Parihar’s love of poetic form shows in one-sentence paragraphs, lines that purposefully repeat structures, with small alterations, building for effect, and an often detached, observational narrative voice: “Stink of their vomit persisted in the house like memories of the lost glories and the glorious past,” the narrator reports, of the bacchanal at the center of “The Host.” Uncertain editing and punctuation makes it hard for Parihar’s occasionally striking insights to shine, and many sentences prove difficult to parse, sometimes because of Parihar’s inclination toward concision and surprise, and at times because of editing errors. The longest story, “The Daughter of Comradeji,” which follows the marriage of Nepalese couple Seema and Mukesh, includes the most developed insights about colonialism, specifically in India and Nepal. Towards its end, Seema visits a supermarket for the first time with her neighbors. The characters do not realize that “the god of profit, the prophet of grid, two saints named colonization and globalization danced inside out, outside in of the supermarket.”
Though these stories prove challenging, on various levels, to read, credit must be given to Parihar for the power and insight of that sentence, plus others throughout. His insights into the genocide, colonialism, and humanity’s zeal to abuse are urgent, presented in often vivid language, though sensitive readers should be aware that the stories plumb deeply into these horrors.
Takeaway: Pained, unpolished post-colonial stories exploring trauma, abuse, and violence .
Comparable Titles: Dean Baldwin and Patrick J. Quinn’s An Anthology of Colonial and Postcolonial Short Fiction
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: B+
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: C-
Marketing copy: B
Scofield deftly pins down the complexities of contemporary family life, demonstrating a keen understanding of the ways kids and adults alike shut down or distance themselves as a protection from pain, uncertainty, and loneliness, even when surrounded by those who love them. Eleanor, of course, doesn’t have the luxury of doing that, as even before Karin’s death she is already enduring other travails at home: the continual presence of her daughter, Alison, living there with her own daughter, and the painful absence of Walter, Eleanor’s husband, who after an argument, has at least temporarily moved out.
Scofield renders each interaction and relationship with rare precision, power, and empathy, even as Eleanor herself must bull ahead through, in the face of Juni’s resistance to her love and Nick’s eagerness to put his responsibilities on her. Like life itself, the story continually surprises even as developments feel in hindsight inevitable. Scofield moves and illuminates as she lays bare these characters’ hearts—and as Eleanor strives to organize these wounded souls who can’t always articulate their needs into a nourishing, non-traditional family.
Takeaway: Stellar novel of a grandmother holding a complex family together after tragedy.
Comparable Titles: Lucy Ellman’s Ducks, Newburyport, Ann Patchett’s Commonwealth.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
Blending fiction with fact, Kaye emphasizes her subject’s boldness. Entering a boys-only sailboat race, Bouboulina loses after stopping to rescue a drowning sailor, an exciting demonstration of her compassionate nature. Bouboulina wins the love of kindhearted merchant Captain Dimitri Bouboulis, but oppression weighs upon her life, as the Ottomans forbid any form of independence, including education, punishing the Greeks with heavy taxes, imprisonment, and executions. Young readers may find it challenging to keep up with the many historical figures in the tale (a dramatis personae helps), and accounts of atrocities, from both sides of the war, are frank and potentially upsetting, especially during the siege of the Monemvasia Island fortress.
Pacing is inconsistent, sometimes rushed and sometimes slow, with more than half the book surveying Bouboulina’s life before the revolution officially starts, including lengthy descriptions of war preparations. The personal material is the strongest. Especially uplifting are Kaye’s depictions of Bouboulina’s family’s closeness and her kindness while rescuing a Turkish harem. Dmitri Andreyev’s line illustrations, emphasizing clothes and culture, are eye-catching, suggesting the richness of the milieu.
Takeaway: A Greek revolutionary’s bold life, told for young readers.
Comparable Titles: Libby Carty McNamee ‘s Susanna's Midnight Ride, J. Kasper Kramer’s The Story That Cannot be Told.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: A-
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A
Throughout, Laurette emphasizes the crucial role that family plays for loved ones with chronic mental health concerns: “You will become the expert on your loved one’s well-being.” Her devotion to Jake’s care shines as a brilliant thread of their abiding connection, buoying him in moments of darkness while gently confronting his needs, all against the backdrop of his yearning to be an independent adult, unfettered from schizophrenia’s agonizing hold. Jake’s lifelong creativity affords him outlets for his emotions alongside several job opportunities, as he pours his energy into video editing and art, all while learning to cope with addiction, paranoia, and “a subterranean beast” that “haunts his days and nights.”
“Hope will be your driving force” Laurette voices, as she details the family’s exhaustive efforts to coordinate and master Jake’s treatment needs while still finding time to nurture their attachment. Jake’s writing is brutally raw, an unflinching rendering of his battles, as are Laurette’s reflections on the barriers to getting Jake the help he needs (insurance funding is a tremendous roadblock, alongside Laurette’s efforts to protect and guide Jake being labeled as “enabling”). This is as much a portrait of a loving family as it is a call to action for mental health treatment reform.
