Alice Cary

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What happens to a family after a dangerous, life-changing and historic journey? That’s the focus of Veera Hiranandani’s wonderful Amil and the After, which follows 12-year-old Amil and his family, who, during the Partition of India in 1948, have just migrated to Bombay from what would become Pakistan. It’s a worthy companion novel to Hiranandani’s Newbery Honoree The Night Diary, which tells the story of that journey through the perspective of Amil’s twin sister, Nisha.

Amil and Nisha’s Hindu father tells them, “Everything is broken. Pakistan and the new India are like two eggs sitting on a ledge, having no idea what they’re going to grow up to be.” Similarly, his children are also in a precarious state before transformation. While Nisha flourishes on schoolwork and writing, Amil is dyslexic and loves to draw. Amil begins making a series of drawings about their new life as a way of honoring their Muslim mother, who died in childbirth. 

“I thought we were over the bad stuff here in Bombay,” Amil confesses. “We’re safe and getting back to a normal life, I guess, but I’m still sad a lot of the time.” Everyone is trying to find their way, from their father to their homesick grandmother and Kazi, their beloved Muslim cook. Nisha is slowly emerging from selective mutism, and both Amil and Nisha help each other through occasional panic attacks stemming from their harrowing escape. Hiranandani depicts the twins’ relationship exceptionally well, deeply developing her characters as they bounce their thoughts and fears off of each other. 

This is an excellent work of historical fiction, seamlessly and sensitively integrating the personal and the political. A particularly empathetic young man, Amil wonders why he and his family managed to survive their migration while others perished or ended up in refugee camps instead of a comfortable apartment. After befriending Vishal, who is homeless and without family, Amil wonders why his new friend is “a boy exactly like he was, just unlucky instead of lucky.” 

With Amil and the After, Veera Hiranandani masterfully presents a powerful, unvarnished examination of difficult subject matter while paving the way forward with hope and love. 

With Amil and the After, Veera Hiranandani presents a powerful, unvarnished examination of difficult subject matter while paving the way forward with hope and love.
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In her first picture book, You Broke It! (Rise x Penguin, $18.99, 9780593660409), New Yorker cartoonist Liana Finck takes an irreverent look at the endless barrage of reprimands that parents routinely fling at their offspring—“Sit still!” or “Get the hair out of your eyes!”—and twists them in ways that will leave both parents and young children with smiles.

A different parent is featured on each spread, admonishing their young in ways that will make readers laugh out loud. The featured chastisers include various animals and natural forces. A whirling tornado tells their child, “You’re making a mess!” while a worm issues a “Stop squirming!” decree. My own favorites are the cat’s “Stop playing with your food!” to the kitten eyeing a nearby mouse, and a crocodile who warns their toothy youngster, “Stop biting!” 

Finck’s lively illustrations consist of minimalistic line drawings with one burst of muted color on each spread—a pink mouse, a blue tornado, a bit of green on a turtle. In true cartoon style, this artistic simplicity nicely focuses the reader’s attention on the irony at hand, helping kids immediately tune in to each joke without visual distractions.

You Broke It! is a book that parents and children are likely to relish and remember, especially in the midst of those inevitable nagging sessions that occur. Both young and old will enjoy poking fun at popular admonishments, and each will perhaps leave with renewed understanding about the loving aspect of such conflicts. Finck’s final pages certainly bring this message home when an octopus says, “Keep your hands to yourself!” and the child responds, “I am just being me.” With that, You Broke It! concludes with the perfect illustration: a parent and child embracing in a big octopus hug.

You Broke It! is a book that parents and children are likely to relish and remember, especially in the midst of those inevitable nagging sessions that occur in parenting.
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“Some women had worn love beads in the sixties; others had worn dog tags,” Kristin Hannah writes in The Women, her salute to American women who were nurses in the Vietnam War. It’s a book she has long wanted to write—since 1997—but didn’t feel ready to tackle until now. As she’s done before in runaway bestsellers like The Nightingale, The Great Alone and The Four Winds, Hannah demonstrates her knack for blending broad sweeps of history with page-turning plots to immediately engross legions of readers in even the most difficult of subjects.

The story covers more than 20 years, beginning in 1966 when 21-year-old Frankie McGrath impetuously joins the Army Nurse Corps, hoping to follow her beloved brother, Finley, to Vietnam. Her well-to-do parents live on Coronado Island in California and are very much concerned with keeping up appearances. Frankie’s father keeps a “Wall of Heroes” in his office filled with portraits of their family’s military veterans, even though he, to his shame, was declared ineligible to serve. Frankie’s life changes when one of her brother’s friends tells her, “Women can be heroes.”

