The world has ended, thanks to a particularly effective strain of avian flu. All That’s Left in the World, a post-apocalyptic, queer YA adventure by Erik Brown, starts sometime after the flu has decimated Earth. Not only has the world fallen silent without any birds left to sing — but 90% of humanity has been eradicated as well. 

Enter Andrew, a seventeen-year-old survivor who has decided to hike from Connecticut to Washington, D.C., based partly on a rumor that rescue teams from the European Union will be arriving at Ronald Reagan International Airport in the summer. However, Andrew’s journey is cut short when he steps into a bear trap. Critically injured, he stumbles upon an isolated cabin occupied by another teen boy named Jamie as infection ravaged his body.

While post-apocalyptic novels are a dime a dozen these days, author Erik Brown structures the plot of All That’s Left in the World so that the reader’s expectations are subverted. Here, our two survivors aren’t searching for a sanctuary, a haven, or people they can trust… they already have them. Though naturally mistrustful at first, the boys grow close as Jamie nurse’s Andrew back to health, due largely to his deceased doctor-mother having outfitted their rural Pennsylvania home for the end of the world. The house has solar powered electricity and even hot water showers. And Jamie’s mother has even left him a stash of pain medications, antibiotics and a detailed notebook on how to treat injuries and illnesses of all kinds.

Yet Andrew and Jamie’s fragile existence in their secluded cabin is shattered when nearby survivors raid them for dwindling supplies. Fearing a more violent confrontation will follow, the boys traverse the desolate mid-Atlantic landscape towards Washington, D.C. When the rumor for rescue teams prove cruelly proves, Andrew reveals his second reason for making the long walk: to find the family of two individuals he accidentally killed on the road before meeting Jamie. Although the family he seeks has also succumbed to the flu, he and Jamie find solace and an unexpected ally in Henri, an elderly woman living in a barricaded house amidst some perilous wildlife which has escaped from the Smithsonian National Zoo. Henri’s tales of her daughter in Florida sets the boys southward again, where they face new trials at a settlement called Fort Caroline run by white supremacists. Their escape from Fort Caroline is aided by a young woman named Cara, who has a remarkable memory, a keen sense of direction and a broken spirit. They narrowly escape, but not unscathed — Jamie is shot and gravely injured. Desperation fuels their final push to Florida, where the sanctuary of Henri’s daughter offers a flicker of hope.

The book’s narration switches between Jamie and Andrew every other chapter and this allows the reader insight into their very different personalities. Andrew is goofy, sarcastic, a fan of popular culture and openly gay. Jamie is serious-minded, responsible, kind-hearted and straight. Yet they share the tragedy of being the last survivors in their families — and a growing affection for each other. This part of their relationship unravels gently as the boys shed the social constraints of a bygone society. Rather than making the novel into a teen romance — which would probably be unrealistic when every moment is about staying alive — Brown keeps the story centered on survival and trust. Jamie and Andrew’s love for each other grows naturally from shared dependence and experiences. 

​All That’s Left in the World offers a gentler vision of dystopia. The environment, although ravaged and devoid of many modern conveniences, is surprisingly agreeable and without the typical threats one might expect. There are no Mad Max-style marauders or flesh-hungry zombies, for example. The lack of hoards of malevolent human antagonists is notable. Instead, the duo encounter survivors who are, for the most part, welcoming or at least uninterested in them — Fort Caroline being the obvious exception. The novel exudes a sense of hope and humanity that is rare in the genre. It's a tale that celebrates human connection in its purest form, which might not satisfy those readers seeking passionate romance or blood-drenched violence. But if you’re looking for a unique take on dystopian storytelling, this novel is a commendable and a very worthwhile read.

Robin & Batman: Jason Todd is a new 3-issue series which began in June and will conclude in August 2025. The miniseries revisits the early days of Batman / Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd's partnership in crime-fighting. Written by the Jeff Lemire and illustrated by Dustin Nguyen, this series follows on the heels of last year's DC Vault: Death in the Family: Robin Lives! as another imaginative re-telling that delves into the history of these iconic partners.

The narrative kicks off shortly after Jason’s father is murdered by Two-Face and his step-mother dies of a drug overdose in their apartment bathroom. Like Dick Grayson, Bruce adopts Jason but quickly finds him to be a rash and impulsive thirteen-year-old. Despite these challenges, Batman’s convinced that he can shape Jason into the next Boy Wonder now that Dick has moved onto the Teen Titans and assumed the mantle of Nightwing. However, Bruce’s loyal butler (and best friend), Alfred Pennyworth, harbors doubts about Jason's potential, fearing that his dark impulses might ultimately consume him.

Batman reflects on how Dick, his previous sidekick, benefited from a loving upbringing before losing his parents and becoming part of the crime-fighting duo. In contrast, Jason's lack of familial stability presents a unique set of challenges. At Bruce’s request, Dick attempts to take on the role of a "big brother" to Jason, but this only angers the young man. Jason's complex feelings toward Dick—a mix of admiration and resentment—propel him to prove himself worthy of the sidekick mantle.

The plot darkens even more with the introduction of a mysterious new villain, Wraith, who dons a ghostly white mask and sets his sights on Jason. Wraith perceives Jason as a kindred spirit, foreshadowing the future persona of Red Hood, a vigilante who challenges Batman's cycle of capturing criminals only to see them released back onto the streets. This dynamic adds an intriguing layer to Jason's evolution and hints at the darker path he may ultimately choose.

The first two issues of Robin & Batman: Jason Todd deliver a interesting dive into Jason's tumultuous past and the resulting mental health struggles. This complexity renders him one of the most intriguing Robins in the DC universe. Through Jason's story arc, readers are reminded that despite Batman's power, technology, and wealth, he cannot control everything—a humbling realization for the hero.

