Read An Exclusive Excerpt From Murmuration, TJ Klune's New Mind-Bending Fantasy

NYT Bestselling author TJ Klune's book, Murmuration, re-releases this November, and ScreenRant has the exclusive excerpt of the mind-bending fantasy. Published Sep 16, 2026, 2:00 PM EDT Dani Kessel Odom (they/them) is an autistic lead writer and TV critic who covers sci-fi shows like Doctor Who and Pluribus, fantasy shows like The Magicians and Percy Jackson, and horror of all kinds. They also cover Marvel and DC TV shows and movies, with a robust knowledge of comic books. Their TV reviews can be found on Rotten Tomatoes. Dani is also part of ScreenRant's books team, using their fiction writing and literature studies as the backbone for their book analyses. They have covered events, such as the Denver Fan Expo. Professionals in the field, such as Damien Leone and Lucy Hale, have shared their articles. Their review of Ponies was quoted in the show's TV trailer. In university, they majored in English Writing with a minor in psychology. They have always had a passion for analyzing TV and movies, even taking filmography and scriptwriting classes in university. They also studied and participated in onstage and onscreen acting extensively from the ages of 7 to 18. Aside from working at Screen Rant, Dani has worked as a freelance editor and writer over the past decade, often in a ghostwriting capacity. New York Times bestselling author TJ Klune returns in November with the re-release of his 2016 book Murmuration, which takes eeriness and mystery to a whole new level. Since he published his first book, Bear, Otter, and the Kid, in 2011, Klune has established himself as a standout writer in LGBTQ+ fantasy and contemporary romance. Until Tor signed the author, he self-published his books, including the original version of Murmuration. Now, the book is getting a traditional publishing release that brings changes. Those who know Klune for his most popular novel, The House in the Cerulean Sea, will be surprised by the book, as it's intentionally uncanny and eerie instead of cozy. The story follows Mike, a bookstore owner in the idyllic town of Amorea, who falls for a waiter named Sean. However, he soon discovers that something’s very wrong in the town when he notices flocks of birds and auditory hallucinations that don’t belong to him. The traditionally published version of Murmuration (now available to pre-order here) provides a new beginning, some structural changes, and a new cover. However, the core romance and mysterious town of Amorea will remain the same. Read full synopsis: “A timeless romance set in a perfect little town with a big dark secret by #1 New York Times bestselling author TJ Klune, now available in hardcover from Tor Books A bookseller, a waiter, and the best little town there is! On a temperate morning in 1954, Mike wakes up in the idyllic town of Amorea. Amorea is perfect. Mike works his dream job at the local bookstore, where he leads lively discussions of literature with the local women’s club. At the diner, the walls are plastered with beaming photos of the residents, and all the staff know his order—especially Sean, the waiter who has a special smile just for Mike and, after years of anticipation, is ready to take the next step in their burgeoning romance. Everything is perfect. But the edges of the town are beginning to fray. Odd things catch Mike’s attention, things no one else seems to notice or care about. There are no children or parents in Amorea and no one who’s left town for the far mountains has ever come back. There are subjects in the diner photos that only a few people can remember. One night, Mike wakes up to a stormcloud of uncanny starlings blackening the sky. And soon enough, he begins to question whether his name is even Mike. As violent memories of another life interfere with everything good about Amorea and Mike loses hold on his identity, he will do whatever he can to keep Sean from the darkness that is coming. Nothing here is perfect, but there is someone worth saving. Perfect for fans of Severance, The Twilight Zone, and Stephen King, as well as queer romance.” The synopsis comparison to The Twilight Zone, Severance, and Stephen King is spot on. The story has parallels to these two shows and the author. It's the literary equivalent of the uncanny valley effect. ScreenRant is thrilled to offer an exclusive excerpt of Murmuration. This new first chapter will give existing readers a sense of the changes made in this traditionally published version. Meanwhile, it will set the tone for new readers. Read An Excerpt