Books Read: March 2026

Is it really April of 2026? Neither of those things seems plausible. (I also had an AI tool at work confidently tell me it was 2025 several times this past week, which may be adding to my confusion. Maybe 2025 will never end.)

Anyway, assuming a month did just end, and that it was actually March of 2026, here's what I read:

Anders Nilsen, Tongues, Book 1 (3/1)

Peter Kuper, Insectopolis (3/6)

Roy Thomas and P. Craig Russell, Elric: The Dreaming City (digital, 3/7)

Jordi Lafebre, I Am Their Silence (digital, 3/8)

Ian Frazier, Paradise Bronx (3/10)

Doug Savage, Laser Moose and Rabbit Boy: As the Deer Flies (digital, 3/14)

Osamu Tezuka, Tomorrow the Birds (digital, 3/15)

P.G. Wodehouse, The Girl on the Boat (3/15)

Ana Oncina, Just Friends (digital, 3/20)

Max Huffman, Dogtangle (digital, 3/21)

Lavie Tidhar, A Man Lies Dreaming (3/21)

Zabus and Hippolyte, Incredible! (digital, 3/22)

Mike Dawson, Fun Time Omnibus, Vol. One (3/28)

Kazuo Koike and Goseki Kojima, Lone Wolf and Cub, Vol. 9: Echo of the Assassin (digital, 3/29)

Michael Swanwick, The Universe Box (ARC, 3/31)

In April, if this is April, which I'm not sure I'm convinced of, I will read more books.

Quote of the Week: I Tell You This In Confidence

This was a determined-looking young woman in a blue dress and a large hat of a bold and flowery species. Archie happening to attract her attention, she gave him a glance out of a pair of fine brown eyes, then, as if she did not think much of him, turned to her companion and resumed their conversation - which being of an essentially private and intimate nature, she conducted, after the manner of her kind, in a ringing soprano which penetrated into every corner of the lobby. Archie, waiting while the brigand reluctantly made change for a dollar bill, was privileged to hear every word.

 - P.G. Wodehouse, Indiscretions of Archie, p. 141

Walt Disney's Donald Duck: Donald's Happiest Adventures by Lewis Trondheim and Nicolas Keramidas

About a decade ago, writer Lewis Trondheim and artist Nicolas Keramidas made a bande dessinée for Éditions Glénat, the French arm of the global Disney octopus, about Mickey Mouse. It was called Mickey's Craziest Adventures and pretended to be rediscovered pages from an obscure (probably American) 1960s comic, telling a long, convoluted and all-adventure story on its big pages. It didn't entirely make sense, but that was the point: it was supposedly roughly half of the pages of a decade-long story that was all cliffhangers and hairsbreadth escapes to begin with.

A few years later, they did it again, though in a slightly less breathless register: Donald's Happiest Adventures similarly pretends to be a serial from an incredibly obscure '60s comic. But, this time, they happily state that they found the whole thing, and can present the full story of how Donald was tasked by his Uncle Scrooge with finding the secret of happiness. Happiest was published by Glénat in 2018, and an American edition followed in 2023, translated by David Gerstein.

The structure is the same as the Mickey story: Trondheim and Keramidas pretend that each page stood alone as a monthly installment of the story, so the story leaps forward regularly, with each page being a moment or a thought or a particular place. Trondheim's Donald has the standard irascibility, though he doesn't break into full-fledged tantrums here as he sometimes does in stories by other hands. He's also more philosophical than Donald often is, a lot like other bird-coded characters in other Trondheim stories, like Ralph Azham or Herbert from Dungeon or Trondheim's self-portrait in Little Nothings.

But if you're going to have a story about Donald Duck searching for the meaning of happiness, you need to have a version of Donald who is capable of finding happiness and of talking about it coherently - not always a guarantee in every version of Donald.

