Whether it was tooting on paper horns and slinging back champagne in a crowded bar, or watching the ball drop on TV in the comfort of home as your Postmates order from the only restaurant delivering on New Year’s Eve inched closer and closer to its destination, it’s safe to say that while celebrating the calendar flipping from 2024 to 2025, few could have anticipated the interactive horror experience awaiting us in the months to come, or how the time between then and now would zoom past like the blink of Elon Musk’s shiner eye — but here we are, and half of the year is already behind us.
Since January, there has been a steady stream of this, that, and the other flooding our collective consciousness — terrifying, for the most part — making it all the easier to tune out and miss the good stuff we’d hope would filter through, the stuff that soothes us, feeds our creativity, fortifies our spirits and makes this difficult year stand apart from all the other ones: Books, albums, TV shows, movies. The pleasures of an overworked life that make the work worth doing.
At Salon, we do our best to cover the best in culture, but even we have a hard time keeping up with everything that is worthy of being championed in writing, and things fall through the cracks. What better time than now, before the second half of the year flashes by just as quickly as the first, to sing the praises of some of the best media in 2025 . . . so far, that you may have missed and that we almost did as well? From socially awkward androids to albums for perverts, here’s our catch-all for the catch-up while the grass is still green.
Set in the fictional Inuk community of Ice Cove in Nunavut, “North of North” follows a young Inuk woman, Siaja (Anna Lambe), who realizes she has lost her identity in marriage and motherhood. A transformative experience while seal hunting propels her to leave her high school sweetheart, who sucks, and move back in with her now-sober mother, with whom she shares a fragmented relationship.
The series deftly blends sitcom warmth with small-town drama and provides depth as it explores themes of intergenerational trauma and colonial legacy in this Arctic town. Viewers will also find strong performances and heart, particularly from Lambe. Another standout is the production’s commitment to authenticity: nearly 500 locals were used as background actors while the show filmed in Iqaluit, Nunavut’s real-life capital.
If you loved “Parks and Recreation,” “North of North” is the perfect addition to your watch list — and a bright spot during what feels like dark times. — Natalie Moore
What do you get when you mix a Swedish actor known best for killing heavy dramatic roles with a rogue robot story interpreted by “About a Boy” filmmakers Chris and Paul Weitz? One of the brainiest, funniest comedies of the year.. If “Murderbot” is an unexpected delight, that’s because most viewers see Alexander Skarsgård as a Serious Actor.
Those familiar with the rogue SecUnit at the center of Martha Wells’ novels, collectively known as “The Murderbot Diaries,” might not have pictured Skarsgård’s face on its cyborg hero. That doubt dissolves from the first moments that our titular ‘bot shares its smart-aleck inner voice with the audience, the only humans allowed to know that it is secretly autonomous and deeply detests humans.
Instead of enjoying its newfound freedom by living up to its name, Murderbot decides to continue pretending to be a security guard while devouring tens of thousands of hours of TV shows. That should be simple given its latest task: guarding a group of bumbling scientists exploring a distant planet. But if that were true, the show wouldn’t be worth watching.
“Murderbot” is a treat for comedy and sci-fi fans, but anyone tuning in solely for Skarsgård will be delighted by the way his sardonic voiceover narration augments a physical performance striking a blend between a cold robot and a snarky human. With episodes clocking in at under 30 minutes, it’s the kind of binge that can brighten the day of the most cynical SecUnit.
— Melanie McFarland
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This 16-episode epic drama jumps back and forth in time (think “Pachinko”) to tell the story of three women in South Korea. We first delve into the life of a haenyeo, a traditional female freediver on Jeju Island. It’s grueling and thankless work, but it feeds her impoverished family. She wants more for her intelligent daughter Ae-sun, who eventually chooses love over ambition and gets stuck on the island, not pursuing her dreams. Her daughter, however, is able to study at a university in Seoul, against the backdrop of huge changes for S.Korea, including shifting to democracy. In a delightful bit of magical TV storytelling, K-pop superstar IU plays both the young adult Ae-sun and later her own grown daughter.
Magnificent romances and heartrending sacrifices are hallmarks of k-dramas, and this series embraces both, but significant commentary about class, poverty and the limitations of sexism keep the series out of melodramatic waters (even if one of its heroes can’t resist taking the plunge). This show made me cry regularly, sometimes tears of joy, and also cackle aplenty. (Let’s hear it for the failsons!) Grab some tissues and rehydrating electrolytes to prepare for this gorgeous drama to wreck you in the best way. — Hanh Nguyen
I admit it is a stretch to call this nepo baby fest the “best” of anything yet, but at a mere handful of episodes in, Bravo’s ridiculously watchable “Next Gen NYC” is at least a necessary antidote to Bravo’s other summer spin-off, the sad-sack midlife-meltdown that is “The Valley.” No divorces, no foreclosure threats, no Tom Schwartz ringing the doorbell to eke out an appearance fee, just a gaggle of 20-somethings indulging in pointless gossip and a surfeit of confidence whilst “whiteboarding” a business plan for a nightclub in which FUN is the first bullet point.
