Mariel Fechik

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Nigeria Jones is a teenager. She’s a warrior princess. She’s a sister. She’s a stand-in mother. She’s a queen. She’s a student. Within the Movement, the Black separatist utopian community founded in West Philadelphia by her parents, Kofi Sankofa and Natalie Pierre, Nigeria is all of these things and none of them. Alongside the Movement’s members, whom Nigeria knows as aunties and uncles, sisters and brothers, Nigeria has spent her life being home-schooled and learning about Blackness—its traditions, its histories, its struggles, its triumphs. The Movement isolates itself from the world, divesting from white supremacist systems, all in service of a vision for the future in which Black communities can thrive, independent from oppressive forces.

But Nigeria’s mother has left, disappeared, and without the woman under whose care and attention the Movement thrived, Nigeria is floundering and filled with doubt. She has internalized her father’s teachings, from his loving, community-oriented leadership to his ire toward all systems, including education, corporate capitalism and health care. Then Nigeria discovers that her mother secured a spot for her at a wealthy private school, and she begins attending classes there. As Nigeria embarks on a journey of self-discovery, she also learns about the world outside the Movement and meets other teens, some Black, some not. As Nigeria moves further from everything she’s ever known, she’s forced to ask: Who is Nigeria Jones?

The best word to describe acclaimed author Ibi Zoboi’s Nigeria Jones is heavy. The novel depicts the horrors of generational trauma while also placing the personal traumas of one girl, one family and one community within a national and even global context. All the while, Zoboi (Pride, Punching the Air) strikes a delicate balance with the story’s political topics, never moralizing or seeking to provide answers but also not leaving things so open-ended as to appear ambivalent. Through Nigeria and her peers’ interactions with the complex, nuanced subjects they encounter, Zoboi offers a flawless depiction of Generation Z’s activist relationship to such topics. 

Nigeria’s upbringing and experiences are unique, and her inner world, her thoughts and reactions, feels exceptionally true to life. Zoboi tells a singular story of a singular girl, and Nigeria Jones opens wide and welcoming arms. 

In this story of a girl who questions her parents' Black separatist utopian community, author Ibi Zoboi strikes a delicate balance with weighty themes.
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Squire is the brainy sidekick to the brawny Sir Kelton, a knight whose reputation precedes him but never quite seems to prove itself. Regardless, while Sir Kelton is heralded as a hero, Squire stands quietly by, more interested in books and knowledge than sword fighting and rescuing. When the two come across a desolate village that appears cursed by the presence of a dragon, Sir Kelton vows to slay the beast and rides off to save the town. Squire, preferring to stay behind, notices something amiss. Interest piqued by the townspeople’s strange stories, he begins to investigate, and soon, little pieces begin to fall into place.

Prolific cartoonist Scott Chantler’s middle grade graphic novel Squire & Knight is a short, sweet story about the power of curiosity and the idea that strength and confidence aren’t everything. Chantler illustrates in a simple yet bold style, using only neutral shades and orange tones. The lone ruddy hue pops against otherwise monochrome backgrounds, guiding the reader’s attention through the subtly comedic storyline.

Chantler employs classic fantasy tropes—the sidelined sidekick to the daring knight, a treasure-hoarding dragon—while also subverting expectations. Squire, whose accomplishments and intelligence are frequently ignored by his noble employer, is the true brains behind their entire operation, while the dragon, despite appearances, just wants to collect his treasures in peace. The voices of the characters are dynamic and easy to hear in the reader’s mind. (For this reader, the dragon sounds exactly like Billy Crystal.)

Squire & Knight may not be revolutionary in form or subject, but it’s certainly an enjoyable read that champions the shy, the brainy and the inquisitive. This is the first volume of a planned duology, so we can look forward to at least one more adventure of Squire and his knight. 