Frankie arrives in Vietnam as a clueless, newly minted nurse, but she rises to the horrific circumstances and ends up finding her calling in life, as well as a turbulent romance. She slowly grows into a highly skilled surgical combat nurse, and the scenes of her working are particularly immersive, showing readers the traumatic experiences that soldiers, nurses and doctors experienced on a daily basis.

Over 265,000 women served during the Vietnam era, including about 10,000 American military women stationed in Vietnam during the war, most of them nurses. And yet, after the war, these women were met with remarks like “There were no women in Vietnam.” That’s the reaction Frankie gets when she returns home, and the last half of the book deals with her struggle with Americans who have little idea of or respect for what she’s been through. Her parents compound her feelings of shame and confusion when they reveal that they explained her absence to their friends by pretending Frankie had been studying abroad. Amidst so much misunderstanding, she relies on the support of two lifelong nursing friends as she deals with post-traumatic stress disorder, addiction and depression.

In true Hannah fashion, The Women delivers a compelling read as well as a new understanding of the Vietnam era.

Kristin Hannah demonstrates her knack for blending broad sweeps of history with page-turning plots in this salute to military and civilian women who served during the Vietnam era.
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When civil rights activist Medgar Evers met the love of his life, Myrlie Louise Beasley, the 25-year-old had graduated from college and fought in World War II. Myrlie, 17, was a gifted singer and pianist. They married a year later, on Christmas Eve 1951, forming a bond that is the heart of Joy-Ann Reid’s moving biography, Medgar and Myrlie: Medgar Evers and the Love Story That Awakened America.

Readers familiar with Reid’s MSNBC show, “The ReidOut,” will recognize the passionate voice that fervently guides the narrative. This love story, she writes, is also about Medgar’s “deep and unfaltering love for Mississippi,” as well as “the higher love it took for Black Americans to love America and to fight for it, even in a state that butchered more Black bodies via lynching than any other.” The Everses could have easily joined the northern exodus of many Black families to more hospitable places, but the couple wanted to raise their children in their home state, fighting to obtain the basic human rights that they were denied.

Reid argues that Medgar’s accomplishments have been overshadowed by the many events and assassinations that took place after he was gunned down in his carport in 1963, leaving the quiet, formidable Myrlie to raise their three children and carry on her husband’s legacy. But after reading this book, readers will long remember Medgar’s courage, as well as Myrlie’s devotion and bravery—especially since the couple knew he was likely to be the victim of an assassination attempt. The details are searing: Their house had no front door because that might have left them too vulnerable, and the children regularly practiced shooting drills in their own home, diving to the floor and crawling soldier-style to the safety of the bathtub, preparing for the horrors that soon arrived on their doorstep.

Reid draws on a variety of sources, including her own recent interviews with Myrlie. She portrays a sweeping history of Civil Rights activism, describing clashing strategies and factions, including the fact that the national office of the NAACP refused to provide Medgar with the security protection that might have saved his life. Myrlie never stopped fighting to have her husband’s killer prosecuted. It took 30 years for Klansman Byron De La Beckwith to be convicted of homicide and sentenced to life in prison; without Myrlie, justice would never have prevailed.

Page by page, Medgar and Myrlie paints unforgettable portraits of two American heroes who faced American racism with unimaginable courage.

Page by page, Joy-Ann Reid’s Medgar and Myrlie paints unforgettable portraits of Medgar and Myrlie Evers, two American heroes who faced American racism with unimaginable courage.
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A lion dies, and his lonely, bored reflection goes in search of something new to represent. Such is the unusual premise of Marion Kadi’s fanciful Harriet’s Reflections, which follows a girl who learns valuable lessons about herself in the process of becoming attached to this strange alter ego. Kadi’s spare, humorous text gives momentum to this fun, surprising romp. 

After the lion’s reflection scouts around—nixing the idea of reflecting a flower or a duck—he spots Harriet and leaves behind a trail of puddles (a lovely detail) as he makes his way to peer in her window. The next morning, as Harriet heads to school, the beastly reflection is waiting and pounces with wild abandon into Harriet’s reflection in a water puddle. It’s a great scene, as the unsuspecting Harriet remains oblivious with her nose in her book, while her own reflection reacts with wide-eyed shock.

