Stephenie Harrison

California dreaming turns into a living nightmare in Liska Jacobs’ dark and electrifying debut novel, Catalina.

When Elsa Fisher is fired from her job as an assistant at MoMA (where she also just happened to be having an affair with her very married boss), she pushes the eject button on her crumbling life in New York and flees to her sunny Southern California home. There, she soon learns that the old adage “wherever you go, there you are” proves to be infuriatingly true: Despite the change in location and the self-medication via a constant stream of benzodiazepines (stolen from her mother) and copious amounts of alcohol (paid for with her rapidly dwindling severance package), Elsa can’t seem to fully escape her demons or permanently dull the pain of her present predicament. Instead, she decides to fully commit to her downward spiral, consequences be damned. Wondering just how far she can fall, Elsa embarks with a group of old friends on a hedonistic trip to Catalina island, where she discovers just how dark rock bottom can be and her self-destructive spree risks ruining more lives than just her own.

Rich with a prickling sense of menace, Catalina is an intoxicating psychological thriller that will set readers on edge from page one. As we follow our pill-popping antiheroine on her bad-behavior bender, Jacobs adeptly infuses the narrative with a mounting sense of unease and apprehension as Elsa’s barely contained rage and resentment becomes ever more apparent and her actions become increasingly erratic. It’s clear from the start that Catalina isn’t a fairy tale and there will be no happy ending, yet Elsa’s ultimate unraveling—as she is taken from breaking point to broken—still manages to feel astonishing and devastating. Although Elsa’s ultimate goal seems to be to numb her feelings, Jacobs has produced a book that achieves exactly the opposite: It provokes and perturbs, and will leave its readers incredibly unsettled.

California dreaming turns into a living nightmare in Liska Jacobs’ dark and electrifying debut novel, Catalina.

In her new novel, The Salt Line, Holly Goddard Jones welcomes readers to a horrifying vision of a not-so-distant future in which a virulent species of disease-carrying ticks has divided the United States into factions. The well-off find themselves safe and secure “in zone”—behind a menacing wall known as the Salt Line that is meant to keep people locked in and danger out. Only a few thrill-seekers dare venture outside the protection of the Salt Line, signing up for pricey wilderness expeditions that take those with the courage (and the cash) beyond the walled zones to get a taste of America’s remaining purple mountain majesties. Those who return from the excursions promise that it’s the experience of a lifetime, but for one group of travelers, their trek beyond the Salt Line tests their survival skills in ways they never imagined. And it’s more than just the killer ticks; their voyage causes them to question which side of the wall is truly the most dangerous.

Terrifying and bold, The Salt Line is a character-driven thriller with shocking plot twists, jaw-dropping revelations and splashes of horror, sci-fi and romance. Key characters include a pop star and his girlfriend, the young inventor of a financial app and a housewife with veiled intentions. In beautiful turns of phrase that will make readers’ hearts flutter and skin crawl in equal measure, Jones ratchets up the tension with perfect pacing and vivid descriptions of terrible (and terribly sad) experiences. Jones’ unique riff on dystopian fiction as a platform for examining present-day concerns like climate change, immigration, technology and fundamental human rights offers plenty of surprises, but the most disarming aspect of The Salt Line is the unexpected tenderness expressed by its fully fleshed out, complicated characters who are fighting not just for their lives but for their very humanity.

More than just a high-octane, speculative survivalist tale, The Salt Line is also a powerful meditation on humanity’s fragility and resilience.

 

This article was originally published in the September 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

More than just a high-octane, speculative survivalist tale, The Salt Line is also a powerful meditation on humanity’s fragility and resilience.

For fans of speculative fiction looking for a book that can go toe-to-toe with The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood’s classic about female oppression and rebellion, look no further: Jennie Melamed’s chilling debut, Gather the Daughters, is the dazzling dystopian narrative you seek.

