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Children's & YAYA FictionYA

Heir

Review by Yi Jiang

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.
Children's & YAMiddle GradeChildren's

Godfather Death

Review by Alice Cary

Godfather Death is a lively retelling of a Grimm fairy tale about a poor fisherman looking for a godfather for his newborn son. The fisherman rejects God’s offer because he doesn’t feel God treats people fairly, especially since the fisherman and his family live in such poverty. He is smart enough to also reject the devil’s offer—but when Death comes along, he believes he has finally found an honest man. After the christening, Death lets the fisherman in on a scheme that makes him a rich man, but ultimately backfires in a tragic way.

As the fisherman’s captivating quest unfolds, Sally Nicholls weaves in plenty of humor: Christening guests stare at Death—a skeleton with his silver scythe and long black cloak—as “everyone tried very hard to be polite to the baby’s godfather.” When this skeleton figure eats food, “everyone wondered where it went.” 

Julia Sarda illustrates the tale in a limited palette of orange, mustard yellow, dark green and black, imbuing the book with an intriguing, stylized vibe reminiscent of old fairy tales. Her eye-catching illustrations will help readers understand that this is a tale meant to impart wisdom. Note that, like the original, the ending is abrupt and not at all happy. Nonetheless, Godfather Death is a memorable story that’s bound to encourage interesting discussions about life, death and honesty. 

 

Based on a Grimm fairy tale, Godfather Death is a memorable story that’s bound to encourage interesting discussions about life, death and honesty.
NonfictionLifestylesArt

Great Women Sculptors

Review by Laura Hutson Hunter

In her introduction to Great Women Sculptors, curator and scholar Lisa Le Feuvre doesn’t use the term “woman” until well into the essay. Even then, it is included only to highlight a historical lack of institutional support, rather than anything inherently female about a particular artwork, subject matter or medium. Instead, the sole commonality of the artists collected in Great Women Sculptors is that they made art while being marginalized by structural misogyny. “Rather than expanding the canon, this book is an index that ruptures the received account of sculpture,” Le Feuvre explains. That distinction is important, because even as Great Women Sculptors brings together more than 300 artists throughout 500 years of art history, women artists are still marginalized; the patriarchy didn’t just shrivel up, much as we’d wanted it to, after Linda Nochlin published the seminal essay “Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists?” in 1971. This encyclopedic volume includes entries on established artists like Eva Hesse and Louise Bourgeois alongside a younger generation of stars like Lauren Halsey. Even the most well-read art scholars will find something new—or old, as in Baroque-era Spanish sculptor Luisa Roldán. The breadth of the book’s coverage is tempered by its focus on a single work per artist, an image of which is printed beautifully on heavy-duty paper and fully contextualized by a slate of 46 art experts. 

The beautifully printed, encyclopedic Great Women Sculptors brings together more than 300 artists who have been excluded from institutions and canons on the basis of gender.
NonfictionPhotographyLifestylesAnimals

Faithful Unto Death

Review by Laura Hutson Hunter

A pet cemetery can be much more than fodder for horror stories and Ramones songs. It can also be a way to dig deep (pardon the pun) into the ways that people live and grieve. Paul Koudounaris’ thoroughly researched book, Faithful Unto Death: Pet Cemeteries, Animal Graves & Eternal Devotion, is an investigation into the bonds between pets and their owners. It begins by explaining that, although people have kept animals close since ancient times, the modern conception of a pet is fairly contemporary. As people left rural areas in the wake of 19th-century industrialization, they brought their animals with them. In these new, smaller quarters, they grew ever more intimate. Faithful Unto Death is as much about how people love their pets as it is about how they mourn them. For a book that’s ostensibly about death, it’s not overly macabre: Passages about grief and Edna Clyne’s famous “Rainbow Bridge” poem are interspersed with images of a dog named Ah Fuk and a tomb for a beagle named Tippy, “the Elvis dog,” who was sung to by The King himself in her puppyhood. With archival photos and illustrations featured alongside Koudounaris’ portraits of headstones and informal altars, Faithful Unto Death will appeal to those interested in cultural rituals and the human-animal bond; what’s more, readers who have lost their own pets will feel acknowledged in their grief. 

