Paths to Divinity, by Joseph DiCristofano is a self-published series of 
short stories that orbit several types of Speculative Fiction. 
Everything from Supernatural Adventure, to Horror, and even Fantasy can 
be found within the pages of what claims to be volume one of a series. 
The book itself is rather short. There are only seven stories and the 
page count is 152.
The first story, Hydromancy 101, is a rather trite title for what is 
probably the strongest story of the bunch. This is sort of an Indiana 
Jones meets Lovecraft sort of thing, which the author is obviously 
writing as a tip of the hat to both genres. The plotline switches from 
the safari into the depths of Africa, back to the story teller being 
kept in a locked down psych ward.  DiCristofano takes his time and the 
tension is good. Only issue is that he actually alludes to Indiana Jones
 in the story and mentions the Arc of the Covenant too.
Up second, we have Feels Like Home, which is a serial killer tale. After
 the well written story above, I felt a little jerked out of my socks to
 be forced into the head of a serial killer while he tortures a poor 
girl. I like horror: I do not like torture porn crap. Moving on.
Third in the lineup is The Passing of Eric Webber. In this a solider in 
Nazi Germany meets his end and is confronted by the Grim Reaper. 
DiCristofano does a good job building up the background for the dying 
man and the tale is a bit funny, but I have also read similar tales a 
few dozen times.
In Divine Vemgence, DiCristofano jumps back into pop culture by using 
King Leonidas from the movie 300 and ancient Greece too, of course. 
Perhaps the author was angry that the deformed Greek that betrayed the 
brave 300 warriors gets away with it, for he brings Leonidas back from 
the dead so he can get his revenge. I liked the use of Greek Gods here, 
but was not completely sure they were used accurately.
Duality, is a twin story. One is good and the other is evil or maybe one
 is popular and the other nerdy. Maybe it was both. Or maybe I was 
watching that movie with the two twins that were doctors, you know the 
one with Jeremy Irons. They were pretty similar, you know like twins. 
Thy Kingdom Found, is the second best story here and probably the only 
other one that could have been publishable. A young girl comes upon the 
Garden of Eden and ends up befriending both the serpent and the angel 
that live there. As she grows older, she visits them and they enjoy 
seeing her no matter how she ages. This is almost like a fairy tale and 
could even be read to children. Again however the author uses a cliche 
instead of exploring something new.
We end with The Genesis of Incarnates: The Path to Divinity. The title 
is almost as long as the story. This is some random dark ramble of the 
kind we hope we only see in a self-published book. Yes, not everything 
you bang out on a rainy Saturday is fit for print.
I hate to be overly harsh with anyone's labor of love and there are a 
few good tales here. Not great, but good enough to be published in maybe
 a small indie magazine. But... I have a few problems with this book. 
First off the stories are too disorganized. I do not mind chaos, in 
principle, but there is no theme here. You just get the feeling: heroes,
 serial killers, whatever I feel like. This really has the feel of some 
guy that worked on a few stories that had nothing to do with each other.
 Then, whether they were good or bad, he just grabbed them all up and 
paid to have them published. Add to this the fake intro that calls the 
author a genius, (Written by someone else, rightttttttttt) and we have a
 bit of a groaner on our hands.
Again, I hate to be cruel, but books like this are enough to make 
writers like all those publishers and editors that reject our work nine 
times out of ten. There should be some damage control in place over what
 books make it to print, but these days, with self-publishing, that is 
not always the case. Still DiCristofano did have a few stories that kept
 my attention and also moved his grade up to where it is.