Spanning a year in the lives of four girls, Gather the Daughters hurls readers deep into the heart of a fringe island community that was founded when modern civilization collapsed and the mainland devolved into a burning wasteland. Theirs is a deeply patriarchal society, where the birth of a daughter is met with tears and girls are taught at a very young age to obey and serve their fathers in preparation for their summer of “fruition,” when they are married off and begin producing children. On the brink of womanhood, our four female protagonists are loath to accept their fate. When one of the girls witnesses an act so horrific it defies comprehension, they decide to challenge the dogma that has ruled for decades. Determined and courageous, the girls begin to question what they have been told, demanding answers and explanations, even if it means ripping asunder the very fabric of their community in the process.

Brutal and bold, Gather the Daughters is beguiling but not for the tenderhearted; its vision of the future is grim, and the realities daughters and wives face are undeniably harsh. For a first-time novelist, Melamed displays remarkable restraint and confidence, masterfully drawing out the mysteries of the island so that the girls’ sense of unease and confusion is perfectly mirrored by readers. The gradual reveal about what is really going is suspenseful and satisfying, and Melamed narrates the tale in dreamy, lyrical prose that provides a heightened contrast to the nightmarish aspects of the girls’ reality. Chilling in tone and fearless in its storytelling, Gather the Daughters is a fierce, feminist battle cry.

For fans of speculative fiction looking for a book that can go toe-to-toe with The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood’s classic about female oppression and rebellion, look no further: Jennie Melamed’s chilling debut, Gather the Daughters, is the dazzling dystopian narrative you seek.

In 2013, Edward Kelsey Moore introduced an indomitable and unforgettable trio of headstrong African-American women in his bestselling debut, The Supremes at Earl’s All-You-Can-Eat. Lifelong best friends Odette, Clarice and Barbara Jean—known collectively as the Supremes—won the hearts of readers worldwide as they navigated life’s ups and downs with grit and good humor. After four years, fans will jump for joy that Moore’s long-awaited sequel is finally here.

In fictional Plainview, Indiana, life hasn’t changed much for our heroines since we last left them: Odette and her husband still have a rock-solid marriage; Barbara Jean and her high school sweetheart are enjoying a second chance at love; and Clarice is experiencing a welcome renaissance in both her marriage and her concert pianist aspirations. The three women still meet for their weekly post-church catch-up lunch at Earl’s diner, and it seems that after the tumult of the previous novel, they’ve found their grooves and are sailing through their golden years. All this changes, however, when Clarice’s mother falls madly in love with the owner of the local blues joint/gentlemen’s club/general house of ill repute (much to the bemusement—and amusement—of the town). Their wedding brings home legendary bluesman El Walker, even though he swore decades earlier he’d never return to Plainview. El’s performance at the wedding is the calm before a truly epic storm that rips open tender wounds from the past and catches the Supremes and their families in its terrible wake.

Like its predecessor, The Supremes Sing the Happy Heartache Blues is an uplifting read that tugs at readers’ heartstrings and elicits enthusiastic chuckles in equal measure. Moore masterfully balances sorrow and humor, scandal and earnestness, to create a soul-nourishing narrative that entertains and captures life’s richness. With a colorful cast of characters and touching meditations on family, faith, love and loss, this sparkling sequel will satisfy fans while welcoming new ones to the fold with open arms.

 

This article was originally published in the July 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In 2013, Edward Kelsey Moore introduced an indomitable and unforgettable trio of headstrong African-American women in his bestselling debut, The Supremes at Earl’s All-You-Can-Eat. Lifelong best friends Odette, Clarice and Barbara Jean—known collectively as the Supremes—won the hearts of readers worldwide as they navigated life’s ups and downs with grit and good humor. After four years, fans will jump for joy that Moore’s long-awaited sequel is finally here.

If good things come in small packages, then Weike Wang’s first novel, Chemistry, is a very good thing indeed. Featuring a struggling scientist and the collapse of her professional and romantic lives, Wang’s short and bittersweet debut packs a devastating emotional wallop despite its slender size.

