The Lesser Joke: book reviews and more

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Blog Launch

Hello! My name is Joe Kessler, and I’ve been blogging in one form or another since 2004. This is the launch of my new home for that, where I’ll be posting book reviews and other short pieces of writing. I’m also debuting a Patreon site for anyone who would like to support my efforts through a small monthly pledge.

I’ve always been a massive bookworm, and I’m lucky to have a job as a data analyst where I can listen to audiobooks while I do my work. For years now I’ve written up short reviews of every title that I’ve finished, critically examining which elements are / are not effective for me as a reader. I now have over 800 such reviews, and in the days ahead I’ll be putting them up as backdated posts on here as well as continuing to write and publish new ones.

Whether you become a recurring donor or not, feedback is always 100% welcome on my critiques — If I say something in one of these posts that sparks a reaction, I would love to hear how you agree, disagree, or have some other insight. Thank you for reading!

Book Review: Murdle: The School of Mystery by G. T. Karber

Book #133 of 2026:

Murdle: The School of Mystery by G. T. Karber

I still enjoy these little logic puzzles with a background queer romance and pretensions of an overarching murder mystery storyline, but I feel it’s fair to ask of any ongoing series what each new volume brings to the table. In the case of this fourth Murdle installment, the key differences are that it’s only half the length of its predecessors, at 50 challenges instead of the usual 100, and that it’s a flashback origin story for the hero and his love interest, who apparently met as undergrads. For the former, that means it’s objectively a flimsier work that smells a bit like the publisher trying to push out a weaker product while the market is hot. Meanwhile the latter aspect could theoretically deepen the recurring characters or introduce some nice dramatic irony, but in practice it mostly amounts to jokes like Sister Lapis (who’s a nun in the present) being in a sorority back in college.

I can’t complain too much. These items are generally fun to solve — especially the ones where every suspect gives a statement and the culprit’s is actually a lie, although there are just 25 of them here — and the larger plot, loose though it is, remains a distinctive feature. But it’s all getting a bit repetitive too, so I think at this point I probably wouldn’t buy any subsequent sequels for myself.

★★★☆☆

Like this review? Find more of my writing on:
–https://www.goodreads.com/lesserjoke
–https://letterboxd.com/lesserjoke
–https://lesserjoke.home.blog
Or check out these ways to support me, if you’d like:
–https://ko-fi.com/lesserjoke
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Movie Review: Jurassic Park (1993)

Movie #40 of 2026:

Jurassic Park (1993)

This is very close to a perfect movie, and any nitpicks I could raise are probably tediously familiar at this point. (Dr. Sattler and Lex are fine as characters, but they barely interact and the human cast is otherwise entirely male. It’s also rather white, with Samuel L. Jackson in the largest minority role dying offscreen. At a couple of points including the big climax with the T-Rex, the dinosaurs come out of nowhere to surprise the people in a way that defies credulity. And the science doesn’t quite hold up a few decades on, although it was drawn from the latest available expertise at the time.)

But set all that aside, because you know what does still work today? Pretty much the entire production on its own internal terms, not to mention the incredible special effects. Simply put, it’s a masterpiece of an action flick with a unique premise, some well-developed personalities, a tension-ratcheting plot, and a fantastic backing score. It’s moreover ABOUT something, with a lot to say concerning the potential risks of complex systems failing and the necessity of having stronger safeguards and emergency contingency plans in place. If Ghostbusters can be read as a Reaganite argument that government pencil-pushers need to stay out of the way of independent businessmen, this piece takes the equally-cynical but opposite position that expert regulators form an important check on humanity’s hubris and capacity for unintended harm.

The sequels and derivative works in the dino craze that followed would sometimes miss the mark on this, but that’s a theme that’s woven expertly throughout the script here. Even in Dr. Grant’s first scene at the fossil dig, the radar computer that’s supposed to revolutionize his field has failed before and then proves too wobbly for him to touch, gently prompting audiences to consider how golden promises of cutting-edge technology don’t always survive contact with the messy realities of the world. Now that’s how you tell a story!

Our main protagonist there has a great arc too, taking him from an anti-child curmudgeon to a reluctant guardian and ultimately the staunch protector of Hammond’s grandkids. The romance between him and Sattler is largely understated, but we end with the implication that maybe he’ll be open to a future family with her after all. It’s another absolute ideal that crumples in the face of real life, which as we’re reminded, uh, finds a way.

