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Julia Armfield’s Private Rites is part speculative novel, part domestic drama, as three feuding sisters seek closure after their father’s death while the city they live in is slowly destroyed by heavy rains and flooding. 

Sisters Isla and Irene, and their much younger stepsister, Agnes, inhabit a London-like city where it has been raining longer than anyone can remember. All three are survivors of a traumatic upbringing: Their father, Stephen, was a harsh man, pitting the two older girls against one another and mocking their weaknesses. After divorcing Isla and Irene’s mother, Stephen, a notable avant-garde architect, quickly married again. But when Agnes was born, her mother disappeared, leaving all three girls to be brought up by their father. The sisters are resentful and jealous of one another, rarely getting together as adults. Bossy Isla is trying to keep her psychiatric practice going despite losing patients, and Irene spends her time scrolling through internet forums where people role-play the pre-apocalypse world: “I’d pick you up in my car because I have a car,” reads one post. Agnes, who’s used to drifting between sexual partners, meets a girl at the coffee shop where she works and is startled by the intimate relationship that develops. Meanwhile, as the rain continues, whole neighborhoods are lost to flooding, and their inhabitants are forced to move to higher and higher ground.

The fragile ties between the sisters further disintegrate after Stephen’s death. Harsh words are exchanged at Stephen’s funeral, and when the will is read, the two older sisters find that the family house has been left to Agnes, who doesn’t want it. The intense sibling drama can’t hide the fact that there are some very weird things going on besides the weather—the absence of their mothers, Agnes’ spotty memories and hazy dreams, and how strangers constantly recognize the three sisters when they are out in public. 

Private Rites excels as a spooky character study, moving seamlessly between the sisters and their partners and creating a rich narrative despite its brevity (barely over 200 pages). Following its clever echoes of King Lear (an overbearing father, three bickering daughters, endlessly howling storms) and all-too-believable evocation of climate apocalypse, the novel’s resolution unfortunately feels like a misstep. Until the end, however, Armfield goes deep into the damaged psyches of three unusual women who search for connection despite their father’s cruel legacy.

Private Rites excels as a spooky character study, with clever echoes of King Lear—an overbearing father, three bickering daughters, endlessly howling storms—and an all-too-believable evocation of climate apocalypse.

Edouard Manet’s Le Déjeuner Sur L’Herbe, or Luncheon on the Grass, is often called the first modern painting, and the paintings compiled in Luncheons on the Grass: Reimagining Manet’s Le Déjeuner Sur L’Herbe are like a time machine connecting modern and contemporary art. The 1863 painting, which is in the collection of Musée d’Orsay in Paris, shows a nude woman sitting with two clothed gentlemen in a wooded glade. In the foreground is an overturned picnic basket. In the background, another woman bathes in a stream. In 2021, art dealer and gallerist Jeffrey Deitch asked around 30 leading contemporary artists to respond to Manet’s masterpiece, and the resulting works—as well as several pieces that weren’t commissioned specifically for the show but refer to Le Déjeuner Sur L’Herbe—are collected in this volume. Deitch’s own essay about Manet’s painting includes insight into its history, from its nude model Victorine Meurent to the inspiration the artist drew from Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael and Diego Velázquez. The inclusion of interviews with artists about their works and Manet’s influence is particularly illuminating. In an interview with Nina Chanel Abney, for example, the artist says, “I pulled from Manet’s beautiful landscapes, scenes, and epic compositions to make a painting that centers Black queer people, creating a new narrative in which I feel seen.” Some artists did away with Manet’s references almost entirely, focusing instead on more obscure ones. It’s here that the interviews become particularly insightful, as in one with artist Ariana Papademetropoulos: She explains that by focusing on the bather in the background of Manet’s painting, she’s able to think about what it means to have a picnic and bring domesticity to the natural world. Some other pieces discussed include work made prior to the project, most famously Robert Colescott’s 1979 painting of the same name, but also a 1965 photograph of a family of nudists by Diane Arbus, which takes on new life here.

The illuminating Luncheons on the Grass asks 30 artists to create new works inspired by Manet’s eponymous masterpiece.