From Murmuration by TJ Klune It happens the moment before he crosses into Amorea. He can see the town, can hear the people. He can read the signs above the awnings, the striped awnings that are green and blue and white and red. The signs say things like happy’s general store and valley food and drug and bookworm. There’s a movie theater with a marquee that’s lit up, even in the daytime, and an old-fashioned diner with a neon sign that reads simply that: diner. He thinks idyllic and charming, and wants nothing more than to be in this place. It’s like a hook has buried itself far into his brain and is pulling him toward Amorea, pulling him along and he can do nothing but follow it. He raises his hand to shield his eyes from the bright sun, to get a better look at— He stops. There’s something on his wrist. It’s written on his—no. Not written. Tattooed. There’s a tattoo on his wrist that he doesn’t remember ever getting. He doesn’t understand what it means. It reads 4221552082 in black ink. He runs his thumb over the numbers. Too long for a date of birth, not that he’d know what his was to begin with. Too long for a Social Security number, not that he’d remember it anyway. He tries to break it down, to split it up, and it’s 422 and 15, but that means nothing to him. It’s 52 and 082, but there isn’t anything there. He could be reading the combination of numbers wrong. It could be 422 and 155 and 2082 for all he knows, because it’s useless. It means nothing to him, no matter how hard or how long he stares at it. He doesn’t have any other tattoos, at least that he can see. He supposes there could be others underneath his clothes, but that’s not important right now. It’s not. He thinks, I’ll go to the diner first, maybe. I’m hungry. I’m really hungry. I bet they have meatloaf in there. With mashed potatoes. There will be pie for dessert, fresh pie that they’ll serve with coffee, and it’ll be safe and warm and I’ll— There is the screech of metal crumpling, of glass shattering around him. For the briefest of moments, there is a scorching pain that rips through him, his skull feeling like it’s imploding. There’s a voice in his head, and it’s saying, Oh my god, this is it, this is it, this is it, and he’s just nailed with a dizzying sense of vertigo, like the ground has been pulled out from under his feet and he’s spinning upside down, falling up and falling down, and he feels wet, like he’s being splashed with water, and he’s in pain, so much pain, and he can feel his blood pouring out from him and he can’t breathe and everything is spinning round and round and round and— And it just…stops. He’s staggered forward across the town line into Amorea. There’s no collapsing metal. There is no breaking glass. He is not upside down, feet pointed toward the sky. The pain fades, as if it were never there at all. He has not been sliced open. He is not bleeding. He looks up. And it hits him. His name is Mike Frazier. He’s thirty-six years old. He’s a large man, a strong man. He has dark auburn hair, full and wavy, tucked loosely behind his ears. He has a full beard that needs to be trimmed. He sunburns easily, and in fact can already feel the thin stretch of heat on his skin. He has five freckles on his right cheek that make the shape of the Big Dipper. He has big hands that know kindness. He’s a good man. Or, at least, he tries to be. He lives in Amorea. He has a little house. He has an old crusty cat named Martin. He works at the bookstore. He likes people. He knows everyone in town. He has friends. Good friends. Even best friends. There’s one he puts above all others. Just the thought of him makes him flush, his heart tripping all over itself. He needs to finally work up the courage to do something about it before everyone else tries to meddle. He likes many things. Listening to radio serials. Pulling weeds in his sorry excuse for a garden. Shooting the shit at the diner while trying not to stare too hard at the man moving in between the tables, a devilish smile on his face. He also likes reading and sitting out on the back patio in the sun and watching the stars come out at night. He’s lived in Amorea for a very long time. In fact, he can’t think of a time he didn’t live in Amorea. He’s safe here. He’s happy here. He loves everything about this place because it’s home. The people are home. Mike Frazier breathes in deep the air of the town he loves and promptly forgets every moment he spent outside of Amorea. Like a dream, it fades the moment he comes awake. Mike shakes his head as he walks toward the bookstore, wondering how time got away from