Takeaway: A mother and son’s touching, insightful story of a schizophrenia diagnosis.
Comparable Titles: Vince Granata’s Everything Is Fine, Lori Schiller and Amanda Bennett’s The Quiet Room.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
The scheme is a PR stunt to rehab investment consultant Miles’s reputation as one of the worst bosses in Los Angeles. The prize for Stella: the money to start her own fashion line. Richardson grabs readers from the start with a sultry, unpredictable scene in Paris, which ends with Miles convinced that the “exasperating” but alluring Stella has rejected him for the scar that runs from chest to jaw. The story immediately leaps to the fathers’ proposal, then to Miles’s abashed realization that he needs to go along with it, and then right to what readers most want: these two crabbing over boundaries and logistics while both pretending they’re not turned on.
Dialogue is crisp and memorable (Miles: “We should probably discuss the wedding.” Stella: “That’s one hell of a proposal, Miles.”), and the novel, despite its length, surges along, hinting at Miles’s secrets—he’s a voyeur, for one, with a glassed-in bedroom and a penchant for NDAs—jealousies, and scars both physical and emotional. The escalating scenes of physical intimacy are precise, vivid, and potent, and the happy ending, while inevitable, satisfies.
Takeaway: Superior marriage-of-convenience romance with sharp elbows and vivid clinches.
Comparable Titles: Sara Cate, Shain Rose.
Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
In her direct and unadorned prose, Black powerfully conveys the frustration she feels when she believes that the very agencies created to help children continue to fail them for inane and trivial reasons. She argues that the pain the children suffer doesn’t seem to register with the officials, whose choices, as presented here, tend toward the farcical at best. As the title suggests, Dead Dog Road plumbs dark acts and motivations, as Black offers unflinching details of accusations of abuse and laments a system that makes it easy to turn a blind eye to such pain.
The author’s persistence in pursuing the case shines through this tense and impassioned narrative, especially as she is herself a struggling single mother bringing up two daughters whom she is frequently forced to leave alone under several situations. Her determination to set up Roosevelt House and the surprising way the help that comes pouring in from unexpected quarters is heartening, a reminder of human decency. This sincere account of one woman’s determination to save three children from abuse is a gripping and edifying read.
Takeaway: A children’s counselor fought to protect three kids from abuse.
Comparable Titles: Freya Barrington’s Known to Social Services, Kathryn Anne Michaels’ Wednesday's Children.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
When Melia proudly returns to the park, the older kids tease her once again, cruelly telling her that “a pig with a bow still won’t fly.” With tears in her eyes, Melia bravely keeps trying—and soon the older kids are left speechless as her kite “dances with a rainbow.” Seeing Melia’s tenacity pay off will prompt kids to keep working through difficulties to achieve their own goals. Her success also has another layer of meaning, as she has attached a note to her kite for her beloved Ginger. Kids and adults will find this a touching tribute, particularly if they have faced or are working through their own grief.
Valeria Suria’s detailed, colorful illustrations center on Melia, showing the curly-haired little girl as she visits the park and the library. Both settings feel fully realized, with the sun casting long shadows on the ground as children run along expansive green hills and a variety of people gathered to read, build, and draw at the cozy-looking library. Throughout the story, readers will be rooting for Melia, particularly at this tale’s touching and satisfying conclusion that will leave kids and adults feeling more connected and encouraged.
Takeaway: A little girl named Melia builds a kite and learns the value of persistence and acceptance.
Comparable Titles: Jacqueline Woodson’s The Year We Learned to Fly, Jay Miletsky’s Ricky, the Rock that Couldn’t Roll.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
That sets the scene for Fitzsimmons’s survey of New York’s glitterati in the 1980s and ‘90s, a time of excess alongside urban grit. After a harrowing career as a cop, Fitzsimmons hosts a television show, appears in commercials and bit parts, and does a number of modeling photoshoots. Along the way, he meets and befriends the famous, occasionally living close to tragedy. Fitzsimmons reports that his friendship was treasured by many because he knew how to keep his mouth shut. Now, Fitzsimmons goes into some detail, including the many ways in which he reports serving as a middleman to the elite.
The memoir is more about places and people Fitzsimmons has met as a sort of Zelig-like figure than a deep reflection on his life. There are shady mob figures, Hollywood friends like Larry Hagman, and tense stories about stalkers and life on the edge. Above all, Fitzsimmons is a keen observer and listener whose exploits doing private security balance the book’s tabloid elements. The heart of the story, though, is his seemingly futile attempt at finding lasting love, until he married Wendy, the great love of his life. That ends in tragedy, and the memoir represents a way of honoring her memory while dishing out yarn after yarn.