A motley mix of “Real Housewives” offspring, Gen Z influencers and random hangers-on, the show is ostensibly about recent grads hustling to make it in New York but is really about the simmering TV-class tension between the kids who grew up suckling on the Bravo meme-factory teat and only moved to the city to attend NYU and eventually star in this show, and the smug TV arrivistes who think they’re going to outsmart Andy Cohen at his own game. (They’ll learn. They all do eventually.)
The former includes Brooks (and sometimes Chloe) Marks, the kids of “RHOSLC” icon Meredith Marks; Atlanta daughters and childhood besties Riley Burruss and Ariana Biermann, now reconnecting after their moms fell out; and Gia Giudice, who barely deigns to leave mom Teresa’s New Jersey McMansion to drop in between podcast sessions. The latter camp introduces charismatic party planner Georgia; Damon Dash’s daughter Ava, who models; various capital-C Content Creators; and TV’s breakout summer villain Charlie, a sinister crypto trader pushing 30 who lives under the financial and psychological thumb of his icky investor father. These shows always take at least a season to find their true stories, but I’d be surprised if “Next Gen NYC” didn’t succeed in making Riley and Ariana, two kids who literally grew up learning to do this, reality stars in their own right. — Erin Keane
Back in January, the cast of Dimension 20 pulled off something no tabletop RPG show had ever done: they sold out Madison Square Garden. Gauntlet at the Garden was a one-night-only live Dungeons & Dragons special, featuring Dungeon Master Brennan Lee Mulligan and the beloved adventuring party from “The Unsleeping City” campaign (Emily Axford, Ally Beardsley, Brian Murphy, Zac Oyama, Siobhan Thompson and Lou Wilson). The show mixed theatrical spectacle with intimate improv — a dazzling, funny, heartfelt example of how something as nerdy as dice-rolling can hold the attention of nearly 20,000 fans in an arena.
It wasn’t just a show; it was a milestone. “Gauntlet” proved that actual-play content isn’t fringe anymore. It’s entertainment — smart, moving and community-centered.
I came to Dropout as an improv fan, worn out on “SNL” and rewatching “Middleditch and Schwartz” for the third time. But watching “Gauntlet at the Garden” (and its behind-the-scenes mini-doc) made me tear up in the way only live, creative joy can. Even if you haven’t picked up a 20-sided die since college, this one might just make you want to call some friends, roll some characters and let a little magic back in. — Ashlie Stevens
Carl Morck (Matthew Goode) is the kind of man begging to be warehoused in a basement — a brilliant, short-tempered detective whose colleagues can’t stand him, assisted by co-workers everyone else underestimates. An ambush that killed one of his colleagues and grievously injured his partner has also left him emotionally hamstrung. But when his co-worker Akram (Alexej Manvelov), a Syrian refugee who worked there as a cop, forces him to dig into a prosecuting attorney’s disappearance five years earlier, Carl re-focuses his attention on a puzzle unscrambled by his guilt.
The broken crime solver has been done many times before, yes, but not by Scott Frank, who gave us “The Queen’s Gambit,” and his co-creator Chandni Lakhani. The pair takes the cold case team starring in Jussi Adler-Olsen’s series of novels and transports them to Edinburgh, casting the cantankerous Carl as an English outsider among Scots.
