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My first novel, When Angels Left the Old Country, takes a historical story that’s familiar to many Americans—immigration through Ellis Island around the turn of the 20th century—and casts it as a fairy tale inspired by Jewish folklore. I knew I couldn’t repeat the same setting for my next work. A second book is always challenging, and there was a lot of pressure in following a debut that received six(!) awards and honors. For a fresh start I chose a story that still draws on Jewish folklore and history, but was constrained within a single invented town, at a less familiar moment in history.

The Forbidden Book is a supernatural murder mystery set in the 1870s, before the great wave of migration that began circa 1880 out of the Pale of Settlement, the region where Jews were allowed permanent residency under the restrictions of the Russian Empire. At this time Jewish books were highly censored, but there was a growing political consciousness, and a growing desire for education among Jewish women. The communities of Eastern Europe were subject to a whirlwind of forces on the sides of both tradition and change. I researched the period using historical works such as Michael Stanislawski’s Murder in Lemberg, which explores the attempted poisoning of a Reform rabbi by another Jew in the mid-1800s. Working within this setting allowed me to emphasize Jewish agency with a story whose actors are nearly all Jewish, and are all acting in the interests of their community—but are in conflict about what those interests are.

The Forbidden Book is also a dybbuk story. The dybbuk is usually described as the spirit of a deceased person that can possess the living and speak through them. As in the case of S. An-sky’s 1920 play The Dybbuk (perhaps the most famous work of Yiddish theater), traditional dybbuk stories have a gendered aspect. Many of them describe young women possessed by male spirits, sometimes male Torah scholars, which allowed young women constrained by patriarchy to access male authority while speaking in the voice of the possessor. My protagonist, Sorel, is a young girl who escapes her unwanted marriage under a male identity, only to discover the name she’s using belongs to a real boy—and using his name has plunged her into the midst of a complex web of intrigues.

Sorel and her dybbuk, Isser, have to work together to solve the mystery of his death and prevent a supernatural calamity. At the same time, each is negotiating their relationship with Kalman Senderovitch (who is Sorel’s father and Isser’s father figure), and Isser helps Sorel learn what she truly wants from her life. The personal narrative, augmented by spooky encounters with Angels of Death and sinister black dogs, is intended to help draw my teen audience through the story of censorship, feminism and social activism. I hope that the universal themes of friendship, family and self-expression will introduce readers to a new chapter in history and a very human view of the Jewish past.

Set in the Pale of Settlement, The Forbidden Book is a dybbuk story that explores gender and censorship towards the end of the 19th century.
Interview by

Sabaa Tahir’s Heir kicks off a duology taking place 20 years after the events of her bestselling An Ember in the Ashes series. Heir follows Aiz, a lowborn orphan seeking vengeance; Sirsha, an exiled tracker who takes on a dangerous job; and Quil, the reluctant heir to the throne who faces a threat to his empire. Despite their vastly different backgrounds, all three cross paths as they grapple with a mysterious force committing horrific crimes throughout the land.

What led you to revisit the world of An Ember in the Ashes? Did anything in particular spark the creation of this new duology?

It was really working on the last book of the Ember quartet, A Sky Beyond the Storm, that had me asking questions about one character in particular: the future Emperor. That’s how Heir began, back in 2020. By that point, I’d spent 13 years in the Ember world and planned everything for the characters of the first series. Imagine my surprise when I realized that I didn’t know everything about this world, nor did I know everything about my characters. It made for a very unexpected writing experience!

“I want the conflicts and conversations and victories and heartbreaks and emotions, most of all, to feel real and believable.”

Heir can be read as a standalone, so readers new to the AEITA world won’t have a problem keeping up. But returning fans will be delighted by some callbacks to the original series: What are you most excited for them to encounter in this book?  

I’m excited for all the little Easter eggs I’ve left in the book for them, but I don’t want to spoil the book by giving them away! I’m also very excited for them to meet this new generation of characters, who have their own journeys and stories to share.

What was it like to weave together the complex storylines of Aiz, Sirsha and Quil? 

Complicated. I knew how I wanted them to intersect, but without giving anything away, I’ll say that Aiz’s storyline in particular posed a challenge. I ended up planning a lot of scenes out on notecards, laying them all over the floor and then figuring out how they all fit together visually. It felt a bit like knowing the picture I wanted and having half the puzzle pieces. I had to move them around to see exactly where they belonged and then fashion the rest of the pieces to fit the empty spots.

