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Dusty, sepia-toned darkness blankets the pages of Oasis, a  poignant and cinematic graphic novel by Guojing, whose prior acclaimed works include The Only Child and The Flamingo. Previously a concept artist for animated TV shows and games, Guojing has a knack for atmospheric lighting and a strong grasp of the power of scale, which is evident in this eerily beautiful story about two children named JieJie and DiDi (“older sister” and “younger brother” in Chinese) and their efforts to create and maintain a sense of family in an unrelentingly harsh world. 

JieJie and DiDi are adorably small, yet hardy and determined: Every day, they hike across massive dunes in a vast desert to a battered phone booth where they can call their mother, who works in Oasis City. In striking contrast to the kids’ lonely existence in a barren, polluted landscape, Oasis City is “a paradise with the purest water and air” that’s “designed, built, and guarded by AI robots.” But the humans—including the children’s mother—who build the robots are “forgotten ones,” who toil in an underground factory.

One fateful day, Mom misses their call. On their way home, the worried children detour into an Oasis trash dump where they discover a broken AI robot. The kids repair it and activate its “Mother Mode,” which kicks off a whirlwind of learning what it would be like to live with a mother every day—as opposed to the children’s reality of only seeing Mom during the annual moon festival. But the children’s longing for their human Mom does not abate, and when she unexpectedly returns, the characters must all reconsider who they are to each other. Can they create a new kind of household that offers hope for their future, and perhaps even the world at large? 

Oasis is a visually arresting, emotionally moving tale sure to resonate with readers drawn to stories about family in its many guises, as well as those compelled to contemplate the ways in which technology can pull us apart—or become a surprising catalyst for drawing us closer together.

Oasis is a visually arresting, emotionally moving tale sure to resonate with readers drawn to stories about family in its many guises.

What does the wind know? How will the wind blow? Follow along as three siblings discover the answers to these questions and much more in Micha Archer’s Wind Watchers. In Spring, Wind ruffles flower petals and nudges rain clouds. In Summer, Wind fills sails and sends kites soaring. “Some summer days, when it’s too hot to move, we beg Wind to bring us a breeze.” Fall brings Wind scattering seeds and leaves, before Winter arrives and Wind forces us inside to watch for swirling snow.

As with many of Archer’s previous picture books, Wind Watchers is deeply rooted in nature and how we interact with it. While the narrative follows the siblings on their explorations through the year, it is Wind who is truly the main character of this story. Wind comforts, plays, sings, surprises. “‘Some days I like to be WILD!’ Wind roars.” Some days, Wind is so calm that readers might wonder, alongside the siblings, “Are you there?” The lyrical text moves slowly and gracefully, with subtle uses of alliteration and snippets of dialogue between the children and the wind itself. Wind Watchers begs to be read aloud again and again.

Archer’s signature collage illustrations bring the adventures of these three siblings to life in a way only she can. Like in Wonder Walkers (2021), Archer’s use of full spreads for every illustration allows a sense of wonder and playfulness with scale. Whether an intimate close-up of the siblings looking through a window, or a zoomed out view of the siblings next to a vast ocean, each picture captures a distinct moment in time and carries feeling and wonderment.

A breathtaking journey through the seasons, Wind Watchers is a perfect companion to Wonder Walkers. Readers will be filled with joy and whimsy and be inspired to get outside, no matter the season, to explore and experience the wind once more!

A breathtaking journey through the seasons, Wind Watchers will fill readers with joy and inspire them to get outside, no matter the season, to experience the wind once more!

Kell Woods’ second historical fantasy, Upon a Starlit Tide, is clearly inspired by classic stories such as “The Little Mermaid,” “Cinderella” and “Bluebeard”—but similar tropes is where the resemblance ends, as Woods has molded these elements into an original fairy tale all her own.

Lucinde Léon, one of three daughters of famed and revered Breton merchant Jean-Baptiste Léon, has always felt an inexplicable pull towards the ocean, one that her father encourages. Luce is used to doing things unconventionally: She spends her time at a sea cave watched over by a groac’h (a water fairy who stands in for the sea-witch from “The Little Mermaid”) and harbors strong emotions for her smuggler friend Samuel, a tattooed English sailor whom she’s convinced to teach her how to sail. As a naval war between the French and English rages on and Luce and her sisters are due to be married off to claim their places in society, her rose-colored views of their home, picturesque Saint-Malo, are being put to the test. She must make some difficult decisions about who to love, who to trust and who to protect—especially after saving a handsome, near-drowned sailor, Morgan de Chatelaine, unearths more mysteries than ever. 