him this morning. The clock outside of the bank has its hands pointed just this side of noon, and he’s a little embarrassed. He doesn’t know why he wasn’t at the bookstore right at eight, when most of the businesses open in Amorea. Sean is probably wondering why he didn’t stop in this morning for a cup of coffee. He hopes Sean didn’t worry too much. He hates when Sean worries about him. He’ll stop by later and— There’s a note on the door of the bookstore, slid into the space between slats and the glass of the window. He sees a familiar scrawl and he can’t help but smile at the sight of it. He plucks the door and reads: Hey. Didn’t see you this morning. Everything okay? You probably slept in, lazy bones. If that’s the case, you earned it. Come see me later. It’s not signed, but it doesn’t need to be. He knows who it’s from. He’s about to push open the door (for a moment thinking, What if it’s locked? which is an odd thought because doors in Amorea are never locked), when a friendly voice calls out, “Mike!” He looks up with a grin. It’s Happy, of Happy’s General Store fame, a barrel of a man in his sixties with a sloping gut and great tufts of white hair sticking out haphazardly from the top of his head. He’s dressed today as he usually is, in wrinkled tan slacks and a stiff white collared shirt, open at the throat with little wiry hairs curling out. A black apron sits on his front, cinched back around his middle. It says only happy in embroidered red lettering. “Happy,” Mike says in greeting. “Just getting in, then?” Happy asks, holding his hand out for a shake. It’s a good grip, a firm grip, and it’s three pumps as per the usual before Happy pulls his hand away. “Looks like,” Mike says. “Everything okay?” And Mike…well. Mike frowns. “Sure,” he says while thinking, It is, right? Happy nods. “Just…it’s just that you’ve never been late before, and I guess I was worried.” “Yeah, I was…” And he trails off because he was what? He can’t quite remember what he was doing to be late this morning, but he’s sure he was doing something. There’s the briefest remnants of a headache, and he remembers having a beer last night with dinner. Maybe he had a couple more after that? He doesn’t drink to excess, not usually. But it’s hazy. Happy waits, brow furrowing slightly. Mike says, “Took the morning off,” because Happy is waiting for some kind of answer and Mike has to give one. People have already noticed. He has evidence of it in the note in his hand. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” Happy says, face relaxing. “Everyone should get a bit of a lie-in every now and then.” And any unease Mike feels is gone at that, because he doesn’t really have a headache, now, does he? It’s like the ghost of one, and maybe he can’t quite remember what he did this morning aside from feeding Martin, but that’s okay. It’s not like he was blackout drunk. He’s not as young as he used to be. It’s possible that time just slipped. “We still on for the poker game tomorrow night?” Happy asks. Mike nods. “Thursday as always. We’re at my house next week, right?” “Oh sure,” Happy says. “You gonna make beans and weenies?” Mike chuckles. “Always do for you, Happy.” “Good man,” Happy says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll let you get to it, then. Just wanted to make sure everythin’ was all right. You should probably stop in and see that fella of yours. I know he was worried when you didn’t come in this morning.” “He’s not my fella,” Mike says, though he knows he’s flushing brightly. It’s the Irish curse, something he’s never been able to escape. Happy rolls his eyes. “Don’t we all know it. You’re sure takin’ your sweet time. Reminds me of my own courtin’ days, when we pretended to be all innocent about things. You two are slower than molasses.” “It’s just,” Mike says. Then, “It works. For us. We have time. Slow and steady, I guess.” “That right?” Happy says. “Well, I’ll be a pig in shit. Any slower, you two’d be goin’ backward.” Mike groans. “Happy.” “Yeah, yeah,” Happy says, waving his hand at Mike as he turns down toward his shop. “Just don’t be surprised if the ladies around town try to push it along. You know how they feel about this kind of thing.” He does. He knows that very well. So well, in fact, that every time the book club meets at his store on Monday afternoons, discussions about Wuthering Heights or Rebecca fall by the wayside as the ladies of Amorea prod and needle him about Sean Mellgard, cooling when he blushes and stutters over what to say.” It’s just…it’s nice. What they have now. And both of them know where they’re