 

Faithful Unto Death is a thoughtful investigation into the bonds of pets and their owners that chronicles the ways in which we grieve and remember the animals we love.
NonfictionMemoirLGBTQ+

Frighten the Horses

Review by Jessica Wakeman

The publishing industry tends to shine a spotlight on memoirs by transgender people who are already famous: actors, models, Jeopardy! champions. Their transition stories hit similar beats as those of other trans people, but the circumstances of their lives do not. This makes Frighten the Horses by Oliver Radclyffe stand out—the author was a typical suburban stay-at-home parent when he transitioned. Any parent can understand how researching “phantom penises’’ ended up low on Radclyffe’s to-do list when raising four young children.

Growing up upper-class in Britain, Radclyffe lived a privileged but sheltered life: boarding school, conservative parents and little exposure to queer culture. Although he was curious about sex and gender, his fear, shame and denial kept him in a gilded cage well into adulthood. We meet him in his 40s, as a female-presenting parent of four, married to a conventional cis man who works in finance. From the outside, Radclyffe’s Connecticut family looks perfect, but he’s in therapy trying to figure out why he is losing hair, has no appetite and is prone to extreme mood swings. 

Once Radclyffe realizes he is trans, and begins to transition, his physical presentation is not the only thing that changes. His experiences with sex, relationships and friendships are all impacted, and Frighten the Horses weaves together many narratives. It’s the story of a marriage falling apart when one spouse refuses to see the other clearly, of a parent who desperately fears that each new change might affect his children’s happiness, and of finding both acceptance and rejection in some surprising places.  

Accompanying Radclyffe’s journey is his self-education about queer history and gender politics. (Bluestockings, a Lower East Side bookstore located a train ride away from his Connecticut home, is integral to this.) He learns about the marginalization of trans people, which helps him understand why he lacked a compass for much of his youth. Frighten the Horses is warm, moving and most importantly, inspiring for anyone who needs a reminder that it’s never too late to be one’s authentic self. 

Oliver Radclyffe’s Frighten the Horses is a powerful standout among the burgeoning subgenre of gender transition memoirs.
FictionLiterary Fiction

Entitlement

Review by Michael Magras

Boy, the sacrifices some people will make to get ahead. It’s understandable to see another person’s shiny baubles and desire similar luxuries—but at what cost? This conflict of ambition provides the dramatic impetus for Entitlement, Rumaan Alam’s slyly provocative fourth novel.

Brooke Orr, the novel’s 33-year-old Black protagonist, is a born-and-raised New Yorker who rides the subway every day, even knowing that there is a “lunatic at large who was jabbing unsuspecting commuters with a hypodermic.” One of the adopted children of a white lawyer who runs an organization dedicated to reproductive justice, Brooke studied art history and spent several years teaching at a charter school but left it disillusioned because the school “only cared about STEM.” Brooke wants a more elegantly ornamented life. 

Then, a glimpse of a shiny bauble: In 2014, during the comparatively halcyon days of “Obama’s placid America,” she gets a job at the Asher and Carol Jaffee Foundation, dedicated to giving away 83-year-old Asher’s billions. Asher earned his money by taking over an uncle’s office supply store and then expanding into catalogs, real estate and malls. Asher comes to see Brooke as a protégé, in part because she reminds him of his daughter, Linda, who worked at Cantor Fitzgerald and was killed on 9/11.

Soon, Asher is seeking Brooke’s advice on everything from gifts for his wife to candidates to favor with his riches. And Brooke discovers that she likes riding in Asher’s Bentley and wearing fancy clothes. As one character remarks, however, “Nobody gets something for nothing,” and as Brooke makes more and more uncharacteristic decisions, she learns that lesson all too well.

Entitlement isn’t as deeply felt as Alam’s previous novel, the brilliant Leave the World Behind, but anyone suspicious of the luster of capitalism and its promises will find much to mull over in this excellent work.

