Each year brings a handful of knocks to the head that we did not see coming. Sometimes those are delightful—books that slide under the radar and then refuse to leave our heads. Sometimes they are the opposite—long-anticipated reads that fizzle. Other times the surprises have nothing to do with print at all: invitations, technical breakthroughs, or a sudden urge to scribble a story into existence. This year delivered a mix of all of those, and it feels right to take stock.
What Truly Surprised Us in Books
We went into 2025 with a rough plan: a mixture of anticipated releases, some backlist that had been nagging at us, and a few off-the-cuff picks tossed onto the TBR by friends. What we did not expect was how many of those stray choices would become anchors for the year. A few themes emerged: authors we had not given much thought to who suddenly dominated our reading list, genre detours that felt like necessary palate cleansers, and a handful of debut works that arrived with the force and complexity of a much more experienced writer.
Ronald Mauie: An Unexpected Obsession
One book turned into six or seven. We planned to read Blackmouth and moved on with the year, but Blackmouth blew us away and pulled us headfirst into the author’s back catalog. That kind of domino effect is rare. A single favorite can reorganize our whole attention economy, shifting other planned reads aside.
What worked about these books was the combination of momentum and voice. We found ourselves reading a Ronald Mauie book almost every month, not out of obligation but because the storytelling was addictive in a way that demanded more. Having a chance to speak with the author only underscored the experience; it is one thing to love a book and another to be able to tell the person who made it how much it mattered. Those conversations are privileges in their own right and remind us why we read in the first place.
Crime Fiction: A Genre We Didn’t Expect to Embrace
Crime fiction has always been on the periphery for many of us—interesting in theory but not our go-to. This year shifted that. Starting with Mystic River by Dennis Lehane, recommended as a book club pick, we found the soil of crime fiction more fertile than expected.
Mystic River is not a tidy genre exercise. It bleeds character portraiture into crime and trauma, and it stuck with us long after the final page. Riding that momentum into Michael Connelly’s The Last Coyote—our first Bosch experience on the page after seeing the adaptation—gave us a fresh appreciation for how influential some crime writers are to the shape of the genre. Connelly’s Bosch feels like a blueprint: a damaged but persistent investigator, procedural rhythm, and a voice that keeps the story grounded.
Crime fiction became the perfect one-off escape when we needed a break from worldbuilding-heavy SFFF reads. Tight, local stakes, human messiness, and a different kind of emotional weight made these books welcome and revelatory.
John Green: Humane, Resonant Coming of Age
We went into Paper Towns expecting light entertainment. What we got was a masterclass in teenage perspective and the small, consuming dramas of adolescence. Reading it alongside someone who was already a fan—their enthusiasm prompted the reread—made us realize how well Green captures the rhythms of youth: the awkward, wordy attempts at profundity, the sudden clarity of small gestures, and the way friendships can both lift and wound.
We ended up reappraising coming of age fiction entirely. For those of us who gravitate toward certain subgenres, it can be easy to write off contemporary YA or coming of age books as simple. Paper Towns reminded us that the best of them cut deep with economy and empathy.
Dungeon Crawler Carl: Humor Where We Least Expected It
LitRPG and dungeon-crawler humor are niche territories. The first Dungeon Crawler Carl surprised us by being one of the most laugh-out-loud reads in recent memory—an honest comparison we make rarely. It rekindled the simple joy of turning pages just to find the next comedic beat. By the fourth book we had cooled a little—familiarity reveals nitpicks—but the first installment will stay on the bookshelf of memorable surprises.
The Failures by Benjamin Liar: A Debut with Ambition
Occasionally a debut arrives so packed with ideas and tonal shifts that it feels like it should have a few more years of author credits attached to its spine. Benjamin Liar’s The Failures is one such book. We had low expectations for a title that seemed to appear out of nowhere, and yet it landed as one of the year’s more impressive first novels.
It mixes genres, riffs on mythic concepts, and does so with a structural daring often saved for veterans. If you like books that attempt the Dark Tower-level mashup of tones and still make the reader care, this one should be on the radar.