Kadi’s boldly colorful, swirling art is the star of the show, lending energy to each scene and adding oodles of personality to the lonely, soul-seeking lion as well as to Harriet, who at the start of the tale is miserable at school and sports a big frown. Each page bursts with vibrantly contrasting oranges, blues, greens and yellows; Kadi’s style is reminiscent of Matisse in both style and color, and the lion’s swirling mane and adorable, mischievous expressions are endearing. 

Harriet initially finds that her fierce new reflection makes her happier at school. However, problems soon arise, as she and her reflection begin romping “around the schoolyard like wild beasts” and “devouring their lunch and showing off their fangs.” Harriet comes to yearn for her own reflection and devises a clever way to reclaim it. 

Harriet’s Reflections is a creative tale about trying on new personalities as well as finding one’s true self. Young readers will enjoy every humorous step of Harriet and her lion alter ego’s search for a balanced coexistence.

Marion Kadi’s boldly colorful, swirling art is the star of this fun romp, lending energy to each scene and adding oodles of personality to the lonely lion as well as to Harriet.
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Tulsi, a girl in the mountains of northern New Mexico, became pen pals with Vanessa, who lives by the sea in Tanzania. Jenny Sue Kostecki-Shaw’s Like You, Like Me, which is based on the real-life friendship between her daughter Tulsi and her pen pal, Vanessa, shows how alike two girls and their worlds can be, despite living in very different places. Through collages made from painted papers and oil sticks, Kostecki-Shaw has created a vibrant exchange that celebrates global connectedness. It’s a delightful follow-up to her earlier book, Same, Same But Different, which featured two pen pals in India and the United States.

On the title page spread, the words that each child writes form a curving, yarn-like thread that crosses the page, stretching from one to another. The endpapers feature bright collage maps of New Mexico and Tanzania, along with a number of geographical facts about each place that will ground young readers and perhaps inspire them to seek out more information. Children will enjoy the intriguing local details of each girl’s home: Tulsi describes ponderosa pines that “smell like butterscotch candy” while Vanessa writes, “my city wears the sweet smell of frangipani.” They compare notes on pets, siblings, school and pastimes in spare prose that is both informative and authentically childlike. Kostecki-Shaw enlivens her cheery, earthy collages with patterns and stamped textures, from the multicolored feathers of a red-tailed hawk to blue spots on a galloping cheetah. An imaginative sense of dreamlike wonder pervades the book from time to time, such as when Tulsi flies on the back of a soaring hawk while Vanessa clings to a cheetah’s neck.

“My life has definitely gotten a lot more beautiful because of people I’ve met.” Read our interview with Jenny Sue Kostecki-Shaw. 

The girls repeat a refrain, “Like you, like me,” to each other as they discover similarities between their lives, and Kostecki-Shaw finds a variety of creative ways to accentuate these connections. The first spread, for instance, features Tulsi on the left-hand page, sitting on a couch as she writes to her friend, with snow-covered mountains visible past her window. On the right-hand page, Vanessa also writes from a couch, while an ocean sparkles outside her window. In the center of this spread, each couch seems to blend into the other. Elsewhere, the two girls’ shadows merge across the pages as they each play different musical instruments. By the end of the book, the friends gaze directly into each other’s eyes, saying, “I see you!” and “I see you too!” Like You, Like Me is a wonderful celebration of global friendship.

Through collages made from painted papers and oil sticks, Jenny Sue Kostecki-Shaw has created a vibrant celebration of global connectedness based on the author’s daughter and her real-life pen pal.
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The mysterious, flamboyant Pietro Houdini calls himself “Chemist. Painter. Scholar. Master artist and confidant of the Vatican.” Whatever he may or may not be, to Massimo, the narrator of The Curse of Pietro Houdini, Pietro is a savior. On the day that they meet in August, 1943, 14-year-old Massimo’s parents have been killed in the bombing of Rome, and Massimo lies beaten in a gutter. Pietro immediately takes Massimo under his wing, and the two head up the hill to seek shelter in a towering abbey in the Italian village of Montecassino.

The Curse of Pietro Houdini boasts a little bit of everything—a truly fascinating setting; an account of pivotal, yet little-known events of World War II; rich, quirky characters; tragedy, suspense, warmth and humor. Readers will quickly discover that unusual, dangerous times call for creative acts of deception on the part of both main characters, whose relationship forms the heart of this unforgettable, cinematic story. Massimo, who narrates the events from an adult perspective, notes: “The man I knew was a thinker and a storyteller and a liar who had as little reverence for the facts as P.T. Barnum.”