headed. Mike figures it’s not about the destination, but the journey there. He’s good with the way things are now. They’re good. Which isn’t to say he doesn’t worry, because he does. Sometimes. He worries he might be moving too slow, even for Sean. He worries that maybe what he can offer right now isnt’ enough. He doesn’t know quite how to say this, doesn’t know how to put it into words, but sometimes he doesn’t have to, because Sean is there with a hand on his arm and that little smile on his face he gets when he knows. Sean knows him. Probably better than anyone. They’ll get there. He sighs as he opens the door to Bookworm, the shop he’s owned for…a long time. He tries not to think about how long, because that usually gives him headaches, and if he’s just been getting over one, he doesn’t want to help it. The bell at the top of the door jingles lightly overhead. He flips on the lights to the shop, even though they might not be necessary given the sunlight that filters in through the front windows. Bookworms smells like it usually does, paper and ink and dust, and it’s comforting to him. He knows this place, and any unease he felt about his hazy morning slips away as he turns the sign in the window to open. He thinks about waiting until later, but he’s still got the note in his hand, that sweet little note with the handwriting he knows so well. He doesn’t want to wait. He wants to hear Sean’s voice, just to say hey and hi and I didn’t mean to worry you. He’ll pop over later when he’s closed for the day, but that’s still hours away. He picks up the green handset and slips through the rotary dial with a practiced ease, the number familiar. It’s PY6-0520 and he puts the handset to his ear, listening to the chirping through the line as it goes across the street and down a few doors. He knows what it sounds like, that phone in the diner; it’s a bright and blaring ring, given that it needs to be heard above all of the hubbub of the kitchen and the patrons themselves. It’s Oscar who answers, the owner and head cook. He’s a gruff Black man with wild and bushy eyebrows already going gray even though he’s barely older than Mike. He’s also one of the regulars in the weekly poker game, and even though he’s intimidating as all heal, it’s all on the outside. He actually does give two shits about most things. It’s funny, Mike thinks, because that could be said about almost everyone in Amorea. It really is a wonderful place. “Yeah,” Oscar growls in greeting. “Hey, Oscar.” “Mikey,” Oscar says, voice softening considerably. “How you been?” “All right.” “Yeah? You got some of us thinking about you this morning when you didn’t come in.” “Oh, Oscar, you miss me that much?” Mike teases. “Fuck off with all that nonsense,” Oscar says. “I ain’t got no time for your shit.” “Jive talk,” Mike says, because he can get away with it. “Yeah, yeah,” Oscar says. “But seriously. You all right?” “Fine,” Mike says, and he almost believes it. “Long night.” “That insomnia thing?” “Insomnia,” Mike corrects gently. “Maybe. Never did sleep much. Just needed a little more this morning.” “You check yourself with Doc,” Oscar says, voice firm. “Make sure it’s not nothing else.” Mike says, “Yeah, sure, Oscar,” because if he doesn’t, everyone will be hounding him within a week—the ladies in the book club, the rest of Amorea. Sean will frown at him, and Mike hates it when Sean frowns at him. Doc will eventually show up on his doorstep or at the story, and it’s just easier to get it done and over with.” “I mean it.” “I know.” “You wanna talk about your boy?” “He’s not my—” Oscar snorts. “Keep telling yourself that, Mikey. See how good it gets you. Damn fool kids.” Like they aren’t only a few years apart in age. Then it goes muffled and Mike hears Oscar shout for Sean, voice hoarse but strong. There’s some hollering back at him and Mike knows the people in the diner are laughing and hooting at Sean. It’s how it always goes when Mike calls. It’s even worse when he’s there. It’s almost like they want this…this thing between him and Sean almost as much as Mike does. The phone changes hands and Mike hears Sean tell Oscar he’s got it, to get out and give him some privacy. Oscar retorts that it’s his kitchen, but anyone could hear the fondness in his voice. It’s well known, the soft spot Oscar Johnson has for Sean Mellgard. “Hello?” Sean says into the phone, like he doesn’t know who it is, like it’s a question, and Mike doesn’t even try and stop the warm feeling burning in his chest. “Hey,” he says, scuffing the toe of his Chucks against the carpet. He feels oddly shy in these