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 fantasy cozies 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 fantasy cozies 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.

The animated shows of the 1980s were memorable... but not always for the best reasons. Whether they were part of early morning Saturday television — a veritable "prime time" for viewing for millions of American children — or syndicated shows that aired after school, animated television was a pop culture staple throughout the decade.  

The animation was hand-produced, making it appear primitive by today’s standards, but also giving it a charmingly crude aesthetic. Often shows served as marketing tie-ins to toy lines, with Transformers and He-Man and the Masters of the Universe being prime examples. As such, storylines were as much about selling action figures as they were about entertaining young audiences and unfolded with simple, formulaic plots that were both familiar and comforting. And perhaps their simplicity was part of their appeal? After all, it didn't take much effort to follow your favorite shows each week — and there was never any ambiguity as to who was going to come out on top. No matter what dastardly scheme Mumm-ra came up with, we always knew Lion-O and the other ThunderCats were going to save the day. 

Invariably, the heroes of 80s animation were children, teenagers or very young adults and were usually pitted against adult villains. With a heavy emphasis on action, adventure, and fantasy, these shows left an indelible mark on an entire generation, shaping childhoods with their imaginative worlds and ultimately influencing movies, television, comics and books up to the present day. 

In fact, of all the ridiculousness that came out of the 80s, these franchises had remarkable staying power. (Consider the live-action Masters of the Universe movie currently under production and starring Nicholas Galitzine!) This is even more remarkable if you consider that most of these shows were only on the air for a few years! Yet today, I can't walk into a bookstore or comic book store without easily finding some rehash of a show I first watched 40+ years ago. As such, I thought it would be fun to collect some of the more current book and graphic novel titles together. 

RELATED FEATURES: Pop Culture Contributions of the 1990s  |  The Golden Age of Movie Novelizations  |  Writing the 1980s Arcade Experience  |  The Timelessness of Serial Storytelling

Here be spoilers...

Based on my experiences as a foster parent, it's hard for me to read books that deal with either child abuse or missing children. Where Things Come Back by John Corey Whaley is a book about the latter. 

If you haven't been in that situation, it's hard to imagine how horrible it is to have someone you love just vanish — whether it's voluntarily or involuntary. You go to bed every night wondering where they are; and despite your best efforts when you're lying awake at 2 a.m. trying to remain positive, the very worst thoughts still manage to creep in. The missing child's parents, siblings and friends all cycle through the different stages of grief without ever having a body to grieve over. 

In the case of Where Things Come Back, the missing person is 15-year-old Gabriel Witter, who one day vanishes from his small Arkansas town. The story's told from the point of view of Gabriel's older brother, Cullen, whose anguish about his brother is juxtaposed against the town's fervor over the rumor that the Lazarus woodpecker, a bird previously thought extinct, has been discovered living in the woods nearby. The tale of the woodpecker, of vanished Gabriel, and of two disillusioned young men obsessed with an obscure biblical mystery all blend together as the story progresses. (Trust me, it makes sense as you read on...) Cullen comes to resent the search for the bird (if it actually exists), which appears to be garnering more interest and public resources than that of his missing brother. The young Christians, Benton Sage and Cabbot Searcy, whose tale is told in third person, are equally disillusioned by the belief that humankind's destiny was subverted by God. As you can probably guess from the names of the characters and the bird, biblical lore plays a huge role in the book's main theme about how blind faith can drive people to madness.

​I'm not a fast reader, but I tore through this book pretty quickly, caught up in the mystery behind Gabriel's disappearance and anxious to know how it all turned out. It's the sign of a good author when he can actually invoke the same emotions in the reader as he's displaying in his characters, and in this respect Where Things Come Back performs brilliantly. 

