Currently just a few chapters into James SA Corey’s The Faith of Beasts, the second of their new trilogy, and have been really enjoying it. I re-read book 1, The Metcy of Gods, over the past couple weeks, and liked it a ton more than when I read it last year.
But… this is an awfully depressing story. I never want to read Pollyanna-ish everything-is-going-to-be-just-swell stories, but it’s tough to read something so bleak and seemingly hopeless. On one hand, there’s something inspiring about surviving in unimaginable conditions, but on the other hand, I feel like there’s enough of that in reality these days.



