David Hopen’s ambitious debut novel combines the religiously observant world of Chaim Potok’s books with the academic hothouse of Donna Tartt’s The Secret History and F. Scott Fitzgerald’s observations of the rich and privileged.

The Orchard follows a year in the life of 17-year-old Aryeh Eden after his family moves from an insular Orthodox community in Brooklyn to a wealthy Florida suburb. A senior in high school and completely unprepared for the process of college applications, Aryeh enrolls at an elite Jewish school with a student body so entitled that his classmates plan to drive their luxury cars straight to their preferred Ivy League campuses. Aryeh is befriended by golden boy Noah and his group of privileged friends, including stoner Oliver and competitive Amir. Their constant drug use, partying and sexual activity is as alluring to Aryeh as it is disturbing. Aryeh is especially drawn to Sophia, whose sad-eyed glamour holds a myriad of secrets, not least of which involve her old boyfriend Evan, a charismatic bad boy whose transgressions are constantly overlooked by the school even when his antics escalate and become life-threatening.

Weekly meetings with school headmaster Rabbi Bloom offers opportunities for the thoughtful Aryeh to explore deeper issues in Jewish scripture and philosophy, but it doesn’t compare with the secular pleasures on offer, and he finds himself repeatedly drawn in to dangerous situations.

Though Hopen is tuned in to Aryeh’s toxic mix of advanced intellectual abilities and low self-esteem, the novel suffers from underdeveloped female characters who exist as unattainable objects rather than individuals with plans and dreams of their own. In addition, the thorny philosophical debates held by Aryeh and his male friends lack the subtlety needed to make fictional events seem possible.

Acknowledging these considerable shortcomings, The Orchard is still a suspenseful novel with a brisk pace and a surprising outcome. Thoughtful depictions of the range of religious experience and practice make it a singular addition to the world of Jewish fiction as well as a notable variation on the classic campus novel.

Many novels aim for the soul or search for the meaning of life, but Ellen Cooney’s poetic 10th novel gets to the heart of the matter with more informal candor and wit than most.

Due to budget cuts at the medical center where she works as chaplain, the unnamed narrator of One Night Two Souls Went Walking has been relegated to the night shift. As the day-dreaming, frizzy-haired youngest of a large, sporty family, the chaplain is used to standing out and keeping oddball company. For a while, she was accompanied on her visits with patients and families by Bobo Boy, a rescue mutt turned therapy dog. But Bobo Boy has died, and now a new dog joins her on nocturnal visits both real and extraordinary.

One Night Two Souls Went Walking is a stroll and a meander, following the errant trail of the chaplain’s questions: What is a soul? What is holy? The chaplain’s meetings with people who are injured or dying reveal a host of varied answers, and the narrative slips between characters’ stories as easily as a shadow glides along a wall.

The novel reads like a diary confession, its casual writing style studded with pop culture references and exclamatory asides. As patients open up to the chaplain, she in turn opens up about her family, love life and dreams, engendering in readers the same open, gentle manner with which she ministers.

If the book has a climax, it is a mysterious trip taken by the chaplain and the dog during an influx in the emergency room. Cooney’s novel expands the concept of what’s possible, imagining hope where there is none and pointing always toward the light.