: small decisions ripple out. Also: a nice surprise is the setting before phones and internet were ubiquitous, which meant the characters had to be in the moment rather than immediately googling everything. That grounded it in an interesting way.

Now — the “but.” About the middle of the book… yep, it slowed down. The momentum dipped to a crawl. Some of the second-third quarter felt a bit repetitive: re-experiencing events, trying different choices, and the emotional terrain felt heavy and a bit dragging at times. If you’re a reader who needs constant forward propulsion, you might feel the same. I found myself taking longer to sit with certain chapters, pausing here and there. But when it picked up again toward the climax — there were some satisfying pay-offs.

One more caveat: this book is not sunshine and rainbows. There is serious emotional heft. Relationships fractured, guilt, “what have I done” vibes. It made me think. It made me sigh. It made me wish Jason well (and wish him more than well). If you’re looking for something light and breezy, this won’t deliver that. But if you’re okay with going somewhere a little darker and thoughtful — it works.

Some extra thoughts that stuck with me:

• The sibling bond: The way Jason’s relationship with Archie is portrayed… bittersweet. The possibility of another chance is a powerful theme.
• Consequences: The idea that changing one thing might change everything (and un-changing things might be beyond control). That tension is effective.
• Pacing: Early and late sections were strong. Middle lagged a bit for me.
• Emotional tone: Real. Not sugar-coated. The tragedy remains visible even as we hope for redemption.

Would I recommend it? Yes — if you’re into time-loop or second-chance narratives (which I am), especially if you don’t mind the emotional weight. It’s enjoyable, in the sense that I turned pages, got pulled in, and felt something. But “enjoyable” here doesn’t mean “easy.” You’ll walk away with stuff to think about. If you ask me for a rating: maybe 4 out of 5 stars (in my quirky blog terms). It lost a little steam in the middle, but overall the trip was worth it.

And if you pick it up, maybe give yourself a comfy reading session — a quiet evening, some tea (or whatever you like), maybe a little chocolate on standby because it gets heavy. You deserve comfort as you dive in.