The People's Library

I picked up this book expecting a straightforward sci-fi thriller, and while it delivers on the suspense, what really grabbed me was how thoughtfully it wrestles with the moral weight of its premise. The setup is genuinely unsettling: imagine a library where you can interact with digital recreations of humanity's greatest minds and historical figures. It's a fascinating concept that immediately raises questions about consent, identity, and what we owe to the dead. Henry doesn't shy away from these tensions. Her protagonist, Echo, is reluctant and conflicted in ways that feel earned rather than performative—she's thrust into a role she never wanted, forced to defend a system she's not entirely sure is ethical. That internal struggle becomes the emotional core of the story.

The pacing moves at a steady clip, especially once the anti-technology rebels make their move and things spiral into genuine danger. There's a real sense of stakes and urgency that keeps you turning pages. The world-building around near-future Cleveland feels lived-in and specific, not generic dystopia. Where the book truly shines is in its refusal to offer easy answers. The rebels aren't cartoonish villains, and the technology proponents aren't simply visionary heroes. It's messy and complicated, which is exactly what this kind of story needs.

That said, if you're looking for breakneck action or a tightly plotted mystery with all loose ends tied up, you might find yourself wanting more resolution in places. Some threads feel deliberately left open, which works thematically but might frustrate readers seeking complete closure. The philosophical questions sometimes take precedence over plot momentum. But honestly, that's the book's strength if you're willing to sit with ambiguity. This is perfect for anyone who loves speculative fiction that makes you think about technology, power, and what it means to preserve a life versus truly honoring one. It's the kind of book that lingers after you finish.