

Bought too many books this month and also didn’t read enough. The pile tomorrow is going to be the smallest in quite a while.
The blog of Luther M. Siler, teacher, author and local curmudgeon


Bought too many books this month and also didn’t read enough. The pile tomorrow is going to be the smallest in quite a while.

In a word: skippable.
I’m genuinely tempted to make that the entire review, to be honest. This is the ninth Matt Dinniman book I’ve read, and the tenth is going to be out in March, and of the nine I’ve loved seven of them, thought the eighth (Kaiju Battlefield Surgeon) was okay, and … then there was this. I forced myself to buckle down and finish it over the course of last night and today, and to be honest I could have put it away after a hundred pages and been fine with it. It really feels like a manuscript that he had lying around and the publishing house was desperate to put something out that was trad-pubbed from the beginning, so he gave them this.
I don’t want to spend a ton of time shitting on this book, especially since it isn’t going to affect my enthusiasm for Dungeon Crawler Carl, but skippable is probably the perfect single-word review, and if I were to write a two-word review it would be half-baked. Nothing about it is particularly well thought-out, the main character is entirely indistinguishable from Carl, including his uncanny ability to come up with complicated plans on the fly, and I defy you to explain to me why the book (or the in-universe show the book is named after) is called Operation Bounce House. Everyone talks like they’re a teenager in 2020 even though the book is set hundreds of years in the future and on a planet Earth has colonized. I cannot emphasize enough how there has been no cultural change of any kind during all this time. I spent the whole book waiting for a twist where it turned out they had been on Earth the whole time and not actually in the future.
The plot: Oliver, who is Carl, is a farmer on a colony planet. The planet gets attacked by mechs being remotely piloted by, mostly, bored and wealthy teenagers on Earth who have spent lots of money to be part of a game show and may or may not realize they’re killing actual people. There’s lots of talk about how the showrunners are portraying everyone on the planet as terrorists. They fight back.
Why does this game show exist? Why are they killing people? No reason, really. Dungeon Crawler Carl earns a certain amount of “don’t think about it too hard.” This book very much does not. Nothing feels like it has been thought through.
It is not a LitRPG, by the way, even though the attackers are technically playing a game. There are no statistics or leveling up or unlocking abilities or anything of that sort; it’s more of a military sci-fi than anything else.
I have read worse books, to be sure— hell, I have read worse books in 2026— but I have no real reason to recommend that anyone else pick this up. Read Dungeon Crawler Carl, definitely. Ignore this one.

Aka the “This is getting ridiculous” edition, AKA Snow Days Edition.
The most ridiculous thing? I forgot to grab K.X. Song’s The Dragon Wakes with Thunder and decided not to go back for it. So that’s not all of them.
Book of the Month is Children of Ash and Elm, with a special recognition for Hekate the Witch.


I think this counts as progress, actually.

Okay, I can get this written. I think.
I promised that once the second Bobiverse book, For We Are Many, showed up I’d get it read quickly so I could follow up on whether there were any women in this one. Good news and bad news: the first time a woman speaks is a hundred pages in. She has one line, it is about her son, and she disappears for a while afterwards. But one of the more important secondary characters is female! In fact, she’s kind of important to one of the bigger themes of the book. Now, unfortunately, we’re nowhere near passing the Bechdel test or anything like that— to the best of my recollection there isn’t a scene with more than one woman talking at all, much less to each other— but this book represents an improvement, if not a huge one, over the first.
It is still good in all of the ways that the first one was good, and frankly it’s genuinely getting more interesting, so I’m kind of hoping that as time moves on a lot of the male secondary characters all have daughters and we can interact with them some more. All of the Bobs, of course, are immortal so long as they aren’t killed, so I would expect the secondary cast to change a lot.
Book Three comes out in the fancy new edition in March; I might cave and read it digitally before that. We’ll see.

It’s cold as fuck outside and I’ve got an upset stomach, so I read all 700 pages of this today. I’m not sure that it’s a good book in an objective sort of sense but it was absolutely what I was looking for.
Now I have to read a Wheel of Time book, so I’m going to be miserable for a few days.