Like “Slow Horses,” the case is less fascinating than the people trying to solve it. “Dept. Q” emphasizes its performances, starting with Goode, who delivers a career standout. His presence is especially well-matched by those of Manvelov and Leah Byrne as Rose, a determined constable whose professional ascent was grounded by a mental breakdown. The series’ popularity is a hint that it’s tapping into a common hope of being able to turn things around in the middle of our lives. As in the real world, Carl figures out that joining his skills with others might lead to the salvation he and his long-missing victim require. – Melanie McFarland
Maomao is a young woman who just wants to build up her tolerance to poison and conduct experiments alongside her apothecary father in the red-light district, set during the Tang Dynasty in a fictionalized Imperial China. But when she gets kidnapped to work as an indentured servant at the Imperial Palace, she starts making a name for herself with her scientific know-how and talents at deduction. Starting off as a food taster to detect poison (it’s tasty once you’ve been exposed enough!), she eventually catches the attention of a beautiful and influential eunuch and ends up solving mysteries among the backstabbing nobles, soldiers and consorts at the royal court. Come for the stunning animation and palace intrigue, but stay for Maomao’s detective skills and deliciously dry delivery. — Hanh Nguyen
In her debut novel, Sophie Kemp takes the reader by the hand and yanks them into a surrealist version of Brooklyn, where a young woman named Reality Kahn embarks on a quest to be the perfect girlfriend. To reach this paragon, she must first set her sights on a trophy-worthy man — one who, of course, wants nothing to do with her unless he’s bored between shows at the rock club he’s squatting at. But to Reality, who spends her days flitting between the Lids kiosk at the mall and doing waterpark commercials in nearby New Jersey, being treated like an object to be picked up and put down at whim doesn’t matter; what’s important is being the best, and Kemp’s hysterical piece of experimental fiction brilliantly dissects the ways we reduce ourselves to nothing to in pursuit of someone who could mean everything. — Coleman Spilde
Morgan Jerkins has given us something magnificent in her second novel, “Zeal“: a sweeping historical novel that plants itself firmly in the present tense of American reckoning. Spanning over 150 years, this multigenerational American epic connects star-crossed lovers Tirzah and Harrison, formerly enslaved spouses whose Civil War separation sets the story in motion, to Ardelia and Oliver, a couple celebrating their engagement in 2019 New York. Through the terror of Reconstruction, the promise of the Great Migration and the upheaval of the early pandemic days, Jerkins reveals how unfinished business carries forward through generations, for the characters and for America at large. Meticulously researched (and inspired by a real historical artifact from the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture), Jerkins writes with a cinematic grandness and an archivist’s care for detail, never losing sight of the intimate gesture, the quiet human moment. “Zeal” carries the weight of generations while maintaining a sense of urgency in our current moment, when we are witnessing brazen attempts to erase Black history — which is to say, American history — right in front of our eyes. — Erin Keane
I lost track of how many times a passage from Neko Case’s memoir, “The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You” made me cry, and how many times listening to her read it brought to mind titles of her songs — “I’m an Animal,” “Night Still Comes,” “Set Out Running” — and filled in the lines of each one.
The musician’s memoir is a patchwork of sorrow and joy, the work of precocious enduring still shadowing her present-day voice. The only child of too-young parents, Case grew up hungry and lonely, more connected to the wilderness than to humans and as vulnerable as the kittens who sought her out. “The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You” (the title also pulled from a song) is a heroine’s journey in which childhood is a crucible and discovering punk music a salvation, and the imperatives of being a girl (at least as pop culture defined it) a constant foreboding.
We know that Case will harness her feral spirit and thunderclap voice, but to accompany her on the journey there—part folktale, part ghost story and a kick of feminist manifesto — feels like discovering a favorite all over again. — Andi Zeisler
If you’ve been lucky enough to come across one of Harron Walker’s articles in her years as a journalist, you know that she has both a truly singular point of view and incisive wit. In her first collection of essays, “Aggregated Discontent: Confessions of the Last Normal Woman,” Walker rolls both of these integral points of artistry into one, staking a thermometer in the culture to read its temperature far better than any silly meteorologist. The book is part essay collection and part pop culture criticism, which may sound like a familiar mixture. But when Walker manages to combine a reassessment of “The Devil Wears Prada” and “The Intern” into a scathing piece of what-happens-next fantasy that puts her own experience as a trans journalist into the vision, she strikes pure genius. You won’t find a better essay collection until Walker’s next one hits shelves. — Coleman Spilde
In Edgar Gomez’s brilliant new memoir in essays, “Alligator Tears,” the American Book Award-winning author of “High-Risk Homosexual” writes with precision and biting wit about the impossible mathematics of trying to make it as an artist with non-elite roots, showing how class shapes not just material opportunity but intimacy as well. These essays gleam with insight and humor, from navigating the intricacies of dating today (“My Boyfriend, His Lover, and Me”) to seeing big aspirations collide with messy reality (“How to Be an Influencer in Central Florida”). From the defiant dance floor at Orlando’s Pulse nightclub to the triumph of his first New York book launch, Gomez takes the reader on a wild, vulnerable ride, layering in a profound tenderness for his family, communities, and his younger self. — Erin Keane