Squire & Knight may not be revolutionary in form or subject, but it’s certainly an enjoyable read that champions the shy, the brainy and the inquisitive.
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In the collapsed city-nation of Alante, the “other-born” are descendants of long-ago gods who have inherited their ancestors’ powers. They are stigmatized and sometimes feared, and they often live in poverty. Still, the people of Alante rely on other-born like the descendants of the Muses and the Furies to provide guidance and order for society.

Io Ora and her sisters, Thais and Ava, are other-born who trace their lineage to the Fates, whose descendants always come in the form of a trio: one to weave the threads, one to pull them out and one to cut them. With their parents dead and older sister, Thais, living far away, Io and Ava do the best they can to get by. Ava sings at the Fortuna gang’s club, and Io works as a private investigator. But the lives they’ve carefully built are threatened when a string of murders sweeps through the impoverished area of Alante. Unnatural wraiths are targeting other-born, so Io is hired by Fortuna’s leader, the Mob Queen, to investigate alongside a stranger named Edei, who is connected to Io by a thread of fate. Soon, Io and Edei are pulled into a tangle of theories and leads, finding danger at every turn, as well as solace in each other.

Kika Hatzopoulou’s debut novel, Threads That Bind, is a high-concept fantasy mystery filled with political intrigue. Drawing on the pantheons of gods from a variety of cultures, Hatzopoulou puts an enticing spin on the idea of inherited godhood: People with powers are feared rather than revered. The frame of a murder mystery allows for a layered narrative that plays on interpersonal and societal dynamics, and the political commentary is well balanced with Io and Edei’s sleuthing. Fans of Amanda Foody’s Ace of Shades or Leigh Bardugo’s Six of Crows will find a similar atmosphere here.

Despite Threads That Bind’s excellent concept, some clunky moments disrupt the plotting and a few important questions go unanswered. Hatzopoulou has clearly set up the narrative for a sequel, but the story as it stands may leave some readers scratching their heads. Despite these incongruities, fantasy readers who are interested in mythology will likely appreciate this unique take on the genre and enjoy a largely promising start to a new series. 

Fans of Leigh Bardugo’s Six of Crows will find a similar atmosphere in Kika Hatzopoulou’s debut novel.
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Hilde, a part-swan, part-human daughter of Odin, ferries souls along the silver road in the sky to the Other Wood. She envies her five sisters’ brighter gifts, but Odin chose her for this duty because of her strength, so she continues this melancholy work—until she meets the equally lonely Baron Maximilian von Richter on the shore of a lake.

From within his crumbling and solitary Bavarian castle, Richter dreams of a bigger life for himself, one filled with jewels and notoriety. When he invites Hilde into the glittering world of his imaginings, she trades her wings to become more human, eagerly learning the complicated waltz steps of 19th-century Europe. But when Richter proves to be more captor than liberator, Hilde begins to seek an escape. Allied with Franz Mendelsohn, a kind and talented artist who seems to see the truth of her magic, Hilde searches to reclaim the wings she once sought to give up forever.

With feather-light precision, R.M. Romero’s YA novel-in-verse A Warning About Swans (Peachtree, $18.99, 9781682634837) walks the thin line between fairy tale and allegory, selfhood and love, dreams and reality. This winding fable about living myths, set in postindustrial Europe, softens the tale of Odin’s daughters—known in many versions of mythology as the Valkyries—while respecting its origins.

As in her previous novel, The Ghosts of Rose Hill, Romero writes in clear, lovely verse. Unlike novels-in-verse that fail to demonstrate a strong understanding of poetry, A Warning About Swans lends itself perfectly to the form, maintaining a spare beauty and creating fully formed characters within the limited confines of a shorter text. Richter is believable as a terrifying representation of what men with unchecked power often do, while Hilde and Franz’s burgeoning love story feels multidimensional and authentic.

A Warning About Swans soars in its exploration of myths: their power, their failings and how they change alongside humanity yet stay with us throughout millennia. Romero provides a lovely example of how across all of time, some lessons stay true.

