I am bringing guns and bullets today, so if you are reading this and you have a biased mind against women, get ready to be angry. I welcome your anger in full force. Stay tuned.
When I saw this book, I immediately thought, this is the exact type of book I have to read. Well, it was sent to me, and now I am about to talk about it. So, let’s start by looking at all the absolute garbage they say about us:
"Oh, a woman past 25 is no longer young."
"Immediately after she finishes university, she isn't complete until she marries."
"Oh, she won't make good babies after 25, her biological clock is ticking."
"Oh, her beauty will fade away, a woman is just a season."
"Oh, if she’s successful, she must be intimidating, bossy, or hard to love."
"Oh, if she speaks her mind and demands respect, she’s just being 'emotional' or 'difficult.'"
"Oh, she shouldn't wear that if she wants to be taken seriously."
"Oh, she chose a career over starting a family? How selfish."
"Oh, she's too independent, she’s going to end up alone."
"Oh, she can't be a real leader because women are too hormonal."
"Oh, a woman's true worth is tied to how 'pure' she is or how well she can keep a home."
"Oh, she needs to dim her light and shrink herself so she doesn't bruise a man's ego."
The discussion begins with the subtle yet pervasive ways women are trained to shrink, both physically and sexually. Caught in an impossible double bind of always being "too much" or "too little"—too loud or too quiet, too fat or too thin, too orgasmic or too frigid—women internalize a persistent sense of inadequacy. This cultural bias directly influences physical intimacy; Hill points to a 2021 University of Michigan study where three-quarters of respondents agreed that male climax was of greater importance than female climax. In wellness and fitness culture, this conditioning manifests as physical restriction. In 1990s gym environments, male instructors routinely instructed women to stick exclusively to the lowest weights with high repetitions, strictly warning them never to lift heavy lest they "get big," transforming physical strength into something women were taught to fear rather than build.
Just in case you didn't know, I get sent books by different publishers quite often, which means I constantly get to dive into different genres and stories. I haven't completed every single page in this stack just yet, but I wanted to walk you through each one, share my initial reactions, and give you a taste of what makes each title so impossible to put down.
Before we even get into the plots, I have to confess something: I am a total book collector at heart.
One day, I am hoping to build my very own dream library. A proper, rich wooden library filled top-to-bottom with gorgeous spines and special editions. My dad has always loved libraries, and that appreciation definitely rubbed off on me. There is just something magical about having a dedicated room where stories line the walls—and trust me, this new set is going to take pride of place on those future wooden shelves.
Smartphone Nation, by Dr. Kaitlyn Regehr
The current political and social battle cry feels incredibly simple: “Ban social media for under-16s.” It sounds like the silver bullet we’ve all been waiting for. Cut the cord, take the devices away, and protect our children from the modern digital wilderness.
But let’s be entirely honest with ourselves as parents: a blanket social media ban does not make the underlying problem disappear. Teenagers will still have to interact with a digital world, and forcing them off mainstream apps doesn't teach them digital literacy; it just drives their habits underground.
I’ve read this book, Smartphone Nation, by Dr. Kaitlyn Regehr, an Associate Professor of Digital Humanities and one of the UK’s leading digital literacy experts. Instead of writing another generic "screentime is bad" book, Dr. Regehr provides a devastatingly raw, highly practical blueprint for completely resetting your family's digital life. She doesn't just outline why we are all addicted to screens; she exposes the structural engine behind it and hands us the tools to take back control.
If you want to understand why our family tech dynamics feel so broken, we have to look past the timers and talk about the deeper, far more controversial realities she uncovers.
1. The Safety Paradox: Physical Security vs. Digital Harm
One of the most profound concepts Dr. Regehr introduces is The Safety Paradox. She details the story of Iryna, a 13-year-old Ukrainian refugee student in London. Two years prior, Iryna’s home city had been hit by a missile attack. Under extreme trauma and fear, her TikTok algorithm began aggressively feeding her severe depressive and eating disorder content because the machine learning assumed that was what she wanted to see.
When Iryna told her mother, they didn't throw the phone away. Why? Because her mother needed her to have it to ensure her physical safety, to track her via geo-locators, look at maps, and to stay in contact in case of emergency.
This is the loop we are all trapped in. We give our children smartphones to keep them physically safe and socially connected, yet that very same device functions as an open gateway to extreme digital harm, amplifying issues from body dysmorphia and misinformation to pornography and relentless online bullying.
2. The Post-Pandemic "Blur" and Why Screen Time Doesn't Work
Many parents rely on standard screen-time limits to moderate tech. But Dr. Regehr argues that this flat approach completely fails because it focuses entirely on the quantity of screen time rather than its quality.