Chemistry takes readers on a no-holds-barred trip into the dark and choppy waters of a woman’s skeptical mind as it does battle with her heart. When we first meet our anonymous narrator, she is several years into her graduate studies in chemistry only to find her enthusiasm for the subject flagging as her experiments fail to produce publishable results, much to the consternation of her advisor and the exasperation of her austere Chinese parents. Her private life proves no source of comfort, as she and her live-in boyfriend have entered an uneasy standoff due to her reluctance to accept his repeated marriage proposals. When a beaker-fueled breakdown at the lab leads to an indefinite leave of absence and her boyfriend accepts a faculty position in another state, it seems the narrator has finally hit rock bottom. She soon realizes, however, that her downward spiral is only beginning and that the second law of thermodynamics—that systems tend toward chaos—applies not only in the lab but also to life.

Reminiscent of Jenny Offill’s Dept. of Speculation, Chemistry is an intimate and insightful novel that reads more like a memoir than it does fiction, so honest is its portrayal of its central character’s rich internal life. Wang’s own background in academia is an asset, adding authority and veracity to the protagonist and her world. Unafraid to explore the fallibility and foibles of our narrator, Wang exposes and probes her neuroses and insecurities with pithy and precise prose, capably blending in moments of wry comedy and absurd observations that keep things from ever getting too bleak. Emotionally exacting and daring, Chemistry is an astonishing and assured debut from one of fiction’s most exciting new voices.

If good things come in small packages, then Weike Wang’s first novel, Chemistry, is a very good thing indeed. Featuring a struggling scientist and the collapse of her professional and romantic lives, Wang’s short and bittersweet debut packs a devastating emotional wallop despite its slender size.

You don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce the inspiration behind the title of Rakesh Satyal’s second novel, No One Can Pronounce My Name. Having grown up with a name that can be a tongue twister for white Americans, Satyal understands the bewilderment and frustration of his Indian-American characters all too well. Drawing on his own experiences in Middle America, Satyal follows up his award-winning debut, Blue Boy, with an extraordinarily compassionate work of fiction.

Taking readers into the suburbs of Ohio, Satyal chooses an otherwise unremarkable setting to tell a story that is anything but. He introduces us to Harit, a middle-aged bachelor who ineptly works in a department store by day and dresses up in his deceased sister’s sari at night. We also meet Ranjana, a stifled mother who secretly reads romantic thrillers and dreams of publishing her own stories while worrying her husband is having an affair. Finally, there is Prashant, a Princeton student who is struggling with unrequited longing for an Indian classmate, not to mention his desire to switch his major from chemistry to English literature, but he fears disappointing his parents.

At first, these three strangers’ stories are separate, united only by the common thread of their mutual isolation. Geography, race and culture alienate them from the people around them, but even worse, it has estranged them from their own selves. However, their paths gradually intersect, resulting in relationships that force them to throw open the shutters on their sheltered lives and hearts.

Ambitious in scope, No One Can Pronounce My Name dares to tackle life’s biggest questions, irrespective of nationality. Through a successful blend of pathos and humor, Satyal bravely explores themes of intimacy, identity and sexuality, asking his characters—and his readers—to closely examine the inalienable qualities that make us all human. With emotionally charged prose, he masterfully depicts the modern-day immigrant experience in a manner that is both deeply personal and universally relatable, transforming the foreign into the familiar.

 

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read a Q&A with Rakesh Satyal for No One Can Pronounce My Name.

This article was originally published in the May 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Drawing on his own experiences in Middle America, Rakesh Satyal follows up his award-winning debut, Blue Boy, with an extraordinarily compassionate work of fiction.

Who has more lives than a cat and the bullet scars to prove it? That would be Samuel Hawley, the fascinatingly complicated and morally dubious titular character of Hannah Tinti’s gorgeous and gut-wrenching new novel, The Twelve Lives of Samuel Hawley.

Having escaped more than his fair share of criminal capers by little more than the skin of his teeth, Hawley has spent most of his life on the lam, pulling up stakes and starting over with his daughter, Loo, whenever a job goes poorly. But when Loo turns 12, Hawley decides a little stability might serve her well and moves them to Olympus, Massachusetts, the small coastal village where Loo’s dead mother spent her girlhood. As the two perennial outsiders cautiously become part of a community, the past that Hawley has spent so long running from begins to close in on them. Loo’s adolescent misadventures are interspersed with histories of the dozen bullet wounds that decorate Hawley’s body, the narrative nimbly flitting between past and present day until the two timelines merge in a deadly and devastating climax.