I enjoyed the parts of the book told from Cullen's perspective more than the third-person narrative about Benton and Cabbot, mostly because the latter began to read like a dissertation after a while, propelling the story forward but without the same passion. Part of Cullen's appeal is he sounds and acts like an authentic teenager. His affection for his brother is credible and compelling, not an easy trick since Gabriel's missing through most of the story. Although Cullen's the older brother, he admits that Gabriel's more responsible, more interesting, and frankly, more cool than he. And he says this without a trace of resentment. It's a refreshing change from how most teenage siblings are depicted in young adult fiction, their relationships often characterized by resentment and one-upmanship. 

Some readers of Where Things Come Back were upset with the story's ambiguous ending. Actually, this didn't bother me. Stories about missing children are often ambiguous in real life — people go missing and nobody ever knows what happened to them. But if I had one problem with the ending, it was that it seemed abrupt, as though certain other plot elements were dropped without being fully explained. Still, it was an enjoyable read which I highly recommend if you don't find the subject matter too disturbing. Better for ages fourteen and up, I think.

If you're in search of an enthralling graphic novel that seamlessly blends mystery, romance, and the supernatural, look no further than Summer Shadows, published by Dark Horse Comics. The story revolves around Nick Landry, a young gay man from the UK, who embarks on a journey to the fictional Greek island of Avraxos in search of his ex-boyfriend, Anthony. Their unexpected breakup has left Nick in a whirlwind of emotions, unable to move on. Driven by a cryptic letter from Anthony, Nick is convinced that his ex is in dire trouble, setting the stage for a gripping adventure on the sun-drenched beaches of the Mediterranean. 

As the plot thickens, we meet Alekos Kourkoulos, a Greek coast guard officer with his own agenda—finding a missing vacationer. When their paths intersect, Nick and Alekos realize that both missing person cases are linked to a mysterious black yacht anchored offshore. Rumored to belong to someone with immense wealth, the yacht holds a status akin to diplomatic immunity, leaving Alekos's law enforcement contacts puzzled and unable to act. This twist of fate pulls Nick further into a web of intrigue and danger.

The island locals add another layer to the narrative, warning Nick to leave before it’s too late, hinting at an unnamed terror. Meanwhile, others seem to be in the thrall of the yacht's enigmatic owner, Hylas—a impossibly handsome and strangely charismatic figure. Hylas's minions procure young men for extravagant parties aboard the yacht, filled with drugs, alcohol, and hedonistic pleasures. Despite forming a physical relationship with Alekos, Nick remains emotionally tethered to Anthony. Things take a darker turn when Nick becomes convinced he spots Anthony at one of these infamous parties, adding urgency to his quest.

The story reaches its crescendo when Nick receives an invitation to Hylas's infamous "Festival of the Blood Moon" on a secluded, private island. Veronica, Hylas's personal assistant, reveals to Nick the unimaginable truth: they are vampires, Anthony is one of them, and the festival is a trap. Despite her allegiance to Hylas, Veronica shows compassion for Nick’s heartbreak, urging him to leave. Undeterred, Nick devises a plan with Alekos and supportive locals to escape the island with Anthony. The Festival of the Blood Moon turns into a nightmare, with human guests falling victim to the vampires. Thanks to Veronica's aid, Nick escapes, but not before a chilling confrontation with the undead Anthony. 

Summer Shadows is a well-crafted comic book series with rich characterizations and engaging dialogue that draw readers into its world. The interconnected subplots and backstories add depth and intrigue, while the readers' sympathy for Nick’s broken heart is palpable, even as they wish he’d see the truth sooner. Set against the enchanting backdrop of the Greek Isles, the novel weaves together the romance of ancient myth with the stark realities of the super-rich and powerful. Ricardo Cabral's pen and ink drawings, coupled with bold color schemes, provide a stylish aesthetic perfect for a vampire tale. While the book concludes with a satisfying ending, future encounters with Hylas and his coven are upcoming as Summer Shadows is part of an ongoing series.

RELATED FEATURES: LGBTQ Book Collection  |  Horror Book Collection  |  Supernatural Book Collection

If you're a fan of DC Comics and looking for a fresh take on some familiar faces, then check out the Red Hood: Outlaws graphic novels based on the popular WEBTOON series. The series throws you right into the thick of it with an unlikely trio: 
​

• Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne / Batman's second Robin and now the gun-toting anti-hero Red Hood.
• Artemis of Bana-Mighdall, a powerful Amazonian and former Wonder Woman.
• And Bizarro, Superman's well-meaning but grammatically challenged genetic opposite. 
  