How Kell Woods combined two classic fairy tales to create a magic all her own.

Upon a Starlit Tide creatively fuses elements of beloved tales to construct a wholly new world to immerse readers in. Gone is the typical fairy godmother, who is here replaced by a friendly lutine (a type of flower hobgoblin). Likewise, the groac’h has more secrets to her than meets the eye, overturning the typically villainous narrative. As with her previous novel, After the Forest, Woods celebrates femininity, heroines giving into their wild nature and femmes taking agency of their own lives to pursue their happily ever after. Readers will root for Luce whether she is in the throes of a love triangle between Samuel and Morgan, or in the throes of the unpredictable, tempestuous sea. Woods also provides countless wonderful descriptions of the fae, which lends an ethereal nature to Saint-Malo and makes the sad reality of the fairy folk’s exodus from Brittany (due to humans stealing their magic, their livelihood and their homes) hit all the harder. 

With beautifully flowing prose and countless twists, Woods concocts a tale of love, betrayal and revenge that will drag unsuspecting readers along with its currents. One may recognize elements that feel fitting for a traditional fairy tale—a parent’s hidden secrets, a dashing stranger who seems too good to be true. And in Luce herself, they may also recognize a part of themselves that yearns to be set free to explore the world, following their heart’s desire, unfettered by society’s requirements and expectations.

With beautifully flowing prose and countless twists, Kell Woods’ Upon a Starlit Tide combines “The Little Mermaid” and “Cinderella” to enchanting effect.
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Charlotte McConaghy’s novels blend romance and mystery with a focus on ecological topics, from rewilding the Scottish Highlands (Once There Were Wolves) to following the flight of the Arctic tern (Migrations). In Wild Dark Shore, McConaghy turns her attention to a seed bank located on a remote island off the coast of Antarctica. 

Widower Dominic Salt and his three children—teens Raff and Fen and their younger brother, Orly—are the lone inhabitants of Shearwater Island. Though it was once populated by botanists and researchers, the rising sea level and raging storms threaten to destroy decades of hard work, and have driven the other scientists away. Before they too depart the island, the Salts have been tasked with packing up the seeds to be taken to safer storage. Each of them is already mourning the loss of their home; for Orly, it’s all about the seeds, for Fen, the seals, and for Raff, the memories of his first love and subsequent heartbreak make the island a bittersweet place. But it’s clear the end of their time on Shearwater won’t go as they imagined after Fen finds a woman named Rowan half-drowned in the ocean and brings her back to the research center. 

Though they’re committed to caring for her until she recovers, the Salts are suspicious of Rowan at first. Who is she, exactly, and what brought her to this remote place? But gradually, Rowan proves a balm to past losses, as she listens to Orly’s stories and Fen’s doubts, and helps with projects around the island. The possibility of having a fifth member of their family again is a potent force, especially for Dominic, who is still grieving the loss of his wife. But Rowan has come to the island with a personal agenda, and when she finds a recent grave, she realizes the Salts, too, have things to hide.

McConaghy’s thought-provoking and passionately told novel is about family and trust, but it is also about climate change and the effect of severe weather on our environment and on our lives. Wild Dark Shore asks, what will happen when we risk losing our homes and our neighbors? What will we save and what will we let go of? And how can we start again after the sea takes it all?   

Charlotte McConaghy’s thought-provoking and passionately told third novel, Wild Dark Shore, is about not only family and trust, but also climate change and the effect of severe weather on our lives.
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As Martha S. Jones gave a halting presentation about Franz Fanon in an undergraduate Black sociology course, her classmate, the leader of the Black Student Union, interrupted her, saying, “Who do you think you are?” The exchange startled and haunted her: “Never before had someone so openly demanded, goaded, and nearly shamed me into explaining who I thought I was.” Jones’ father was descended from enslaved people, while her mother came from German, Austrian and Irish immigrants. She notes that her genes were “expressed in skin too light, features too fine, hair too limp. I am the heir of misunderstanding, misapprehension, and mistaken identity.”