Which was your favorite character to write?

They each had their own appeal. Aiz was the most challenging to write—I think I learned the most from her. Quil was the most challenging to edit—he ended up needing a lot of time because he was hard to get to know, at first. Once I did get to know him, though, it felt as if a whole world had opened up. Sirsha was just a joy to write. I feel like she walked into my brain fully formed.

Read our starred review of Heir

What was it like to continue the legacies of beloved characters from the main series, 20 years later? 

It was so much fun, but also very thought-provoking. Laia, Elias and Helene are characters who have been through a great deal of trauma. How would that impact the way they transition into adulthood and ultimately parenthood? Figuring out the answer to that question was arduous and took many drafts. I also had to focus on letting Quil, Aiz and Sirsha shine in this story. It is in the Ember world, but it is certainly not an Ember book. Finding a balance between the past and present was tricky.

What’s your secret to bringing compelling romance into your fast-paced, thrilling plots? 

Well, romance is the ultimate wrench in the machine, is it not? In my books, my characters are already going through a tough time and then . . . they fall in love!  Their minds go places they tell them not to, their bodies misbehave. They don’t want to fall in love because it is deeply inconvenient, and yet . . . it has happened. It’s a challenging plot twist, it raises the stakes and it is such fun to write something so hopeful in the midst of all the drama. I think finding that joy, (as well as the longing and frustration along the way, of course) is what I focus on when writing romance into my fantasy!

You don’t pull any punches with your stories, especially in Heir—and your fans keep coming back for more. What do you think is the key to winning fans’ hearts with these emotional rollercoasters? 

I wish I knew because I feel like that would make writing much easier! Ultimately, I strive for authenticity. I want my books to feel true, even if they take place in fantasy worlds. I want the conflicts and conversations and victories and heartbreaks and emotions, most of all, to feel real and believable.

Your conflicts, despite taking place in a fantasy world, feel close to reality—for example, characters born into vast inequality are faced with difficult choices in their quests to break free. Is this aspect of your writing inspired by anything specific in real life?

So much of my writing is inspired by historical and current global events. I was an editor of foreign news [at The Washington Post]  after graduating college, years ago now, so I will always carry that interest in global affairs and history with me. The influences range from news stories about refugees, famines and aerial bombardments, to the poetry and literature that arise from the disenfranchisement of entire populations, occupations and those surviving despotic governments.

But ultimately, at the heart of everything I write is the question: Why do we treat each other this way? I think I ask that question because as a writer for young people, I wish to convey the hope that we can be better. And I think that being better, and seeing each other with empathy, begins with asking ourselves this question.

Are there parts of the AEITA world you still want to explore? 

Yes, so many. Entire countries and continents and epochs I haven’t gotten to. I think the stories in this world really are endless. It’s just a matter of if I go hunting for them or not!

 

Heir, the spinoff to Tahir's An Ember in the Ashes series, throws a new generation of characters into a world of chaos and danger.
Review by

Erin A. Craig, bestselling author of House of Salt and Sorrows, takes readers on a journey through self-discovery and moral conflict in The Thirteenth Child. Hazel Trépas, the unwanted thirteenth child of a “foolish huntsman” and his “very pretty wife,” was promised to the Dreaded End—the god of Death—before she was even born. Years later, when Death comes to call on his beloved goddaughter, Hazel’s livelihood and aspirations change in a matter of hours. She is told she will become such a renowned healer that even kings will ask for her by name. Along with this new destiny comes a gift: the ability to foresee the cure to a patient’s ailment through simply cupping their cheek. 

Armed with this extraordinary power, Hazel begins healing the sick and wounded of her town, feeling a glorious new sense of purpose that she hadn’t been able to find in the shadow of her toxic family. However, she learns that this gift comes at times with a ghastly cost: When a patient cannot be cured, a deathshead in the shape of a grinning skull appears, signifying that they have been claimed by Death. With no other option, she must end their suffering for good. 