Takeaway: Page-turning memoir of a cop-turned-model’s adventures among New York’s elite.
Comparable Titles: Nelson Aspen’s Dancing Between the Raindrops, Peter Gatien’s The Club King.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A
Poetry and philosophy pepper and bookend the unsettling tales, without slowing down or undercutting narrative momentum, a testament to Rio’s artistry. Tension builds ominously as the nightmare realities of the scenarios dawn on characters and readers both—reading, it’s hard not to inch one’s nose closer to the page in shivering anticipation at “something old and mouldy” in the storeroom, or at a business man giving his “peasant” lover his mother’s necklace, a perverse sort of “coronation,” when the lover knows the mother would consider her “a dishonorable woman” who “fornicates” with the son. Afterwards, the couple “maul[s] each other as if they lusted for blood”—as in, they make love—and when the trap snaps, the entranced reader is as surprised as the prey.
This Indonesia is haunted by ghosts and devils and dispatches from the dead, but also guilt, class concerns, and more. Repeating figures like overbearing mothers and disloyal lovers feels universal, even if the myths and legends breathing life into these stories are fresh to readers.
Takeaway: Gripping, unsettling horror stories of a haunted Indonesia.
Comparable Titles: Intan Paramaditha’s Apple and Knife, Adam Nevill’s Some Will Not Sleep.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A-
Patterson, like many of the philosophers, economists, and other heavyweight thinkers he cites, is a long-term thinker facing a world of finance dominated by short-term interests. As he notes in his clarifying discussion of the broad-based mortgage collapse now known as The Big Short, economies are subject to the will of many whose relatively quick grab for profits and/or power tend to help a few get rich at the expense of the many. Rethinking Money and Finance calls for recognizing this as a human choice rather than a natural law of markets.
In his sharp-elbowed, well-researched considerations of Modern Monetary Theory, “the fetish of liquidity,” the messages peddled by “financial ‘news,’” globalization trends, and more, he argues, with persuasive power, that substantive reform can only come after establishing a vision, a clear and shared sense of what economies themselves should do. That’s the vital societal step to change, Patterson argues, and his thorough examination of economic terms, policy, crises, and above all else assumptions proves both pained and heartening.
Takeaway: Sharply argued case for economics not being a science at all.
Comparable Titles: Nicky Pouw’s Wellbeing Economics, Robert Skidelsky’s What’s Wrong with Economics?.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
Ghosts take top billing in this perceptive and thoughtful fantasy tinged with horror. While Suzanne never much believed in her mother’s hoodoo teachings, a legacy of her Choctaw ancestry, she’s dealt with the spirits all of her life as a conduit and guide. Her journey parallels beautifully with Addy’s in that Addy wasn’t allowed much of an education in the hoodoo practiced by her grandmother, Mimi Jeanne. She, like Suzanne, had one foot in the spirit world and the other on Earth. Elegant details are painted with broad strokes, transporting readers to timelessly beautiful locations.
While the time jumps are, at first, jarring, their rhythm soon becomes clear, offering delicate layers of perspective. Chapters with Suzanne’s narration and contemporary perspectives are largely told using third person and present tense, while those in the 1940s favor past tense, which creates strikingly different moods. Sexual assault, violence against women, gaslighting and emotional abuse all make an appearance, but are sensitively handled.
Takeaway: Time-crossed novel of spirits, generational trauma, and two remarkable women.
Comparable Titles: Joyce Maynard’s The Bird Hotel, Jessica Dodge’s Misplaced Magic.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A
Complicating matters in these swift, engaging stories is Alerice’s strong sense of justice, inherited from her father, which puts her at odds with the orders of the Raven Queen, who insists that Alerice’s weapons—a dagger and two bladed, extendable “pixie poles”—should only be deployed for the queen’s purposes, not merely to save the lives of innocent mortals. Each entry offers a mostly standalone adventure, taking readers to exciting locations like a fauns’ glen and an abbey beset by wyverns, but the serialized elements are tense and compelling, especially once Kreston has developed urgent feelings for Alerice, and the King of Shadows instructs him to steal a mighty bauble from Alerice’s patron.
Action is lively and inventive, and Rado’s worldbuilding is strong, full of surprises, mythic mysteries, all-too-human gods, and a memorable sense of place, whether the caverns, underworlds, or inviting taverns. The prose tends toward the matter-of-fact, at times not measuring up to the magic of the world, but the dialogue, characterization, and the spirit of adventure are all vigorous. Here’s sword-and-sorcery with real heart.
Takeaway: Rousing epic fantasy novellas of a realms-crossing heroine.
Comparable Titles: Michelle Sagara, Tamora Pierce.