It’s not surprising that Jones became a historian of how American democracy has been shaped by Black Americans. In The Trouble of Color: An American Family Memoir, she traces her father’s side of the family back five generations, writing with precision, grace and loving insight into how color affected their lives. “As far back as I can know,” she writes, “my people have been caught up along the jagged color line. . . . We’ve skipped, hopped, and danced an awkward two-step. . . . We played possum and trickster, stood wide-eyed and defiant, while tragedy in its many guises tracked us, looking to take us out.”

Read our Q&A with Martha S. Jones, author of ‘The Trouble of Color.’ 

Relying on years of extensive research, family records and interviews, Jones constructs a moving narrative, bringing her ancestors to life. She begins with her great-great-great-grandmother Nancy Bell Graves, born in 1808 in Danville, Kentucky, whose maiden name, “Bell,” was the same as the family who enslaved her. Graves’ photograph shows that her skin was not “ebony or deep brown” but “closer in tone to the white bonnet on her head.” While it’s probable that Nancy’s father was a member of the enslaving family, Jones notes that “so much of the historical record was written with silence.” That silence continued to stymie her when, for instance, a Danville librarian discouraged her research. “What you’re saying implicates some of Danville’s most important families,” she warned.

Jones’ writing, both in skill and subject matter, is reminiscent of Tiya Miles’ biography of Harriet Tubman, Night Flyer, and her National Book Award-winning All That She Carried. The Trouble of Color is a genealogy with staying power that will change the way readers understand race.

 

Martha S. Jones’ moving memoir, The Trouble of Color, traces her family’s history back five generations and will change the way readers understand race.
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Sculpting a novel that conveys vastness through inner lives alone is a tremendous challenge. Making that same novel a page-turning mystery that’s simultaneously moving and often nail-biting is another challenge altogether. With The Strange Case of Jane O., Karen Thompson Walker rises to meet both of these challenges head-on, and succeeds. 

The title character is—externally at least—an unremarkable woman, a single mother who works at the New York Public Library. Alarmed by potential hallucinations, blackouts and a feeling of lingering sadness and dread, she seeks the help of a psychiatrist, who takes an interest not just in Jane’s case, but in the way the woman sees the world. Told through a combination of the psychiatrist’s reflections on his sessions with Jane, and Jane’s own diary entries addressed to her infant son, The Strange Case of Jane O. seeks to excavate a particular human mind in such a way that the minds of everyone around her, and the very nature of their reality, might turn on what becomes of this fascinating protagonist.

Though this engrossing book often moves with a thriller’s pace, there is little sensationalism in Walker’s writing. She approaches Jane’s story through spare, deliberate prose, keeping each chapter lean and, when narrating from the psychiatrist’s point of view, sometimes clinical. But it’s not cold prose. In fact, as the psychiatrist discovers the nature of Jane’s unique memory, her hallucinations and the source of her dread, the precision of Walker’s word choice becomes key to deciphering the mystery. This is not a book that holds the reader’s hand through every revelation, but one that asks something of us, wanting us to decipher along with its characters a mystery that is bigger than psychiatry, bigger than crime, bigger than a single strange incident. 

Slowly, elegantly and with tremendous grace, Walker starts to draw parallels between therapist and patient, between mother and father, between woman and child, and The Strange Case of Jane O. becomes an emotional journey into the heart of what drives us, what breaks us and what keeps us walking the line of mundane daily life.

The very nature of reality might turn on what becomes of the fascinating lead character in Karen Thompson Walker’s The Strange Case of Jane O.

The Peach Thief is absolutely a story any fan of The Secret Garden will devour: It features magic walled gardens, characters with mysterious pasts, and girls on their own. It’s no surprise then that Linda Joan Smith cites Frances Hodgson Burnett’s classic as an inspiration for her delicious middle grade debut, a historical novel set in Lancashire, England, in 1850.