This poses an impossible dilemma for Hazel. When the deathshead appears, how will she balance her moral duty to heal with the will of her powerful, uncompromising godfather? Haunted by the lives she’s taken, Hazel reaches the hardest decision she has yet to face in her time as a healer when the deathshead appears over none other than the king himself. Does she follow the command of her godfather to avoid his wrath? But if she kills the king, won’t the resulting political turmoil lead to  far more death? No matter what she decides, Hazel will never be the same again after this choice

The Thirteenth Child encapsulates the reader in their own moral dissection of right and wrong, leading them to ponder whether the betterment of one may also lead to the betterment of others in this scenario.Craig is a master at developing her characters, giving them real-world obstacles to work through while adding a hint of magic to keep readers on their toes. The Thirteenth Child makes it difficult to predict where Hazel’s conflicting senses of responsibility and duty will lead her, and readers are sure to be drawn into their own internal debate about the incomprehensible burden of this gift that seems so beautiful on the surface.

Erin A. Craig is a master at developing her characters, giving them real-world obstacles to work through while adding a hint of magic to keep readers on their toes.
Review by

Seventeen-year-old Sorel’s arranged marriage is meant to unify two powerful Jewish families in her community in the Russian Empire’s Pale of Settlement. But when 17-year-old Sorel hears a voice in her head urging her to run on the eve of her wedding, she doesn’t think twice. Determined to leave her old life behind, she jumps from her bedroom window and disguises herself as a young man, taking the name Isser Jacobs. However, as she tries to flee the city, she is recognized—not as Sorel, but as an actual boy named Isser Jacobs, who apparently has many enemies. To leave for good, she must figure out how to separate herself from his identity without getting caught by the many people hunting her down.

Steeped in Jewish folklore and culture, The Forbidden Book is a fantastic tale with resonant political themes. Based on mythology concerning the dybbuk, a disembodied spirit that inhabits the body of a living person, this novel flows between the supernatural and the concrete in order to ask powerful questions about identity and beliefs. From the very beginning, The Forbidden Book blurs the line between fantasy and reality: Is the voice in Sorel’s head real? If so, whose voice is it, and why is she the only one who can hear it? From there, the story becomes more and more surreal, taking readers on a wild ride through dreams and visions that seep into reality.

Author Sacha Lamb uses the magical aspects of the story to highlight and tackle serious cultural and political issues. Sorel doesn’t know much about the voice in her head, but it drives her to question her place, power and identity as the betrothed daughter of a wealthy merchant. The disappearance of the real Isser Jacobs is shrouded in mystery, but it seems connected to his passion for printing and distributing illegal political pamphlets about Jewish Emancipation. As Sorel and the other characters work out what’s real and what’s not, they also explore themes around community, government and freedom.

At the heart of this story is Sorel, who spends the majority of the book trying to establish herself as an individual. As she uncovers the lies and truths around her, she must question every facet of her identity, including her family, community, faith and gender. Sorel’s nuanced and complex coming-of-age shows how developing an identity takes time, thought and care. Through all its twists and turns, The Forbidden Book ultimately remains centered around hope and how it can be a powerful catalyst for change—both for an individual and a whole community.

Based on Jewish mythology concerning the dybbuk, a disembodied spirit that inhabits the body of a living person, The Forbidden Book is a fantastic coming-of-age tale with resonant political themes.
Review by

Set two decades after the events of Sabaa Tahir’s blockbuster An Ember in the Ashes quartet, Heir entices readers back to a familiar landscape of the Martial Empire, just as Empress Helene plans to end her reign. Her nephew and successor, Quil, dreads his impending coronation, but a dire threat posed by the embittered nation of Kegar forces him to confront his duty to his people. Thrown into a perilous journey, he crosses paths with the exile Sirsha, who has sworn a magic oath to track down a mysterious child killer. In a riveting, large-scale narrative, Tahir weaves their storylines together with that of Aiz, an orphan from the Kegari slums, as she struggles against a cruel air squadron commander trying to assert control of her country. 

Writing a spinoff to any beloved series is risky, but National Book Award-winner Tahir (All My Rage) avoids getting lost in the mire of her past success by continuously offering readers something thrilling and new, while not losing sight of the original. As a result, Heir feels wholly generative. Each possessing distinct motivations, Aiz, Quil and Sirsha hold their own alongside previous fan favorites, who themselves have grown in organic yet revelatory ways.