Anyone suspicious of the luster of capitalism and its promises will find much to mull over in Entitlement, Rumaan Alam’s slyly provocative fourth novel.
Mystery & SuspenseMystery

Exposure

Review by Alice Cary

“The air was still cold as I readied myself to begin another morning in my paper suit.” Those words come from Rita Todacheene as she narrates Exposure, Ramona Emerson’s second book in her projected trilogy of mysteries starring the Navajo forensic photographer. The first, Shutter, was longlisted for the National Book Award, and from the very first page, Exposure is equally—if not more—electrifying than the first, allowing both fans and newcomers to jump right in.

It’s winter in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and Emerson uses the season to great effect, with shivering investigators and frozen bodies, which the double entendre of her perfect title nods to. Rita has been summoned to a particularly brutal crime scene, where a retired police detective, his wife and six of their seven children have been murdered, with the oldest son being questioned as a suspect. Earlier in the night, she had been awakened by the ghost of one of the dead, a little girl who announces, “We’re waiting for you.” It’s a chilling, explosive start, and this unsettling young voice gives Rita surprising insights into the murders.

For Ramona Emerson, humanizing the victims of violent crimes is more than just a profession: It’s a calling.

Be forewarned: Emerson’s crime scenes are viscerally authentic—she worked as a forensic photographer herself—although Rita’s empathy and compassion are always at the forefront, and there’s even occasional humor to be found from the ghosts. As in Shutter, Rita’s paranormal gifts continue to not only aid her police work, but also help her unmask often uncomfortable truths, including police corruption. However, the long hours, unbearable sights, endless voices are pushing Rita over the edge. She laments, “The dead were everywhere, and I couldn’t unsee them. Their souls gathered inside me.” Rita also faces big life changes: Someone she loves dies, and an intriguing new character appears. Rita’s beloved grandmother and a medicine man, Mr. Bitsilly, soon come to her aid. As Mr. Bitsilly realizes, “Something has her soul in its grasp. It could be one thing or a lot of things, but it will kill her if we let it stay.”

Emerson, a Diné writer and filmmaker who hails from Rita’s own hometown of Tohatchi in the Navajo Nation, masterfully commands these tightly wound plot strands, varying the tension and pacing with comforting moments with Rita’s beloved elderly neighbor, Mrs. Santillanes. Lots of lives—and souls—are on the line in the evocative Exposure, and Emerson adroitly takes on a variety of weighty themes. Rita Todacheene is a gritty, believable character with a heart that is equal parts steel and soul. Readers will immediately be clamoring for more.

Exposure is equally—if not more—electrifying than Ramona Emerson’s debut, the National Book Award-longlisted Shutter.
FictionGraphic Novels & Comics

Djinnology

Review by Alice Cary

If you’re in the mood for some spine-tingling stories, cozy up to Djinnology: An Illuminated Compendium of Spirits and Stories From the Muslim World, a fictitious (or is it?) compendium that is both fascinating and creepy, and made all the more so by Pulitzer Prize-winner Fahmida Azim’s striking illustrations. 

Seema Yasmin, a journalist, professor and physician, has created a fictional narrator named Dr. N, a taxonomist and ontologist who has traveled the world to investigate the sometimes benevolent, sometimes malevolent djinn. Djinn, Dr. N writes, have been “haunting humanity since pre-Islamic times.” They are “shape-shifting beasts who grant wishes, inspire poetry, and snatch away innocent children.” “To the world’s nearly two billion human Muslims,” he writes, “djinn are as real as tax returns and as frightening and captivating as an electrical storm.” 

He submits the fruits of his research to his academic committee, apparently to explain his long and unexplained absence from class, in this volume of stories from around the world that capture the long history and great variety of djinn. Many of these stories are related to human events, such as one concerning a ghostlike horseman who allegedly appeared in Cairo’s Tahrir Square at the height of the Arab Spring. Another terrifying tale of more dubious origins takes place in London, when a woman delivering her husband’s specimen to an IVF clinic spots what she thinks is an abandoned baby in the middle of the road. She stops, of course, but things do not go as she expects.

Djinnology is beautifully designed, with maps, English and Arabic inscriptions and more, gamely selling a high-octane, between-two-worlds vibe. Most of all, Azim’s haunting illustrations in smoky colors perfectly portray this menagerie of spirits. Readers will find themselves looking over their shoulders.

