In a genre flooded with recycled dystopias and overcooked wastelands, Hilo Dome stands out like a plumeria blooming through ash. Set against the haunting beauty of a post-nuclear Hawaii, this tale offers not only fresh terrain but a meditation on identity, community, and the illusions of safety.

At the heart of the story is Nathan Ohana, a fourteen-year-old whose journey begins within the sterile safety of a domed city and spirals outward—both physically and emotionally—into a world far more alive, and far more dangerous, than he was raised to believe. What makes Hilo Dome stand out is not just its original setting, but the sincerity of its emotional core. The reader isn’t simply dragged through another battle for survival, but invited into a deeply personal story of rediscovery.

The relationship between Nathan and Kayli is particularly well-crafted, evolving with a natural, unforced rhythm that never dips into melodrama. Their bond—one that begins in shared bloodlines and blossoms into something quietly powerful—is the beating heart of the book. It anchors the plot, keeping it grounded even as the story crescendos into conflict and action.

Perhaps the most intriguing device is “thalk,” a form of telepathic communication that avoids the usual sci-fi clichés. It’s employed with restraint and elegance, acting more as a deepening of intimacy between characters than as a gimmick. The ability doesn’t overshadow the human moments but amplifies them.

Another thing that sets Hilo Dome apart is its unflinching respect for its cultural backdrop. Hawaiian traditions, language, and ways of life aren’t sprinkled in for aesthetic, but are woven into the fabric of the world with purpose and reverence. That authenticity is no accident. The author, who lived in O‘ahu for many years while serving as an officer in the U.S. Navy, brings a palpable understanding of the land and its people. It shows in the rhythm of the dialogue, in the landscape, in the way characters relate to both nature and one another. This grounding gives the speculative elements their weight and makes the world feel not just imagined, but remembered.

The pacing is thoughtful, measured in places, explosive in others, but never lags.

The first installment in a series, Hilo Dome offers not only a satisfying conclusion but a promise of more journeys, discoveries, and emotional growth to come.  It shows a vision of the post-apocalypse that is lush rather than desolate, communal rather than isolating. It takes familiar tropes and reshapes them through a fresh lens, all while delivering a story that is human, grounded in culture, and brimming with heart. Readers looking for an adventure that respects both mind and spirit will find plenty to love here.

Highly recommended for fans of The Knife of Never Letting Go, The Tribe, and anyone tired of gray, gritty futures with nothing left to fight for.

Thanks for Netgalley and the publisher for this ARC.

DNF at 25%.

I love futuristic, post-apocalyptic, and dystopian novels. Despite this book being geared towards YA audiences I thought the premise had potential—futuristic setting, crumbling society, high stakes. But at 25%, I couldn’t push through.

The pacing felt slow, and the characters didn’t click for me. I usually don’t mind YA if the world-building is strong or the themes are dark and layered, but this one leaned a bit too much into predictable tropes without offering anything fresh. I kept waiting for that hook, that “aha!” moment that would pull me in, but it never came.

One element that really didn’t work for me was the main character’s ability to hear conversations—either from a distance or inside other people’s minds. While this could have been an intriguing plot device, it ended up making key moments feel a little too convenient. I would’ve preferred if the character stumbled upon critical information through more natural means, like carelessness or a slip-up from another character, rather than a built-in ability that short-circuits tension.

Lastly, I had some concerns around representation. The story is set in Hawaii, but I wasn’t able to confirm whether the author has a personal connection to the islands or to the AAPI community. I’d really love to hear from Native Hawaiian or other AAPI readers about how the setting and culture were handled. Authenticity is especially important when a book is rooted in a real place with a rich and complex history.