Tahir’s characters grapple with the scars of past tragedies and rail against suffocating circumstances with nuance that will engage readers both new and returning to the series. Furthermore, evocative—but not overly intrusive—world-building allows Heir to be easily understood as a standalone novel. Kegar’s situation, as a country that is food-scarce and depends on raiding for resources, contributes depth to the novel’s core conflict, which goes beyond simplistic good and evil. How far can one go to save one’s people?  

“Ultimately, at the heart of everything I write is the question: Why do we treat each other this way?” Read our Q&A with Sabaa Tahir. 

Without losing momentum, Tahir brings this energetic book to a satisfying conclusion, while dropping enough cliffhangers to leave readers hungry for the sequel. Heir offers a welcome blend of mystique and weightiness—plus a dollop of romance—that will delight anyone seeking more complexity in young adult fantasy.  

 

Heir offers a welcome blend of mystique and weightiness—plus a dollop of romance—that will delight anyone seeking more complexity in young adult fantasy.
Interview by

Each Maghabol boy possesses a unique relationship to his cultural background. For example, Emil is an “assimilationist,” striving to replace his Filipino identity with an American one. On the other hand, his son, Chris, seeks out Filipino culture and tries to “self-educate” even though he’s coming from an outsider’s perspective due to his father’s parenting. How did you go about depicting these differences, with all their nuances? 

As I wrote their stories, I had to put aside my own opinions to get into each character’s head. I tried to depict each in such a way that you understand as much as possible why they possess the attitudes toward their cultural background that they do, in order to grasp how each boy’s identity was forged from the struggle to survive within his specific personal and historical circumstances.

What drew you to the specific moments of Filipino and Filipino American history that you chose to spotlight, such as Ferdinand Marcos’ dictatorship or the 1965 Delano Grape Strike in California?

I wanted each storyline to be impacted either directly or indirectly by both personal and historical struggles because I believe that’s what happens in real life. I also wanted to touch on pivotal moments in Filipino American history that I wish I had learned about in school or at home instead of having to self-educate later in life.

At one point, Chris is conscious of the “privilege of distance” he holds in being able to stay ignorant of Marcos’ brutal rule. Could you elaborate on this concept? 

The more directly a political situation impacts us, the more conscious we are of that situation because that knowledge can be necessary to survive. On the other hand, if our day-to-day existence isn’t immediately threatened, then it’s much easier to be ignorant of—or, to ignore—what’s happening, and fail to clearly see the ways in which everything is connected. While this distance can be literally physical, it can also result from other aspects of our identity such as socioeconomic status, gender, race, etc.

Enzo’s sections take place as the COVID-19 pandemic is starting, and you capture that time of isolation with such exactitude—staring at frozen Zoom screens, idly moving cursors around while on calls, doomscrolling, etc. What was it like to write about 2020? 

For a while, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to delve into it. As I started to work on the novel, my editor and I talked about if it was too difficult to understand the impact of the pandemic while we were in the midst of it. There were also a lot of conversations in the book world about when people would be ready to read about the pandemic—some saying never! But as a writer, I often go back to James Baldwin advising us all to bear witness and am always asking myself what I can bear witness to. Ultimately, as someone both experiencing the pandemic for myself and teaching teenagers who were living through it, I felt like it had to be part of Enzo’s story.

What advice do you have for young people whose adolescence has been defined by the pandemic? 

That’s a hard question, and I’m probably not qualified to answer it! But I’d say, think about how you experienced/continue to experience the pandemic, how it impacted you, how it still impacts you. Find ways to tell those stories and ways to listen to others’ stories.

Everything We Never Had often brings up the collective versus the individual: the power of unionizing; the safety to be found in numbers; even the contrast between how Francisco fished in the Philippines (casting nets together) and in America (each person using a fishing pole). Can you share some thoughts on this dichotomy? 

Good catch! (Pun intended.) Community vs. individualism is a tension I’ve thought about a lot in my life. I’ve come to believe a balance is necessary—as individuals and as a society—to be healthy. Overreliance on one can be just as destructive as overreliance on the other. Of course, it took me a lot of lived experience and reflection to arrive at this belief, and it’s going to take even more trial and error to find out how to achieve that balance practically. And maybe my views will shift in the years to come. In the same way individuals like me struggle with this tension, so do cultures. That cultural/communal struggle, however, is much slower and harder to steer.