Cinematic in its scope, this expansive novel confidently dwells in the murky liminal spaces of human morality while exploring enduring topics of time, death, love and grief. Tinti has created a darkly daring (yet oddly uplifting) book that serves as a beguiling study in contrasts and contradictions, one that will leave readers pondering the conundrum of whether her protagonist is a good man who has done bad things or a bad man who has done good things. Expertly infusing old-fashioned storytelling with a modern sensibility, Tinti blends spaghetti Western, literary suspense and mythology to great success.

 

This article was originally published in the April 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Who has more lives than a cat and the bullet scars to prove it? That would be Samuel Hawley, the fascinatingly complicated and morally dubious titular character of Hannah Tinti’s gorgeous and gut-wrenching new novel, The Twelve Lives of Samuel Hawley.

When it comes to oddball families, no author puts the “fun” in “dysfunctional” quite like Kevin Wilson. Having previously explored the indelible influences of nature and nurture in his cheeky debut, The Family Fang, Wilson wades deeper into the complexities of child-rearing and family life in Perfect Little World.

Pregnant by her emotionally unstable high school art teacher, Izzy Poole finds herself facing single motherhood at the ripe old age of 18. So when Izzy meets Dr. Preston Grind, a child psychologist who tells her a study he’s launching will cover all of Izzy and her child’s needs as well as provide them with a built-in family, it seems like a dream come true. The only catch? Izzy must cohabitate with nine other families for 10 years and agree to co-parent and love their children as though they were her own. Reasoning that if two parents are better than one, 20 must be even more of an advantage, Izzy agrees.

In light and lively prose that practically tap dances on the page, Wilson shrewdly probes the intricate tensions and machinations that lie at the core of this eccentric family unit. Throughout the narrative, there is the ever-increasing sense that all families—like all systems—are ultimately trending towards chaos, yet Wilson’s story is infused with a tenderhearted hopefulness. For fans of whimsical family dramas and character-driven novels, Perfect Little World is a provocative and uplifting read.

 

This article was originally published in the February 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

When it comes to oddball families, no author puts the “fun” in “dysfunctional” quite like Kevin Wilson. Having previously explored the indelible influences of nature and nurture in his cheeky debut, The Family Fang, Wilson wades deeper into the complexities of child-rearing and family life in Perfect Little World.

BookPage Fiction Top Pick, January 2017

While much of the world watched the Gulf War play out from the safety of their homes, Derek B. Miller found himself smack-dab in the middle of the action as an American university student studying abroad in Israel in the early 1990s. Now, with The Girl in Green, the award-winning writer (Norwegian by Night) returns to the conflict in Iraq in a darkly comic thriller that lays bare the absurdities of war.

It’s 1991, and the Gulf War has officially ended, but Arwood Hobbes, an American solider, is stationed at a sleepy outpost 100 miles from the Kuwaiti border. He is approached by Thomas Benton, a British journalist keen to visit an off-limits town; reckless from boredom, Hobbes allows Benton to pass. The off-base excursion, however, ends in tragedy when both he and Hobbes are forced to watch the cold-blooded killing of a young girl dressed in green.

Flash-forward to 2013: In the midst of a different war taking place in Iraq, Benton receives a call from Hobbes. A girl with an uncanny resemblance to the teenager they watched die 22 years earlier has shown up in a viral video of a mortar attack, and Hobbes thinks she has survived. As impossible and ill-fated as this mission seems, neither man can pass up a second chance to atone for a failure that has haunted them for decades.

A modern masterpiece, The Girl in Green taps into the same satirical vein as Joseph Heller’s war classic, Catch-22, as the two mismatched protagonists set out on a quixotic quest for redemption. Miller, who wrote his Ph.D. dissertation on the Iraqi war and has worked for the United Nations in disarmament policy, is well qualified to explore the tangled political, bureaucratic, cultural and religious issues at play in the Middle East. His tongue-in-cheek candor brings much-needed levity to the proceedings, making the difficult subject matter relatable and engaging. Bursting with humanity and humor, The Girl in Green is heartbreaking and hopeful in equal measures, delivering nail-biting suspense while bringing readers into the heart of the conflict in Iraq.

