Skip to main content



On Writing

When I was in the first grade I decided I wanted to be a writer. But, as I grew older I was repeatedly told that writing was an okay hobby, but not something worth pursuing on its own. Yet the more books I read and the more stories I wrote, the desire to write became an ever increasing part of who I was. Books had broadened my world, during those early years especially. Made it seem bigger than the one I’d been brought into, and I wanted more. Wanted to be something more. Books were a constant source of inspiration. And as far as I could tell, the books I read and the discussions I had about them, were the only things that were really going to affect my life in any meaningful way. Reading, however, wasn’t just an attempt to educate myself. It was my chief escape from a world that, although gorgeous in landscape and rich with mountain culture, didn’t provide what I needed. What I needed was the promise of adventure, a life beyond the perimeter of the hills that surrounded me, protecte…

Latest Posts

Book Review: Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City

Flash Fiction

Book Review: Debt: The First 5,000 Years

A Most Eccentric Affair

A Dream That Came to Pass Or What Came After

Movie Review: The Witch

Confusions and Insecurities

My Reading Life: with Alex Reid


Book Review: The Chain

“Cody's reviews come sharp and to the point, displaying a vast wealth of knowledge all things book-related, from fiction to non and everything in between. With a side dish of social satire, outright sarcasm or even both, he serves as an exemplary model for the modern day book critic.”
- G.C. McKay, author of Sauced up, Scarred, and at Sleaze -