This systemic vulnerability was massively exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic. The pandemic forced a permanent blurring of work and home life, trapping us in a hybrid reality where parents are constantly multitasking, trying to respond to urgent professional emails while simultaneously letting screens act as an unmonitored digital playground to keep their kids occupied.
We are dealing with platforms built on an attention economy, completely underpinned by a lack of strict regulation. The technology is designed to create highly addictive, attention-grabbing loops that prioritize engagement at all costs. In fact, the book traces the origin of video sharing to show how platforms like YouTube were originally launched on Valentine’s Day in 2005 as a failed video-dating site before pivoting to general user content. Tech companies have always engineered platforms to keep eyes glued to the glass, not to look out for your family’s well-being.
If you read my previous article, "The Silent Helper," you might remember how so many of you poured your hearts out in the comments because you related to it. For a long time, I told myself, "I'm just being helpful. I'm not a people pleaser." But when I stopped being the Silent Helper, I had to face a sad, uncomfortable truth: I was absolutely people-pleasing. Part of growing up is having those brutally honest conversations with yourself and then sharing what you’ve learned to help someone else.
I also used to be a massive overthinker. Before sending a simple "Hi, how are you?" message, I would obsess: Is it too informal? Is it respectful? What if they don’t reply—did I offend them? It’s a mental cage. You aren't actually living; you're just surviving in a state of self-inflicted torture.
I have not been following the World Cup back-to-back, but reading Michail Antonio's book makes it completely undeniable that he has a profoundly strong point when it comes to the mental health of elite athletes, and we, the fans, play a massive, often toxic role in that ecosystem. For anyone out there tempted to shrug and say, "Oh, it's just part of the industry; they get paid millions," but who simultaneously expects to be treated with absolute fairness, respect, and dignity in their own everyday workplaces just because they aren’t athletes, let’s call it what it is: complete hypocrisy and a glaring double standard. I was recently scrolling through Instagram, and it is genuinely wild to see the sheer volume of pages explicitly created by "fans" to support their favorite players, only for those exact same spaces to be weaponized to relentlessly mock, insult, and tear down other athletes. These online spaces are completely unregulated, and it perfectly validates why Antonio argues things have gone way too far. Look at how people treat legends like Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi; the abuse they face is literal madness. I vividly remember a match where fans in the stadium were screaming Messi's name at the top of their lungs to taunt Ronaldo, even though Ronaldo wasn't even playing against Messi's team, and Messi wasn't even in the building. Strict, unyielding rules must be enforced inside stadiums to stop this behavior. We need to stop abusing people under the guise of entertainment; these athletes are human beings, men and women, before they are sports stars. It is deeply tragic that even among the most accomplished figures on earth, the online vitriol is constant, and as fans, we never get to see the devastating aftermath of what that does to a person's psyche. To the public, it’s just a 90-minute football match; they go back to their mansions, and that's the end of it, but Antonio reveals that the damage follows them right through their front doors.
Let’s play a quick, uncomfortable game. Think of the last time you saw a wildly controversial post online. Did you instantly feel a surge of opinion? Did you instinctively know exactly which side you were on, using words you’ve read a thousand times before?
We like to think those thoughts are ours. We like to believe our rage, our validation, and our tastes are entirely self-authored. But what if they aren’t? What if your mind is just frozen in place, renting out space to a collective script?
I recently watched an interview with the philosopher and theologian Igor Sibaldi, which completely altered how I view my own brain. It forced me to pick up his book, How Not to Be Stupid: The Transformative Power of Independent Thinking.
Sibaldi doesn’t view "stupidity" as a low IQ score or a lack of education. He looks at the Latin root: stupidus—which means to freeze, to be stunned, or to come to a dead halt. Stupidity, in his eyes, is the psychological block that happens when you stop thinking for yourself and let society, habits, or fear pull you onto autopilot because conformity feels safer than standing alone.
He maps this out through 12 distinct psychological functions of the self (covering how we handle authority, communication, wealth, and our past). He argues that we might be brilliant in one function, but completely paralyzed, or "stupid," in another.
Enter the Algorithmic Herd
Reading his breakdown of these 12 functions made me look directly at our modern digital landscape. Look at social media algorithms. They are essentially automated conformity engines. They track our biases, feed us exactly what we want to hear, and reward us with dopamine when we echo the prevailing sentiment of our chosen "tribe."
By Sibaldi’s definition, algorithms are training us to be profoundly stupid. They invite us to freeze our critical faculties, stop questioning why we believe what we believe, and coast on a borrowed collective consciousness.