 

In the vibrantly illustrated Djinnology, a fictional scientist travels the world to learn about sometimes malevolent, sometimes benevolent spirits of Muslim folklore.
NonfictionSocial ScienceLifestyles

Eerie Legends

Review by Laura Hutson Hunter

Eerie Legends: An Illustrated Exploration of Creepy Creatures, the Paranormal, and Folklore From Around the World arrives like Halloween candy, just in time for the spookiest season of the year. Austin, Texas-based artist Ricardo Diseño’s bold, offbeat illustrations don’t simply complement these spine-tingling stories, they lead the way. Each chapter blends elements of fiction and nonfiction, and includes a corresponding full-page illustration that stands on its own as a fully realized piece of art. The horror elements here are plenty scary, but skew toward the creature-feature end of the spectrum—think Universal Studio monsters, or even Troma’s The Toxic Avenger. The chapter on Krampus details the yuletide terror’s appearance with frightening specificity: “Part man, part goat, and part devil. . . . His tongue is red, forked, creepy, and always whipping around.” Diseño’s hoofed monster, straight out of the Blumhouse cinematic universe, is shown in the midst of abducting a child. Each chapter ends with a campfire-style tale about the designated monster, written with Lovecraftian zeal by Steve Mockus. As an added incentive, the cover glows in the dark—a feature I hadn’t noticed until after I fell asleep with it on my bedside table. Talk about eerie.

 

Bold, offbeat illustrations by Ricardo Diseño lead the way in the spooky-fun Eerie Legends.
NonfictionGraphic Memoirs

Brittle Joints

Review by Freya Sachs

In Brittle Joints, Maria Sweeney illustrates the complexities of living with chronic pain, trying to find comfort when healing is impossible and as the medical system repeatedly fails her.

As a child, Sweeney started counting her broken bones. It seemed as if they would just happen. After she was diagnosed with Bruck Syndrome—a rare progressive disease—the fragility of her bones and the pain in her joints had an explanation, but no possibility of a cure. So, in beautifully colored, evocative frames that reflect her effort to adapt to her advancing condition, Sweeney takes the reader through parts of her journey as she looks for relief.

For Sweeney, doctor’s appointments are often frustrating: either doctors do not know what to do, or they seem unaware of the pain they cause her; traditional pain relief comes with severe side effects and risks; people question her use of a wheelchair as someone who can—painfully—walk when needed. Through it all, her relationships with her boyfriend and friends provide comfort and understanding. Sweeney includes the story of her adoption from Moldova, adding another layer to how she understands and communicates her sense of self.

The graphic memoir as a form proves effective here; the images—in particular as Sweeney illustrates herself from childhood to adulthood—reveal her emotions as words on their own could not. Each mark on the page seems defiant, showing all that she has overcome to use the pen, to tell her story in word and image.

In beautifully colored and evocative frames, Brittle Joints shares illustrator Maria Sweeney’s experiences living with a rare disability.
NonfictionMemoir

Connie

Review by Henry L. Carrigan Jr.

Connie Chung broke the glass and bamboo ceiling when she became the first Asian American woman to co-anchor a national news broadcast program, joining Dan Rather at the desk of the CBS Evening News. Her visibility and success led generations of Chinese parents to name their daughters Connie. In her briskly paced memoir, Connie, Chung recounts her personal and professional life with candor, humor and heart. 

Growing up as the youngest of 10 daughters and the only child in the family born in the U.S., Chung spent more time watching television than doing chores, and her family stopped everything to listen to Walter Cronkite on the CBS Evening News. The legendary newsman’s coverage of politics and government lit a spark in Chung. In 1971, she landed a job as a Washington correspondent on his program. (Cronkite, she writes, “radiated gravitas and humility, never behaving like the superstar he was.”) Over the next 40 years, Chung embraced the excitement of “getting the get”—landing an exclusive story or interview—and faced the challenges of being a woman in a male-dominated profession. Connie carries readers through the ups and downs of Chung’s career as the major networks (ABC, NBC and CBS) piped her image and voice into millions of American living rooms during prime time. Readers will glimpse the relationships that have sustained Chung; she gushes about her husband, talk show host Maury Povich: “Were it not for Maury, I could never have had the career I had. . . . He helped me navigate my treacherous path up the ladder.”