It’s quotable. It’s memeable. It’s funny. It’s become an indelible part of pop culture. What more could you want from a motion picture? They spared no expense! I’ve decided to endorse this park.

[Content warning for gun violence, child endangerment, and gore.]

★★★★★

Like this review? Find more of my writing on:
—https://www.goodreads.com/lesserjoke
—https://letterboxd.com/lesserjoke
—https://lesserjoke.home.blog
Or check out these ways to support me, if you’d like:
—https://ko-fi.com/lesserjoke
—https://patreon.com/lesserjoke

Book Review: Star Wars: Legacy by Madeleine Roux

Book #132 of 2026:

Star Wars: Legacy by Madeleine Roux

Three-and-a-half stars, rounded up, for this Star Wars tie-in novel that takes place between the movies The Last Jedi and The Rise of Skywalker. It’s a messier narrative than I would ideally prefer, with too many extraneous characters and a plot heavily revolving around Force visions in the ruins of an ancient temple while Rey seeks to repair her / Luke’s / Anakin’s broken lightsaber. At the same time, however, it delves into two key interpersonal dynamics that were underdeveloped in the original sequel film trilogy, and in my opinion, it’s worth the read for that alone.

First, as you could likely guess from the cover, is the relationship between the young heroine and Leia Organa, with the older woman serving as a mentor figure and even a surrogate Jedi master in the wake of Luke’s death. The former desert scavenger is in a particularly vulnerable and self-doubting headspace at this point in her journey, and it’s great to see Leia counsel and support her through that. These two protagonists didn’t get to share nearly enough time together on-screen, especially with the general’s role in the last movie significantly reduced due to the passing of her actress Carrie Fisher, and this work is a welcome effort to remediate that deficit.

More unexpectedly, the book also finds Leia visited by the Force ghost of her brother throughout, advising her much as the late Obi-Wan’s spirit once did for him. To Luke she’s able to unburden her own fears and concerns — over her companion, her wayward son Ben, and beyond — and that’s just another really neat development that never had a chance to play out in the films.

Opposite that, there are the usual franchise cameos and busywork. (I did snort at the squeezed-in reference to Lieutenant Bek, of the Rise of the Resistance theme park ride.) One major thread involves a First Order officer carrying significant post-traumatic stress following an unsuccessful assassination attempt, who grows increasingly unhinged as she chases down some surviving members of the cell that plotted it, which is the kind of thing that should probably drive a story of its own instead of getting lumped in with the more introspective moments here. But still: a nice treat for the fans, overall.

[Content warning for gun violence, torture, and gore.]

★★★★☆

Book Review: The River That Ran Away to Paradise by Victoria Goddard

Book #131 of 2026:

The River That Ran Away to Paradise by Victoria Goddard

I tend to prefer author Victoria Goddard’s novel-length fiction over these shorter releases, but this latest novella is well-pitched for the amount of story that it has to tell. It also represents my favorite sort of expanded universe item, wherein the existing canon informs the crossover appeal but doesn’t overwhelm the immediate narrative. A casual reader could drop in here and not get lost or spoiled about any major developments across the sprawling Nine Worlds saga, and it would even work nicely as an introduction for somebody who’s never read anything in that setting beforehand.

The only relevant backstory that you need to know is established within the text itself: that Pali and Sardeet, the Sisters Avramapul, are legendary heroes now somewhere past their prime, and that the former has a recently-strained relationship with their old companion Fitzroy. This will be more exciting if you’ve already seen that conflict come to a head in The Hands of the Emperor, The Return of Fitzroy Angursell, The Redoubtable Pali Avramapul, and At the Feet of the Sun (not to mention the titles that cover the heroine’s earlier adventures), but it’s perfectly comprehensible as a standalone element in the present piece, in which she plays merely a supporting role.

Our protagonist is instead a new character Kisanra, who’s the coxswain of a rowing team of girls from her school. There are tensions among the crew, including a friend who’s overextended in extracurriculars and the captain’s own difficulty in putting a name to her asexuality, and the first half of the book largely concerns them struggling to pull together in rhythm during practice — a particular danger given their surroundings, which contain perils like acidic water and carnivorous flying fish. Midway through the exercise they encounter the sisters in a capsizing vessel and rescue them, although that brings their own craft close to tipping over as well.