R.M. Romero’s winding fable of postindustrial Europe walks the thin line between fairy tale and allegory, selfhood and love, dreams and reality.
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Join a family of four as they make challah, a braided Jewish bread used for many holiday meals. It’s Friday evening, which means Shabbat is here. An excitable child narrator guides Mom, Dad and Baby through the recipe as they prepare for dinner with Grandma and Grandpa. Written by Charlotte Offsay and illustrated by Jason Kirschner, Challah Day! (Holiday House, $18.99, 9780823454112) is a scrumptious celebration of family traditions.

Starting at sundown on Friday, Shabbat dinner marks the beginning of the Jewish day of rest. Although we witness the family as they light the Shabbat candles and sit down for the traditional dinner, the book stays focused on making challah, making Challah Day! a sweetly straightforward and celebratory read for Jewish families as well as those wanting to learn more about Jewish culture. Offsay’s jaunty and quick-paced rhyming couplets are perfect for reading aloud and pair well with other picture books about cooking with family, like Linda Sue Park and Hoe Baek Lee’s Bee-Bim Bop! or Lisa J. Amstutz and Talitha Shipman’s Applesauce Day.

Matching the bouncy tone of Offsay’s writing, Kirschner’s charmingly dynamic illustrations highlight the characters’ actions in realistic detail against simple backgrounds. The muted, pastel colors do not detract from the story’s vibrancy. Several full-spread illustrations are especially lovely, such as when the challah dough is being braided, or when children jump across larger-than-life bags of sugar, salt and flour.

After the story is finished, back matter not only offers a recipe for “Challah for a Crowd” but also provides context and information about challah and its surrounding traditions. In addition to highlighting the different ways that challah can be made, Offsay also shows readers various ways that Jewish people come together to celebrate. Challah Day! is simple, but its warmth and joy are palpable. By the end, your mouth will be watering.

Challah Day! is simple, but its warmth and joy are palpable. By the end, your mouth will be watering.
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Mia is of two tribes: Her mom is Jewish, and her dad is Muscogee. Mia’s dad and his new family live in Oklahoma, far away from California, where Mia lives with her mom and stepdad, Roger. Since marrying Roger, Mia’s mom has begun to take participation in Judaism much more seriously.

Exhausted by her experiences at Jewish day school and frustrated with her mother’s refusal to speak about her dad, Mia works out a secret plan to visit her dad in Oklahoma and learn more about her Muscogee heritage. While Mia initially feels like an outsider there, it doesn’t take her long to bond with an older cousin and feel at home with new traditions. But Mia’s mom quickly realizes that Mia’s not on the school trip she claimed to be and comes to get her. Will this incident be the final fracture in Mia’s family, or will it create a bridge between tribes?

Inspired by author and cartoonist Emily Bowen Cohen’s real-life experiences growing up Jewish and Muscogee, graphic novel Two Tribes (Heartdrum, $15.99, 9780062983589) examines the complex tensions and beautiful facets of a childhood between cultures and in a blended family. Cohen supports the story with a vibrant but realistic illustration style peppered with the occasional abstract image.

Where Two Tribes shines is in its portrayal of Mia as a self-possessed 12-year-old who is attuned to the importance of embracing differences rather than pretending they don’t exist. Cohen provides a nuanced picture of how Mia has in some ways come to resent her Jewish heritage because of the way it’s been placed in opposition to her dad’s Indigenous culture.

The story is somewhat unbalanced by Mia’s Jewish family and rabbi, who are portrayed more antagonistically than the other characters. For example, when Mia’s school rabbi makes a racist joke about Native Americans at dinner with Roger and Mia’s mom, it’s brushed off by all the adults as a simple mistake rather than a genuinely problematic remark. However, Mia’s family and her rabbi eventually begin to understand how they have failed Mia in certain aspects.

With its incredibly complex subject of personal identity, Two Tribes might have benefited from the additional space given by a traditional novel form to explore its themes more deeply rather than coming to a picture-perfect resolution. That said, perhaps the increased accessibility of the graphic novel format serves this book well. For children just coming into adolescence, a biracial background—especially involving two marginalized groups—can make for a tangled web of difficulties. By seeing their stories represented, things might start to make sense.