This directly mirrors what the 19th-century philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche warned us about when he wrote about the "Herd Mentality." Nietzsche argued that society conditions individuals to fear standing out, replacing true personal virtue with a safe, obedient group morality. When you combine Sibaldi’s 12 functions with Nietzsche’s herd, you get the modern internet: millions of people trapped in an echo chamber, terrified of the social death that comes with independent thought, mistaking algorithmic obedience for personal perspective.
Where Sibaldi and I Part Ways
Sibaldi’s interview and his book gave me a massive paradigm shift. It made me realize how often I speak in phrases I didn't invent and defend ideas I haven't actually pressure-tested. It taught me that real intelligence isn't about knowing the answers; it’s about having the raw courage to stay in motion when everyone else freezes.
But here is where I disagree with him. Sibaldi implies that breaking free from these 12 blocks is a purely intellectual act of will—a personal hygiene of the mind where you choose to disobey the collective.
I think he underestimates the sheer weight of modern systemic design. It’s easy to say "stop being a person from a breeding farm" (as he bluntly calls it), but when our economic livelihood, our social circles, and our mental health loops are entirely hardwired into platforms designed to keep us frozen, waking up isn’t just a philosophical choice. It’s an exhausting, daily psychological war against an infrastructure designed to keep us asleep. Disobedience doesn't just take clarity; it takes an immense amount of emotional resilience that a lot of people simply don't have the bandwidth to afford.
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| Photo by Ytalo Marcos from Pexels |
There is nothing quite like the feeling of packing a tote bag for a long day at the beach, sliding on your favorite sunglasses, and pulling out a book you simply cannot put down. If your social media feeds look anything like mine, your current digital algorithm is completely dominated by BookTok recommendations.
The online reading community has entirely changed how we discover new literature. Instead of relying on stiff traditional reviews, we are turning to fellow readers who share raw, emotional reactions to major page-turners.
If you want to ensure your vacation reading list is packed with books that live up to the massive internet hype, these are the three viral books taking over US summer reading lists right now.
1. The Ultimate Rom-Com: Funny Story by Emily Henry
The Trope: Fake dating, forced proximity, grumpy x sunshine
Best For: Reading poolside with a cold iced coffee.
Why it's viral on BookTok:
Emily Henry is the undisputed queen of the modern beach read. Funny Story delivers her signature quick-witted banter and deep emotional layers that make creators film themselves crying happy tears on camera.
Emily Henry has done it again. Funny Story follows Daphne, a children's librarian who finds herself stranded in a beautiful Michigan lakeside town after her fiancé realizes he is actually in love with his childhood best friend.
To save face and get through the summer, Daphne and Miles decide to fake-date. What follows is a masterclass in slow-burn romance, brilliant dialogue, and unforgettable small-town charm. It is easily one of the most talked-about
2. The Unhinged Historical Thriller: Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke
The Trope: Fish out of water, survival, historical mystery
Best For: Readers who want a fast-paced plot that keeps them up until 3:00 AM.
If you prefer a heavy dose of suspense and psychological intrigue with your summer sun, Yesteryear is the absolute breakout sensation of the year. The book follows Natalie Heller Mills, an elite "tradwife" influencer with millions of followers who curates a meticulously perfect, highly aesthetic rustic lifestyle online.
But one morning, Natalie wakes up in a reality that isn't a performance: she is trapped in the brutal, exhausting reality of 1855.
It is a gripping, darkly funny, and genuinely frightening look at modern fame and womanhood. The internet cannot stop screaming about the third-act plot twist, making it a staple on every
The Price of Pretty by Alex Light: Beauty Standards, Social Media Pressure, Cosmetic Surgery Culture and Modern Feminine Identity
When I saw the title of this book, I was not so sure what to expect, but when I got to know more about it, I was in total, absolute wow. She spoke my mind totally.
I am one person who thinks I am beautiful enough. I am okay, and whatever beauty standard you bring to me, I take it at facial value. But let’s be real: not everyone has the ability to do so. This book focuses heavily on women, and I want to start by saying that societal beauty standards have not only caused pain, deaths, envy, and low self-esteem—they have also caused deep, bitter clashes between women. The expectations are endless. And now, if you notice, men are already getting dragged into the social facial standards of makeup, skincare, and Botox, too.
As you read on, you will get to know more about this book and exactly why your niece, your nephew, or the people around you desperately need to read it. I urge you to add this book to your Christmas gift list or wishlist right now. Please, gift someone this book. It doesn't matter whether they are a male or a female—just buy it and gift it. It will go a very long way.
Some books entertain you for a few hours.
Some books pull you into their world so completely that when you finally close the cover, the room around you feels unfamiliar.
Christopher Edge’s How to Steal the Future is one of those books.