Smith has written nonfiction gardening books, and her detailed knowledge of plants, orchards and garden history shines through this tale inspired by actual Victorian garden practices. The novel opens with a map of the Earl of Havermore’s kitchen garden, a place irresistible to hungry 13-year-old workhouse orphan Scilla for its promise of treasure—not gold but peaches. She’s had a bite of one and wants more, and there just might be peaches growing here in the earl’s glass garden house. Scilla sneaks into the garden at night, wearing boys’ clothes with her hair cut short, only to be caught by Mr. Layton, the gruff head gardener with a tragic past. To avoid being hauled off to the magistrate, Scilla gives her name as Seth Brown and talks herself into a job scrubbing garden pots.

Scilla, now nicknamed Brownie, discovers she loves the work. Scilla is earnest and likable; readers will cheer her on as she tries to keep her identity secret from the other workers and find her place. But Smith also gives her young protagonist some significant blind spots and challenges. Not all her choices are good ones, and readers will find themselves urging Scilla to be careful whom she trusts. Scilla gets unexpected help from Mr. Layton’s housekeeper, Mrs. Nandi, who has come with him from Calcutta, and from Mr. Layton himself. But Smith avoids sentimentality, wisely giving the reader only hints of what this brave young girl has come to mean to them both.

This lovely, well-drawn novel will appeal to historical fiction fans and kids who love plants, and will make a great bedtime read-aloud. And adults, be forewarned: You may cry at the end.

With its earnest and likable protagonist, The Peach Thief is a lovely, well-drawn novel that will appeal to historical fiction fans and kids who love plants.
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Let us start at the beginning: under the earth, in a grave, with a dead man. But unlike so many dead, the immortal Faron reawakens, the carrion-eaters fleeing from his shining body. So begins The Radiant King, the thrilling first entry of a new fantasy series from genre veteran David Dalglish. Gritty, romantic, soulful and shocking, The Radiant King may have a familiar epic fantasy framework, but it achieves great heights by its conclusion. 

On the island continent of Kaus, there are six siblings who can never die. The ever-living, blessed with life-bringing star magic called Radiance, have lived and died a thousand times, ruling and plundering across recorded time. That is, until their power nearly destroyed the world. They pledged a sacred vow: hold no thrones, wear no crowns and never give Radiance to mortals. When one of the ever-living, Eder, appoints himself head of a new twisted religion, his brothers, Faron and Sariel, join forces, furious that he has broken their agreement. But powerful though they are, they can’t take him down alone. They form an alliance with Isabelle, a mortal princess with a righteous cause and mysterious powers of her own. Can Faron and Sariel help her armies unify Kaus and challenge Eder before his abominations threaten the world?

Dalglish’s story is full of sword swinging, swashbuckling and other beloved fantasy tropes, but it’s his ruminations on the price of reincarnation that will truly draw the reader in. Each of the ever-living siblings has a different perspective on immortality, all reflecting on their regrets and self-recriminations as each life comes and goes. Sariel recognizes a woman whose soul he’s loved in many lifetimes past. Faron notes places and castles that he’s seen change through the centuries. These moments lend weight to our heroes and, notably, to the choices they make to thwart their brother.

Though the page count of The Radiant King is long and the pacing slows in the second act, watching Faron and Sariel slowly reveal their powers is consistently compelling and cool. The brothers are two sides of the same coin: Faron is genial, hopeful and righteous where Sariel is mercurial, dour and ruthless, and the tension between the two drives some incredible sequences. Dalglish mentions in his author’s note that the brothers were initially one character that he split while writing, and the story is much better for it, the contrasting tones integral to its success. The world building and sibling relationships give the new Astral Kingdoms series plenty of momentum going into book two, and when the time comes, readers will return, ready for more Radiance.

The Radiant King may have a familiar epic fantasy framework, but it achieves great heights thanks to its complex perspective on immortality.
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I’ll be honest, at first glance, the synopsis of The Lost Passenger sounds a bit like a sequel to Titanic. But happily, this proves not to be the case. The book begins two years before the doomed voyage and is told in the fresh first-person voice of a likable heroine, Elinor Hayward.

After a whirlwind courtship, 19-year-old Elinor marries Frederick Coombes, an English aristocrat, only to discover that what she thought was a union of love was instead a ruse to get her father’s new money to resurrect the Coombes’ crumbling old English estate. In Frederick’s words, his family’s guiding principle is, “When the place has been in the family for five centuries, it gives one a certain responsibility to the generations who’ve gone before and the ones to come.”

