Tears of pain, of joy, of shock and horror - tears of every emotional colour you can imagine. I also need to figure out how to do this through a haze of tears.

I spent almost 25 minutes explaining how Red Rising was one of the best books I’d ever read in a video review I called Golden Son the Empire Strikes Back of the trilogy here on Goodreads, a compliment I have never before paid to a book and now I find myself in the position of having to try to find even more praise to heap upon the bloodydamn genius piece of storytelling that is Morning Star. If you want the TL DR version of this review: it did. Now, I am plunging into darkness, whatever remains of that life-organ too terrified to beat for fear that man and his Morning Star will truly obliterate it for good. I thanked him for it, and moved on to the golden sequel which took my heart and pummeled it into pieces so small, I was no longer sure there was anything left within the cavity of my chest. Once upon a time, a man wrote a red book and shot my emotions out of an airlock into the cold, dark vacuum of space. I guess I can start with what I said this morning to my friend Rebecca when she asked me how Morning Star was and whether or not I was dying yet - fun fact: I was - and I responded: I’m not entirely sure on how to write this review. Ravin' Girls: A… on It’s All Greek to Me: Mi… Games inspired on Sampling: A Transformative Fai…

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