The abbey houses over 70,000 manuscripts and works of art, many of them moved there from museums for safekeeping during the war. Now, with an Allied bombing seemingly imminent, two real-life German officers, Julius Schlegel and Maximilian Becker, are secretly carting them out as quickly as possible, sending them back to the Vatican. Pietro hatches his own scheme—”the first art heist within an art heist in the history of the world”—to paint over three undiscovered Titians and sneak them out with Massimo’s help. Along the way, the plotting pair encounter a rich cast of characters and endure many suspenseful, heart-pounding and heartbreaking moments.

Derek B. Miller—the author of How to Find Your Way in the Dark and Norwegian by Night—has shown the range of his talents in six previous novels, but this may be his masterpiece: an epic novel that manages to convey an extraordinary yet realistic story encapsulating the horrors of war. As Pietro explains, “That’s what art does, my child. It opens our hearts to the human condition.”

Read our interview with Derek B. Miller for The Curse of Pietro Houdini.

The Curse of Pietro Houdini boasts a little bit of everything—a truly fascinating setting; rich, quirky characters; tragedy, suspense, warmth and humor. Derek B. Miller has shown the range of his talents in six previous novels, but this may be his masterpiece.
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Rachel Hawkins’ The Heiress is a riveting, juicy romp set in Ashby House, a 15-bedroom mansion in the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina that is home to several generations of the McTavish family. As in her previous thrillers The Villa, The Wife Upstairs and Reckless Girls, Hawkins excels in examining how the trappings of excessive wealth can launch dysfunction into hyperdrive. 

After growing up in Ashby House, Cam McTavish desperately tried to flee this fate, and has been living an unassuming life as an English teacher in Colorado with his wife, Jules. Although he has left his inherited fortune mostly untouched, he still owns Ashby House, and after the death of his uncle, Cam is summoned back to the mansion, which is desperately in need of repairs. The couple is greeted by Cam’s Aunt Nelle and her entitled grandchildren, Ben and Libby—all of whom resent the fact that Cam owns the house they live in. He’s seen as a double interloper, as his late mother, Ruby, adopted him at age 3. 

At the center of the story is Ruby, who was abducted at age 3 and found months later living with a family in Alabama. Her life has been tumultuous ever since; as an adult, she earned the moniker “Mrs. Kill-more,” having married and left behind “a pile of dead husbands.” Hawkins delivers this narrative in a series of letters written by Ruby shortly before her death, which have just the right amount of devilishly delicious black humor—a delicate balance that’s hard to achieve. 

One of the great delights of this thriller is the carefully crafted way that Hawkins allows the plot—along with the rich, twisted family history—to unfold. She uses old news accounts, emails and chapters narrated by both Cam and Jules, along with Ruby’s letters. Hawkins seamlessly intertwines all these different modes of storytelling while deftly hinting at the many secrets harbored within the walls of Ashby House. 

When Cam turned 18, Ruby gave him a watch inscribed “Time Brings All Things To Pass.” Indeed it does, and in The Heiress, the twists, turns and betrayals just keep coming, all guided by Hawkins’ skilled hand. The resulting suspense will be quickly devoured and long enjoyed.

In The Heiress, the twists, turns and betrayals just keep coming, all guided by Rachel Hawkins’ skilled hand.
Interview by

As a child, author-illustrator Jenny Sue Kostecki-Shaw was so shy that she didn’t want anyone else to see what she was drawing. “I was either in a cardboard box or in the closet—that’s where my studio was, and I would just draw all the time,” she remembers, speaking over Zoom from her home studio in the mountains of North Central New Mexico, where she lives with her husband and two children.

Now, Kostecki-Shaw no longer hides her creative talents and instead uses art to foster communication and friendships around the globe. Like You, Like Me, her latest book, was inspired by a pen pal relationship between her daughter, Tulsi, and a slightly younger girl in Tanzania, Vanessa. Kostecki-Shaw has been homeschooling her son and daughter for nine years, and she used letter writing as a skill-building exercise. Her children wrote not only to her, but also to their cousins and neighbors. They even kept little mailboxes in the woods. Later, Tulsi wrote to authors she liked, and eventually, she asked for a pen pal. One of Kostecki-Shaw’s friends—a librarian at an international school—helped Tulsi and Vanessa connect.