From the very first page, you are not simply reading a story. You are stepping into a maze.
Not an ordinary maze made of stone walls and twisting corridors.
This maze breathes. It shifts. It watches.
And somewhere deep within its ever-changing heart lies a secret powerful enough to change everything.
Entering the Maze
The story follows twelve-year-old Drew Blake, a boy carrying far more than a backpack and a mission.
He is carrying fear.
Hope.
Questions nobody seems able to answer.
Because Drew's sister, Evie, entered the maze before him.
And she never came back.
Others have disappeared too. Countless children have attempted the challenge, chasing the legendary prize hidden at the centre of the maze: the Avenir, a mysterious object said to hold the power to unlock the future itself.
But Drew does not care about treasure.
He does not care about glory.
He only wants to find his sister.
That simple motivation immediately grounds the story in something deeply human. Beneath all the puzzles, mysteries and impossible corridors lies the beating heart of a brother refusing to give up on family.
It is this emotional core that makes every twist matter.
Some workplaces honestly feel like movie sets where everyone is performing a version of themselves instead of showing who they really are. Some people spend the whole day acting, and some dramatize everything, while only a few people remain their real selves in a work environment.
One thing I have noticed about certain workplaces is how emotionally exhausting they can become. You see people smiling, but you can sense that the kindness is more of a workplace courtesy than something genuine. Everyone becomes extremely polite in a way that feels scripted, almost like watching actors perform instead of human beings connecting naturally.
To me, that is one of the most toxic environments to be in because it slowly removes honesty, warmth, and authenticity from everyday interactions.
Maybe that’s why Wild Courage: Go After What You Want and Get It by Jenny Wood resonated with me so deeply. I have spent years trying to stay professional, avoid conflict, and fit into workplace environments that often felt emotionally performative rather than authentic.
I picked up Wild Courage expecting another career book filled with predictable advice about leadership, networking, and productivity.
What I didn’t expect was a book that would challenge the way I think about confidence, ambition, risk, and even the parts of myself I’ve spent years trying to tone down.
This book felt personal.
Jenny Wood writes with the kind of clarity that only comes from real-world experience. You can tell she has spent years observing how people succeed, why talented people stay invisible, and what separates those who move forward from those who remain stuck waiting for permission.
The core message of Wild Courage is surprisingly simple:
Many of the traits we are taught to suppress are actually the exact traits we need to succeed.
That idea alone makes this book stand out.
Instead of telling readers to become more polished, more agreeable, or more “professional” in the traditional sense, Jenny Wood argues that success often comes from reclaiming traits that society labels negatively.
Traits like being:
Shameless
Weird
Obsessed
Selfish
Nosy
Manipulative
Brutal
Reckless
Bossy
At first glance, those words sound uncomfortable. Some even sound wrong.
But that’s exactly the point.
The book carefully reframes each trait, showing how these characteristics, when used with self-awareness and integrity, can become powerful tools for growth, leadership, opportunity, and personal success.
And honestly, reading it forced me to reflect on how often people shrink themselves to fit expectations.
One of my favorite parts of the book was the chapter about being “shameless.”
For years, many of us have been taught that promoting ourselves is arrogance. That asking for opportunities is pushy. That visibility should come naturally if our work is good enough.
But real life rarely works that way.
Jenny Wood explains that being shameless is not about ego. It’s about refusing to disappear. It’s about speaking up, advocating for yourself, sharing your ideas confidently, and allowing people to see your value instead of quietly hoping someone notices.
That chapter stayed with me because I recognized how often fear of judgment keeps people silent.
Another trait that deeply resonated with me was “obsessed.”
We live in a culture that praises passion but often becomes uncomfortable when someone is truly consumed by a goal. Yet the people who create extraordinary work are rarely casual about what they do.
Obsession, when directed properly, creates mastery.
That idea challenged me in the best possible way because it made me question where I’ve been holding back my energy or commitment just to appear balanced or socially acceptable.
The chapter on being “weird” was also refreshing. Jenny Wood makes a strong case that originality often comes from people willing to think differently instead of constantly trying to blend in. In many careers and creative spaces, standing out matters more than fitting perfectly into expectations.
The more I read, the more I realized this book is not really about career advice alone.
It’s about permission.
Permission to stop apologizing for ambition.
Permission to stop minimizing yourself.
Permission to take risks before you feel fully ready.
Permission to ask boldly for what you want.
What I appreciated most is that the book never promotes arrogance or selfishness without purpose. Jenny Wood consistently balances courage with awareness, confidence with competence, and ambition with humanity.
That balance gives the book credibility.
It doesn’t read like empty motivation. It reads like practical insight from someone who understands how careers actually work behind closed doors.