The graphic novel Two Tribes examines the complex tensions and beautiful facets of a childhood between cultures and in a blended family.
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There is no library in the small town of Martinville. Twenty years ago, it burned to the ground, and nothing was ever built in its place. But one day in the waning months of spring, a little free library appears overnight in front of the town’s History House, guarded by a large, purring, orange sentinel named Mortimer.

Fifth grader Evan is one of the first to discover the new library and take some books. He also seems to be the only one to notice that most of the books are from the old Martinville library, where they were all returned on November 5, 1999—the same day the library burned down. Not only that, but the famous mystery writer H.G. Higgins appears to have been the last person to check some of them out.

As the little free library grows, so does Evan’s list of questions. Why did the old library burn down? Why didn’t they build a new one? Did H.G. Higgins live in Martinville? Did he set the fire? With the help of his best friend, Rafe, Evan investigates the expanding number of clues. But Martinville isn’t ready to give up such big secrets so quickly.

Written by two powerhouses of children’s literature, Rebecca Stead and Wendy Mass, The Lost Library is a charming love letter to libraries, stories and life’s little mysteries, told through the alternating perspectives of Mortimer the cat, Evan and ghostly librarian Al. Stead and Mass provide all the tools required to solve the book’s multilayered mysteries—but rather than make the reveals too obvious, they create an alluring trail of breadcrumbs, inviting readers to leap to each discovery by themselves.

The story is relatively small in scope but speaks to the wider importance of connection. Throughout the novel, characters shine through their relationships with others, and the overarching lesson is clear: People need each other, and this is a good thing.

Though readers might expect something on a slightly grander scale from the combined powers of Stead and Mass, The Lost Library’s whimsical simplicity is a delight. It is subtly magical, sweetly optimistic and above all, kind. The Lost Library reminds us that each book contains an entire universe, and the next one you step inside of could be the one that changes everything. The next time one of its readers walks past a little free library, they might just stop to look inside.

Written by two powerhouses of children’s literature, Rebecca Stead and Wendy Mass, The Lost Library is a charming love letter to libraries, stories and life’s little mysteries.
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On a quiet street in postwar Naples, two young girls embark on a complex friendship that will encompass decades of strife, jealousy, bitterness and fierce devotion. Since early childhood, Lenu and Lila have been each other’s protectors and confidantes. Lenu lives in fear of her domineering mother, while Lila is expected to put work and family first, with her education being a low priority.

Lenu worships the enigmatic Lila, believing her to be smarter, more beautiful and more interesting than herself. But Lila’s shifting moods are inscrutable, giving way to unpredictable bouts of anger, irritability and depression. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, Lenu sticks by Lila’s side. As Lenu and Lila age, they are pulled in opposite directions—but they remain fixed points in each other’s orbits, for better or for worse.

Chiara Lagani and Mara Cerri’s adaptation of the first novel in Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan Novels, My Brilliant Friend: The Graphic Novel, is a brief and impressionistic rendition of the original. Lagani’s spare text (through Ann Goldstein’s translation) provides broad vignettes of the novel’s pivotal moments while Cerri’s artwork brings to life the often grim setting of Lila and Lenu’s neighborhood.

Ferrante’s original is a dense book, spanning years of childhood and adolescence over more than 300 pages. Rather than cover each event in detail, the graphic novel pinpoints the most life altering events for Lenu and Lila. The artwork is the true star of this adaptation. Using pencil, charcoal and pastels on coarse, off-white paper, Cerri reflects the harsh reality of postwar Italy—its grit, its violence and its fear. The panels are large and without straight lines as Cerri alternates between aerial views and intimate, uncomfortable moments. Similarly, the color palettes range from hyper-pigmented to washed out. The materials used imbue the book with an aged appearance, as though Lenu herself had crafted it as a diary—Cerri often leaves original pencil sketches in place, and the reader can see exactly where the drawing was altered.