Having realized Frederick’s duplicity, Elinor resigns herself to a loveless life in cold Winterton Hall. She simply does not fit in there, as a woman who speaks her mind and has been taught by her father to have some business sense. She is looked down upon for her accent and her manners (her mother-in-law: “We spoon soup away from us, Elinor”). When she provides the family with a male heir, Teddy, she learns that motherhood, too, will not be as she imagined. A nanny will raise her son without her input.

Then Elinor’s father gives her three tickets for the Titanic’s maiden voyage, and Elinor jumps at the opportunity to escape from Winterton for 16 days. The trip becomes a more permanent escape for her when Frederick goes down with the ship, and Elinor makes an impulsive, brave choice that leads her to a new family in New York.

Readers will enjoy The Lost Passenger’s emphasis on the power of self-reliance and determination, demonstrated through the juxtaposition of Elinor’s unhappy life in England with her happiness in the life she chooses, despite its less favorable conditions. Some may wish to see more of her later life and Teddy’s, but Elinor’s believable voice and sympathetic narrative will have great appeal.

The Lost Passenger begins two years before the Titanic’s doomed voyage, telling the story of a young woman and her son whose lives will be forever changed by the disaster.

Etta Easton’s got her head back in the clouds in her new rom-com, The Love Simulation, her fun follow-up to 2024’s acclaimed astronaut romance, The Kiss Countdown

A headstrong vice principal at Juanita Craft Middle School, Brianna Rogers rarely looks before she leaps. Like her astronaut brother, Vincent (hero of The Kiss Countdown), Brianna likes a challenge. Most recently, she’s been putting all her energy into the school’s effort to upgrade the library. It seemed like a done deal . . . until her infuriating principal earmarks the funds for a new football field. Desperation and indignation spur Brianna to do something drastic, but adventurous, which is how she winds up being part of a six-week Mars simulation competition, which will award $500,000 to any team of teachers that makes it through the full term. That money could fund the library upgrade and Brianna’s a shoo-in to win—with a brother for an astronaut, what could go wrong, right?

Roman Major. That’s what could go wrong. The dreamy science teacher is Brianna’s nightmare: He may be handsome and good with his students, but he’s also their mutual principal’s son. Roman is determined to prove himself a strong member of Brianna’s team, and while he doesn’t have the benefit of an astronaut for a brother, he’s got the STEM chops to help the simulation’s experiments succeed.

Easton has written a tight romance with great pacing, a fun premise and relatable characters who are easy to cheer on. Roman’s father’s animosity towards Brianna provides some built-in tension, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and our nerdy science teacher dips into his hero reserves when it counts. Brianna is a hero in her own right, setting a strong example for the students and faculty, and standing true to her beliefs. As in most rom-coms, there’s a lot of introspection, miscommunication and external forces working to ruin a good thing, but there’s also Roman and Brianna, proving their chemistry is a force to be reckoned with—on Earth or on Mars.

A love story between two people in a Mars simulation, Etta Easton’s sophomore rom-com has great pacing and two ultra-lovable characters
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The Gift of the Great Buffalo is a thrilling adventure story and an excellent history lesson about Métis-Ojibwe culture all wrapped up in one. The author of We Are the Water Protectors, Carole Lindstrom, who is Métis and an enrolled member of the Turtle Mountain Band of Ojibwe, explains in an author’s note that although she grew up enjoying Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House books, “being portrayed as a ‘savage’ in a book where I felt an actual kinship to Laura Ingalls was very difficult for me to understand. It felt as if I were being hurt by a friend.”

Lindstrom wrote The Gift of the Great Buffalo to let readers know that “before there was a little house on the prairie, there was a little tipi on the prairie.” The book follows Rose, a young Métis girl accompanying her family to a big gathering for a twice-a-year buffalo hunt. Readers will be fascinated to see how the group hunt is organized, with “strict laws that were enforced by the captains, to ensure order and fairness.” Lindstrom skillfully incorporates other historical context as well, noting that European settlers had already eliminated most of the buffalo.

Aly McKnight’s illustrations capture the close relationship between Rose and her family, the sense of community fostered by the hunt, and the excitement of the big gathering. She wonderfully depicts tangible objects, like a steam locomotive—an invention that hastened the demise of the buffalo—as well as the spiritual connections Rose and her family have to the land and the animals they hunt. In a moving spread, readers see Rose listening to the voice of the buffalo spirit as a giant herd grazes amidst the green prairie grasses.