Read our starred review of Like You, Like Me.

The girls gave Kostecki-Shaw approval to use their names in the book. “They were pretty excited,” she reports. Kostecki-Shaw’s vibrant, torn-paper collage art shows the girls communicating from across the world, discussing the details of their lives: ponderosa pines, African drumming, red-tailed hawks and cheetahs.

A number of spreads feature each girl side-by-side on their own page, mirroring the other in creative ways and making it easy for readers to notice the similarities and differences between their two worlds. About midway through the book, Tulsi looks at a flicker feather that she wants to share with her friend. Kostecki-Shaw says, “I just tilted Tulsi’s head up, and thought, maybe this is a point where they could actually look at each other, even theoretically.” In the finished spread, the flicker feather picked up by Tulsi magically appears on a beach in front of Vanessa, as she holds onto a shell that appears in Tulsi’s possession in the next spread. “It almost feels like they’re in the same place,” Kostecki-Shaw says, “even though the backgrounds are different. From this point on, they’re looking at each other.” Like You, Like Me, she says, is a book about “coming together and sharing more and more.”

Like You, Like Me is a companion to Kostecki-Shaw’s earlier book, Same, Same but Different, which is also about two pen pals: Elliot in the United States, and Kailash in India. As a child, Kostecki-Shaw had a pen pal in Belgium, and for the last 15 years, she’s had an adult pen pal from France. “She once sent me a small hand-sewn envelope with fine red earth clay from where she was born in France,” Kostecki-Shaw says, “and I sent her flicker feathers and a tiny clay flicker bird I made. That’s where the inspiration came from for Vanessa and Tulsi sharing the shell and feather.”

“I love just sharing the inspiration that comes from connections with people you meet around the world, whether it’s through traveling or pen pals, or however you meet them.”

Kostecki-Shaw grew up in St. Louis, and her global curiosity was initially ignited by her father, who traveled often and widely for his work—the basis for her book, Papa Brings Me the World. “I remember just wanting to go with him, to see all those places,” she says. Her first book, My Travelin’ Eye, was inspired by difficulties with a lazy eye, which made learning to read a struggle. “I loved stories so much, and I loved books,” she recalls, “so I would copy all the art and ask everyone to read to me. I loved that books showed me other places to go.”

As an adult, after working for a number of years as an artist for Hallmark cards, she traveled to Nepal and taught English, and she also spent about five months in India. “Before I wrote Same, Same but Different,” she explains, “my life looked so much like Elliot’s. And now my life looks a lot like Kailash’s in some ways. It’s much more connected to nature. We live on a little homestead and we have goats and chickens and ducks, and we’re just a little bit more rooted in community.”

Several years ago, she and her family built her art studio themselves, with the help of a builder friend. “It was so empowering to me as a woman and as an artist to create my own space,” she says. Like You, Like Me is the first project she’s completed in that space, and she relished being able to spread out while creating collages with hand-painted papers and oil sticks. “It just felt so freeing. I would cover surfaces and just paint papers for days, making all kinds of patterns,” she says. “I was thinking a lot about the seasons and nature here in New Mexico, and the color palettes of photos from Tanzania, and looking at patterns that would show up in the ocean, leaves and flowers there.”

She uses a variety of techniques to add texture. “Texture is one of my favorite things. In addition to carving and stamping shapes,” she continues, “I printed with rubber bands and miscellaneous small objects, splattered wet paint and scratched dry paint with an old raggedy paintbrush. I made textures by pushing and pulling paint blobs around with a small piece of chipboard and a brayer, and I printed patterns with oil sticks. Basically, kindergarten play.”

As a child, she feared writing: “Even now, I have to face that little bit of fear of writing until I get far enough into the story where everything fades away, and I’m just having fun in the story and making art.” Now, as an author-illustrator, Kostecki-Shaw loves being able to simultaneously adjust both words and art, letting them “just dance together until they find their way.” She adds, “I love just sharing the inspiration that comes from connections with people you meet around the world, whether it’s through traveling or pen pals, or however you meet them. They just open you up to new ways and make your life so much more beautiful, whether through a conversation or an experience. My life has definitely gotten a lot more beautiful because of people I’ve met.”