  

Rejected by the mainstream superhero community, these three have formed their own mercenary band, aptly named The Outlaws. Their latest gig? A shady gangster named Franco Bertinelli hires them to retrieve a mysterious idol he claims was stolen from his ancestors. The catch? It's hidden on a dinosaur-infested island, complete with a labyrinth of booby traps and a surprising number of zombies. 

As if that wasn't enough, The Outlaw’s heist catches the attention of none other than Martian Manhunter and the Justice League. Jason and his teammates soon discover that Bertinelli has played them, and the idol is actually of Martian origin. Outraged by their irresponsibility, Bruce Wayne gives the three an ultimatum: oversee the Justice League's orbiting space station, Watchtower, for one month without a single screw-up, or face the consequences as true criminals. Jason, driven by his lingering resentment and rivalry with his adoptive father, unilaterally agrees to Bruce's terms.

Red Hood: Outlaws Volume 1 is a surprisingly engaging read, largely thanks to author Patrick R. Young's ability to delve into the backstories of our three anti-heroes. He skillfully explores their shared sense of inadequacy when compared to their more famous Justice League counterparts – Jason forever in Batman's shadow, Artemis striving to live up to Wonder Woman, and Bizarro grappling with being the opposite of Superman. While Bizarro leans too heavily into the "dumb comic relief" archetype, the book truly shines with its snappy, engaging dialogue and a generous helping of humor. The artwork is another major highlight; it's vivid, beautifully rendered like expressive oil paintings that bring the chaotic action to life. Some purists might argue that this series offers a somewhat "watered-down" version of The Outlaws compared to previous iterations, but for new readers, it serves as an excellent entry point into the dynamic and often morally ambiguous world of these anti-heroes.

​All in all, Red Hood: Outlaws Volume 1 is a quick and enjoyable read, though perhaps not one that demands a lot of complex thought. There are two more books in this series, which I'm definitely looking forward to reviewing in the future! I'm particularly excited to see what else unfolds regarding that stolen idol and its connection to a lost Martian civilization. And on a personal note, I'm hoping for more interactions between Jason and Bruce, and the rest of the Bat-Family – especially Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne. There's also a fledgling romance between Jason and Artemis that’s still very much in its early stages. While it might not be the most profound comic you'll ever read, it's certainly a fun and fast-paced adventure that leaves you wanting more.

RELATED FEATURES: Red Hood Collection  |  Jason Todd's Empty Grave  |  Nightwing, Batman and Adoption Problems  |  Superman Collection

I have always been fascinated by the creative process of making movies, video games and television shows. Whether they’re live-action or animated, I will spend hours watching videos and reading about concept and production design, especially for science fiction and fantasy projects. 

Some of this may be my interest in art. Still, just as much may stem from the era I grew up in — the 1970s and 80s — when science fiction and fantasy began to break out of the previous eras of low-budget productions with goofy costumes, poor special effects, and papier-mache sets. If there were any notable progenitors for all this, it was probably the original Star Trek (1966-1969) and Stanley Kubrick’s 1968 film 2001: A Space Odyssey. Both demonstrated that science fiction could be sophisticated, mature, and thought-provoking. Both explored themes dealing with social change, environmental concerns, and the complexities of human nature. And both took their art design and production values more seriously, striving to create (more) distinct and believable narratives about the human exploration of space. While Star Trek’s artistic design, in particular, may look dated to modern eyes, in 1966, it raised the bar for television production values despite the limited budget of a weekly series. The very design of the U.S.S. Enterprise — a dramatic and intentional departure from the cigars-with-fins spacecraft of the previous decades — made the vessel one of the most recognizable in popular culture.

