When a murder investigation blends with witchcraft rituals and magic, you know things are about to get unsettling.

Mazzy and Nora, two friends who regularly dabble in witchcraft, decide one night to perform a ritual. You know the kind—candles, chants, a few mystical objects, all under a full moon by the waves. For them, it was supposed to be just another experiment. Nothing seemed to happen afterward, so they packed up and went home. But everything changed when they stumbled across a dead body near the shoreline. What made it even more horrifying was that the body of the girl was missing both her teeth and her arms. In shock, they called the police.

The trauma from that night follows Mazzy and Nora long after. Strange, eerie things keep happening: Nora talking and singing in her sleep with a voice that doesn’t sound like hers, Mazzy humming mysterious melodies she doesn’t remember learning, Henry (Mazzy’s brother) drawing chilling images of the dead girl, and then—another body turning up, discovered once again by them. It becomes clear to Mazzy that this isn’t just about a failed spell or harmless ritual. Something much darker is tied to the corpse they found.

I have to admit, I actually enjoyed reading this book more than I expected. At first, I hesitated and wasn’t sure I would like it. The pacing was a bit sluggish at times, but I still enjoyed the mix of mystery, creepy moments, the banter between Mazzy and Nora, and even a little spark of romance between Mazzy and Elliot.

What didn’t work for me was the way the witchcraft and magical elements were presented. Sometimes it felt caught between being believable and completely unbelievable. The skepticism from the other characters made it hard to trust in the magical parts of the story, so I wasn’t fully convinced about what Mazzy and Nora were capable of.

The plot itself also left me a bit confused. For example, when I tried to look up the “Hand of Neptyse,” all I found was something from a Yu-Gi-Oh! card (lol). I wasn’t sure if the cult mentioned in the book was meant to be based on something real or purely fictional.

Still, I’m proud of myself for finishing this 348-page book without feeling bored. It was actually a smooth and entertaining read overall, even if the plot had some bumps. If you’re looking for something spooky to read in October—creepy enough for Halloween vibes but not overly heavy or terrifying—I think this book is worth a try.

Thanks to NetGalley and G.P. Putnam’s Sons for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

3.5 out of 5 stars,

Book review of Oxford Soju Club by Jinwoo Park

I picked up this ARC on a whim, after spending too much time on AUs and suddenly craving a proper book again. At first, I thought the ARC had already expired, but since it hadn’t, I decided to dive in. The hook was intriguing, a North Korean spy in Oxford? Definitely not something I see every day.

I initially expected the story to follow a single straightforward narrative. Instead, each chapter is divided into three perspectives: The Northerner (Yohan, a North Korean spy), The Southerner (Jihoon, who runs a Korean restaurant in Oxford), and The Westerner (Yunah, a Korean-American agent).

From the author’s foreword, it’s clear that Jinwoo Park wanted to explore different facets of the Korean experience abroad. Each character embodies that in their own way. Yohan, the spy, is perhaps the most fascinating, but also the most confusing. He is sent abroad by the regime, but the book never really explains his mission. I expected espionage, intelligence-gathering, or at least a clear directive—but instead, Yohan drifts around with his mentor and Doha, without any real sense of purpose. It left me wondering: why was he sent at all?

Still, through Yohan, we glimpse the life of someone who has no real ties or identity. As an orphan, he survives only by following orders, passive and detached. Jihoon, though very different, shares that sense of disconnection. After losing his mother, the only family he had, he has little reason to return to South Korea. Yunah, meanwhile, embodies the “in-between”: culturally American but raised by very traditionally Korean parents, which creates its own kind of tension.

I appreciated the attempt at weaving these three perspectives together, but I wished the connections were stronger. While there are overlaps between the characters, the storylines often feel too separate, with Yohan’s arc lacking the strength to anchor the others. By the middle of the book, when the focus began to shift, I found myself confused rather than more invested.

This isn’t an easy read, and the plot can feel uneven. Still, if you’re interested in stories about North Korean spies or want a window into the complexities of Korean lives abroad, this book offers some fascinating glimpses—even if it doesn’t fully deliver on its promise.