It’s difficult to say if My Brilliant Friend: The Graphic Novel can stand on its own; most of its readers will likely be those who have read the original, and it’s unclear whether there are plans to adapt the rest of Ferrante’s quartet. That said, it is a unique and evocative tribute to a modern classic.

The artwork is the true star of this unique and evocative adaptation of the first novel in Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan Novels.
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It’s spring break in 2009. Childhood best friends Dani and Zoe are freshmen in college, and are finally spending a week in New York City like they’ve always dreamed. Accompanying Dani is her classmate Fiona, a cigarette-smoking, tragically hip art student whose uninhibited and self-possessed attitude attracts Zoe immediately.

Dani wants to do classic tourist things: eat pizza and see Coney Island, Times Square and the Statue of Liberty. But Fiona, who has been to New York many times, scoffs at the mere mention of tourism, instead suggesting they see “real” neighborhoods. Zoe, caught in the middle but unable to deny Fiona’s magnetic coolness, agrees. As the trio navigates a late-aughts New York with spotty cell service and tenuous personal connections, they will each have to reckon with something—whether it’s each other or something within themselves.

Roaming, cousins Mariko and Jillian Tamaki’s first graphic novel collaboration for an adult audience, is a slice-of-life story about growing up and growing apart, being on the cusp of adulthood and exploring an unfamiliar city. The characters and their experiences hit hard because of how incredibly real they feel; despite the intrinsic brevity of the format, Dani, Fiona and Zoe are fully fleshed out.

As a duo, the Tamakis possess a talent for crafting stories of immense substance out of small, zoomed-in moments. Because of their specificity, these micro-stories speak to a much broader macro-story: Almost everyone knows a Fiona, has been a Zoe or has become frustrated with the hesitance of the Dani in their life.

Jillian’s color palettes are typically spare and minimal, relying on thick black lines and one or two pastels—for This One Summer, a light, muted indigo; for Roaming, swaths of periwinkle, peach and white. The palette places a gauzy haze over the story’s heaviness, much like the function of memory itself.

Roaming is about young adults, new to being on their own and easy to see as naive. But the magic of the book is that it will speak to the 18-year-old in every reader—whether they’re just out of college or at retirement age. Some things, no matter how much time has passed, never change.

Cousins Mariko and Jillian Tamaki have created a slice-of-life story about growing up and growing apart that will speak to the 18-year-old in every reader—whether they’re just out of college or at retirement age.
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As a child, Sophia Galich starred in her sister Layla’s viral horror film, Vermillion, about a demonic entity supposedly haunting the seaside mansion their parents were renovating. In the years following the film’s release, Sophia has grappled with the scars—both psychological and physical—that it left behind, while Layla has spent her time avoiding press and obsessive fans, known as V-heads. Then, Layla suddenly vanishes without a trace.

Now, five years after the film’s release, Sophia has returned to Cashore House under the guise of starring in a documentary about Layla But Sophia knows that Cashore has something to do with Layla’s continued absence, and she has spent the past two years searching for clues and doggedly monitoring the V-heads’ posts on CrimsonDread.net, an online forum dedicated to Vermillion. Whatever happened five years ago was more than just a movie, and the truth behind Layla’s disappearance lies somewhere within the house’s walls.

Katya de Becerra’s third young adult novel, When Ghosts Call Us Home, is a gothic, spiraling ghost story that draws inspiration from Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House. But unlike many authors who have attempted to adapt the 1959 masterpiece, de Becerra sidesteps typical retelling structures and allows her book’s modern context to be bolstered by the original rather than restrictively tied to it.

As Sophia reenacts key scenes from Vermillion and is pulled deeper into the shrouded lore of Cashore, her memories begin to blur and reform. Sophia’s first-person perspective provides the intimacy of diaristic narration while holding true to the hallmarks of the unreliable narrator. As girl and ghost become more closely intertwined, Sophia becomes less trustworthy—both to herself and to the reader. This is unfortunately where the book suffers: de Becerra’s prose is at times overworked and redundant, which leaves little to the imagination and undercuts moments of fear.