Production grades
Cover: B+
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
The saga unfolds at a swift pace with ever-rising stakes as Morgan faces the “slithering fingers” of a blankness she could fade into, and possessions continue in the outside world, which powers a strong sense of uncertain anxiety. Pages devoted to Vera explaining things about these “foreign essence”s and “the Beyond” to Morgan—and to readers—find Porto taking full advantage of this imaginative setup, as Vera conjures visions of her own life and Morgan’s efforts to control her own memories kicks up literal storms. Porto skillfully defies conventional good vs. evil tropes by imbuing the invaders with shades of gray, and the subconscious realm and surrealist liminal spaces through which Morgan journeys are, as the title suggests, inventive and evocative.
At its core, this inward-looking thriller is a journey of hope and self-discovery, psyche and sacrifice, a story concerned with what it’s worth risking everything to save. (A character declares, “One word: humanity.”) The characters make clever use of Porto’s worldbuilding, and the ending satisfies, while pointing to revelations to come. New readers should start with the first book.
Takeaway: Tense, effective thriller of body takeovers and what’s beyond consciousness.
Comparable Titles: Sara Gran’s Come Closer, Blake Crouch’s Dark Matter.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
Structured like the five scrolls, Hypatia shares her insurmountable losses and details the struggles of her time. A woman ahead of her time, Hypatia experiences olive picking and papyrus manufacturing, while arriving at realizations like “There is no security in life. There is no one and no thing to rely upon.” Yet she still believes that “Life is so utterly beautiful.” Her goal is to “counter-balance the crowd mentality” as she navigates history, philosophy, astronomy, and geometry. She faces formidable opponents and dangers, and benefits from mysterious assistance, not always choosing the easy or popular way.
Clark skillfully highlights name changes, reflecting the transformations in the characters’ lives. Jason, the camel driver, transitions into Theophilus, whose ambition and Christian piety reflect the uncertainty Alexandrians faced in a time of external threats and internal corruption. Clark disparages the “literary legend” of Hypatia, offering a thought-provoking and engaging narrative that brings to life the complexities of a fascinating period that, in Clark’s handling, connects to the present with some urgency.
Takeaway: Vivid historical novel of Hypatia, pagan beliefs, and the tumult of Late antiquity.
Comparable Titles: Ki Longfellow’s Flow Down Like Silver, Hypatia of Alexandria, Faith L. Justice’s Selene of Alexandria.
Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
Kain handles the heavy topics of abuse, grief, and facing old wounds with sensitivity that doesn’t dilute the story’s impact. Gavin will resonate with readers interested in healing, even as he spirals further into his mental anguish. Exploring the effects of mental illness on not only the individual suffering from it, but those closest to him, What Lies Buried is a humane and engaging story that’s frank about the challenges of recovery. Gavin not only has to deal with his PTSD and grief but also the nagging possibility that someone is watching him as he deals with his family's estate. After discovering his family's surprise connection to the local mob syndicate, he enlists the help of his high school best friend, Trayvon, who works with the FBI.
Adding to the tension, everyone around notices Gavin's descent—his grandparents, his wife, his best friend, and his psychiatrist—but by the time they realize he might be a danger to himself, their efforts to help may come too late. Kain has crafted a fast-paced contemporary thriller that delves with insight into themes of mental health. Readers who enjoy unreliable narrators and jolting plot twists will enjoy this.
Takeaway: Psychological thriller digging into PTSD, family secrets, and generational abuse.
Comparable Titles: Erin Kelly’s Stone Mothers, Liane Moriarty’s The Husband’s Secret.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
The affair is made more complicated by the arrival of Clarence, desperate to win Daniel back, and the anonymous blackmail notes that threaten to expose both Daniel and Luke's sexuality. In a series of secret rendezvous, heated arguments and affairs, and repeated reminders of familial obligations, Lawrence deftly navigates the excruciating shame and guilt in concealing one's sexuality from an all-too-often judgemental society. "There is no place for me, or you, in a town like this. Perhaps in a city, where we could be anonymous. But that isn't truly being accepted, is it?" Luke says, an urgent and still all-too-timely reminder of the importance of accepting one’s self first and foremost.
Indeed, beyond the struggle for acceptance, Lawrence crafts a romance that rouses, with twists, surprises, and a randy wit. Blackmailer’s Delight does not extensively dwell on the falling-in-love phase, introducing complications early on, and lingering with playful precision on erotic romps. The bittersweet love triangle unfolds as a tale of being seen and understood, accepting queerness, taking no love for granted, and allowing oneself to indulge in the youthful pleasure of loving and being loved. Perfect for readers fond of LGBTQ+ romances with an erotic edge.
Takeaway: Randy, heartfelt winner of a gay Georgian romance.
Comparable Titles: Cat Sebastian’s The Queer Principles of Kit Webb, K.J. Charles’s The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A