Speaking of fishing, it plays an important role—does it have any significance for you personally? 

Growing up, I definitely went fishing with my dad occasionally. But that detail found its way into the story thanks to Roy Recio of the Tobera Project, who was a great resource for my Watsonville research. He emphasized the need to convey the manongs [early 20th-century Filipino immigrants] as more than just field workers and suggested the idea of fishing as something that could be shared across generations. I then thought about how each character’s relationship to fishing might change over time.

The novel explores several beautiful, warm friendships between male characters. Do you think there’s been growth regarding the ways boys and men are taught to interact with each other? 

Yes and no. There’s definitely been progress in terms of topics like toxic masculinity, patriarchy and male loneliness hitting mainstream discourse in recent years, thanks to decades of work by feminists like bell hooks. Those are things we need to understand for there to be growth. I also personally see a lot more parents consciously trying to raise their boys to be fuller, more empathetic human beings. On the other hand, I think there are those who view such discourse as vilifying instead of healing because much of it—in the mainstream, at least—critiques without offering models of a way forward. As a result, some people have doubled down on a lot of those foundational identity markers of patriarchy.

Your descriptions are so poetic. What writers are you inspired by?

So many! To list a few, in no particular order: James Baldwin, Sandra Cisneros, Jacqueline Woodson, Patrick Rosal, Haruki Murakami, Jason Reynolds, Elizabeth Acevedo, Ocean Vuong, Sabaa Tahir. And so many others!

What made you decide to set the novel in California, Colorado and Pennsylvania? How were you able to create such distinct atmospheres for each setting? 

I’ve lived in all those states and was, therefore, already familiar with them to some extent. I also generally liked the idea of the family physically moving farther east with each generation. I did additional research for the sake of historical accuracy, especially about Watsonville and Stockton, California. Primary sources such as photographs, oral histories and periodicals were invaluable when it came to visualizing the details of those times and places.

 

Randy Ribay explores several generations and their different relationships to Filipino American identity and culture in his expansive family saga, Everything We Never Had.
STARRED REVIEW
September 1, 2024

Best Hispanic and Latinx titles of 2024 (so far)

Celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month (September 15 to October 15) by reading one of these excellent books by Hispanic and Latinx authors.
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Celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month (September 15 to October 15) by reading one of these excellent books by Hispanic and Latinx authors.

Chasing Redbird

Sharon Creech’s Chasing Redbird was the first book I ever read by myself, which was a big deal for me; I am dyslexic and struggled to read when I was younger. I was captivated by the main character, Zinnia Taylor, because she was a misfit, just like me. Zinny has six siblings, and in their chaotic home, she often gets lost in the fray. She prefers to spend time with her Aunt Jessie and Uncle Nate who live next door and provide her with a safe haven. When Jessie dies unexpectedly, Zinny withdraws even further from her family. As she wrestles with her grief and guilt, she discovers an abandoned 200-year-old pioneer trail on her family farm and becomes obsessed with restoring it to functionality. Her family thinks she’ll give up, but Zinny has to see this project through. It may be the only way to heal her broken world. Creech treats the topic of grief and family dynamics delicately and beautifully, painting a profound picture that will speak to readers of all ages.

Meagan, Production Manager


Earthlings

From childhood, we’re trained to take part in society, learning what behavior is praiseworthy, and what behavior is outrageous. By adulthood, most of us conform automatically, but for some, it comes less easily—like Natsuki, the protagonist of Japanese author Sayaka Murata’s Earthlings. As a child, Natsuki feels like an outsider, and she is relieved when her stuffed hedgehog, Piyyut, reveals to her that she is actually an alien from planet Popinpobopia. Her alien’s perspective lets her see her town for what it is: a “Baby Factory” in which humans serve society by working, getting married and having babies that will grow up to become society’s tools in turn. Natsuki struggles to accept that future, though she longs for the security of being normal. Her isolation increases when a teacher sexually abuses her, and no one believes her when she seeks help. Like Convenience Store Woman, Murata’s other novel that has been translated into English, Earthlings pushes readers—hard—to see the absurdity of what is and isn’t considered acceptable. While the subject matter remains bleak, by the end of the book, Natsuki finds allies, and their acts of defiance take on a kind of euphoric hilarity, despite the severity of the consequences.