Out of the nine traits, the one I’m consciously reclaiming after reading Wild Courage is being shameless.
Not shameless in a careless way.
But shameless about sharing my work, expressing my ideas, pursuing opportunities directly, and allowing myself to be visible without constantly second-guessing whether I’m “too much.”
Because silence rarely creates opportunity.
Reading this book reminded me that many people spend years trying to become acceptable when they should be becoming courageous.
And maybe that’s why Wild Courage feels so relevant right now.
It challenges the invisible rules many of us grew up believing:
Don’t stand out too much.
Don’t ask for more.
Don’t be difficult.
Don’t take risks.
Don’t want too much success.
But the people who change their lives usually stop following those rules at some point.
This book is bold, practical, honest, and deeply thought-provoking. It’s one of the rare career books that doesn’t just tell you how to succeed — it forces you to confront what fear, insecurity, and social conditioning might be preventing you from doing.
If you read Wild Courage, don’t just read it passively.
Ask yourself which of the nine traits you’ve suppressed the most.
Then ask yourself what your life or career might look like if you stopped treating that trait like a flaw.
For me, this book wasn’t just about professional growth.
It was about reclaiming parts of myself I didn’t realize I had been hiding.
And that’s what made it memorable.
And as I held the Wild Courage paperback after finishing the final chapter, I realized this book is more than a guide for career growth. It’s a reminder that courage is not always loud. Sometimes courage is simply allowing yourself to be seen fully, honestly, and unapologetically.
Will AI take people’s jobs? Yes, it already has. It has taken some jobs in delivery companies and in large platforms like eBay, Amazon, and others. Will these business owners find ways to cut costs further? Yes, they will do anything, anything to reduce the need to pay humans.
But one question remains: can AI take all jobs? The answer is no. No, because not everything can be replaced or fully automated in one way or another. There are jobs that humans cannot be replaced in, especially those that require judgment, creativity, adaptability, and human understanding.
The companies and systems already in place show this shift clearly, and they also reveal something deeper when you look closely at what is happening over time. As automation grows, it is not only about replacing tasks but also about reshaping how people live, earn, and survive. It becomes a question not just of technology, but of daily life, food, stability, and dignity.
Do you know one area where AI is already making strong progress? Customer service. In many cases, chat systems and automated assistants are already replacing human workers. Military development is also changing, with countries building AI-powered systems that can operate without direct human presence. This may be just the beginning, or at least an eye-opener.
The world is moving quickly in directions that are not always positive. Have you ever thought about what the world would become if most jobs were taken by AI? Let me describe what comes to mind, something many business owners may not fully consider or even want to imagine.
In that world, people would wake up with nowhere to go. No shift to start, no call to respond to, no wages at the end of the week. Entire households could be without income. In some places, food would become uncertain, not because it does not exist, but because people no longer have money to access it. You would see long days stretching into empty routines, where the question is not work anymore but survival.
As this continues, the pressure on daily life will grow heavier. Cheap Drug addiction would likely increase, not as comfort but as escape. When people lose work, structure, and direction, some turn to substances to numb hopelessness, hunger, and uncertainty. What begins as coping can quickly become dependency, spreading through communities already under strain.
Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice has inspired countless adaptations, but few have shifted the focus as meaningfully as The Other Bennet Sister. Both the novel by Janice Hadlow and the BBC period drama adaptation reimagine the world of the Bennet family by placing Mary Bennet at the center of the story.
Where Austen’s original novel left Mary in the background, this retelling transforms her into a fully developed heroine navigating identity, independence, and belonging in Regency England.
Story overview: Who is Mary Bennet?
In The Other Bennet Sister, Mary Bennet is no longer a peripheral figure defined by awkwardness and solitude. Instead, she becomes the emotional core of the narrative.
Raised in the Bennet household at Longbourn, Mary grows up alongside her sisters Jane, Elizabeth, Lydia, and Kitty. While her sisters attract attention through beauty, charm, or romance, Mary is shaped by discipline, reading, and a desire for intellectual recognition.
After the familiar events of Pride and Prejudice, Mary is left without a clear future. Unlike her sisters, she is not considered the obvious choice for marriage or social success. The story follows her gradual journey beyond Longbourn as she confronts a society that undervalues quiet intelligence and emotional restraint.
This is a story of slow transformation, focusing on self-awareness rather than dramatic reinvention.
The book "A Rebel and a Traitor" was written by Rory Carroll. It is based on real life. A historical non-fiction account.
You start with a man who seems firmly planted where he belongs.
Roger Casement is part of the British Empire, not on the edges of it but inside it. Respected. Trusted. Even knighted. The kind of figure people would point to as proof that the system works.