It’s a lovely bit of cozy fantasy, with manageable problems handled by competent women — note the entirely female cast, which is a refreshing rarity for the genre — doing their best to live up to their ideals. As usual for Goddard, someone has to learn to be a better advocate for herself and her personal wants and needs, and I’m still not tired of seeing the emotional growth that results from that kind of lesson finally sinking in. Whether we ever meet these minor characters again or not, I’ve been glad to pass the time on the river in their company.

★★★★☆

Book Review: Enchanters’ End Game by David Eddings

Book #130 of 2026:

Enchanters’ End Game by David Eddings (The Belgariad #5)

A perfunctory conclusion to what’s been an unfortunately pretty generic fantasy saga all along. I wouldn’t specifically recommend the lot, but the worst complaint I can probably lodge against this final novel is that it’s aged as poorly as its predecessors in terms of its patronizing attitude towards female characters — including here the powerful sorceress Polgara — and a certain tendency to reduce all nations / ethnic groups to monoliths of good or evil in the epic struggle playing out across the land. (At least when J. R. R. Tolkien demonizes the orcs en masse like that, they’re an entirely separate species, and we do get some gradations of morality among his elves. When the whole cast is human and divided neatly into a black-and-white binary of allegiances by country, it feels a lot more racist.)

But those should be known priors for a returning reader at this point, and the ensuing plot isn’t so bad, especially if you haven’t read widely in the genre. The story is structured a bit like The Return of the King — or Stephen R. Donaldson’s The Illearth War, to name a contemporary title — in devoting half its time to the soldiers fighting an actual military campaign and the other to a smaller band of heroes on a quest that sort of renders the larger conflict redundant. It’s just not as satisfying, particularly in how the latter element ultimately gets resolved, nor does it showcase much originality throughout. But the nice thing about uncomplicated protagonists is that they’re easy enough to cheer for, I suppose.

Still, I doubt I’ll check out anything else from author David Eddings after having not loved The Redemption of Althalus on an adult reread and now not really been blown away by this sequence either. I definitely won’t bother with its sequel series the Malloreon, which I’ve heard people say is simply the Belgariad all over again with minimal cosmetic differences.

[Content warning for torture and gore.]

This volume: ★★★☆☆

Overall series: ★★★☆☆

Volumes ranked: 4 > 2 > 5 > 3 > 1

Movie Review: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales (2017)

Movie #39 of 2026:

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales (2017)

This was the only Pirates of the Caribbean title that I hadn’t seen before, and having finally now done so, I can understand why Disney has been struggling to figure out how to continue the franchise ever since. Folks, this just isn’t very good! While I’ve critiqued the story logic in earlier installments, this one frankly makes them look like masterpieces. The plot is a jumble of lucky coincidences and unexplained concepts, and when the script does venture to try justifying something, it often ends up contradicting the previous canon in the process. The dialogue is also quite noticeably atrocious, with lines that read as blunt first-draft filler and weak attempts at meta-humor like Jack facing the guillotine and deadpanning that he’d rather be stoned.

Speaking of whom: I realize that this series is built on the assumed inherent bankability of Johnny Depp’s staggering pirate routine, but that schtick has never felt more played-out and phoned-in than it does here. He’s such a caricature that you can’t exactly blame the guy for not finding new shades to play a-decade-and-a-half into the experience, but that doesn’t make it any more enjoyable for us to watch — especially when he’s joined again by Geoffrey Rush’s Barbossa, who genuinely does feel like a character that’s growing and evolving in interesting ways (even if he forgets to use the magic sword he got from Blackbeard on the many occasions where it would obviously come in handy). Sadly, he’s the lone named protagonist who winds up dead in the end, although any theoretical pathos there is blunted when you remember that he’s already come back from the grave once beforehand, and a similar spell could easily let him return for yet another sequel. Otherwise, the various deaths by stabbing, gunshot, or chance misadventure at sea are either clear villains or personality-free background figures who don’t register in the slightest.