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Kaikeyi

In Vaishnavi Patel’s Kaikeyi, Princess Kaikeyi is the lone daughter in a family with seven sons. After her father banishes her mother, she is left with only the stories of the gods that her mother once shared with her. Now on her own as the sole woman in her family, she is determined for her voice to be heard. However, her world shatters when the king quickly marries her off for the sake of securing an alliance, despite Kaikeyi begging to remain independent. Before she journeys to the kingdom of her betrothed, she discovers a special magic that can influence how she is perceived within relationships. With this newfound spark of confidence, she plows through societal barriers, fighting on the battlefield for her new home and joining her husband’s council, where she resiliently presses the other men in the room to make changes in their kingdom. After years of ruthless judgment and scorn, Kaikeyi and her two sister-wives, Kausalya and Sumitra, start a women’s council for members of the community to seek advice and direction. Kaikeyi is a persistent force throughout the story, never afraid to disrupt the conditions of society. She rubs people the wrong way and inspires others, making her a dynamic character whose persistence and courage will win readers’ hearts.

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The Complete Stories

A keen observer of idiosyncratic behavior, the inimitable Flannery O’Connor spun unforgettable, expansive short stories that brim with characters whose feelings of otherness alienate them from society. The most well-known is The Misfit in “A Good Man Is Hard to Find,” a story that is often readers’ entry point to this Southern writer. The Misfit is “aloose from the Federal Pen” and, with unfailing politeness, executes a family on their way to a vacation in Florida. Complex and contemplative, The Misfit finds “no pleasure [but] in meanness” yet tries to square his crimes with a sense of right and wrong. Other misfits in O’Connor’s stories include Olga in “Good Country People,” an unapologetically surly spinster whose leg was shot off in a hunting accident, and who gets hoodwinked by a Bible salesman. Some of her misfits crave redemption and empowerment—O’Connor was, afterall, a Catholic—while others are unwilling or unable to change. Perhaps the greatest misfit in O’Connor’s stories is the midcentury South itself. A region straining to be better? Or one unwilling to shed the yoke of violence? The Complete Stories is a compendium you can spend a lifetime reading and re-reading, feeling freshly enlightened each time.

—Erica, Associate Editor

If you've ever felt like the odd one out—the black sheep in your family, or loner in your community—you'll love these four books with protagonists who can't help but stand out.
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The back-to-back deaths of two childhood friends push Isadora Chang to leave her hometown for a life in the city—until her own abusive father dies, and she is brought back into the restrictive, judgmental community of Slater. Haunted by memories of her lost friends, Zach and Wren, Isadora is desperate to escape Slater again, but she’s stopped by Mason, the other survivor from their childhood friend group. He shares that he suspects that Zach and Wren’s deaths were actually caused by a sinister supernatural force plaguing the community. Isa faces a crossroads: leave everything behind, or stay and try to stop the force from claiming more lives. 

Wen-yi Lee’s debut novel, The Dark We Know, is a raw, poignant exploration of grief and growing up. Lee paints a picture of ruined innocence: Isa and Mason are dealing with the loss of not only Zach and Wren, but also their shared childhood and the close friendship they once had. While Mason is determined to reinvestigate their past, Isa wants nothing more than to run away. Lee fully explores the messy, complicated experience of grieving, and as Isa and Mason work through their pain, they find there’s no clear path forward: Sometimes healing looks like remembering a happy memory, at other times like having a terrifying nightmare.

The Dark We Know pulls no punches with its incredibly visceral supernatural elements. The novel opens with Isa drawing gruesome portraits of dying people—drawings she has no memory of creating. She’s haunted, literally and emotionally. These horrors center on Slater, an isolated former mining town whose restrictive culture rejects anyone who questions the community’s strict views on religion, sexuality and lifestyle. From Trish, Isa’s older sister who acts more like her mother, to Otto Vandersteen, the mysterious but compelling heir to the family who founded the town, the cast is full of multifaceted characters, each with secrets of their own. Unraveling the mysteries of the town means Isa has to come to terms with being truly vulnerable—and learn how to handle the vulnerability of others, too.