Brother by Anya Alborne: Horror Done Right
Horror can be a fickle genre: when it hits, it can redefine what we come to expect from modern scares. Brother did that for us this year. It wasn’t just tension and shocks; it was darkness with texture—messy, psychological, and precise. That the book came from an author we had not placed in our automatic “must-read” list made it all the more satisfying.
For those of us attempting to curate a steady flow of contemporary horror, Brother is the kind of voice we want to return to. It delivers the atmosphere and disquiet that linger in the hours after reading.
Books That Let Us Down
For balance, some of the year’s most-talked-about titles landed with a thud. Expectations were high for certain series and authors, and when the follow-through faltered, the disappointment stung precisely because of the initial promise.
The Echo Saga: Great Start, Slowing Momentum
The opening of the Echo Saga was exhilarating. A prologue that ranks among the best modern fantasy hooks had us completely on board. Here was a world with bloodied history, convincing stakes, and battles that felt cinematic yet grounded.
But by the second book the author tried to do too much. An influx of new characters, each seemingly important, made the narrative feel scattered. By the third installment the momentum had dulled. There is still interest in continuing; nine books is a long commitment, and the world still has potential. But the arc of diminishing returns is real, and that first trilogy sapped some of the initial wonder by spreading itself too thin.
Stephen Graham Jones: A Style Not for Everyone
Buffalo Hunter Hunter, our first foray into Stephen Graham Jones, did not land for us. That is not an attack on the author; many readers praise Jones highly. The issue was stylistic: dense framing, multiple nested flashbacks, and a tendency to lean into structural complexity made the read tiring rather than immersive.
We expected at least some of Jones’s kinetic horror voice to match our preferences, but the book felt like it was trying to play inception with narrative layers, and we kept losing the thread. One author’s deliberate layering is another reader’s labyrinth.
Urban Fantasy Misses: Alex Verus, Mercy Thompson, Rivers of London
We went into urban fantasy hunting for a new series that could fill the gap left by older favorites while we wait for new installments from beloved authors. These three properties were high on the list.
- Alex Verus felt competent but derivative—fun, but very much a value-brand version of what we already love from other runs.
- Mercy Thompson showed promise, but the first book tried to accomplish too much at once, burying the charm beneath exposition and setup.
- Rivers of London was a bigger miss. A distinctly British voice and cultural specificity are strengths when they land, but for us it was a mismatch. The tone was more alien than atmospheric, and the book did not “click.”
These were surprising because we honestly thought at least one of them would become a new staple. Instead, they became polite dips rather than anchor series.
Sunrise on the Reaping: A Prequel That Disappointed
Prequels are tricky. They can deepen a beloved world or deflate it by demystifying elements we preferred to keep mysterious. Sunrise on the Reaping leaned toward the latter. We went in hoping for high-stakes competition and the visceral immediacy of the original games. Instead we got a book that felt like setup for a much later rebellion—an orientation more political and scheming than gladiatorial.
That approach works if your favorite elements are plot and machination. For those of us who loved the visceral, immediate tension of the initial games, the prequel missed the mark. Still, it did answer some lingering questions and offered familiarity with certain characters, which we appreciated.
Nick Cutter: From The Troop to The Deep—A Slide
After loving The Troop, we expected Nick Cutter to be an ongoing favorite. Little Heaven landed somewhere in the middle: interesting but undermined by structural problems in the final quarter. The Deep, however, was the biggest disappointment. What felt like a premise built for claustrophobic dread turned into a fever dream of disconnected sequences. The through-line blurred, and pacing and focus suffered.
When an author’s books start trending lower in enjoyment the more we read, it may be a signal to step back. We still respect Cutter’s talent, but these latter outings felt uneven compared to the promise of earlier work.
Personal and Channel Surprises
Not all surprises were literary. 2025 handed us several career and personal moments that felt surprising, meaningful, and sometimes just plain funny.
Hosting Events with Authors: Humbling and Thrilling
Being asked to host events for established authors was one of the year’s unexpected highlights. We hosted conversations that required planning, improvisation, and the delicate balancing act of letting authors shine while keeping a room engaged. It was an honor, and the kind of experience that leaves you both exhilarated and exhausted in the best way.
Hosting is a strange mix of public-facing performance and backstage logistics. The reward is twofold: the chance to ask someone you admire smart questions and the privilege of being trusted to shepherd an evening that matters to readers. Those evenings live in memory for a long time.
