Jill Ratzan

Twelve teenage pilots, each representing a different European country. Four adult chaperones. One route through seven major European cities. And one race organizer who hopes to demonstrate how youth sport and its accompanying pageantry hold the power to promote international cooperation and peace. But it’s late August 1937, and Europe teeters on the brink of war.

Seventeen-year-old Stella North is the only female competitor in the fictional Circuit of Nations Olympics of the Air (inspired by the real-life Women’s Air Derby of 1929). She’s flying for the United Kingdom despite having little connection to it; her family left their native Russia as refugees when Stella was very young. At the Salisbury airfield, where the first leg of the race will begin, Stella dodges prying questions from the press and seemingly omnipresent photographers as she tries to manage her nerves. But once she’s aloft and soaring over the English Channel, she witnesses something she wasn’t supposed to see, and when the contestants reassemble at their destination in Belgium, only 11 pilots can be found. The 12th has disappeared. 

Elizabeth Wein’s Code Name Verity won a Printz Honor in 2013 for its twisty, suspenseful portrayal of young female pilots serving in Britain’s Air Transport Auxiliary during World War II. Stateless is sure to satisfy fans of that novel and its related works (Rose Under Fire, The Pearl Thief, The Enigma Game), as Wein once again showcases her talent for writing feminist historical mysteries. Interpersonal dramas among the racing pilots smartly mirror the international conflicts that surround them, and the air race offers an ideal venue for Wein to incorporate the details of early aviation that have become one of her calling cards. 

The solution to the central mystery unfolds amid missing items, unlikely lookalikes, unexpected telegrams and suspected sabotage; careful readers may catch clues that Stella misses. Even the novel’s table of contents, structured around a well-known passage from John Donne, is part of the storytelling. Emerging friendships (and possibly more), along with questions of identity, add a human element to the pilots’ discussions of complex politics, such as the bombing of Guernica, Spain, and the imprisoning of political dissidents in a concentration camp in Dachau, Germany. Grim situational irony balances out any Hunger Games-esque vibe, as contemporary readers know where these historical events will lead, but the characters don’t.

Grab your goggles and fasten your flight harness: Stateless is a wild ride from takeoff to landing.

Five teenagers, spread across two rival countries, each have a story to tell in The Isles of the Gods, the first book in a fantasy duology from Australian author Amie Kaufman. 

Selly is an Alinorish sailor whose magician’s marks never matured, leaving her without the ability to communicate with elemental spirits. Alinor’s Prince Leander knows that he should have fulfilled his royal obligation—sailing to the Isles of the Gods to make an important sacrifice—a year ago, but he delayed making the journey for reasons of his own. In neighboring Mellacea, Laskia will do anything to convince her older sister, Ruby, the head of a bustling but illicit business empire, that she’s not a little kid anymore. And while Jude needs to stay in Ruby’s favor to keep his sick mother alive, Keegan is desperate for the chance to study at the world-renowned Bibliotek. All the while, Alinor’s goddess, Barrica the Sentinel, keeps watch over her twin brother, Macean the Gambler, god of Mellacea, for if he wakes, war between their lands is all but inevitable. 

Fantasy readers who favor fast-paced, intricate plots will find much to love here, including a multitude of characters and settings, explorations of the intersections between religion and politics, a proliferation of scheming and counter-scheming, a healthy dose of moral ambiguity and plenty of action, including some intense moments of violence. A budding romance between initial enemies leads to zesty sparks, and unexpected friendships form among teens with contrasting social identities (the popular party kid, the nerdy bookworm).

Kaufman builds her world gradually, trusting readers to put its myriad parts together as her characters’ paths intersect. Automobiles exist side by side with playful water spirits, gods walk among and communicate directly with mortals, and nightclubs, marketplaces and ship’s decks can all be places where the extraordinary can happen.

Readers left bereft by the novel’s ending and in dire need of its planned sequel are advised to reread the prologue, set 501 years before the story’s main events. In just eight pages, Kaufman offers up a vivid warning about the most dreaded outcome of her novel’s human hostilities: a war between the gods.

Blood and gore are everywhere. Screams echo through the night. The masked killer, machete in hand, is at the gate . . . but Charity, ready with her knife, stabs him first. She announces that she’s the final girl—the one who always survives.

It’s just another night at Camp Mirror Lake, a terror simulation game where Charity and her teenage co-workers chase paying guests through the woods in a loose reenactment of a cult classic horror movie that was filmed there a generation ago. The summer is almost over, but Camp Mirror Lake is short staffed—where have Heather, Jordan and Felix gotten to?—so Charity invites her girlfriend, Bezi, and their friend Paige to pitch in for the last few days. The sound effects are cued up, the fake blood and raw chicken mixture is ready to be poured and the latex body parts have been strategically placed. But on the night before the season finale, someone appears who isn’t in the script. And then the real terror begins. 

Author Kalynn Bayron knows the ins and outs of the horror genre, and she lets us in on all the tropes through the character of Paige, a wise and wisecracking horror fan who’s quick to call out the dangers of flirting (“As soon as people start having sex, it’s like a bat signal to the killer.”) and the stupidity of chasing clues after dark (“Why do the thing that always leads to somebody getting murdered in the woods?”). Like the Scream franchise and Joss Whedon’s The Cabin in the Woods, these self-referential hat tips don’t give away the plot as much as they make the path through it even more fun. The tension is high, the isolated camp setting is delightfully creepy and the premise of embedding real murders among the trappings of fake ones is used to clever effect. Creaky trapdoors, secret passageways, dusty storage rooms and bobbing canoes abound, creating spookily atmospheric imagery that matches the characters’ increasing sense of dread. And Paige is right that pieces of the full story are often lurking in the corners, revealed little by little as the body count rises.

Plan to read You’re Not Supposed to Die Tonight under a blanket with a flashlight, but only if you’re willing to stay up late. As horror fans know, there’s always one last twist at the end.

This will be Enrique’s summer of self-improvement. As his junior year of high school comes to a close, Enrique plans to tell his parents that he’s bisexual, get past his romantic feelings for his friend Saleem and find out where his interests in three other guys—Manny, Tyler and Ziggy— might lead. This might even be the summer when he finally tells his best friend, Fabiola, about “The Breakdown” from two summers ago and his ongoing experiences with anxiety and occasional suicidal ideation. But will the summer live up to Enrique’s expectations, or will it be messier, more complicated—and better—than he could ever plan?

Aaron H. Aceves’ debut novel, This Is Why They Hate Us, is laugh-out-loud funny, from Enrique’s analogies for sexual attraction, including a scene in which he compares bisexuality to choosing which dessert to eat at a wedding, to the awkward result of his brief dive into a hookup app. Aceves thoughtfully explores his characters’ diverse backgrounds, such as Fabiola’s complex feelings about her Afro Puerto Rican Cuban heritage. He crafts a scene in which Enrique recalls a series of interactions between Saleem, who is Palestinian, and some of their teachers with notable sensitivity. 

Although Enrique’s romantic and sexual foibles drive the plot, the novel’s greatest strength is Enrique’s friendship with Fabiola, whom he has known since kindergarten. Their relationship, which survived the time they “fooled around” at Fabiola’s 14th birthday party, is a model for what a best-friendship can be. Fabiola makes Enrique laugh, listens to his problems without judgment, supports his romantic explorations and comes to his rescue unquestioningly any time he needs a hand—even while she’s on a date with the girl of her dreams.

Even if you think you know who Enrique will wind up with by the novel’s end, the story of his transformative summer is still witty and heartfelt. This Is Why They Hate Us is a tale of self-discovery that’s enjoyable all year-round.