But then he goes out into the world, and that’s where everything begins to come apart.
He sees what empire really looks like when no one is dressing it up. In places like the Congo and the Amazon, he witnesses exploitation that isn’t subtle or debatable; it’s brutal, direct, and impossible to ignore. People reduced to nothing. Used, overworked, discarded, silenced. And once he sees it, there’s no going back to the version of the world he had before.
That’s where the change starts.
It doesn’t happen all at once. It’s slower than that. A kind of breaking away. He doesn’t just question the Empire, he loses faith in it entirely. And from there, his focus turns home, to Ireland. If such behaviour is what empire does elsewhere, what right does it have to rule there at all?
By the time the First World War begins, he’s crossed a line that most people never would. He’s no longer serving Britain and their wicked doings; he’s working against it. And not quietly either. He travels to Germany, Britain’s enemy, trying to secure support for an Irish rebellion.
That’s the point where everything sharpens.
Because now this isn’t just about belief. It’s about action. Risk. Consequences.
On the other side, the state is watching. Carefully. Patiently. Men tasked and brainwashed with protecting the system see him not as a man of conscience, but as a threat. In wartime, that distinction matters more than anything.
And so the story becomes a kind of quiet pursuit. One man is trying to build something new, another trying to prevent it from ever taking shape.
Casement pushes forward, trying to gather support, organise resistance, and convince others that independence is within reach. But the deeper he goes, the more uncertain things become. Plans don’t hold as firmly as they should. Trust begins to fray. The reality of rebellion proves far messier than the idea of it.
Then comes the turning point.
As the planned uprising draws closer, he begins to doubt it. Not the cause itself, but the timing, the readiness, and the chances of success. He sees the cracks clearly now. And in the end, he tries to stop it.
But by then, it’s too late.
Events are already moving. The rebellion goes ahead. And Casement, caught in the middle of it all, is arrested before he can change the course of anything.
What follows is swift and final.
He is brought back, tried, and condemned. Not as a reformer or a man of principle, but as a traitor. The state does what states have always done when challenged in this way; it makes an example of him. His execution closes the story in the simplest possible terms.
After the execution of Roger Casement and the suppression of the Easter Rising, Ireland did not move into peace. Instead, the resistance evolved. The Irish Volunteers, who had taken part in the rebellion, reorganised and became more structured over time. Political support also shifted strongly toward Sinn Féin, which rejected British rule and gained widespread backing in the 1918 election. From this political and military environment, the Irish Republican Army gradually emerged during the War of Independence that followed. What had begun as a failed uprising developed into a sustained and organised campaign for Irish independence, shaping the conflict that continued into the early 1920s.
But the truth of it doesn’t close so neatly.
What lingers is not just his actions, but what he stood for and how hard it is to place him on one side. He was part of the system, then he rejected it. He exposed injustice but also took risks that others saw as dangerous. He followed his beliefs to the end, even when they led him into uncertainty.
And underneath it all sits the question that gives the story its weight.
Can loyalty to a country still hold if that country is built on the suffering of others?
From the moment I opened this book, I knew I was in for something completely different. Leila Reynolds — a defence barrister with ambition, nerves, and far more intelligence than she gives herself credit for — lands a case she never expected: the murder of a respected judge. Not a minor judge. A judge whose death sends shockwaves through the legal world. The kind of case seasoned barristers whisper about, but don’t volunteer for.
And instead of stepping back, Leila steps forward.
But here’s the twist: the defendant, Jack Millman, isn’t offering her much to work with. In fact, he’s offering her nothing at all. Silence. Not a defence. Not an explanation. Just a refusal to speak. Yes: the man accused of murder chooses his lawyer — and then says absolutely nothing about what happened.
Try building a defence on that.
I just finished reading The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah, and honestly, it hit me hard. The story kicks off with two sisters in France, before the war really changes everything. One sister, Vianne, just wants to keep her family safe. She stays home, tries to hold life together even as the Germans move in. The other, Isabelle, she’s restless, angry at the world, and refuses to sit on the sidelines. She ends up joining the Resistance, taking huge risks, and putting herself in danger to fight for something bigger than herself.
And that’s when you realize, there’s no single way to be brave. One sister survives by staying invisible, the other by refusing to be. Both of them are courageous in completely different ways.
I won’t spoil the ending, but halfway through I kept asking myself: what would I do if my whole world was turned upside down like that? Would I have the courage to act? Or the patience to endure silently? That question stayed with me long after I put the book down.