“Paw Patrol” would never! Unhinged and unexpectedly hilarious, this delightful animated romp is worth checking out even if you’re not a kid. An unconventional canine/human superhero challenges a scheming orange cat criminal named Petey (voiced smartly by Pete Davidson), and well, do you really need to know the plot? Just prepare yourself for a Frankensteined dog cop, a killer cyber fish, a plethora of puns and . . . a surprisingly empowering message about how we should regard deadbeat cat dads. While logic is not this movie’s master, we’re all the better for leaving rational thought behind for a healing snort-laugh these days. — Hanh Nguyen
Throw out your expectations here and quickly remind yourself that if “The Lego Movie” can outclass you at protesting capitalism, there might be room in your heart for the message of an animated film called “KPop Demon Hunters.” From the same studio that makes the “Spider-verse” movies, I turned this on mainly because I’d never seen a film translate exaggerated anime expressions into 3D so perfectly, but quickly realized I was watching some kind of fantastic “Sailor Moon” and “Scott Pilgrim” love child. It’s real cinema. You can tell the filmmakers understood why every frame of the film is in the final cut, and each artistic and story choice is soaked in intention and purpose. It’s funny. It treats its female protagonists like full human beings instead of objects, or girlbossed-beyond-personhood goddesses, or a pile of tropes that AI would compile. There’s some kind of beautifully under-explained Totoro/Cheshire cat mail-delivering creature who importantly bats at things. And knowing about K-Pop is not a requirement (when someone says “BTS” my brain first gets psyched for the special feature section on DVDs). It’s got a strong thematic heart and introspects about self-acceptance and fandom with greater competence than many, many films and people I’ve met. Toss it on, let the bops bop, and maybe help deprogram your local Disney adult. —Bennett LT
In their farewell album as Tennis, husband-and-wife folk rockers Alaina Moore and Patrick Riley succinctly pack 14 years of introspection and hypnotic melodies into one stunning record. After forming the band following an eight-month-long sailing trip in 2011, Tennis’ sound has transformed from kitschy, indie yacht pop to something much more difficult to define with genre constraints. And on “Face Down in the Garden,” the pair slowly move between mellow considerations of where their love took their joint career (“12 Blown Tires”) and melancholic, sparkling rumination on packing it all up (“Weight of Desire”). It’s at once blistering and beautiful, perfect for a warm beach day or, well, lying face down in the garden, watering the soil with your tears. — Coleman Spilde
I may not wear black leather every day, but there’s a piece of me that will be forever goth: black clothes, skull jewelry, and, always, a love of a dark beat that is still somehow sickly danceable. For my fellow covert goths, may I recommend Ela Minus? This Colombian singer and producer’s new album of electronic pop both sounds fresh and of the moment, but deeply rooted in influences like Nine Inch Nails and Bauhaus. Even on a bright, sunny day, singles like “BROKEN” and “QQQQ” immediately transport me to a dark club, where everyone is dressed in lace and leather, dancing while staring at their shoes. — Amanda Marcotte
The ongoing post-punk revival shouldn’t have made it to New Orleans.
The gleaming textures, precise drums and razor-sharp guitar work of that dying factory town bring to mind an abandoned, chrome-plated future that politicians never even bothered to promise in the one-time nexus of the South. On their debut EP “Awake in Non-Dreams,” Coworkers smirk at the suckers who got taken in by promises of safety and comfort now that everyone else lives as precariously as residents of the Crescent City.
The fittingly named act takes a side-long view of the daily grind, with frontman Jake Silvas sounding equal parts carnival barker and seer as he mocks hustle culture, corporate ladders and better living through chemistry. The backing band adds layers of skronk and sweat to the chugging machine, eschewing the neat-as-a-pin style of their U.K. counterparts for something suitably swampy, a bit less on-the-level. Driven mad by a drip feed of self-promoters and side gigs on standout “Legwork,” Silvas sounds ready to peel the skin off his own face as boils an internet-mediated existence down to its essence: “Look at me now! Am I big? Bold? Discernible?”
Donald Trump is attempting to use deal-making arts to tank the U.S. economy and maybe start World War 3. And, yeah, you could respond to that by diving into some dour complaintcore from an Anglo band who have never seen a sky that wasn’t a touch grey. But wouldn’t summer be more fun if you laughed and danced along with these punks who already had no future to lose? —Alex Galbraith
A great part of approaching 40, one that nearly offsets the creaking bones and mortal dread, is finally being able to admit you simply like what you like.
No longer concerned with chasing cool, the nearly middle-aged can stop constructing compliment sandwiches about music that values novelty over putting together a solid tune. And if you’re a fan of the catchy and the loud, “Insufferable” is the type of album you can praise with your whole chest.
Vacillating between songs that revive the yelpy, big build, bigger hook indie-rock of the late ‘00s and various tries at writing the next “Harborcoat,” Ohio’s False Teeth have created catnip for former college radio DJs, mp3 bloggers and mixtape makers alike. This album is for fans of fans of the Beach Boys, those bands that spent the years preceding the Great Recession spending “The O.C.” sync checks on studio time to lay down denser harmonies. The pinched, excitable vocals might remind you of TV on the Radio or Vampire Weekend, depending on which side of a microgenerational line your birthday lands on. Either way, the high-spirited jams are a throwback to a time when you still felt like clapping your hands, and maybe even saying “yeah. “
If you’re either too young or too old to know what any of this means, throw it on anyway. It’s a good time in any era. — Alex Galbraith
Less songs than, say, a voluntary curse upon yourself and your family, this isn’t an album for that hour on the Peloton, but it’ll get your heart rate up just fine. — Kelly McClure
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