little moments, like he’s unsure about what to say. But Sean’s voice is sweet when he says, “Hey there. We missed you this morning.” Mike clears his throat and says, “We?” Sean laughs softly, and it’s a sound Mike never gets tired of hearing. “I,” he says. “Me. I missed you this morning.” “Yeah,” Mike says. “Me too.” Because he did, and there’s this strange and sudden urge that fills him to flip the sign from open to closed and to make his way across the street and just sit at the lunch counter, watching Sean as he moves between all the tables. But he doesn’t, because he was late this morning, and that’s going to be his punishment. Sean hums his agreement, because he knows Mike gets awkward when feelings are brought up. “You okay?” And it should irk him, grate a little bit that he can’t even take the morning off without everyone assuming something’s wrong. But it’s Sean, and he could never be mad at him. Not for this. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah,” Sean teases him. “Sorry,” Mike says, running a hand over his face. He really needs to trim his beard. “Just been a weird morning.” “How’s that?” “Don’t rightly know,” Mike says. “Just one of those days.” “You can have those,” Sean says. “Can I?” “Cheeky,” Sean says, and Mike can hear the smile in his voice. It’s not the devilish smile he has for most others. It’s not the soft one he gets when he sees a dog. It’s not even the one he gets when he’s excited about something, hands flailing as he works himself up. No, this smile is the one solely reserved for Mike Frazier. It’s soft and quiet and filled with wonder, and whenever Mike sees it, whenever it’s directed toward him, his mouth dries up and his tongue feels thick. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Like now. He swallows. “I aim to please,” he manages to say. Sean laughs again. “Walk me home tonight, big guy?” “Yessir,” Mike says. “I’ll be there.” “Looking forward to it,” Sean says, and Mike believes him. He believes everything Sean tells him, because he’s Sean. Maybe the others are right. Maybe it’s time to see about something…more. “Gotta get back,” Sean says. “Oscar’s starting to get that scowl on his face.” That scowl means he’s had to serve a few tables and is getting annoyed. Oscar likes the kitchen. Oscar doesn’t like to be in the dining room. “See you tonight,” Mike says. “Yeah,” Sean says again, and it’s mocking but not mean. Sean Mellgard doesn’t have a mean bone in his entire body, even if he has to deal with someone like Mike. Mike’s a man of few words. Sean knows this, and he still wants this…this thing. Mike doesn’t know what’s wrong with Sean that he could still want Mike, but it doesn’t really matter. He’ll take whatever he can get. Mike is smiling when he hears the click and the dial tone. He puts the phone back on its cradle and thinks that Sean is ready too. There’s an itch on his right wrist. He looks down and there’s something fleeting that shoots through his mind, something he doesn’t understand—a number—but it’s gone before he can latch on to it. He scratches at the itch. There’s no bug bite or anything to explain the irritation. His wrist is unblemished and unmarked as always. Where You’ve Read TJ Klune Before Image via tjklunebooks.com TJ Klune has a massive backlog of books, both standalones and series, that you may have encountered before. He primarily writes a variety of stories in the fantasy and sci-fi genres, mostly falling into three categories: cozy and funny fantasy, emotional but beautiful fantasy/sci-fi, and werewolf romance. His last book, We Burned So Bright, follows an older queer couple on a road trip as the world nears the apocalypse, seeing how people from all walks of life come to terms with the end. It was absolutely heart-wrenching but also beautiful. However, his best works are the cozy fantasy duology The House in the Cerulean Sea and Somewhere Beyond the Sea, the first of which is considered one of the greatest fantasy books of the last decade. Other adult book series by the author include Seafare, Tales from Verania, Greencreek, and At First Sight. Meanwhile, The Extraordinaries is a great YA superhero romance series that can appeal to readers of all ages. One book, Into This River I Drown, falls far outside TJ Klune's usual style and tone. It's full of angst, mystery, and a much darker tone. The 2013 standalone novel is the closest book to Murmuration, so it's a great read ahead of the upcoming release. Murmuration releases November 17, 2026, in the US and November 19, 2026, in the UK, and it will be available wherever books are sold.