Book Review: Good Morning, Midnight by Lily Brooks-Dalton

In the spirit of full disclosure, I must begin this review by saying that, with a few exceptions, I am not often drawn to the science fiction genre when it comes to my reading life. This is mainly because the technical aspects of the genre sometimes overshadow the human stories that interest me most. But in Lily Brooks-Dalton’s Good Morning, Midnight, I discovered a refreshing exception.

I stumbled upon her writing because she has a new book coming out in 2026. While writing to her team to see if I could get an advance copy, I decided to check out her previous work.

I am glad I did.

Good Morning, Midnight follows two parallel storylines. In one, Augustine, an aging astronomer stationed at a remote Arctic observatory, finds himself stranded after an unexplained global catastrophe cuts off communication with the outside world. In the other storyline, Sully, a communications specialist aboard the spacecraft Aether, is returning to Earth after a mission to Jupiter when her crew also loses contact with mission control. As both characters grapple with silence, uncertainty, and the enormity of solitude, their stories begin to converge in ways that reveal the fragile threads that bind humanity together, even across the vastness of space.

One of the brilliant things about Brooks-Dalton’s writing is that, even though this story is deeply embedded in space science, the author chooses to focus less on the mechanics of space and more on the quiet, haunting beauty of isolation, memory, and what it means to stay connected in an unconnected world. The novel was an easy and gratifying read, mainly because of the author’s graceful storytelling and her ability to blend introspection with tension. She uses sensory details to make distant, quiet settings pulse with life. You can feel the Arctic’s biting cold, hear the hum of the spacecraft’s machinery, and sense the stillness pressing in on both Augustine and Sully. Her prose is tender and deliberate, her language inventive without being showy. She has a remarkable ability to evoke emotion with small gestures and fleeting images: a flicker of light, a half-remembered voice, the taste of coffee in an empty room.

Everything was so much clearer in space: stars, sounds, the entire electromagnetic spectrum coming alive all around her, like seeing fireflies dance in a dark meadow for the first time. Without the interference of Earth, everything seemed different. Sharper. More dangerous, more violent, and also more beautiful.

If there was one shortcoming, it was that the story began to drag slightly in the middle of the novel. The introspective pacing that works so beautifully at the start feels heavy as both characters linger in their solitude. Yet by that point, I was already so emotionally invested and so curious about how their stories would intersect that it was not difficult to stay with it.

There is also a significant plot twist near the end, one that I began to suspect as the pieces came together. Even so, when it arrived, it felt both satisfying and beautifully executed, a quiet revelation that underscored the novel’s emotional depth rather than relying on shock value.

Good Morning, Midnight is less about science fiction and more about human connection, regret, and the small, enduring hope that survives even in the most desolate places. It is a story that lingers long after the final page.

I am one of those readers who does not research a book I am enjoying until after I am done reading. This explains why I only discovered it had been adapted into a Netflix movie in 2020 after finishing the book. I have not watched the movie yet because the book tells the story better than the movie could. But hey, don’t mind me, I am just an incorrigible bibliophile.