Finally Figuring Out Lighting and Video Production
The technical side of content creation can be humbling. Audio had long been under control, thanks to years of podcasting experience, but lighting always eluded us. This year felt like the moment when the pieces fell into place. Swapping cameras, experimenting with phone setups, and leaning on a friend for guidance turned out to be the key.
We finally cracked the code on lighting. In year six we almost look as good as everyone else out there.
It’s a reminder that learning is rarely linear. Fifteen small experiments, a few embarrassing throwbacks, and patient help from someone who has already walked the path can turn a nagging technical problem into a solved one.
Realizing People Still Want to Listen
There is a quiet fear in any long-running project that the audience will drift away. Over the last few weeks of the year people have shared screenshots of their most-watched channels lists and dropped messages to say that this channel remains one of their top five. Those moments hit harder than any review because they speak to connection.
We started this as a way to chat about books like friends over coffee. That those conversations still matter to a handful of people—enough to merit being tracked in someone’s annual summary—means everything. It is a reminder that the point of the work is not scale but meaning. If one person finds comfort during a rough commute, then the job is done.
Writing: A Surprise That Stayed Small but Significant
Many people have asked whether we would ever try writing a book. This year, for the first time, the answer was not an abstract maybe. A story lodged itself in our head—repeatedly, insistently—until the only way to quiet it was to write down an outline and a few scenes.
This is not a declaration of a forthcoming novel. It is an admission that a small, private creative itch suddenly needed scratching. The result is a handful of pages and an outline of a tragic love story. We are painfully self-aware: the dialogue feels awkward in a thousand places, and the prose is embarrassingly raw.
That said, the process taught us a few useful things:
- Writing dialogue is harder than it looks. It is easy to either over-polish or lean into cringey, too-real speech that reads wrong on the page.
- An idea that repeats itself in your head is worth at least an outline. The act of committing it to paper clarifies whether it is a fleeting scene or a story with legs.
- Sharing early drafts is a choice. For now this is private practice, but the option to collaborate with someone more experienced remains on the table.
Whether this small experiment grows into anything more is uncertain. For now it is enough that the brain was exercised in a new way.
Channel Happenings and What Changed
Beyond lighting fixes and the odd hosting gig, a few practical channel-level adjustments made a difference in how we approach the work going forward.
- Commitment to better production: Improvements in lighting, framing, and camera choice made the content feel more professional and less apologetic.
- Closer conversations with other creators: Technical mentoring from friends turned months of trial-and-error into a few decisive changes.
- Renewed focus on connection: Messages from long-term followers reminded us why the channel exists—to feel like a conversational place where books and life meet.
All of these small shifts accumulate. One year’s incremental upgrades can make the next year feel qualitatively different. That is the kind of surprise we can get behind.
How We’ll Carry These Surprises Forward
Surprises alter our tastes. They recalibrate the TBR and nudge our reading map in unforeseen directions. They also reveal habits about how we read: that we are willing to detour into crime fiction for a breather, that a debut can still beat out a veteran’s new release, and that an author’s voice can either click immediately or never find traction for us.
Practically, we will:
- Keep exploring beyond our comfort zones. Crime fiction and coming-of-age fiction felt like useful refreshers; more of that is on the list.
- Be selective with long series. If momentum dips across multiple books, we will reevaluate rather than auto-commit.
- Be kinder to early drafts in our new writing practice. For the right idea, an outline and a few months of tinkering are worth the investment.
- Keep investing in production quality and in-person events. Those experiences enrich reading and community in ways a single video cannot.
Parting Thoughts
We do this because books are compound interest: small pleasures accrue into a sense of identity and delight. Some of those pleasures this year came from unexpected authors, some from detours into other genres, and some from the way a simple conversation or technical breakthrough amplified the work. The surprises were mostly good, and the few disappointments will shape how we choose the next thing to read.
If there is a through-line to the year it is this: be curious. Pick up the book that is not on your algorithm’s list. Try a genre you normally skip. Say yes to an uncomfortable hosting opportunity that asks you to learn on the fly. Most surprises are small, but over the course of a year they change everything.