And then there’s the Will and Elizabeth of it all. On paper, I don’t mind the idea of using them as a framing device to pass the torch to their son as a new generation of hero, but the execution is so bland as to not really be worth it, with Orlando Bloom limited to maybe a dozen lines and Keira Knightley not speaking at all. Why even bring them back, at that point? At least there’s a hint of the old Jack Sparrow swagger when he mentions Elizabeth to Henry, but it’s wild that he doesn’t get to interact with his former costars at all on-screen. Meanwhile, the captain’s own love interests this time are nonexistent, unless you count him visibly gagging at how unappealing a certain woman is (because female characters in this setting have to be attractive and put-together at all times, you see, or else it’s a punchline and an onus on the men).

I thought that I would stumble into some nice things to say about the picture as I wrote this review, but other than Hector and his daughter, I’m afraid I’m coming up short. In the past I’ve said these movies tend to work as mindless swashbuckling entertainment, but the action scenes and everything else here seems so much like a less-well-thought-out copy of its predecessors that I don’t know why anyone would bother reaching for this one in particular.

★☆☆☆☆

Like this review? Find more of my writing on:
—https://www.goodreads.com/lesserjoke
—https://letterboxd.com/lesserjoke
—https://lesserjoke.home.blog
Or check out these ways to support me, if you’d like:
—https://ko-fi.com/lesserjoke
—https://patreon.com/lesserjoke

Book Review: A Short Stay in Hell by Steven L. Peck

Book #129 of 2026:

A Short Stay in Hell by Steven L. Peck

This is an odd little novella that definitely has a plot to it, but mostly registers as an abstract thought experiment like the old idea of monkeys pounding away on typewriters to eventually produce the works of Shakespeare. I’m reminded as well of both the series Riverworld (which also features a corporeal afterlife where people are restored to their healthy 25-year-old bodies and repeatedly reincarnated if killed again) and the Doctor Who episode “Heaven Sent” (which also grapples with the notion of spending functionally-infinite time making incremental progress on an impossible-seeming project). And of course, the text directly name-checks the Jorge Luis Borges piece “The Library of Babel,” which provides an inspiration for the setting.

As in that last tale, the world where the deceased protagonist awakens contains rows of shelves stretching as far as the eye can see, on floors of a building that likewise extend indefinitely in either direction. The contents are books filled with unique but random combinations of letters and punctuation, such that most look like the results of mindless keysmashing, but theoretically some volumes somewhere must exist that hold legible words instead. He and the other residents are informed that they are in a Zoroastrian hell — that being the one true religion, apparently — where the souls of nonbelievers like them are purged before entering heaven. In this particular version, each person has to find the one work in that vast library that isn’t just comprehensible, but accurately describes their own mortal life.

Characters understandably despair. Others ignore the assigned task to form relationships or rudimentary institutions, including a few creative uses of the food replicator machines to fashion tools from the available materials. A violent cult sweeps through the local area, disrupting the hero’s plans. It’s all interesting, but not especially satisfying, with the ending feeling a bit like an anti-humor punchline after all that buildup. I think I’d probably still recommend it for the right sort of reader, but I’m ultimately only lukewarm on the effort myself.

[Content warning for racism, torture, rape, suicide, and gore.]

★★★☆☆

Like this review? Find more of my writing on:
—https://www.goodreads.com/lesserjoke
—https://letterboxd.com/lesserjoke
—https://lesserjoke.home.blog
Or check out these ways to support me, if you’d like:
—https://ko-fi.com/lesserjoke
—https://patreon.com/lesserjoke

TV Review: Mad Men, season 2

TV #36 of 2026:

Mad Men, season 2

A little more scattered than the debut run, but still an enjoyable character study and look at the changing culture as the sixties carry on. We’ve skipped over fifteen months since the end of season 1, bringing the action to February 1962 when we check back in again. As usual for that kind of jump, there’s some initial exposition required to bring the audience up to speed on the new status quo, but it mostly boils down to the Draper marriage having stabilized. Unfortunately, that proves to be a temporary calm, with the most exciting thing to happen this year being Betty discovering Don’s infidelity and kicking him out of the house. Ironically, it’s not for one of his previous affairs that he seemed to really care about, but for a woman he instead appears to detest and has already cut loose before his wife learns the truth.