I was not previously aware that printing the word “BOB” repeatedly on the edges of a book would cause me to impulse-buy it, but indeed, that’s what happened. Turns out the word “Bobiverse” is also a trigger; this is Book One of at least five, four of which have already been published as indie books. This is the tradpubbed edition; Book 2 will be out next week, and the next three are going to follow roughly bimonthly after that. My understanding is that #5 has only just been written, so that will be the first publication, but you can grab the first four right now if you want the indie versions.
This book was going to get some credit for originality, if nothing else; the idea is that Bob Johansson, the main (and virtually only) character, sells his tech company for Big Money at the beginning of the book, and more or less on a lark signs up for a cryogenics program. Once he dies his head gets lopped off and frozen, to await his eventual revival when technology catches up to fixing whatever killed him.
And then he dies, pretty much right away, rather ignominiously getting hit by a car. And he wakes up a hundred years later as an AI, a piece of property, and slated to be the controlling intelligence of a series of Von Neumann probes designed to find extraterrestrial planets suitable for humanity to move to. A Von Neumann probe, if you’re not aware, is a type of probe designed to be self-replicating; the idea is that it finds an asteroid or some other source of raw materials and creates another probe, which then flies off in a different direction, to create more probes, which then create more probes, which then create more probes, and on and on until something underpants-gnomey happens.
Bob is … less than thrilled by this development, and even less thrilled by the theocracy that America has turned into in the intervening hundred years (a bit on the nose there, Mr. Taylor) but he is an engineer and a software guy, so he’s able to hack his own programming so that once he escapes Earth’s direct control, he can more or less do whatever he wants. The interesting bit, of course, is that with every probe he creates, he has to effectively clone himself. He implements a rule where every successive Bob has to rename itself so that we don’t have a million characters with the same name running around, so one Bob is called Homer and another is Riker and so on (Bob is a big nerd) but they are all effectively him, if occasionally slightly tweaked from his base personality, so to speak.
The narrative fractures along with the Bobs, and by the end of the story we’re following, oh, three or four parallel stories, with a nice timeline in the front to help you keep everything straight: some of the Bobs have returned to Earth, now a post-apocalyptic nuclear wasteland, to help the remnants of humanity off of the planet; some of them, including Bob Prime, have found a planet with sentient life on it and are helping to nudge the inhabitants along against a competing species that finds them tasty, and others are hunting down the probes sent into space by Brazil, who immediately declare war upon the Bobs the first time they come across one another. There are a few other storylines that don’t get a ton of attention, but those are the big ones.
It’s a lot of fun, and I’ve got the rest of the series preordered, so I’ll get Bobiverse 2 next week and the rest of them as they come out. There’s only one real problem, and for right now, I’m cutting the series some slack, and we’ll see how he handles said issue in the future: at the beginning of the book, flesh-Bob is celebrating his windfall with a few friends, all of whom he’s cut in on the deal and who are also quite rich now, if not quite as flush as Bob is. They don’t have cryogenics money, is what I’m saying. One of those friends is female.
After Bob gets hit by the car, another woman does not have a single line for over two hundred pages.
All of the Bobs are male, of course, but even a large majority of the secondary characters are male. There are a few world leaders back on Earth, the intelligence controlling the Brazilian probes, a couple of doctors who Bob deals with before leaving the planet, and a couple of named members of the species Bob discovers. All but maybe two or three of those are male, and most of the females don’t really get a whole lot of time on the page, sometimes just a line or two before they disappear. A female descendant of Bob’s sister shows up and gets less than a paragraph before she’s whisked offstage, for example. Now, again, Dennis Taylor has gone to some lengths to make it clear that the Bobs aren’t exact replicas of one another, but they’re all versions of his personality, one way or another; I find myself wondering if Bob is going to find a way to create female clones of himself in the next book. Inside the story logic, I’m not completely convinced it matters, as Bob doesn’t actually have a flesh body any longer; he’s a space ship. But he’s certainly culturally male even if he doesn’t have a gendered body any longer, and, I dunno, maybe the smart bat-pig alien could have been a girl?