Nora Dahlia hits the ground running with her debut rom-com, Pick-Up. If you’ve ever languished in the car pool lane, been dismissed by teachers and administrators, or wondered if the other parents on field trips are judging you (because as we all know, they are), this is the book for you.

A modern romance with relatable characters and a catchy narrative style, Pick-Up is told from the perspective of three first-person narrators: single mother Sasha Rubinstein, single father Ethan Jones, and Kaitlin, a fellow parent at the school all three characters’ children attend who was a childhood friend of Sasha’s.

Why Nora Dahlia broke with romance tradition.

Sasha is your typical harried, always-on-the-go single mother. Ethan is your typical handsome, clueless single father, seemingly too busy to be personable. Or so it seems. Once the story gets going, Dahlia opens the window into the reality of two people wrapped up in their identities as parents, juggling responsibilities while still searching for a soulmate, who spar over sweatshirts for their kids and spots in after-school programs. Ethan is especially relatable with his mental to-do lists, which are constantly changing based on how his day’s going and how he feels about whatever’s left to check off.

Kaitlin fills in the blanks for the reader like a classic Greek chorus, helping us see beyond Sasha’s and Ethan’s perspectives as the story—and their relationship—unfolds. It’s Kaitlin, for example, who first informs us that Sasha’s now ex-husband, Cliff, disappeared to Hollywood after hitting it big as a screenwriter, the fallout of which the tight-knit school community witnessed through closely observing Sasha. As the book goes on, the two women rediscover their friendship and Kaitlin proves to be a good companion for Sasha, providing a calm stability she didn’t realize she needed. However, Kaitlin’s perspective is at times a distraction, and it can feel as if Dahlia either doesn’t trust or is unable to let Sasha and Ethan tell their love story on their own.

Dahlia is a lifestyle writer living in New York City, and her crisp, punchy voice shines throughout Pick-Up, giving the city as much character as the characters themselves. It’s an enjoyable romance where it’s easy to root for a happy ending.

If you’ve ever wondered if the other parents on field trips are judging you, Nora Dahlia’s debut rom-com is the book for you.
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Ira Gershwin has long been regarded as one of the major lyricists of the Great American Songbook. Many of his contributions to Broadway shows, movies and recordings from the 1920s to the 1950s remain popular today. Three of his songs were nominated for Academy Awards but did not win. Today, those songs “The Man that Got Away,” “They Can’t Take That Away from Me” and “Long Ago (and Far Away),” are standards. Among the artists who have released all-Gershwin recordings in recent years are Willie Nelson, Tony Bennett, Diana Krall, Brian Wilson and Michael Feinstein.

The celebrated and much beloved George Gershwin, best known for his “Rhapsody in Blue” and the “folk opera” Porgy and Bess, was Ira’s younger brother and frequent collaborator. George developed a brain tumor and died at age 38. This devastating turn of events not only was a profound personal loss for Ira but also made him the custodian of George’s estate. While continuing to pursue his own career with other composers, he had to contend with long-disputed legal and financial aspects of this inheritance.

In Ira Gershwin: A Life in Words, the first full-length biography of its subject, Michael Owen beautifully captures the life and times of the Gershwin brothers as they crafted musicals for Broadway, including Of Thee I Sing, for which Ira received the Pulitzer Prize in Drama 1932 for his lyrical contribution; George missed out on the award, for there was not a prize for music at this point. Owen writes that Ira “was honored to be recognized but was equally perturbed by the ignorance of the committee that discounted the inventiveness of the music, which allowed his words to come to life.”

So too does Owen’s engaging and insightful portrait illuminate Ira’s life. Ira Gershwin is meticulously researched, thoughtfully drawing from a wide range of sources to take us behind the scenes of the highs and lows of writing for stage and screen. Through Ira’s musings, personal letters, production notes and business correspondence, as well as interviews with those who knew him, we see how this low-key, erudite and keen observer of life and language became not only an outstanding wordsmith, but also the chief archivist of his and George’s musical achievements.

There are numerous theatrical and academic projects inspired by and named for the Gershwins. The best known is the Library of Congress Gershwin Prize for American Popular Song. The award, established in 2007, recognizes the important place popular song has in our country. Among the recipients are Paul Simon, Carole King, Billy Joel, Stevie Wonder, Joni Mitchell and Garth Brooks. And, of course, the Gershwin songs continue to be heard and enjoyed.