 

Jenny Sue Kostecki-Shaw conveys the joy of fostering international friendships through the vividly textured Like You, Like Me.
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As Derek B. Miller sat down to write his seventh novel, The Curse of Pietro Houdini, something magical happened. “I wrote a great first sentence that somehow embedded the whole book,” he says, speaking from his home in Spain. “This is the only time this has ever happened to me.”

Miller had already chosen the setting for this spellbinding historical saga—a Benedictine abbey near Montecassino, Italy, during World War II. In 1944, American pilots dropped more bombs on this hilltop sanctuary than any other single building, mistakenly believing it to be occupied by German forces. While stories abound about the invasion of Normandy, few Americans are familiar with this military operation.
“I have a Ph.D. in international relations,” Miller notes, “and I didn’t know about it.” Part of the reason, he explains, is that “it’s just not a good old-fashioned American hero story. The battle went on for months and months and killed a lot of people.” What’s more, the abbey had been housing thousands of irreplaceable manuscripts and art, sent there for safekeeping in 1943. Thankfully, night after night, a German and an Austrian officer, with the help of the monks, loaded this treasure trove into carts and moved it to Rome before the Allied destruction began—a secretive mission described in his book. “I don’t think an abbey has called out to have its own story since The Name of the Rose,” Miller adds, referring to Umberto Eco’s famed murder mystery.

“I just love big, opinionated, risk-taking, take-no-prisoners central characters.”

Miller was introduced to the Montecassino abbey while working on a previous novel, Radio Life, which was inspired by the acclaimed 1959 science fiction classic A Canticle for Leibowitz, a post-apocalyptic story about monks who protect books during nuclear war and its aftermath by hiding them in an abbey. The book’s author, Walter J. Miller (no relation) was a radioman and tail gunner whose role in the Montecassino abbey bombing left him with post-traumatic stress disorder and undoubtedly inspired Canticle. Now, Derek Miller wanted to explore the setting of the abbey itself, but he was having trouble deciding what story he wanted to tell. “This isn’t nonfiction,” Miller says. “I didn’t want to be an academic. I wanted to be a dramatist. And I wanted to find the story within the story that could be mine.”

The plot finally began to emerge when Miller wrote that first sentence—“Pietro Houdini claimed that life clung to him like a curse and if he could escape it he would.” Instantaneously, one of the novel’s two main characters sprang into focus. As his name implies, Houdini is a larger-than-life character who may not be what he claims to be: a “master artist and confidant of the Vatican.” “I just love big, opinionated, risk-taking, take-no-prisoners central characters,” Miller says.

“Once the name popped out,” Miller continues, “once I had Houdini and a curse, and the abbey all sort of there, I realized that interrogating the curse mattered. And I was wondering who else was there? Who was he talking to? Who would care about something like that?” Before long, Miller envisioned an orphaned 14-year-old—Massimo—whom Pietro finds lying battered and beaten in a gutter. The two walk up the hill to the abbey, setting into motion a vibrant, well-crafted tale that’s rich in history, drama, intrigue, tragedy and well-placed doses of humor—at which Miller excels. Ultimately, he has created a story about both the heroics and the horrors of war, as well as the powerful bonds that can form in the midst of calamity.

Massimo’s first-person narration convincingly guides the book, and it is framed by an introduction and conclusion written from Massimo’s adult perspective decades later. “When I’m writing,” Miller explains, “I really have no idea what’s going to happen next. I only had milestones and a chronology [of historical events] that I decided to stick to seriously, partly because I’m a scholar.” Many readers, in fact, may be reminded of Anthony Doerr’s beloved World War II novel, All the Light We Cannot See. “This is going to sound shocking,” Miller says, “but I haven’t read it yet.”

Similarly surprising comparisons were made after the publication of his award-winning novel, Norwegian by Night: People complimented him on doing such a wonderful job writing Scandinavian crime. “I said, ‘That’s interesting, I’ve never heard of it.’ I thought I was writing a story about an old Jewish guy running through the woods in Norway. But apparently, it was part of an entire genre that I was unaware of, even though I was living in Norway at the time.”

“I haven’t really written love stories as such—you know, boy-meets-girl, that kind of thing. But there is, very much with Pietro and Massimo, love.”

Both Norwegian by Night and The Curse of Pietro Houdini feature an adult and child paired as main characters. “A lot of my books are really quite multigenerational,” Miller says. “It gives me tremendous scope for wisdom, dialogue, humor, misunderstanding and competing interpretations. And it’s fun, because old people being frustrated with young people, and young people being frustrated with old people is just hilarious.”