Like the Mickey story, this one ranges widely - Donald is summoned by Scrooge to go retrieve a fabulously valuable artifact from an obscure corner of the world, but unwisely questions Scrooge's motivations and finds himself instead sent to find the secret of happiness. In particular, the secret of making Scrooge happy, which is even more difficult than doing so for Donald. (Donald has moments of happiness throughout the book, as a careful reader will notice - but he's not happy all the time, which is what he thinks he's looking for.)

Donald meets and talks with a vast array of other characters - the fabulously lucky Gladstone Gander, the down-to-earth Grandma Duck, the genius Ludwig von Drake, and so on - as he asks each of them in turn what happiness is. Along the way, he gets into adventures that span the globe, including a stint in a nasty totalitarian country where, luckily, the shackles are all made of cardboard. He also runs across Mickey several times, helping capture Pegleg Pete each time and getting a reward from the police forces who pop up, always right after the hard work is done.

It's a fairly talky story, because it's about finding happiness, and Donald needs to talk to nearly every character about it. (He doesn't have any conversations with Pete, which is a possible miss, since Pete has always seemed quite content with his lot in life, despite having all of his schemes fail miserably.)

As he must, Donald does eventually make it back home to Duckburg, and has an answer for Scrooge that makes the old miser happy, at least for that moment. It's not the secret of happiness, but that of course is Trondheim's point: there's no such thing. Along the way, Happiest is thoughtful and adventurous in equal proportions, a good story for people who are willing to do a little thinking during their Donald Duck adventures.

As in the Mickey book, Keramidas draws it in a style that I can't quite call off-model but doesn't quite look right. (Though I mean that as a compliment: purely on-model is boring.) His characters are energetic in that cartoony way and his pages crisply laid out to accommodate all of Trondheim's long speeches - and to look as if each one could have been a full entry of this serial. 

Some reviews of this book have missed the fact that the '60s origin is...how do I put this delicately?...not actually true. But you, my dear readers, are smarter and more perspicacious than that, so I'm sure the metafiction here will be no trouble for you. If you're looking for a combination of philosophy and Disney adventure - and why not? it's a fun mix - Donald's Happiest Adventures will provide a lot of enjoyment.

A Billy the Kid Alphabet by Rick Geary

This was a Kickstartered project; you might not be able to get it. On the other hand, Rick Geary has been making books for decades - and comics for even longer than that - so I have to think that he'll have a way for people to buy his stuff. You don't get a career of that length and depth by making it hard for people to pay for your work. My guess is that it will show up on the Books page of his website eventually.

Geary has been doing Kickstarters for books - at this point, I think his output is about one Kickstarted book a year, and he's had probably a dozen or more going back at least a decade - for a while, and I've been backing them to get the books, since I'm a long-standing Geary fan.

The project for 2025, which got to me early in the new year, was A Billy the Kid Alphabet, an abecedary about the man known to history as William Bonney.

And you might be asking "wait, didn't Geary already do a book about Billy the Kid?" That's right: in 2015, he did a more traditional narrative version of Bonney's story, The True Death of Billy the Kid. That earlier book is longer, organized in a more familiar way, has more details, and in general is a better place to start. (Geary also did a book about the related Lincoln County War around the same time.)

But Geary is a fun, quirky creator, and I do enjoy his quirky projects. This is definitely one of them.

Alphabet more-or-less tells Bonney's story, though not in order. Geary has a reasonable word or phrase for each letter, from Alias (covering the names used by Bonney) to Zero (debunking the "he survived his death" rumors), but the stricture of the alphabet means that, for example, the Lincoln County War is referred to a few times before we get to Regulators (the group Bonney was part of during that war) and Tunstall (the landowner Bonney worked for, whose death sparked the war).

So Geary does get to the high points of Bonney's life - that war, his capture, trial, and escape, how he was killed by Sheriff Pat Garrett - but not quite in the order that they happened in life. This might confuse some readers, assuming Alphabet has readers who aren't familiar with the basic facts already.