Michael Owen’s thoughtful, engaging biography illuminates the life and work of Ira Gershwin.

In her debut novel for adults, I Made It Out of Clay, author and playwright Beth Kander delivers an imaginative and emotionally charged contemporary Jewish fairy tale that explores themes of grief, survival and self-discovery.

For the first time in her life, Eve Goodman isn’t looking forward to the impending holiday season. She’s mourning the recent loss of her father, worried about losing her job and—to add insult to injury—her younger sister’s Hanukkah-themed wedding is scheduled for Eve’s 40th birthday. A wedding to which terminally single Eve defiantly RSVP’d saying she’d be bringing a date. In short: Eve’s life is a giant mess.

Everything changes, however, when a disturbing incident reminds Eve of the old legends her bubbe used to share about golems, fierce protectors of Jewish people made from clay who will obey their creator’s every command. Following a drunken night out and a failed attempt at inviting her dreamy next-door neighbor to the wedding, Eve sculpts a golem of her very own. At first, it seems like Eve’s golem is the answer to her prayers, but she soon finds herself questioning whether she has created the perfect man—or the perfect monster.

Kander’s spirited writing is clever and funny, but despite the romantic elements, I Made It Out of Clay is darker and more complex than a Jewish Bridget Jones’s Diary with a fantastical twist. The focus is on Eve’s grief at her father’s loss and resulting estrangement from her family, and Kander does not shy away from depicting antisemitism. The result is a provocative, multifaceted narrative that, while entertaining and ultimately uplifting, also unsettles at times, but is all the better for it.

Though entertaining in the vein of Bridget Jones’s Diary, I Made It Out of Clay is darker and more complex, following a Jewish woman grieving the loss of her father who creates a golem when she can’t secure a date for her sister’s wedding.
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As Ingrained: The Making of a Craftsman opens, Callum Robinson and his father are trekking deep into a Scottish forest on a quest for timber. As we follow them, we are newcomers in this unfamiliar territory of dappled sunlight, damp air and still silence, surrounded by “hulking Scots pines [that] lurk in their own long shadow.” Along with his woodworking tools, Robinson brings his skills as a wordsmith; his writing is startlingly sensual and as vibrant and lush as the terrain he walks. He evokes the smell and feel of the “dry, earthy, fungal miasma” among the “woodland behemoths” that surround him.

Ingrained is as much the story of these woodlands as it is Robinson’s own journey from wayward teen to impassioned master woodworker. But he didn’t fully understand how much his virtuosic father had taught him, and how much he had, albeit reluctantly, learned, until he left home to find his own way. With his indomitable wife and business partner, Marisa, Robinson opens a storefront in Linlithgow, and business grows quickly—too quickly. Robinson finds himself frustrated behind a desk, fretting over near calamities and financial cliffhangers, instead of a workbench. When he comes to realize he prefers a workshop in the woods over paperwork and corporate bosses, Robinson finds his purpose.

The details are everything here, and in his own devotion to craft, Robinson leaves few out. On that trek deep into the woods, he goes “treasure hunting” at a mill and sorts the sought-after boards by their grain, look and feel. Robinson invites the reader into his workshop to smell the sawdust and wince when learning how a lathe can wreak havoc.

Best of all, thanks to the self-deprecating sense of humor in Robinson’s impressive storytelling, readers come to understand that you don’t need a crafty bone in your body to appreciate and celebrate the work of a master craftsman, or, as Robinson’s father taught him, to respect the creative mind at work. Ingrained makes an excellent case for doing exactly that, whether working with wood, words or, as so beautifully exemplified here, both.

In his sensual, vibrant memoir, Ingrained, Callum Robinson shows off his skills as a woodworker and wordsmith.

Former Young People’s Poet Laureate Naomi Shihab Nye is one of the most distinguished and celebrated poets writing today. Grace Notes, her magnificent, evocative new poetry collection, is dedicated to the memory of her mother, Miriam Naomi Allwardt Shihab, who passed away in 2021 at the age of 94. 