Elsewhere, Peggy is becoming more and more capable at Sterling Cooper, which sometimes earns her career advancement and sometimes doesn’t (a believable sign of the times in terms of the sexism that was only starting to give way). She’s also dealing with the odd attentions of a Catholic priest played by Colin Hanks, although that never feels like it adds up to the larger point that the writers want it to.

Overall the series remains an interesting historical-fiction drama, and the choice to end this sophomore outing on the Cuban Missile Crisis is a solid one for the backdrop of existential angst that it allows the characters to pitch their own personal problems against. Are the Drapers reconciling? Is the firm actually going to get bought out? Where do Duck and Pete’s respective futures go from here? I haven’t always loved the meandering path to get to this place, but these are questions that I find I’m eager to pursue into whatever comes next for the show.

[Content warning for alcohol abuse and rape.]

★★★★☆

Book Review: The Wizard Who Kept Himself Suspicious by Scott Lynch

Book #128 of 2026:

The Wizard Who Kept Himself Suspicious by Scott Lynch

A charming — pun intended — little fantasy novella, in which a group of sorcerers gather for a regular beachside conclave of their order that takes a surprising turn into a Columbo-like murder mystery investigation when one of them is struck dead. The detective figure asking questions and poking holes in people’s logic is the titular wizard, who might not even be magical at all, since he steadfastly refuses to ever claim or demonstrate any powers, much to the annoyance of some of his peers there on the shore. Of course, he’s also a possible suspect himself!

It’s a thin premise, and obviously not the next Gentleman Bastard sequel that fans have been waiting for from author Scott Lynch for over a dozen years now, but still a fun time that doesn’t overstay its welcome.

[Content warning for gore.]

★★★★☆

Movie Review: Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides (2011)

Movie #38 of 2026:

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides (2011)

Jack Sparrow was the major breakout character of the original Pirates of the Caribbean film, and whether rightly or not, it’s clear that Disney doesn’t believe the resulting franchise could work without him. Hence this sequel to the initial trilogy, which cuts loose nearly all the previous characters save the swaggering captain, his first mate Gibbs, his rival Barbossa, and a couple random British officers (plus another cameo from Keith Richards). Freed from the old plot baggage, it’s a much leaner feature than any of its predecessors, although it still runs to well over two hours.

The problem is that Sparrow was never designed to be a protagonist figure instead of a provocative chaos agent, and the script struggles to center him accordingly. He’s too tricky an individual for full audience investment, and he also faces the challenge seen during the rare episodes of Doctor Who where the Time Lord travels without a companion of having no one around to monologue the necessary exposition at. Penélope Cruz as a femme fatale and Ian McShane as the legendary Blackbeard — given magic powers for some reason — help enliven the project to some extent, but it still feels like it’s floundering in the absence of a Will or Elizabeth to ground our perspective.

The story logic continues to be an issue for this series as well. Blackbeard is a fearsome tyrant who press-gangs when he can’t recruit enough willing sailors, so why does Angelica have to pretend to be Jack in order to sign people up for their crew? Why does she accept being marooned at the end, when she has a gun and he doesn’t have any of his own weapons to compel her? Why do any of these lowlifes trust anyone else after all the repeated backstabbings? Why does a life-extending ritual at the Fountain of Youth require a mermaid’s tear and two specific cups from Ponce de León? And so on.

The movie is best enjoyed if you don’t let yourself think too hard about any of that, and it’s admittedly still better than At World’s End even if you do. But it’s a goofy affair with zany cartoon physics governing the antihero’s various action sequences, and the directing is too fond of its needlessly dramatic identity reveals. The defendant in the hood is Jack Sparrow! No, it’s Gibbs! But Sparrow is the judge! And this mysterious privateer is Barbossa! And Jack’s offscreen savior is his father Captain Teague! And this shadowy person pretending to be him is a woman! And all of that within the first half-hour, mind you.

There’s also a dull romantic subplot between a captured mermaid and a generic-looking white guy whom I already can’t picture despite having just finished watching this. Their connection is premised on little more than happenstance proximity and presumably a studio executive note somewhere.

I know I’m being harsh, and this really isn’t such a bad mindless swashbuckling fantasy adventure. But did it need to be made for any reason beyond continuing to monetize the IP?

[Content warning for gun violence and gore.]

★★★☆☆