RELATED CONTENT: Read our Q&A with Derek B. Miller.

This article was originally published in the January 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

 

With The Girl in Green, an award-winning writer (Norwegian by Night) explores the conflict in Iraq in a darkly comic thriller that lays bare the absurdities of war.

In 16th-century Italy, where goodness and beauty are believed to go hand in hand, blemishes on the skin are seen as physical manifestations of the state of one’s soul. So when Flavia is born with a lurid birthmark across her face, the girl is viewed as an object of horror. After years of rejection, on the eve of her sister’s wedding Flavia snaps and does something so terrible that she is banished to a convent. 

Here her path crosses with Ghostanza, a woman whose otherworldly beauty inspires reverence in women and men alike. She claims Flavia as her ornatrix (a lady’s maid), schooling her in the art of Renaissance-era beauty regimens and cosmetics. However, Ghostanza’s tutelage goes much deeper, teaching Flavia that physical perfection carries a hefty price. 

By drawing sly parallels between Flavia’s world and our own, debut novelist Kate Howard demonstrates that unattainable beauty standards are hardly new. But Howard’s true genius lies in her skillful interweaving of themes of beauty, self-acceptance and artifice versus authenticity into an immersive story. The meticulous research and rich world-building place Howard alongside masters of the genre like Sarah Dunant and Tracy Chevalier (though Howard isn’t afraid to take readers down more ominous paths). If the idea of The Picture of Dorian Gray with feminist leanings gives you a thrill, then The Ornatrix is for you.

 

This article was originally published in the December 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In 16th-century Italy, where goodness and beauty are believed to go hand in hand, blemishes on the skin are seen as physical manifestations of the state of one’s soul. So when Flavia is born with a lurid birthmark across her face, the girl is viewed as an object of horror. After years of rejection, on the eve of her sister’s wedding Flavia snaps and does something so terrible that she is banished to a convent.

BookPage Top Pick in Fiction, October 2016

It may be no coincidence that the female protagonists of Brit Bennett’s remarkable debut are 17 at the start of the story: This was Bennett’s age when she first began writing The Mothers. Now, after nearly a decade of work, Bennett has completed a mature and moving masterpiece about the indelible bond between mothers and daughters and what it means for motherless girls to grow into women.

We meet Nadia Turner during her senior year of high school. It should be a time of excitement and anticipation, but Nadia is reeling from her mother’s recent suicide. She attempts to dull her pain through various acts of rebellion, including a romance with the pastor’s son, Luke. Their fling turns serious, however, when Nadia discovers she is pregnant, and their decision about how to handle her condition will shape the lives of Luke, Nadia and her religious best friend, Aubrey, in ways none of them can imagine. As the years pass, despite their collective efforts to move on, Nadia’s secret forms an inescapable anchor to the past. The aftershocks of her choice—and the nagging question of what might have been—continue to haunt the trio, threatening to unravel their friendship and shake the foundations of their tight-knit black community in Southern California.

Sharply observed and written in soul-searing prose, The Mothers is a powerful first novel that isn’t afraid to tackle tough issues, taking a hard look at family, friendship, grief and growing up. In a de facto Greek chorus, the united voice of the elderly church mothers in the community who have seen it all narrate the proceedings, punctuating events with their wise and wistful insights. Bennett’s writing is ripe with emotion and empathy, but she exhibits impressive restraint, never veering into melodrama. Moreover, her inspired juxtaposition of Nadia and Audrey—how their mothers have each wounded them in different but equally damaging ways, how they attempt to make themselves whole and compensate for their losses, how they each choose to emulate or reject their mothers in turn—is fascinating, and perfect fodder for lively book club discussions. Filled with compassionate storytelling and unforgettable characters, The Mothers is a provocative introduction to a talented new author.

 

This article was originally published in the October 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

RELATED CONTENT: Read a Q&A with Brit Bennett about The Mothers.

It may be no coincidence that the female protagonists of Brit Bennett’s remarkable debut are 17 at the start of the story: This was Bennett’s age when she first began writing The Mothers. Now, after nearly a decade of work, Bennett has completed a mature and moving masterpiece about the indelible bond between mothers and daughters.