From this point, there was no turning back. Audiences might still have to endure a bad script or poor acting, but they would not endure bad production design as patiently. For example, to this day, my son is more wildly critical of a science fiction show or movie that looks bad than one that is bad… This is perhaps why we’ve never seen eye-to-eye on which Star Wars movies are the superior product. 

If you also appreciate the art of production design, I have curated some of the best books that capture the process, from concept sketches to fabrication and everything in between. 

RELATED FEATURES: Did Moonraker Forecast Our Future in Space? | Welcome to the Jundland Wastes | Workshop of Wonders | Paradise on Middle Earth | Redemption for Star Wars (Redux) | My Most Forbidden Book | 

Ten years ago, the Marvel Cinematic Universe was still new. Interesting. Exciting. Tenuous.

By March 2015, the MCU holy trinity had been established consisting of Iron Man, Thor and Captain America. But within the mix of their stories , which spanned generations and galaxies, there were numerous supporting characters who were just as fascinating. One of the best was Peggy Carter, played by Hayley Atwell. 

Introduced in Captain America: The First Avenger (2011), Peggy was an agent for the top-secret Allied intelligence agency, the Strategic Scientific Reserve (SSR). She was central to Project Rebirth, an experiment to create American super soldiers which ultimately transformed Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) into Captain America. Not only did Peggy champion Steve for the experiment, she ultimately became his friend, his love interest and — through the intricacies of time travel and storytelling I won't recount here — his wife and mother of his children.  

But at first, it looked like Peggy's character was one and done. After all,  Steve is presumed lost and killed at the end of The First Avenger and Marvel fans presumed that was the last they'd see of Peggy, too. But fate intervened in 2013 with a short film called Marvel One-Shot: Agent Carter. The film was a glimpse into Peggy's life after the war as she wrestled with her grief and being a woman in the male dominated espionage game. The One-Shot became so popular that it was turned into a weekly television series called Agent Carter in 2015. 

Although the show was praised for its snappy dialogue and astute character development, it only lasted two seasons due to low ratings. One particularly baffling review called the show "fascinating but boring."  But really, I think Agent Carter was probably ahead of its time. Having a female-led period piece  that dealt with issues such as feminism, race, grief and sexism within the framework of Cold War espionage tinged with science fiction was probably pretty challenging for American audiences ten years ago. This is especially true when you consider that Peggy had no super powers whatsoever. Her strength came from intelligence, ingenuity and creativity. Hell, in one episode she took out a goon twice her size by weaponizing a stapler!

Sigh.

Regardless, Peggy Carter remains a fan favorite in the MCU and has even found new life as "Captain Carter" in some of the franchise's alternate universes. So, in honor of Peggy, Marvel's greatest non-super superhero, I'm presenting a collection of books, videos and collectables about her — or characters and stories similar to hers.

Stay calm and carry on!

Organized as a series of letters written to an unnamed person, Stephen Chbosky's The Perks of Being a Wallflower  walks us through the tumultuous freshman year of a teen named Charlie. The protagonist is writing these missives to someone he doesn't even know, partly because he's lonely, partly because he's codependent, and partly because he has a few things he needs to get off his chest. I suppose its his version of spilling his guts to a bartender, someone who's disconnected from the action and impartial about Charlie's role in it all. And the reader gets to come along for the ride.

Now this book isn't plot-driven and I know some readers hate it when a story takes a very non-linear course without a discernible beginning, middle or end. However, I enjoy books like this and Chbosky does a good job of setting up some early points of tension and then building on them as the book progresses. This all starts with Charlie recounting his grief when his best friend from junior high commits suicide. Charlie feels like he's the only person still grieving the loss and this colors a lot of the other things he experiences. It also paints the protagonist as an unusually sensitive kid. He cries a lot — and I mean a lot! He doesn't seem to be embarrassed about how easily he's moved to tears and initially we're not sure why he's so fragile. We do know that he suffered another loss early on when his beloved aunt Helen was killed in an automobile accident the day before his birthday. While Charlie does have a supportive family, it's difficult for them to understand or even effectively deal with his daily dramatics. What's worse is that he feels like he's being slowly abandoned. His older brother has left for college and his sister's about to follow suit. On top of it all, Charlie's in a new school where he's quickly pegged as a freak. 