In her introduction, Nye shares how she first came to creating poetry about families, and the ways in which she encourages young writers. She tells readers, “I honor my beautiful, brave mother and know she might take issue with a few of my perspectives, but that’s okay. . . . I hope that anyone who reads these poems has occasion to think about their own family members even more than mine. It’s our lifetime project. It helps us keep living.”

While the masterful poems in Grace Notes evoke the specific history of her mother’s life and, later, the author’s grief at her passing, Nye never leaves readers out of the frame. Throughout, the poet encourages readers to ask questions and think deeply. In the very first poem, “How Parents Get Together Anyway,” she describes her parents’ meeting and marriage, then asks, “What about you? How did your parents / end up in the same spot?” 

A powerful, deeply felt book that will make a thoughtful gift for both teens and adults.

While the masterful poems in Grace Notes evoke the specific history of her mother’s life, Nye never leaves readers out of the frame, encouraging them to ask questions and think deeply.
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To read Rolling Stones columnist Rob Sheffield’s Heartbreak Is the National Anthem: How Taylor Swift Reinvented Pop Music is to slide into a rich, somewhat zany, kaleidoscopic and wildly enthusiastic discussion of the greatness of Taylor Swift. While the structure of the book is loosely chronological, the substance of the chapters has little in common with a traditional biography. Instead, the book takes detours into particular anecdotes that will satisfy both deeply devoted fans and those newer to this raging cultural phenomenon.

I came to Heartbreak as a new fan, having followed the lead of my tween daughter. I’d made friendship bracelets and even seen the Eras Tour, but I didn’t really understand how the singer of 2006’s “Our Song” became the prolific author of 11 studio albums that ranged from the synth-pop of 1989 to the dark cottagecore of evermore. Sheffield shows Swift’s trajectory—one of constant reinvention without letting her old personas go. His view of Swift’s evolution is more front-row than most; as a journalist, he first listened to many of her new albums in her Tribeca apartment, where she held release parties because she knew the rooms weren’t bugged.

Read our interview with Rob Sheffield, author of ‘Heartbreak Is the National Anthem.’

While Sheffield does offer glimpses of encounters with the songwriter, the book mainly deals with Swift from a knowledgeable superfan’s perspective, geeking out over minutia like her use of the word “nice” and her journey to releasing the 10-minute version of “All Too Well,” which he regards as her best song. His observations contain a fantastic level of detail, drawn from both his own close readings and a wealth of secondary sources. Readers will learn about Swift’s signature bridges, the power of her fifth tracks and the poetry of her lyrics. I will never hear the song “happiness” the same way after reading Sheffield’s story about it: His friend had an ugly cry while listening to it, wondering how Taylor, a single woman in her 30s, could know so precisely what it feels like to get divorced in your 40s. “It’s like she’s a witch, but a good witch,” the friend said.

Readers will do well to read Heartbreak Is the National Anthem with access to Swift’s abundant collection of albums, as Sheffield’s expansive, expressive biography will inspire you to tune in to the superstar’s hits and deep cuts.

 

Rob Sheffield’s kaleidoscopic, wildly enthusiastic biography, Heartbreak Is the National Anthem, will satisfy both superfans and those less familiar with the prolific phenom Taylor Swift.

There will soon be more Americans over 65 than under 18. In the compelling, informative study, Golden Years: How Americans Invented and Reinvented Old Age, sociologist James Chappel explores the development of the old age movement in America and attempts to imagine how both individuals and policymakers can address our “gray future.”

Drawing on a wealth of historical, social and economic data, Chappel traces the various ways that Americans have described and addressed aging. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, individuals on farms and in factories worked until disability or death. By the mid-1930s, though, the passage of the Social Security Act sent a message to older Americans that they deserved dignity and security, even if they had stopped working. As the number of older Americans grew in the latter part of the 20th century, both government agencies and organizations in the private sector, such as AARP, attempted to enact policies and to create opportunities that would allow older Americans to live a dignified old age. (First called the American Association of Retired Persons, AARP now goes by its acronym alone, because people do not need to be retired to join.)