Not for the faint of heart, this book draws a profound connection between supernatural forces and the terrors of grief and dishonesty. Isa and the other characters fight to stay hopeful about the world, even when it’s crumbling around them. Amid intense sadness, they grow and learn how to genuinely lean on each other, creating a story that, despite its dark imagery and heavy subject matter, feels truly resonant and uplifting.

Not for the faint of heart, The Dark We Know draws a profound connection between supernatural forces and the terrors of grief and dishonesty.
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What was supposed to be an incredibly romantic first date with her longtime crush, Akilah, instead nearly becomes Marlowe Wexler’s undoing, when the custom candle she ordered in Akilah’s favorite scent explodes, burning down a house belonging to Marlowe’s family friends. Is it any wonder that Akilah breaks things off rather than dating an accidental arsonist?

Heartbroken and more than a little embarrassed, Marlowe eagerly accepts an unexpected offer to get far away from her hometown of Syracuse, New York, and work as a summer tour guide at Morning House, a historic mansion in the Thousand Islands region of the St. Lawrence River. Marlowe’s a quick study, so she knows from day one that Morning House has an infamous history. The onetime home of celebrated wellness pioneer (and eugenicist) Phillip Ralston, his glamorous wife Faye and their seven children, Morning House was the site of a 1932 tragedy that left two of the Ralston children dead under mysterious circumstances. 

What Marlowe doesn’t know until she arrives and starts becoming acquainted with the other tour guides—a diverse group of eccentric teens united by their shared history of growing up nearby—is that there’s a more recent mystery afoot, one with ominous echoes of the past . . . and perhaps ongoing danger in the present. 

Maureen Johnson, the bestselling author of the Truly Devious series, crafts a whip-smart standalone whodunit in Death at Morning House. Scenes from the Ralston family’s deceptively idyllic life in 1932 alternate with those chronicling Marlowe’s growing confidence in her detective skills, even as someone disappears, a storm approaches and conditions on the island become ever more perilous. Johnson has consistently excelled at incorporating historical material in novels starring smart, quirky, appealingly flawed protagonists, and dual timelines mean there’s more than one mystery to solve. Readers won’t soon forget their tour of menacing Morning House.

Maureen Johnson crafts a whip-smart standalone whodunit in Death at Morning House, with a narrative that alternates between past and present.
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Ash has always felt like an outsider. They have few friends at school, their interests in fantasy novels and environmentalism aren’t shared by their peers, and when they came out as nonbinary and changed their name, their parents didn’t quite get it: “When they don’t think I can hear them, they say the old name to each other.” So when their family decides to take a summer trip to Disneyland, Ash asks permission to head to northern California instead, ostensibly to spend time at their aunt and uncle’s ranch—but actually to solve a mystery.

Ash’s beloved Grandpa Edwin always talked about a cabin he’d built in the wilderness near the ranch. Now that Edwin’s passed away, no one’s sure whether the cabin is real or just family lore, but Ash is determined to find out. They spend weeks researching, planning and preparing. When the time is right, they set off with nothing but their dog Chase and what they can carry on their back, ready to fully embrace a life without judgment—and entirely alone.

Graphic novelist Jen Wang, who has explored issues of gender and identity in previous works like The Princess and the Dressmaker and Stargazing, continues to examine these ideas in Ash’s Cabin through the bittersweet, complicated character of Ash. Though determined to be self-reliant, Ash soon comes to understand just how interconnected humans are with each other and with the natural world. 

Wang’s pen and watercolor drawings tenderly illustrate Ash’s world. Structured as a journal, the graphic novel includes illustrations of fish, herbs and edible plants; but even as Ash, the narrator, outlines all they’re doing to survive in this remote place, Wang’s illustrations also depict the toll this isolated life takes on Ash and Chase, especially when a crisis threatens all they’ve built. Beautiful, complex and affirming, Ash’s Cabin will prompt deep conversations about how best to support one another and our environment, at a time when the future is uncertain and peace can be hard to find.

Beautiful, complex and affirming, Ash’s Cabin will prompt deep conversations about how best to support one another and our environment, at a time when the future is uncertain and peace can be hard to find.