Jeff Lemire's script is simple but skillfully dives into Jason's past without becoming preachy. At times, the boy’s trauma is simply conveyed through Nguyen’s often wordless illustrations. While Nguyen's watercolor style might not be everyone's preference (mine included), it complements the "dreamy" quality of Jason's flashbacks and adds depth and emotion to the storytelling.

It’s also nice to see Dick Grayson depicted as a positive male role model for Jason, reminiscent of the original 1980s comics when Dick overcame his dismay at being "replaced" to try and help Jason adapt to his new life. (Dick’s patient, non-judgmental handling of Jason shows he was more ultimately more influenced by Alfred than by Bruce when he was a similar age.) 

The cliffhanger at the end of issue two will leave readers eagerly anticipating the final installment, wondering whether Wraith will successfully steer Jason toward his future as Red Hood — or if Jason has a trick up his sleeve.

​The third and final issue will release at the end of August.

RELATED FEATURES: Red Hood Collection  |  Batman Collection  |  Nightwing Collection  |  Nightwing, Batman and Adoption Problems  |  Jason Todd's Empty Grave | Review: Red Hood & the Outlaws, Vol. 1

Cozy novels (or “cozies” as they are often referred) generally feature a small cast of characters and are centered on familiar and comforting places — like a small town, a suburb, a book store, a pub or a library. You won’t necessarily find complex plots, intricate character development or lofty themes in a cozy novel. Take them as advertised — they are the book equivalent to a cardamom latte served with a freshly baked scone or the perfect cup of chamomile tea on a rainy day. They are intended to sooth and delight rather than challenge and provoke. 

​Mysteries were the first genre to popularize the “cozy,” but this has expanded in recent years to include romance, fantasy and history. (But essentially any genre can become a “cozy” if it includes some of the aforementioned elements.) 

For my purposes, I’m featuring cozy fantasies which combine slice-of-life ambiance with stories that are healing, comforting and uplifting. But because they’re also fantasy novels, they include elements like magic and magical beings, creatures drawn from myth and legend and exotic realms. 

Since, a lot of cozy fantasies feature food and drink in some way, I’m pairing my book recs with a few drink recipes that compliment the fantasy themes.

​Tuck in and enjoy. 

With Sunrise on the Reaping, a prequel to The Hunger Games, currently in development as a major motion picture, I thought it might be a good time to revisit the original novel. To that end, I have posted by 2013 review of the book below, along with an analysis of how it fits into the larger genre of dystopian fiction. Please be aware that there are spoilers...

​I read The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins after enjoying the 2012 science fiction movie starring Jennifer Lawrence and Josh Hutcherson. It's easy to see why both the novel and film were so popular. The story strikes a primal chord since people have always been fascinated by those things which also appall us – and what's more fascinatingly appalling than a gladiatorial competition which pits teenagers against each other? Collins has taken some criticism for her depiction of kids killing kids, regardless of the fact that this happens in our world all the time. These recriminations would be fair if Collins did anything to glamorize the ritual, but as protagonist Katness Everdeen makes clear through her narrative, the Hunger Games are pure brutality, designed to keep the people of this futuristic America passive by constantly reminding them that their lives are not their own. 

The idea of young tributes being herded off to die in bizarre competitions hails all the way back to Bronze Age Greece with the story of Theseus (see Greek Myths Retold for more). As you may recall, Theseus and other Athenian youths were trotted off to fight for their lives in a subterranean lair guarded by bull-headed monster called the Minotaur. Even more obvious are Collins's references to the gladiatorial games of ancient Rome and some of our more loathsome reality television shows. Maybe the author even picked up a copy of the The Most Dangerous Game (1924), about a castaway trying to survive a murderous aristocrat who's stalking him for sport, a book considered by many to be the definitive man-hunting-man story? 

The ever-widening gap between rich and poor in America is also reflected in the pages of The Hunger Games. Katness lives in District 12, located in modern-day Appalachia, where people eke out a rough living by mining coal. There's never enough food... or anything else for that matter. Most of what the district creates is shipped off to the country's capital which is lush, beautiful and deeply corrupt. The capital residents all speak with bizarre affectations and, reminiscent of the French Royal Court of old, try to outdo each other with flamboyant hairstyles and ostentatious fashion. The Hunger Games play a dual role in this society. For the idle rich, it's a guilty pleasure using people they consider inferior anyways. For the districts, it's a constant reminder of who's in charge.

Katness becomes the female tribute for District 12 when she volunteers to take the place of her younger sister. She's unexpectedly qualified for the games, having spent years sneaking into the forest to hunt for wild game and collect medicinal plants for her family. Most of the book deals with the young woman's quest to stay alive as she navigates a treacherous outdoor arena and forms uneasy alliances with some of the other tributes, including a boy from her home town named Peeta Melark. Unlike most of the other combatants, Katness's experience as a hunter-gatherer have taught her to think of three-dimensionally. She sleeps tied to tree branches, knows how to find water, can hunt wild game and avoid poisonous plants. She has no desire to murder others and at first is content to avoid her competitors and allow them to pick each other off. It's not until she begins to care for Peeta that survival becomes much more complicated. Yes, in the Hunger Games, even affection can be used as a weapon.

Reading The Hunger Games was a joy. It's simple narrative style were a welcome relief from some of the other young adult authors I've read who seem to think pretentious prose amounts to high art. Katness is an intelligent and logical protagonist in a genre which often portrays young women as trifling. I won't go so far as to say The Hunger Games should be on a high school reading list about the nature of tyranny alongside the works of George Orwell, Aldous Huxley or Gabriel Garcia Marquez; but there's much more to the book than just teens killing teens. Anyone who says otherwise either hasn't read it or doesn't understand its literary lineage.