Chung pulls no punches as she describes the harassment she faced from anchors who felt threatened by her work, among them Dan Rather, who sabotaged her career after the network sent her to cover the Oklahoma City bombing (Rather was on vacation and unreachable when it occurred). And she movingly recounts going public during the #MeToo movement with the story of her own sexual assault by a gynecologist when she was in college. Connie offers words of advice for future women reporters: “Remember to have a sense of humor, take your work seriously, don’t forget to have a life and—most importantly—stretch your hand to others who are trying to climb on board.” Chung’s humanity and journalistic passion reverberate through this invigorating memoir.

With candor and humor, Connie Chung shares the highs and lows of her trailblazing career as a journalist in her invigorating memoir, Connie.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

Bog Myrtle

Review by Alice Cary

Sid Sharp’s picture book Bog Myrtle starts as an intriguing fairy tale about two very different sisters: eternally optimistic Beatrice and forever grumpy Magnolia, who live “alone in a hideous, drafty old house” and “are so poor that they ate rats for breakfast and cockroaches for lunch.”

The action starts when Beatrice decides to make a sweater for Magnolia, who gripes about being cold. Since they have no money, Beatrice, who loves nature and crafts, heads to the forest to look for helpful treasures, and eventually encounters a monster named Bog Myrtle. Surprising things happen every step of the way, and Sharp’s sense of humor shines through—for instance, with a knitting store called “Knot in My Back Yarn.” 

Bog Myrtle offers Beatrice magic silk, which allows her to knit a truly splendid gift for Magnolia—who immediately sees potential for profit. As Magnolia launches a magic sweater business that becomes increasingly exploitative, Sharp transforms the tale into a sophisticated, humorous fable about sustainability, corporate greed and workers’ rights. Sharp manages to integrate these themes so seamlessly that they never feel strident; readers will simply find themselves cheering when the good guys beat the villain. 

Bold, contrasting colors imbue Sharp’s eye-catching illustrations with a modern, energetic vibe. Bog Myrtle offers a fun-filled yet serious look at sustainability and corporate accountability. Who would have even thought that possible? Sharp’s wizardry makes it happen. 

 

Who would have thought it possible to create an entertaining children's story about sustainability and corporate accountability? Sid Sharp's fun-filled fable, Bog Myrtle, is just that.
NonfictionHistoryAmerican History

Book and Dagger

Review by Alejandro Ramirez

Though physicists get the most attention when it comes to academic contributions to war efforts, the United States’ nascent intelligence team also relied on experts of another sort. Elyse Graham’s Book and Dagger: How Scholars and Librarians Became the Unlikely Spies of World War II, tells the thrilling story of the professors, archivists and artists who were recruited by the U.S. and British governments to become highly effective spies and intelligence agents during the Second World War. 

Graham recounts the various missions made possible by professional researchers recruited from university campuses by the Office of Strategic Services, the precursor to the CIA. These men and women put their skills to use in unexpected ways, such as drawing strategic insights from the most mundane texts, like Moroccan phone directories that revealed munitions factory locations, and scientific journals available only in Europe, which kept the Allies abreast of nuclear developments.

A Hollywood version of Book and Dagger would feature heart-pounding scenes of disheveled scholars digging for scraps of crucial information in stacks of ancient tomes. Without falling into this mire of tropes, Graham follows some recurring characters and includes some thrilling scenes of sabotage. The book is also about how the OSS and U.S. military relied on unique, research-driven perspectives to outsmart and outmaneuver the Nazis. With a keen ear for narrative prose, Graham builds suspense and intrigue, and the book is a pulpy delight.

Graham acknowledges that spycraft is a complicated, messy business, and readers may find this tale of underdog heroism difficult to square with the CIA’s later history of surveillance and subterfuge in U.S. and international politics. Even so, a story where a passion for knowledge and appreciation for outsiders defeats a regime fueled by hatred and greed is most welcome. Book and Dagger is a necessary reminder of the value of the humanities and the importance of the freedom of information and ideas at a time when both of those things are under threat.

Elyse Graham’s thrilling history of how scholars and librarians helped the U.S. outsmart the Nazis is a pulpy delight.

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