Each letter has a left-hand page, with the letter big and the explanatory text for the chosen word, and then a right-hand page, with a Geary pen-and-ink illustration of the thing he's writing about. As always, Geary's art is detailed and particular - he's always been good at 19th century faces, clothing, and surroundings, and Alphabet shows his strengths well.

Again, this is a book that would be difficult to find at this point, though it will probably be available from the author in the near future. If you are a Geary or Bonney fanatic who didn't know about it, I wish you luck in finding it.

Acceptance by Jeff VanderMeer

I might have been in the wrong mood for this book, or maybe didn't read it the right way. But I found Jeff VanderMeer's Acceptance to be too full of too many things, trying to be three novels at the same time and not landing with me as any of them.

(Plenty of other people have praised this, and the trilogy it concludes, since VanderMeer published it in 2014, and I've generally liked VanderMeer's work - so it's more than likely the issue is with me.)

VanderMeer famously put out this entire trilogy in less than a year, but it took me more than a decade to get to it: first Annihilation, then Authority, and finally the conclusion. They're near-future, or maybe alternate-present, horror-tinged science fiction. Something transformed a stretch of coast - VanderMeer never says in the text precisely where it is, but it was inspired by the St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge in the Florida panhandle - about thirty years before. Area X is full of strangeness, and wiped clean of nearly all signs of humanity. A government agency, "Central," established a division, the Southern Reach, to investigate Area X; it has sent expeditions through the one portal into this transformed landscape regularly over the decades, with minimal scientific results and various horrific ends to many of the people involved.

Annihilation was the story of the "twelfth" expedition - like many things about Area X and the Southern Reach, the initial story is not precisely true - told by "the biologist" through her journals. Authority was the story of a new Director of the Southern Reach, sent by Central after a failed career doing other spy things elsewhere in the world, who was generally just called Control. He spent a lot of time talking to a version of the biologist from the first book, created by Area X and called Ghost Bird for opaque reasons, and some time countering various bureaucratic maneuverings and schemes from longer-serving members of the Southern Reach, with their own agendas.

Acceptance is a direct sequel to Authority - Control and Ghost Bird went through a portal to Area X at the end of that book, and one narrative strand here follows them. It's also a prequel to the whole series, with a major thread about Saul Evans - the only major character regularly referred to by his actual name in the novel - the keeper of the lighthouse that eventually became a focal point of Area X and the only major human-made piece of infrastructure remaining there.

VanderMeer rotates viewpoints - from The Lighthouse Keeper to Ghost Bird to Control to The Director (another major character from the earlier novels, who I've neglected to mention, who also has two names) - and switches timeframes, covering the period just before the creation of Area X with Saul, various times during the Director's tenure running Southern Reach, and the journeys of Control and Ghost Bird back in Area X.

I found each of these threads to be separate from each other, part of the same overall story of Area X but not as resonant with each other as I think I was supposed to. In particular, Saul's story was just sad and pointless: he was manipulated by other people, and maybe the mysterious cosmic or alien forces behind the transformation, so he lost everything and was utterly destroyed in a horrible, unpleasant, creepy way. So, yes: he was mostly happy, and had a man he loved, but then something used him to transform the world, kill millions of people, and bring about Creepy Armageddon. I didn't find that cathartic, or inevitable - just tedious and unpleasant and utterly regrettable.

This was the kind of book where I liked the sentences and paragraphs, appreciated the character insights and wanted to know how it all worked out - but didn't care, in the end. This is a world that has had a Weird Apocalypse, and we still, after three novels, don't know how or why. There's only so much wandering around and talking about different pieces of the elephant I can stand without an actual elephant being revealed. And, I suppose, I've discovered that's two novels worth: I can take two, but three is Right Out.

You may react differently, but, if you've read the first two Southern Reach books and are hoping for a big reveal at the end...well, you may want to recalibrate your expectations.