Miller also describes the pairing as a “useful literary device,” saying, “It’s always helpful for somebody in the know to have somebody to talk to who’s not in the know for the benefit of the reader. And in my books, there’s a lot going on.” Such a marvelous embarrassment of riches is certainly the case in The Curse of Pietro Houdini, in which many of Pietro’s discussions of art, history and the war with Massimo serve as vital backstory provided in an entertaining fashion. Miller points to the power of the connection that these characters establish, saying, “Being alone and then finding someone to connect with in the midst of that loneliness is essential in the human experience. I haven’t really written love stories as such—you know, boy-meets-girl, that kind of thing. But there is, very much with Pietro and Massimo, love.”

“Writing is a full-contact blood sport,” Miller concludes. “It’s a crazy way to make a living—almost an impossible way.” He started trying his hand at fiction during a number of unscheduled months spent waiting for his Ph.D. program to begin in Switzerland, and he continued with the craft alongside his studies. He eventually published his third manuscript, Norwegian by Night, in 2008, after 12 years of writing. That book came together when he elevated Sheldon Horowitz, who had been a minor character in a draft manuscript, to a central character. He turned out to be such a wonderful personality that Miller later wrote a prequel about his childhood, the suspenseful tragicomedy How to Find Your Way in the Dark.

Now Miller is working on a book set in the late 1950s on the coast of Spain, where Salvador Dali had his house in Cadaqués. Miller and his family live about an hour south of Barcelona, after living and working in Norway for a number of years (Miller’s wife is Norwegian). “I needed a change and it’s an adventure for the kids,” he says. “Life is short, so you take some bold decisions, if you’re so inclined.”

At some point, Miller hopes to finally visit the Montecassino abbey, which has been rebuilt since the World War II bombing. He says, “My deep, deep hope is that I can get The Curse of Pietro Houdini translated into Italian and that I have an excellent reason to go.”

Read our starred review of The Curse of Pietro Houdini.

Author photo by Camilla Waszink.

Derek B. Miller returns with a captivating historical tale centered on a pivotal yet rarely told episode of WWII: the bombing of the abbey of Montecassino, Italy. When a mysterious master artist, or possibly master con artist, and a 14-year-old orphan take shelter in the abbey, they are drawn into the mission to save precious art stored there from destruction. The adventure that ensues is tragic, funny and thrilling, with plenty of sleight of hand and even more heart.
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In The Last Fire Season: A Personal and Pyronatural History, Manjula Martin offers her mesmerizing, beautifully written account of living through and trying to come to terms with the harrowing impacts of the climate crisis.

Her memoir recounts the 2020 wildfires that surrounded her Northern California hillside home under the redwoods, causing her and her partner, Max, to evacuate. Martin’s writing is so immersive that readers will feel the stress of living through “two months of near nonstop emergency mindset,” as she scrolls fire maps, listens for warning sirens and sleeps with her phone, keys and go bag by her side.

In 2017, Martin and Max moved from San Francisco to a Sonoma County neighborhood of former vacation cabins that was “by all accounts, a fire trap.” But the land nurtured her in illness when a routine removal of a birth control device caused an abscess to form, resulting in astonishing, ongoing pain that eventually necessitated a hysterectomy. The land became a refuge that “helped me to heal to whatever extent I could be considered healed”—and she desperately fears losing this place.

Martin is uniquely positioned to write this book. She was born in Santa Cruz in the mid-1970s in a trailer next to a half-built geodesic dome nestled under the redwoods. Her parents were part of a community called the Land, devoted to yoga and the teachings of an Indian monk. She probes the many thorny issues of California’s land history and conservation efforts, especially those tied to colonialism, capitalism and white male supremacy. Lacing the memoir with a well-researched history of fires in the region, she shows again and again how colonizers and settlers lit the match and stoked the flames.

In the spirit of Rebecca Solnit and Terry Tempest Williams, Martin’s knowledge of nature and the land illuminate every page. With The Last Fire Season, she joins the ranks of esteemed, provocative nature writers who use their own experiences to examine our past and our future. She concludes, “To inhabit the new shape of these cycles of damage and renewal would require new ways of being. . . . [A] constant state of reckoning with the beauty and pain of what we had done to our home.”