A cursory peek into his backlist reveals that there is no such thing as a “typical” Colson Whitehead novel. Having tackled everything from post-apocalyptic zombie horror to jocular coming-of-age shenanigans in the Hamptons, this prizewinning author seems to have the philosophy that big risk equals big reward. So it should come as no surprise that The Underground Railroad, his sixth novel, is not only his most daring but also his very best—and most important—book to date. It’s also the latest selection of Oprah’s Book Club.

In The Underground Railroad, Whitehead dives into the past for the first time, transporting readers back to pre-Civil War America and the plantations of the South. We are introduced to Cora, a third-generation slave in Georgia who has never set foot off her master’s property and for whom the idea of fleeing is unthinkable—that is, until a fellow slave, Caesar, approaches her about hitching a ride on the rumored Underground Railroad to the North. With a ruthless slave catcher hot on their heels, they embark on a perilous journey through America in search of a freedom that feels increasingly elusive.

A sly reframing of Gulliver’s Travels within the traditional black slave narrative, The Underground Railroad is an arresting tale that puts Whitehead’s imagination and intelligence on full display. His inspired decision to have Cora adventure through the South by means of a literal subterranean locomotive suffuses the narrative with a fable-like quality, but Whitehead’s overall approach is far from whimsical. Throughout her journey, Cora is confronted with some of the most disgraceful facets of the period, from eugenics programs to the Fugitive Slave Act, and the narrative is frequently grim.

Whitehead exercises his artistic license, deviating from the historical record to create an augmented reality. But his skillful balancing of intellect and fact with emotion and highly nuanced storytelling only makes the meditation on the insidious values that allow prejudice and brutality to continue to flourish all the more indelible. Chilling in its timeliness, The Underground Railroad is a devastating  literary masterpiece that should be considered required reading.

 

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our interview with Colson Whitehead on The Underground Railroad.

This daring modern masterpiece is the BookPage Fiction Top Pick, September 2016.

BookPage Fiction Top Pick, August 2016

Magical realism may most frequently be associated with Latin-American literature, but Pulitzer Prize finalist Eowyn Ivey (The Snow Child) has proven that the technique works equally well in novels set in distinctly chillier locales. Her second novel, To the Bright Edge of the World, is a spellbinding tale of adventure that blends myth and historical fiction and takes readers into the heart of the untamed wilderness of the Alaskan frontier.

Told through private diary entries, newspaper clippings, government reports, personal letters and more, the patchwork-quilt narrative results in a fully immersive reading experience that draws readers deep into 19th-century Alaska. It’s 1885, and Lieutenant Colonel Allen Forrester has been asked by the U.S. government to travel north along the Wolverine River and survey the surrounding land and its peoples. Along with a small company of soldiers, Allen embarks on a grueling foray into an unforgiving terrain. His reports detail the harsh conditions the group experiences and are firmly grounded in this world; however, his journal and letters to his wife, Sophie, shed a different light on the events, describing encounters with the local indigenous people that have a decidedly supernatural bent. The deeper his team moves into the Alaskan backcountry, the more the wilderness exposes their own primal natures. Meanwhile, feeling stifled by the small-minded community back home, Sophie embarks on her own journey of self-discovery.

Filled with love, loss, grief and joy, To the Bright Edge of the World is a cracking adventure that pulses with emotional power and a brutal kind of beauty. Though the story is filled with tender correspondence between Allen and Sophie, the book itself stands as a love letter from Ivey to her home state: Even at their most harrowing, her descriptions of Alaska’s sweeping wilds are breathtaking and evocative. With rich prose, compelling characters and elegant storytelling, To the Bright Edge of the World brings history and folklore to life in a visceral and utterly beguiling way.

 

This article was originally published in the August 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Magical realism may most frequently be associated with Latin-American literature, but Pulitzer Prize finalist Eowyn Ivey (The Snow Child) has proven that the technique works equally well in novels set in distinctly chillier locales. Her second novel, To the Bright Edge of the World, is a spellbinding tale of adventure that blends myth and historical fiction and takes readers into the heart of the untamed wilderness of the Alaskan frontier.

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