Still, Charlie begins to reach out. His language arts teacher is so impressed with his writing ability that he piles on extra assignments and gives the boy a stack of classic novels to read — all of which results in a deep friendship between the two. But things really begin to turn around when Charlie meets Samantha and Patrick, a feisty step-brother and sister duo who take him under their collective wings and provide the nonjudgmental friendship he really desires. Both graduating seniors, Sam and Patrick introduce their sheltered charge to the antics of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, high school parties, hangovers, hash brownies and even his first romantic encounters. But none of this is meant to corrupt the boy. There's true affection between the three friends. Unfortunately, Charlie's so socially awkward that he doesn't know how to be a good friend in return. He stays silent when he should speak up. He mistakes lying for being supportive; and when truthful he's often tragically undiplomatic. Still, the reader can forgive Charlie for all this because we haven't forgotten that there's still something just a little off about him. When it's finally revealed why Charlie's so emotionally damaged, it's handled with great tact and the reader's so invested in the character that you have nothing but sympathy for him. 

The strength of Chbosky's writing is his ability to create a distinctive voice. You can almost hear Charlie resonating through your head with all his inflections, hesitations and peculiarities. He becomes a fully realized person — a surprisingly rare thing in modern young adult fiction which tends to be filled with teenage clichés and stereotypes. This book, like Charlie, is a real keeper.

RELATED: LGBTQ | Young Adult Collection

Probably everyone should read Homer's The Iliad during the course of their life — if you weren't forced to do so in a high school, that is. But if you can't make it through such unfamiliar language and concepts, do the next best thing and read Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles.

This intelligent, poignant and beautifully written book follows the life of Achilles, ancient Greece’s most legendary warrior and a central actor in The Iliad. The novel’s told through the eyes of the hero’s lifelong friend, companion and lover, Patroclus. Banished after accidentally killing another highborn boy, Patroclus finds himself living in the court of Achilles’ father, King Peleus. The king is kind to him, but Patroclus, having been stripped of both is title and his name, is deeply damaged. It’s only when Achilles, a youth as comfortable in his own skin as Patroclus is uncomfortable in his, takes an interest in him that the disgraced boy begins to come out of his shell. Being the favorite of a prince is an enviable position to have, but most do not approve, especially Achilles’ goddess mother, Thetis. Cold and calculating, Thetis is obsessed with the prophecy that her son will go on to be Greece’s greatest warrior, thereby earning himself a place among the immortals. She sees Patroclus as not only being unworthy of the prince’s affection, but actually contrary to his fate. Perhaps the only thing that keeps her from murdering Patroclus is knowing that it would drive a permanent wedge between her and Achilles.  

Achilles however, is a reluctant hero and an even more reluctant killer. When he and Patroclus are sent to study with the centaur Chiron, tutor to other legendary Greeks like Jason and Herakles, the boys at last find the freedom to be themselves. Secluded in Chiron’s mountain retreat, the pressures and responsibilities of court, title and prophecy melt away. Achilles and Patroclus find that their differences complement each other and finally consummate their relationship. This is the start of a lifelong love affair which, though tested by separation, war, pride, and the cruelty of the gods, does not falter. 

The latter half of the book deals extensively with the Trojan war and Achilles exploits there. It is the war that really transforms Patroclus and Achilles, inspiring one to look for ways to help others, the other to become as obsessed with his honor as his callous mother, preferring to see hundreds die before yielding even an ounce of it to another. In many ways, Miller's book reminds me of the best of Mary Renault, whose novels about Greek myth include The Bull from the Sea and The King Must Die. Renault's books are still some of the best on ancient Greek life and widely hailed as classics. I would not be surprised to find The Song of Achilles earn similar accolades in the years ahead.

​RELATED: Greek Myths Retold | The Cove, The Cave and Finding Inspiration in Ancient Stories