Chappel shows, though, that these policies “had always been premised first and foremost on the needs of one class of people: middle-class, married, white couples.” For example, older people with disabilities were left to fend for themselves by Medicare in the 1960s, and many of them were shunted into nursing homes. In addition, older Black Americans often faced (and still face) discriminatory treatment in nursing homes. Chappel highlights the work of activists like Black sociologist Jacquelyne Jackson, who lobbied Congress seeking new policies that would “recognize the specific realities and challenges confronting older Black people.” Another challenge to older Americans, Chappel observes, is that, by the end of the 20th century, the government began to increasingly push the burden of growing older back on families and individuals, often creating financial insecurity across generations.

Since we’re all growing older, how can we work together to shape decisions that will affect the ways we live out our old age? Golden Years is sometimes dense, but it’s worth the effort. Chappel offers a thought-provoking glimpse of how America has tried to imagine the needs and value of an aging population in the past, and how it might best understand and deal with a graying populace.

James Chappel’s thought-provoking Golden Years offers strategies to understand and address the needs of America’s aging population.

Acclaimed scientist Kathy Willis trained as a paleoecologist, a fact, she notes, “that can stop the conversation dead at parties, since not many people know what it is (never mind how to spell it).” In fact, her field of study is fascinating: Willis and her peers study the fossilized remains of plants to reconstruct how vegetation has changed over time in response to climatic changes and human impact.

While you might expect someone who studies plants for a living to also be a keen gardener, Willis admits it wasn’t until she served as director of science at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, in 2013 that she found herself looking up from her microscope to enjoy the vast array of plants around her. And not just the plants, but also the garden visitors who “stopped to inhale their fragrances, bask in their shade, or reach out to touch leaves or stroke bark.” She became intrigued by the question of the positive health impact of plants on humans.

While the notion that spending time in nature has physiological or psychological benefits is not new, Willis shows an exceptional ability to weave together science, history and personal experience in her engaging Good Nature: Why Seeing, Smelling, Hearing and Touching Plants Is Good for Our Health. Fans of the BBC program Gardeners’ World and its coverage of the Royal Horticultural Society Chelsea Flower Show will be especially delighted to read the chapter titled “Flower Power,” in which Willis provides research-based (and highly entertaining) information about the positive effects of flowers. We learn about the evolutionary history of flowers, the calming impact of a vase of pink roses on workers’ desks, and research that suggests yellow flowers may make us more creative. Elsewhere, she details the benefits of nature sounds, plant scents, “digging for health” and even “the proven health benefits of tree hugging.”

“We cannot survive without a diverse nature around us,” Willis writes. Good Nature convincingly argues that we must protect plants and make them a priority in built environments. After all, she concludes, “We need nature more than it needs us.”

Paleoecologist Kathy Willis explores the surprising physiological and psychological benefits of plants on human health in her entertaining, absorbing Good Nature.
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Food anthropologist and cooking show star Miriam Quinones-Smith is back in a delicious new installment of the Caribbean Kitchen cozy mystery series.

Miriam’s life is busier and better than ever. She and her husband, Robert, are raising two young children while sharing a home with her parents in Miami. Miriam’s so-called “Spanglish cooking show,” Abuela Approved, is thriving. And she hasn’t had to solve a murder in three years. But Miriam’s sleuthing-free streak comes to an end when her boss, Delvis, is declared a suspect in a murder that happened moments after filming the show. Then, a body is discovered at the site of Robert’s latest construction project, leading to serious disagreements between archeologists, academics and local tribal representatives. Plus, Miriam’s snobby mother-in-law recruits her to investigate a series of threatening notes sent to their family. There’s nothing Miriam takes more seriously than protecting her loved ones, so she dives into investigating the multiple mysteries.

Author Raquel V. Reyes sets the fun, fast-paced Dominoes, Danzón, and Death three years after the last book in the series (Barbacoa, Bomba, and Betrayal), allowing Miriam and her family to grow and change. Readers need not be familiar with the previous mysteries to enjoy this one, but fans of the series will enjoy seeing the characters flourish in new roles.

Miriam is a delightful character: She’s intelligent, hardworking and dedicated to her family. Between raising two young children in a bustling, intergenerational household and hosting her popular show, Miriam is a busy woman. Still, she manages to solve three mysteries with her quick thinking and determination. Reyes excels at balancing her many storylines in an engaging manner; the multiple mysteries are never overwhelming.