Regardless, When Ghosts Call Us Home is a satisfying and imaginative haunted house story that uses its influences to great effect. Fans of books like Marisha Pessl’s Night Film and horror movies like The Ring will undoubtedly make themselves right at home in Cashore House.

Katya de Becerra’s third young adult novel, When Ghosts Call Us Home, is a gothic, spiraling ghost story that draws inspiration from Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House.
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Vega is a girl with stars on her skin. Her mother created the tattoos when Vega was small, knowing that one day she would take up the mantle of the last Astronomer. Vega has never left their valley and knows only the safety of her mother’s cottage. But her mother is dying from a sickness that has claimed much of the world’s population, and twin stars have appeared in the sky, signifying that Vega must fulfill her duty: to find the Architect and go to the sea.

Vega is unprepared for the dusty, desperate world outside the valley, where branded men called Theorists hunt her mercilessly, believing she holds the key to a cure for the sickness. She is rescued by a girl named Cricket, who leads her to Noah, a mysterious, secretive boy with green eyes. Together, the three of them set off across the desert, guided by ancient stories and starlight. But as the twin stars move along their orbital path, Vega knows that time is running low.

A Wilderness of Stars is an atmospheric adventure romance that pulls from a constellation of genres as author Shea Ernshaw crafts a world that seems both familiar and alien. Full of ghost towns and outlaws, much of the setting feels straight out of a Western, but without the identifiable geography of the American West. Ernshaw employs a similar tactic with the novel’s temporal scope, giving enough clues to place the story in a far-off future where our current technologies are considered ancient myths, but no real specifics about when the story takes place. 

Ernshaw’s narrative relies on intentional ambiguity and the slow unspooling of secrets, which is sometimes effective and other times frustrating. Many characters hold their cards close to their chests, and as a consequence, Ernshaw often writes around plot points rather than through them. Although her writing can be dense, readers who appreciate a focus on romance will enjoy the time she spends lavishing Vega and Noah’s love story with florid prose. 

Overall, A Wilderness of Stars will delight readers who love soft science fiction, measured reveals and romances that are written in the stars.

This atmospheric adventure will delight readers who love soft science fiction, measured reveals and romances that are written in the stars.
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People are the true monsters in two thrilling novels from acclaimed authors Tiffany D. Jackson and Lamar Giles, while shadows gather menacingly in an anthology of folk horror stories from popular YA authors including Chloe Gong, Erica Waters, Aden Polydoros and more.

The Weight of Blood

Maddy Washington is living a lie. To protect herself from the brutal bullying she’s received in her small town of Springville, Georgia, she avoids her peers whenever possible. But she’s also protecting her secret: Though Maddy passes as white, she’s actually biracial. Her fanatically religious father forces her to hide her Blackness, supposedly to protect her, while also hiding the truth about Maddy’s mother from her. 

When an unexpected rainstorm causes Maddy’s perfectly straightened hair to revert to its natural state, the bullying that follows is caught on video. The footage goes viral, painting an ugly portrait of a former sundown town where Black residents are still expected to follow archaic, unspoken rules, such as attending a separate, segregated prom—even in 2014. In response to the negative attention, several students start planning Springville’s first integrated prom, unaware that they’ll lay the groundwork for a night that will never be forgotten—but for very different reasons than they expect, because Maddy has another secret, and after the devastation occurs, all the survivors can say is “Maddy did it.”

Inspired by the real-life town of Rochelle, Georgia, which held its first integrated prom in 2013, The Weight of Blood is an unflinching indictment of racism and cruelty in the Deep South. Critically acclaimed author Tiffany D. Jackson has described her seventh YA novel as a “remix of Carrie,” and The Weight of Blood follows much of Stephen King’s horror classic beat for beat. But Jackson’s sophisticated framing elevates her book from a basic retelling to a brilliant de- and reconstruction.