How do you like your horror? Perhaps you’re a fan of creeping dread, or gory goings-on are more your speed? The White Guy Dies First: 13 Scary Stories of Fear and Power, editor Terry J. Benton-Walker’s anthology featuring authors of color, explores a variety of tropes for readers who enjoy disturbing, thought-provoking fare.

Despite their varied approaches, settings and baddies, all the ominously entertaining stories in The White Guy Dies First have two things in common: They center people of color and, per the book’s title, the white guy indeed dies first. Also evident throughout is an appreciation for horror. As Benton-Walker—author of the bestselling Blood Debts and Alex Wise series—notes, “The genre has always been a medium to deliver terror that’s most often intertwined with a deeper message, which can be far more horrifying than any superficial scare.”

Chloe Gong’s blood-spattered slasher, “Docile Girls,” features Adelaide Hu, head of the prom committee that includes her ex Jake Stewart and his snide friends. Jake had relegated her to “an exotic smiling accessory,” but on the fateful night before the big dance, Adelaide is anything but docile. And in Mark Oshiro’s suspenseful home invasion story, “Wasps,” Nina Ortiz defends her Abuela Carmen’s Brooklyn house from a gentrifier who wants to take their home—despite not knowing just how dark things can get in the Ortiz family’s basement.

There’s body horror (Naseem Jamnia’s “Break Through Our Skin”) and occult magic (Lamar Giles’ “The Protégé”), too. And an angry, hilariously profane haunted house narrates Benton-Walker’s own contribution, “The Road to Hell,” in which a Florida manse that spent centuries wanting love from occupants who “abandoned me, deeming me unlovable, unworthy . . . haunted” pulls out all the terrifying stops in an effort to make its current residents stay put.

Readers won’t want to put down The White Guy Dies First until they turn the last spooky page of this creative and creepy collection in which expectations are subverted and underrepresented groups claim their power from ghouls and demons both real and supernatural.

 

Readers won’t want to put down The White Guy Dies First, a creative and creepy collection in which expectations are subverted and underrepresented groups claim their power from ghouls and demons both real and supernatural.
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For weeks, Phoebe Mendel has woken up, eaten pancakes with her mom, played Scrabble with her dad and gone to bed hoping the next day will come. It never does. Phoebe’s stuck in a time loop—one that keeps her trapped in the same dry summer day, alone in the repetitions. That is, until her old friend Jess Friedman accidentally hits her with their car and becomes aware of the loop too, urging Phoebe to use the extra time to let loose and have fun. As they spend their repeating days together, feelings grow and secrets are revealed, but ultimately, their hopes for the future depend on escaping the time loop once and for all.

Chatham Greenfield’s debut novel, Time and Time Again throws a new twist into the age-old time loop scenario: What if you had to experience with your childhood friend and crush to whom you haven’t spoken in years? For Phoebe and Jess, the loop is a supernatural way to figure out their relationships—with each other, their loved ones and themselves.

While the speculative aspects may grab readers’ interests, the characters drive the heart of this book. Both Phoebe and Jess, whose families initially bonded over shared Jewish identity, also both have chronic illnesses that impact every decision they make, granting glimpses into life with irritable bowel syndrome and oligoarthritis. Phoebe is reflective and self-aware, but often has trouble standing up for herself, whether that means demanding that a fatphobic doctor take her IBS seriously or acknowledging her feelings toward Jess. Jess, on the other hand, is bubbly and brash, but they tend to retreat into secrecy, making Phoebe wonder who they really are and how they really feel.

In fact, the entire cast of this time-bending story is vibrantly multidimensional. Phoebe’s parents are divorced and co-parent their daughter along with the help of her uncles Gabe and Adrian. Jess’ brother Zahir is part of a rowdy band with friends from different classes, backgrounds and identities—all of whom amaze Phoebe with their kindness. Their small town is full of characters with real-feeling histories, preferences and hopes.

Time and Time Again is about being honest with others and with yourself, and finding the courage to dream for your future—and work for it, too. As Phoebe and Jess are given the chance to work on their most important relationships, readers may reflect on what they might do with the same opportunities. Readers looking for a sweet, moving love story will enjoy getting to know Phoebe and Jess in this fun, speculative queer romance.

Readers looking for a sweet, moving love story will enjoy getting to know Phoebe and Jess in Time and Time Again, a fun, speculative queer romance.

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