The novel is elevated by its engagement with Caribbean cuisine and culture, and Florida and Native American history, while Spanish speakers will appreciate how Miriam and her family communicate in an authentic blend of Spanish and English. Those who aren’t familiar with Spanish need not worry: Reyes skillfully provides context and translations for their conversations. No matter your background, there’s a lot to learn from Dominoes, Danzón, and Death—and a lot to love.

TV chef Miriam Quinones-Smith has three mysteries to solve in the engaging and endlessly interesting Dominoes, Danzón, and Death.
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After a flood wipes out her family’s Ohio farm, Thea’s father decides to move them to Bloodless Valley, Colorado, where they spend every day trying to coax life from the dry ground. Struggling with her father’s strict rules and her undiagnosed partial deafness, 16-year-old Thea’s world is limited to her half-built home and the small cafe in town where she’s allowed to work. But as she gets to know other residents of the valley, including Louisa, the kind cafe owner; Sam, a community advocate; and Ray, a boy her age who’s deaf too, Thea starts to consider if the valley could come to feel like home. But the dust storms outside are getting worse, and Thea starts having strange dreams—ones that tell of a huge disaster coming her family’s way.

Dust tells Thea’s story, which is one of change and transition as she learns to see the world beyond her tight family unit. Her father’s rigid view of the world grows even more strange to Thea as she meets new people: Louisa shows her incredible generosity, Sam introduces her to different people in the community, and Ray is the first person she’s met who relates to her experience with deafness. Through these relationships, Thea experiences lifestyles vastly different from her own. Her world widens, asking her to question what she really believes about relationships, love, education and who she wants to be.

Dust takes a stark, honest look at the valley’s barrenness: Thea and her family struggle to grow their usual crops from the dry, dusty ground, and resources like water start to dwindle. But Stine also displays the vibrancy of desert life, not only in its unique floral and fauna but also in the community built by its dynamic cast of characters. From Helen, the artist who finds inspiration in light, to Elmer, the mysterious writer who sleeps in the community library, Thea’s surrounded by new perspectives. The book makes no judgment on the various ways characters choose to make a life in the desert, instead showing the importance of community and cooperation, even and especially between people who are different.

Dust is a thoughtful, sincere exploration of climate change and disability, one which captures the longing, confusion and hope of the teenage experience in a realistic and heartwarming way.

Dust captures teenage longing, confusion and hope in a realistic and heartwarming way.
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When ballet dancer Natalia Leonova returns to the Mariinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg, she is no longer a determined corps member, yearning to make her mark and gain a more prominent role. She’s spent her years away soloing in every major production and traveling across the globe, accumulating the accolades of a renowned prima ballerina. Yet, in a startling turn of events, Natalia is back to take beginner lessons with the teachers of her youth. Everything has changed after her accident.

City of Night Birds is a deeply emotional portrayal of a dancer past the peak of her abilities, trying desperately to regain her sense of self after her body, her loved ones and her life’s work have let her down. Natalia’s story is told in a fluid dual narrative, with half the novel spent following the path of the ballerina’s decades-long career and the other half tracking Natalia’s present-day classes and rehearsals. In both narratives, City of Night Birds is utterly immersive. Author Juhea Kim describes ballet technique, culture and history in such a vivid way that they will quickly become meaningful to an unfamiliar reader, and landscapes of St. Petersburg, Moscow and Paris are sketched with the same palpability. Kim’s skill allows her to carry off this ambitious premise while still giving the novel the comfortable feel of a rainy day read .

As Natalia joins new dance companies, falls in and out of love and finds her place in the intense world of Russian ballet, the art form is the constant by which all else is measured—a medium used to illustrate the complicated relationships Natalia has with her mother, dear friends and long-term rivals. While developed to a lesser extent, the supporting characters inform Kim’s portrayal of her protagonist, adding depth and nuance to Natalia’s remarkable defiance and resilience.

For anyone who has ever been transfixed by the stage, City of Night Birds is not one to miss. The novel reverently celebrates dance, firmly declaring the sanctity of each performance while shedding a necessary light on the acute human costs.

Juhea Kim’s City of Night Birds reverently celebrates dance, describing ballet technique, culture and history so vividly that they will quickly become meaningful to an unfamiliar reader.

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