One of Jackson’s most significant talents is her refusal to talk down to her readers. She offers no concessions or apologies in her portrayal of the chokehold of small-town racism. Take, for instance, Kenny Scott, Springville High’s Black all-star quarterback, who brushes off his friends’ racist jokes to keep the peace, even as Kenny’s sister, Kali, reads Ta-Nehisi Coates and tries to get through to her brother. Jackson highlights the quiet insidiousness of racism through Kenny’s white girlfriend, Wendy, who doesn’t understand her own prejudices or privileges. Jackson also portrays racism at its most violent through cruel pranks played by Wendy’s best friend, Julia, and through acts of brutality from white police officers.

Although The Weight of Blood is Maddy’s story, much of the novel happens around her rather than with her. Jackson circumnavigates the horrors of Maddy’s life via newspaper clippings, testimonies and a true crime podcast investigating Maddy’s case. In the rare moments that the reader spends alone with Maddy, the mystery of her life only grows denser and more shrouded, and even readers intimately familiar with Carrie will be on tenterhooks as they wait to discover how Jackson twists the story’s most infamous moments—and twist she does. The Weight of Blood seizes readers quickly and never lets go. Long after the sirens have quieted and its fires have burned to ash, its heat lingers.

The Getaway

Jay Butler and his family live in Karloff Country, a massive amusement park known as “the funnest place around.” Selected to be part of the lucky few who live and work in one of the park’s residences, the Butlers are safe from the ongoing climate disaster and societal collapse outside the compound’s walls. Jay and his friends Connie and Zeke live in the Jubilee neighborhood, but the final member of their friend group, Chelle Karloff, the biracial daughter of Blythe Karloff and the heir to her hateful grandfather’s massive fortune, lives a life of uneasy privilege on her family’s estate. 

The Karloffs—wealthy, white and seemingly progressive—have promised to provide a good life for the families under their proverbial roof. Though Chelle makes her distaste for her mother’s performative “wokeness” clear and her friends agree with her assessment, everyone is grateful to live inside Karloff Country’s protective walls, and no one scrutinizes anything too closely—until families begin to go missing. Soon, shady rumors of conspiracies become reality. When the park’s trustees arrive, no one is safe, least of all its Black and brown residents. As a place that once represented security becomes a cage to be escaped, time is running out before Karloff Country’s gates close—forever.

Author Lamar Giles began his career with YA thrillers such as Fake ID and Endangered. He returns to the genre with his sixth YA novel, The Getaway, which is sure to garner well-deserved comparison to Jordan Peele’s masterpiece psychological thriller Get Out. Much like Peele’s film, The Getaway exists in a strange limbo. Its story is simultaneously propulsive and meandering, and Giles smartly utilizes Jay’s “go along to get along” attitude to create and dispel tension. Jay is the archetypical frog in boiling water who frequently doesn’t notice danger until it’s too late. Brief interludes from Zeke’s, Connie’s and Chelle’s perspectives act like security cameras, providing new perspectives at new angles and sightlines into previously hidden corners. 

Though the book’s pacing and plot twists occasionally get away from him, Giles crafts a story that’s difficult to look away from. He uses classic thriller tropes such as disturbing amusement park mascots to great effect, creating an atmosphere of creeping dread, and artfully juxtaposes the artificial brightness of Karloff Country against scenes of graphic violence.

Giles’ only misstep is the subtlety with which he depicts the true nature of the park’s politics. Although he heavily implies that people of color are the true targets of the Karloffs’ cruel plans and many teen readers will read between the lines, others may need more clarity to understand the entirety of Giles’ large, extended metaphor. Regardless, The Getaway is an excellent addition to the quickly growing canon of YA social horror novels. 

