My 2025 Reading Stacks #4: All the Prose That’s Left to Print

The first four books reviewed below.

First up: books with movie connections!

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:

Welcome once again to our recurring MCC feature in which I scribble capsule reviews of everything I’ve read lately that was published in a physical format over a certain page count with a squarebound spine on it — novels, original graphic novels, trade paperbacks, infrequent nonfiction dalliances, and so on. Due to the way I structure my media-consumption time blocks, the list will always feature more graphic novels than works of prose and pure text, though I do try to diversify my literary diet as time and acquisitions permit.

Occasionally I’ll sneak in a contemporary review if I’ve gone out of my way to buy and read something brand new. Every so often I’ll borrow from my wife or from our local library. But the majority of our spotlighted works are presented years after the rest of the world already finished and moved on from them because I’m drawing from my vast unread pile that presently occupies four oversize shelves comprising thirty-three years of uncontrolled book shopping. I’ve occasionally pruned the pile, but as you can imagine, cut out one unread book and three more take its place…

…unless we do as Heracles and Iolaus did with the Hydra: set everything on fire so it can’t regrow. We’re not doing that; consequently, the never-ending literary consumption continues. So far we’ve covered two critical tomes by a premier TV critic, the two comics creators who showed up in my 2025 stacks the most, and a selection of graphic novels and trades that were great and/or tall. Next up: nothing but prose! Novels, memoirs, short-story collections — all words and virtually no pictures, apart from some spot illustrations.

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Mr. and Mrs. Kay’s Very Bad Indiana Shopping Trip

Pence RFRA signing, 3/26/2015

The actual Indiana Governor’s Office photo from today’s behind-closed-doors ceremony for Governor Mike Pence’s signing of the RFRA. No Photoshop or verified cosplayers were involved in the making of this picture.

[The scene: Kip and Kasi Kay travel from their hometown of Lewiston, Indiana, to do some shopping at a quaint stretch of stores up in the Big City. It’s the weekend after Governor Mike Pence signed Indiana’s Religious Freedom Restoration Act into law and dramatically improved the world and changed lives and ushered in a new era of human greatness and so on.]

KIP: Hello, beer man! We would like ten kegs of your finest brew.
KASI: We need it for tonight’s white-power rally.
LIQUOR STORE OWNER: What? Uh, no. You can go now.
KASI: But we have money and we brought our own truck.
LIQUOR STORE OWNER: Sorry, no. My church believes God created all humans as equals regardless of skin color. I can’t possibly.
KIP: We didn’t ask. Here, have money.
LIQUOR STORE OWNER: No can do. RFRA, folks.
KIP: What’s a roofra?
LIQUOR STORE OWNER: New law just took effect. Religious Freedom Restoration Act. Way I took it to mean, I don’t have to make any sale that offends me on religious grounds. Racists are one way.
KASI: You only sell to non-racists? Do you actually ask everyone? Is there a test they have to take before you’ll let customers go get drunk?
LIQUOR STORE OWNER: Who I sell to and when I sell it to ’em is my business. Good day, folks.
KIP: We’ll get you for this!
LIQUOR STORE OWNER: Wouldn’t advise it. I’m in the alcohol industry. I know some people you don’t wanna know.
[Kip and Kasi exit, confused and upset. Later that night, an angel leaves a quarter under Mike Pence’s pillow.]

Right this way for more of this very special MCC short play…

Nick Fury’s Day Off: an “Iron Man 3” Deleted Scene

Samuel L. Jackson, Nick Fury, Iron Man 2(Courtesy spoiler alert: the following segment takes place roughly 100 minutes into Iron Man 3, give or take a repartee exchange. Proceed at your own risk.)

[Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., is somewhere far away from espionage — somewhere therapeutic, idyllic, free from strife and warfare and stimulation. Let’s say a random hotel bar in Charleston, West Virginia. Fury is required by company guidelines to take a vacation at least once every ten years. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents may consider most HR guidelines a joke, but HR wins one out of every 1,000 battles. Mandatory decennial vacations was one of them. Saving the world may be a 24/7/365/eternal vocation, but Fury for once has drink in hand and nothing on his mind but sweet, rare solitude.

His eye is fixed on his Product Placement Phone lying on the tabletop. Predator is streaming via Product Placement MovieStreamCloud App thing.]

FURY: Man, I haven’t watched this in ages. The scrawny, four-eyed guy is even stupider than I remember.

[The worst scene in the movie is interrupted by the S.H.I.E.L.D. Priority Alpha Mega Alpha One Supreme Alert shrieking-HD-klaxon app. Fury sighs and taps the SPAMOSA icon. Agent Dodge, a relative nobody of an underling, is on the other line.]

NICK FURY: You just lost two pay grades.

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The Greatest Story “Words With Friends” Ever Told

Words with Friends sample game

Final score: 507-276, this writer.

The year before, Hamish McGillicuddy thought opening an international grocery in an American small town would be a smart career move. Instead of sharing space in a crowded big city with a dozen other established competitors, he’d told himself, why not break ground in some promising hamlet that might one day experience a population explosion? As citizens moved outward from the big cities and sought new territories with identical conveniences, it had stood to reason in his mind that a locale with a preexisting selection of cosmopolitan edibles might attract attention from interesting, well-to-do parties. He’d hented that notion tightly and spent months trying to discern which Kansas town might be the next Topeka, or at least the next Hutchinson. After a solid year of economic disappointment that had yet to hint at the merest uptick in the offing, he would’ve settled for the next Smallville.

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The Bitter Little Cable Car

silver funicular, Lisbon, Portugal

Photo credit: Cheri Lucas @ Automattic

Once upon a time, there was a little cable car who lived and worked on a hill. Each day the little cable car would perform his job of carrying passengers up and down the hill. The little cable car was born for the job.

The hill was not very tall, but some people rode the little cable car anyway. Unhealthy people rode it because too much walking made them sweaty and gave them trouble breathing. Lazy people rode it because it saved them precious calories. Businesspeople rode it because it was easier to play with their phones if they didn’t have to walk at the same time. Small children rode it because they like riding in small vehicles and making vroom-vroom noises. Tourists rode it because their guidebooks said they should, or else their vacation was an utter failure. Whenever none of the above were around, the little cable car had time to himself. Being a mere cable car with nowhere else to go, he spent this time thinking to himself.

One day the little cable car thought to himself, “My job is stupid.”

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Pumpkin Flavored Everything

The DPChallenge Family!In that blessed golden age when my sister and I still had Dad in our lives, years before we would begin taking turns conducting periodic manhunts in vain, we never saw him happier or more vibrant than when Mom would let him dress us in our Sunday finest so we could walk with him door-to-door around the neighborhood, knocking on doors and extolling the virtues of the Great Pumpkin.

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