When Rose’s father, who is a captain, and others have trouble finding buffalo, Rose takes matters into her own hands in a daring show of female empowerment. While the story is both compelling and satisfying, the actual hunt is not portrayed—which is understandable, although its omission feels somewhat glaring, with only a single line mentioning, “It was a good hunting day.” Overall, The Gift of the Great Buffalo offers a meaningful look at Métis-Ojibwe history, and will have broad appeal for young readers.

The Gift of the Great Buffalo offers a meaningful look at Métis-Ojibwe history, and will have broad appeal for young readers.

Fishwife founder Becca Millstein and recipe developer Vilda Gonzalez have done what many would consider impossible—they made tinned fish cool. And lucrative: When Millstein presented her idea on Shark Tank in 2023 she disclosed that Fishwife earned $750,000 in 2021 and $2.6 million the following year. It was on track to make $5.8 million in 2023. With The Fishwife Cookbook: Delightful Tinned Fish Recipes for Every Occasion, Millstein and Gonzalez give you all the tools to make tinned fish into more than just girl-dinner staples. We’re talking recipes for meals like smoked salmon and caramelized shallot pasta with creme fraiche and kale that wouldn’t be out of place at a fine dining establishment, or a spiced mackerel paté with grilled bread that will be the standout at any cocktail party or family potluck. And because all the recipes include tinned fish as their star ingredient, they’re deceptively easy to pull off. The book is divided into slightly offbeat categories that acknowledge the nuances of contemporary life: A section called In Front of the Fireplace, for example, is full of warming congees and healing chowders, perfect for the time of year Millstein and Gonzalez have dubbed “Cozy Tinned Fish Season.” Aside from the wide assortment of tinned fish—seriously, you can get everything from slow-smoked mackerel with chili flakes to Cantabrian anchovies in extra virgin olive oil—the MVP of Fishwife is clearly illustrator Danny Miller, who creates Fishwife’s playful packaging imagery and decks out the volume with his signature vibrant cartoons.

The vibrantly illustrated Fishwife Cookbook is an essential volume for tinned fish converts, written by the women who made it cool.
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Sucker Punch is Canadian culture critic Scaachi Koul’s second collection of essays. Although it can be read on its own, it’s best read as a response to Koul’s 2017 debut collection, One Day, We’ll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter, a series of essays on Koul’s experiences as the Canadian-born daughter of Indian immigrants. While One Day addressed many critical social issues (rape culture, misogyny, online trolling), Koul also wove in the story of her parents and her relationship with her white, Canadian boyfriend throughout the essays. Moving in with him caused a mighty rift between Koul and her father, but the collection ended with the promise that reconciliation is possible, and that her hard-fought-for love will endure.

And then it didn’t.  

The “punch” in the title of her new memoir occurs when, very soon after her extravagant and expensive Indian wedding, Koul realizes her marriage was a terrible mistake. Instead of love triumphant, her romance with her husband has become a battleground. Worse, the COVID-19 pandemic forces them into shared isolation. Meanwhile, Koul’s parents are marooned in India because of travel restrictions, and her mother endures several serious health crises. Eventually, Koul and her husband divorce, further straining the relationships in her own family.

Sucker Punch is a more visceral book than Koul’s earlier one: These essays practically throb with fury, guilt, sorrow and regret. But, Koul being Koul, they are also witty and frequently hilarious. And while deeply personal, they are also universal. Her ex-husband’s betrayal of their marriage has implications that extend beyond the usual heartbreak into the territories of misogyny and racism. Koul’s complex relationship with her mother leads to a deeper understanding of both the strength of feminine forbearance and the fiery power of feminine rage. Caring for her mother’s fragile body, Koul experiences the common fear of a parent’s mortality, which reminds us that we, too, are mortal. Finally, Koul affirms that grief and anger can create opportunities for reconciliation and forgiveness with her mother, her family and, at last, herself.

Scaachi Koul’s visceral memoir in essays Sucker Punch throbs with feeling. But Koul being Koul, it’s also witty and frequently hilarious.

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