The Gathering Dark

Something lurks in the shadows of the trees. An ancient being stirs. The dead are restless and hungry. A house carries a curse in its walls. A town echoes with whispered legends of burned girls. Enter the realm of folk horror with The Gathering Dark, an anthology edited by YA author Tori Bovalino and featuring original stories from Erica Waters, Chloe Gong, Hannah Whitten, Allison Saft, Olivia Chadha, Courtney Gould, Aden Polydoros, Alex Brown, Shakira Toussaint and Bovalino herself.

Folk horror has long been a controversial horror subgenre, as it often relies on disorientation and ambiguity to build a sense of terror. Its monsters creep through the dark but do not always make themselves known, so catharsis is not easily granted. These types of stories explore themes of memory, tradition and what we sometimes leave buried inside—which, for many readers, hits uncomfortably close to home. 

Fans of atmospheric, folkloric horror like Krystal Sutherland’s House of Hollow, Claire Legrand’s Sawkill Girls and Brenna Yovanoff’s The Replacement will find their niche in The Gathering Dark. Among the collection’s best stories are Hannah Whitten’s “One Lane Bridge,” a masterclass in rising tension. Its terror stems not only from eldritch beings in the woods but also from the cruel ways friends can hurt each other without even trying. Erica Waters’ “Stay” introduces a lonely girl who tends to the graves of her family, while Allison Saft’s haunting “Ghost on the Shore” explores the nightmare of unresolved grief and loss without closure.

As with many anthologies, the collection is somewhat unbalanced in terms of quality. Some of the stories are a tad too obvious to be frightening or rush toward their climax without ample buildup. But the standout stories leave their mark. For teens who grew up reading Alvin Schwartz’s iconic Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, The Gathering Dark will be the perfect shivery autumnal read. 

Warning: These terrifying YA novels may be accompanied by goosebumps, a feeling of lurking unease and a desire to sleep with the lights on. The only known remedy? Keep reading.
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Ray is a seer, but instead of visions of what’s to come, she sees the truth of the present—the way things really are. Her rare ability has made her a pragmatist and a realist, but it’s also left her lonely. Ray believes her ability precludes her from forming close relationships, so she avoids physical contact and romantic endeavors. Instead, her goal is to become a member of the Council, the ruling body of the magical world, so she can use her gift to help others and eventually learn to see the future. When she needs a break, Ray slips into her favorite bakery, a place where emotions are magically baked into every sweet treat.

Laurie desperately wants to be a musician. Between unsuccessful auditions, he works at his aunt’s bakery, smiling at the cute girl who comes in every day for tea and a pastry. Masking his own insecurities and grief with that smile, Laurie strikes up an easy friendship with Ray, which soon gives way to flirtation and the possibility of a deeper connection. For the first time, Ray wants to give romance a shot, but if she joins the Council, she’ll be erased from the memories of everyone she knows and loves. Does dedicating her life to helping others mean giving up on her own dreams?

The web comic that would become Crumbs saw massive popularity on the online comics platform WebToon before being acquired for publication, and it’s easy to see why. Danie Stirling offers a warm and lightly fantastical slice-of-life tale about choosing your path. As Laurie and Ray navigate their new relationship, they must also traverse the nebulous transition to adulthood and the many choices that come with it.

Stirling’s art style is sweet and fluffy, all rounded edges and soft lighting. Though it’s not a manga aesthetic, the characters’ expressiveness and frequently glittering eyes will resonate with anime fans. The illustrations exude as much warmth as the story, with subtle visual renderings of magic that become sweet garnishes atop a richer cake. 

Crumbs’ cozy vibes will attract fans of Suzanne Walker and Wendy Xu’s Mooncakes, but its emotional complexity will keep them turning the pages. Within the narrative framework of a rom-com, Stirling has written a poignant book about the danger of putting others’ happiness before your own, the burnout that can come from idealism and working in public service, and the realization that no one is ever given a single path to follow. As Ray learns to summon visions of the future, she must also learn to see them for what they are: potential futures in a universe of limitless possibilities. 

Danie Stirling’s debut graphic novel is a cozy, poignant and lightly fantastical story about protecting your happiness and choosing your path in life.

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