Let me take you on the journey I experienced reading it. Imagine it’s a quiet Friday morning, sunlight spilling through the window, a steaming cup of tea beside me, and the pages of The Great Alone calling my name. I couldn’t wait to read this book, and I can promise you, you won’t either.
Kristin Hannah, for those who might not know, is a global bestselling phenomenon. She has an unparalleled gift for capturing human emotion, painting settings so vividly that you feel as if you’re walking alongside her characters, experiencing their fears, their joys, and their heartbreaks firsthand. And in The Great Alone, she does just that, turning the rugged Alaskan wilderness into more than just a backdrop; it becomes a character in its own right.
This novel is an exquisite blend of historical fiction and contemporary drama, with hints of romance and suspense woven throughout. It’s the kind of book that would translate beautifully to the screen, picture sweeping landscapes, the raw, biting cold of Alaska, and a story that grips you until the very last page. While it hasn’t won every major literary award (though I wouldn’t be surprised if it did), it has earned a place in readers’ hearts worldwide.
From the moment I saw the cover, I was drawn in. The muted tones, the hint of vast wilderness, the lone figure in the distance. It perfectly mirrors the themes of isolation, survival, and resilience. Published by St. Martin’s Press, the book exudes quality, and the very feel of it in your hands tells you that you are holding something special.
Oh, the characters. Each one is written with such care, it’s impossible not to feel for them. My personal favorite? Leni Allbright, the young girl whose coming-of-age story runs through the heart of the novel. I admired her courage and her vulnerability, qualities that made me reflect on my own adolescence. And then there’s her father, Ernt Allbright, whose flaws and struggles are both terrifying and heartbreaking. I found myself asking, “If I were in Leni’s shoes, what would I have done?” Honestly, I’m not sure I would have had her bravery.
I have always heard people discuss mom guilt, but I never truly understood the full picture until I heard women cry, saying they wished they had been much happier in those early days after giving birth. They spoke of the constant feeling of not doing enough, of not being a “good mom." I mean, imagine a newborn who can’t even speak, and the mother already feeling guilty—then imagine a society full of people whose words cut like razors. What humanity and its impossible standards have forced mothers to endure.
While reading this book, I asked myself, how many times have I felt guilty for something I shouldn't have? How many times have I said no, knowing it was best for me, yet still carried guilt? How many times have I decided to look the other way because I couldn’t fix a situation? When I choose to put myself first in situations that demand it with adults, the feeling of guilt still creeps in—but I refuse to pay it attention.
Now, imagine the moms with babies who can’t even speak. That guilt is amplified, constant, and relentless.
There’s a rare intimacy in her writing that shows she has lived, observed, and wrestled with the chaos of love in a way that’s honest and unafraid. Her mind moves quickly, like she’s noticing everything: the tiny gestures, the words left unsaid, the silent disappointments, and the ridiculous misunderstandings that somehow define our relationships. You can feel her curiosity about human connection bleeding off the page.
What struck me immediately is how unapologetically messy her stories are. There’s no neat packaging, no Instagram-ready love stories. She writes about people who are complicated, contradictory, often fumbling but completely real.
One story might leave you laughing at the absurdity of a disastrous first date; the next might pin you down with quiet heartbreak over a relationship quietly unraveling. She captures that tension between desire and reality, the little ways we sabotage ourselves, and the way love can sneak in unannounced, in moments we barely notice until it’s gone.
Philippa’s voice is sharp and insightful, but also warm, as if she's talking to you. She seems to inhabit her characters fully, letting us see their thoughts without judgment. Reading her is like overhearing someone articulate the things you’ve felt but never said, the frustrations, the longing, and the humor in the moments you want to forget. Some lines hit so hard I had to stop and breathe:
“We fall in love with the idea of people, not always who they actually are.”
“Mess is not the enemy. Mess is the evidence we are living.”
“Mess is not the enemy. Mess is the evidence we are living.”
I find myself coming back to this line, because it’s a permission slip: it’s okay that our love lives are messy, chaotic, human.
I also loved the way she navigates modernity. The digital world, the texts we agonize over, the apps, the scrolling, and the ghosting thread through the stories without ever feeling gimmicky. It feels like she understands this era intimately, but without cynicism. There’s empathy in her writing for the way we all stumble through trying to love and be loved in a world that’s sometimes too fast, too connected, and too disconnected at the same time.
Aesthetically, this book belongs on a shelf you can touch often. I’ve kept mine close, and sometimes I’ll pull it down just to flip through a story, mark a line, or read a quote aloud to myself. The cover is understated but inviting, soft in a way that mirrors the tone of the writing. It whispers rather than shouts. Putting it on a desk with notebooks, pens, and other story collections makes it feel like a small altar for honesty, reflection, and closeness.