Again, I enjoyed the book, and Bob’s hardly a hypermasculine alpha male, so it’s not as if the book is dripping with testosterone or anything. The Wheel of Time has a ton of female characters and is somehow a much more gender-essentialist, masculinist series, for example, and Ken Liu’s Dandelion Dynasty also started off very man-heavy and corrected it completely in the second book. But I’ve got an eyebrow up, and I hope this gets addressed in future books. So consider this a three-quarters thumbs up, if that makes any sense, and I’ll try and get For We Are Many read quickly when it shows up so that I can report back.
I need at least one more hobby. I mean, I have reading, and being a huge nerd about reading, and collecting books. I need a fourth.
According to Goodreads, I read 189 books in 2025, at 87,775 pages. According to Storygraph, I read 189 books in 2025, at 88,360 pages. Let’s call it 88,000 pages, as I’m entirely uninterested in trying to reconcile the discrepancy between the two. At the beginning of this year I started a bunch of different book app accounts and said that I was going to eventually settle on one, and Goodreads and Storygraph scratch slightly different itches, so I spent the year keeping both updated. 88K pages works out to 241 pages a day. How? I read every single night for at least half an hour before going to bed, and on weekends and days off I generally get up between 6:00 and 8:00 and spend a few hours reading in my library. For the record, I’m not trying to get up that early to read; believe me, I’d kill to be able to sleep until noon again if I wanted to. This is one of my body’s ways of showing me I’ve gotten old, apparently, but it’s working out for my reading, I guess.
26 of the books I read were nonfiction, and Storygraph claims I read 5% of them digitally, although I’m not convinced I was especially vigilant about making sure that was recorded properly. I said last year I wanted to read six books about teaching, and didn’t pull that off, mostly because after reading the first one I decided books about teaching were dumb and I didn’t want to read any more of them. I still want to read more nonfiction next year; maybe I’ll shoot for 36 nonfiction books by the end of the year. I definitely want to read more books digitally because my shelves are groaning and I’m genuinely running out of places to store shit. My bookshelves can only get so efficient, y’all, and I don’t think my wife is going to agree to buy a new house.
Average page length was 464 pages, which is another reason I’m thinking about moving more to digital. I read a ton of doorstoppers– according to Storygraph, ten different books were over a thousand pages. That’s nuts.
I read books by 141 authors, 86 of whom were new to me this year. Authors I read more than one book by were:
8 Books: Matt Dinniman
7 Books: Brandon Sanderson
6 Books: Robert Jordan
4 Books: Samantha Shannon, Ryan Cahill
3 Books: Brian McClellan, Megan E. O’Keefe, Wesley Chu, Anthony Ryan, Nghi Vo
2 Books: Keith Ammann, Leigh Bardugo, S.A. Barnes, Suzanne Collins, Osamu Dazai, H.E. Edgmon, K.M. Enright, James Islington, Yume Kitasei, James Logan, John Scalzi, Adrian Tchaikovsky, Xiran Jay Zhao
I’m expecting Robert Jordan to be the big winner next year, as I expect to finish The Wheel of Time, unless it kills me, which it might. Actually, that’s not true, I’m going to finish them even if it does kill me. I’m gonna do it this time, God damn it. I promise. Naomi Novik and Robin Hobb are also going to get a lot of attention.
I didn’t make any particular effort to pay attention to race or gender this year; those repeat authors mean that in terms of raw number of books read I’m absolutely tilted toward white men, but a quick count shows 74 authors who at least immediately scan as female-presenting, which is slightly more than half of the 141 total. There are probably a handful of nonbinary people in there who might move those numbers a bit if I looked closer.
Next year … man, next year all I want to do is get my TBR under control. That’s it. I will probably not manage it.
And, finally, the Big List o’ Covers:




