Manjula Martin’s searing memoir, The Last Fire Season, recounts her experience living through the 2020 Northern California wildfires in mesmerizing prose.
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Author Sahtinay Abaza immediately draws in young readers of The Ramadan Drummer with a visceral description of how fasting for Ramadan feels to the book’s central character: “Hunger gripped Adam like a wild beast twisting and turning for food. It grumbled. It stomped and roared.” Meanwhile, Dinara Mirtalipova’s full-spread illustration characterizes this hunger as a ghostlike shadow that haunts Adam as he gazes longingly out his bedroom window at the setting sun.

At sundown, Adam’s family breaks their fast, feasting at a table overflowing with bowls of steamed rice, lamb chops, lentil soup, salad and pizza—Adam’s favorite. Here, Mirtalipova’s illustrations pop against a white background, guiding readers’ attention to the action, as well as to the bold patterns of the family’s rugs and the bright, flowing fabrics worn by Adam’s mother and Aunt Norah. As the women talk, they fondly remember the Ramadan Drummer of their youth, who would walk through the streets before sunrise, drumming to wake up residents so they could eat their pre-fast meal. Adam’s mom explains, “It’s an old tradition . . . Now we just set the alarm clock instead.”

Later that night, Adam dreams of meeting this mysterious figure, and the book’s formerly bright white pages become suddenly bathed in dark, dreamy blues, depicting a night sky bursting with orange and yellow stars. This transformation is a glorious, exciting sight that easily distinguishes the dream sequence. The Drummer lets Adam beat the drum as they walk through the neighborhood, and together, they hear whispers carried on the wind that reveal which neighbors are hurting or in need of help. “During Ramadan, every act of kindness is rewarded tenfold,” the Drummer reminds Adam.

The next morning, Adam sets out into the real world—which Mirtalipova once again sharply brings into focus against a white background—to help the people he heard about last night. By the end of the day, “His stomach was empty, but his heart was full.” Both Abaza and Mirtalipova include notes in the back matter that provide more context about Ramadan and their own childhood experiences. With its memorable story and illustrations, this intriguing picture book about Ramadan customs will appeal to both the senses and emotions of young readers.

With visceral descriptions accompanied by bold illustrations—particularly its glorious depictions of nighttime—The Ramadan Drummer will appeal to both the senses and emotions of young readers.
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A Toni Morrison Treasury caters to preschoolers and young readers with a collection of eight children’s books that the late Nobel Prize-winning writer wrote with her son, Slade Morrison. Each one is illustrated by an artist chosen by Toni herself; they include Joe Cepeda, Pascal Lemaitre, Giselle Potter, Sean Qualls and Shadra Strickland. As Oprah Winfrey writes in a brief foreword, “Reading these stories is a way for children and adults to connect with one of the world’s most extraordinary authors in a new and inspiring way.” 

Adults will enjoy sharing these stories with young readers, as many Morrison fans may never have encountered her writing for children. “The Big Box” is a lengthy rhyming story about three children confined to a big brown box because, according to adults, they “just can’t handle their freedom.” The tale is a delight from start to finish. At first, the big box seems to offer unfettered joys—swings and slides and treats and toys galore—but readers will soon realize it’s a prison. As the children note: “But if freedom is handled your way / Then it’s not my freedom or free.” Giselle Potter’s droll illustrations perfectly capture the strange dichotomy of their situation and their feelings of entrapment.

Pascal Lemaitre’s comic-style illustrations enliven the “Who’s Got Game?” series of fables, which pit ant against grasshopper, lion against mouse and grandfather against snake. “Poppy or the Snake” is particularly clever, and Lemaitre’s use of dark tones heightens the tension between the two protagonists. Bright green Snake’s bold, wily ways make this a fun read-aloud, especially when Poppy ends up having the last laugh. 

In “Peeny Butter Fudge,” a lively homage to raucously wild days with a grandmother, Joe Cepada’s bright illustrations ramp up the rollicking fun had by two sisters, a brother and their high-spirited Nana. Readers can continue on their own by making the recipe for the titular treat, which is included at the end. “Please, Louise” rounds out the collection, showing how a young girl’s day is brightened by a trip to the library: “So smile as the stories unfurl / where beauty and wonder cannot hide. / Because reading books is a pleasing guide.” Shadra Strickland reinforces this message with engaging art beginning with dark, dreary colors on a stormy day that gradually morph into a rainbow.

Adults will enjoy sharing the stories of A Toni Morrison Treasury with young readers, as many Morrison fans may never have encountered her writing for children.

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