Ultimately, It’s Complicated isn’t just a collection of short stories. It’s Philippa Found’s exploration of what it means to be human in love. She reminds us that imperfection isn’t just inevitable, it’s the point. There’s comfort and recognition in her work, the sense that someone out there sees the messy, contradictory ways we love and survive, and she’s generous enough to hold a mirror up to it all. This book isn’t escapist reading; it’s reading that makes you feel and think and sometimes wince, and that’s exactly why it stays with you.
Cybercrime has surged, and when people say, “Facebook users are living in their own world,” it is often because of how easily false narratives spread. Sponsored posts chase traffic, not truth. At the end of the day, these platforms are designed to generate profit, even when it costs people their peace of mind.
That is not an exaggeration. It is lived experience for many families. What started as a simple way to reconnect with old classmates slowly became something much more complicated, and in some cases, much more dangerous. Platforms like Facebook, now known as Meta, were built on the promise of connection. The message in the beginning was hopeful: bring the world closer, empower communities, and give everyone a voice. It sounded noble. It sounded necessary. But somewhere along the road, the mission changed.
Across the world, headlines began to reflect a darker reality. In 2016, a kidnapping case in Lagos shocked the public when investigators revealed that contact between victim and suspect began through Facebook messaging. In the United States, the tragic murder of Nicole Lovell began with online contact through social media platforms, including Facebook. Families who once believed these platforms were harmless gathering places suddenly saw how easily predators could create fake identities, manipulate trust, and exploit vulnerability.
These are not isolated incidents. They are part of a pattern. Romance scams that drained life savings. Fake investment groups promising wealth and delivering ruin. Human trafficking networks using friend requests as bait. Each time, the story begins the same way: a connection request, a message, a shared moment that feels harmless.
Behind the screen, however, lies a powerful machine built not on friendship, but on engagement.
That is why the memoir Careless People: A Cautionary Tale of Power, Greed, and Lost Idealism by Sarah Wynn-Williams has unsettled so many readers. Wynn-Williams spent seven years inside Facebook’s global public policy division. She joined in the early 2010s believing deeply in the company’s founding ideals. Like many employees at the time, she believed it could genuinely strengthen democracy and community.
Her book tells a different story.
She describes what she calls “lethal carelessness,” a culture where growth became sacred and caution became inconvenient. According to her account, the internal priority shifted from protecting users to expanding markets and increasing revenue. Idealism slowly gave way to strategy. Responsibility became secondary to dominance.
One of the most disturbing areas she discusses is the platform’s influence on politics. During the 2016 United States presidential election, misinformation spread at a scale never seen before. False narratives traveled faster than fact-checkers could respond. Internal debates, she claims, revealed awareness of the risks. Yet meaningful intervention lagged. Engagement metrics remained strong. Advertising revenue continued to rise.
Then there is Myanmar. The United Nations later concluded that Facebook played a significant role in spreading hate speech that fueled violence against the Rohingya people. Wynn-Williams criticizes what she portrays as a slow and insufficient response to escalating danger. The consequences were not digital. They were human.
Another deeply troubling claim in the memoir concerns teenagers. She alleges that product features were designed to exploit emotional vulnerability because heightened emotion drives engagement. When a young person feels insecure, anxious, or excluded, they scroll longer. They compare more. They react more. And every reaction strengthens the advertising engine.
I remember being chased by a dog more than once when I was younger. After that, I hated walking down certain streets. I would cross the road, take longer routes, or avoid going out altogether if I thought a gate might swing open. Even now, when I go home and the dogs are outside, I stay inside the building until they’re put away. Fear has a long memory.
What made it more complicated was growing up in a family that loved dogs. They welcomed them in, adored them, built routines around them. It was their choice, and I understood that, but my experience felt entirely different. Where they saw loyalty and companionship, I felt caution and distance. Over time, though, I’ve come to understand that my fear and their love can exist in the same world. My experience doesn’t cancel out theirs. And perhaps that’s part of what makes a book like this so meaningful.
Markus Zusak has long had a remarkable ability to make the ordinary feel expansive, and he does it again in his memoir, Three Wild Dogs and the Truth. This is not simply a book about pets. It’s about family, endurance, and the strange ways we grow through the things that unsettle us.
The narrative follows the Zusak family through life with three unforgettable dogs: Reuben, who arrives first with relentless energy; Archer, who adds his own stubborn spirit; and the formidable girl, who pushes the household to its limits. Zusak doesn’t romanticize them. He writes about scratched floors, ruined furniture, sleepless nights, and the physical strain of trying to maintain order. But beneath the frustration is commitment. What might look like disorder from the outside becomes, inside the family, a shared test of patience and devotion.