Harvey Freedenberg

If you can imagine a story that marries the comic sensibility of Woody Allen to the good-natured theology of the Oh, God! movie trilogy, you’ll have a pretty fair idea of what comedy writer Simon Rich is up to in his second novel, a fable of love, miracles and second chances.

The deity who presides over Heaven, Inc. is more interested in opening an Asian fusion restaurant and reuniting Lynryd Skynryd than he is in managing his maddening creation. In fact, he’s so bored he decides to dispose of his handiwork with the cool resolve of a corporate CEO shutting down an underperforming division. But in an uncharacteristic burst of compassion, he yields to the request of Craig, an Angel in the humble Miracles Department, and agrees to stay the planet’s execution if the earnest angel can answer just one prayer in 30 days.

On its face, granting 20-year-old Sam Katz’s plea to “Please let me and Laura be together,” seems simple. It turns out to be anything but, as Craig and his colleague Eliza seriously underestimate the obstacles that stand in the way of uniting the lonely young man with Laura Potts, an equally forlorn college classmate. Though the outcome of the angels’ determined efforts to bring these two Manhattan singles together is never seriously in doubt, Rich constructs an amusingly formidable series of challenges for them to overcome. Call it miracle or coincidence, in this winsome story he makes us ponder some of the fragile mysteries of human attraction. And though Rich confesses his days in Hebrew school didn’t turn him into an observant Jew, there are clever allusions here to the Book of Job and Sodom and Gomorrah, along with nods to Paradise Lost and the writings of the “New Atheists” like Richard Dawkins.

At age 28 and with two novels, two collections of humor pieces and a writing slot on “Saturday Night Live” to his credit, Rich looks poised to work the field of gentle satire for some time to come.

Whether it’s founded on a reputation for rampant crime or the recent travails of the automobile industry, is there any American city more maligned than Detroit? It’s something of an act of authorial courage, then, that Scott Lasser has chosen to set his fourth novel in the Motor City, but with Detroit taking its first halting steps toward a revival, the setting seems eminently fitting for a story about fresh starts and second chances.

When lawyer David Halpert returns to Michigan from Denver to help care for his mother, who’s suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, he’s greeted by the shocking news that an ex-girlfriend and her stepbrother, a retired FBI undercover agent, have been gunned down in Detroit’s Greektown neighborhood. Through those killings he reconnects with Carolyn Evans, sister of the murdered woman, and meets Marlon Booker, a young man who’s struggling to slip the tightening bonds of the drug trade and linked by a family friendship to the other victim.

Blending an uncluttered, fast-moving plot with more character development than is sometimes evident in popular fiction, Lasser seems as interested in exploring David’s sorrow over the death of his teenage son in an automobile accident or the emotional pull of his attraction to Carolyn as he is in unraveling the mystery that’s centered in Marlon’s dangerous world.

Though he’s chosen to set the novel’s main action in 2006, with some of Detroit’s worst days still ahead, Lasser effectively highlights the racial and economic tensions that have plagued the city for decades. He understands, for one thing, that Eight Mile Road, made famous by Eminem, is much more than a physical boundary separating the city from its more affluent suburbs. That sharp divide is symbolized by David’s decision to move into the Palmer Woods neighborhood, once home to wealthy Detroiters who have long since departed for mostly white enclaves. It’s a brave choice that’s greeted with skepticism by his African-American neighbors and a decision that’s revelatory of his character.

It’s not likely many readers will come away from Say Nice Things About Detroit with their perceptions of that beleaguered city fundamentally changed, but this appealing story may prompt some to hope it will receive the chance at redemption that Scott Lasser so generously extends to his characters.

There’s an unavoidable risk in basing a novel on recent events like the 2008 financial crisis, since the drama of real life usually outruns the imagination of even the most talented writer. First-time novelist Cristina Alger, who brings to her task stints at Goldman Sachs and an elite law firm, avoids most of those pitfalls to create a credible, fast-paced story out of the collapse of a Bernie Madoff-like investment scam.

The Darlings gets off to a leisurely start, but when investment wizard Morty Reis’ Aston Martin is found abandoned on the Tappan Zee Bridge on Thanksgiving Eve 2008, the plot picks up momentum that never flags. Reis has been managing a sizable chunk of socialite Carter Darling’s hedge fund, and his apparent suicide occurs just as an investigation of his Ponzi scheme is about to break. Reis’ disappearance sets in motion a scramble to escape the fraud’s repercussions.

Darling, who’s nearing the end of his career and who’s probably guilty of no more than carelessness in failing to investigate his friend’s uncannily consistent investment returns, sees himself being pulled into the vortex. When he turns to his lawyer, Sol Penzell, best known for his skills as a high-powered “fixer,” thoughts of accountability quickly give way to desperate attempts at self-preservation. His business partner and even his son-in-law aren’t safe from his attempt to deflect the blame. Most of the inhabitants of this crumbling world bring to mind the Titanic’s passengers when they first learned the ship had hit an iceberg: They sense the danger but somehow can’t bring themselves to accept that disaster lies ahead.

Alger’s experiences enable her to create a plausible cast of characters: money managers who measure life’s meaning in dollars, duplicitous attorneys, conscientious civil servants and a loyal secretary who blows the whistle on her longtime boss. Whether it’s a lavishly appointed Park Avenue apartment, a gracious weekend home in East Hampton or an overheated government office conference room, her settings are sketched with equal realism.

Alger’s book is no Bonfire of the Vanities-like satire on the misdeeds of the “Masters of the Universe.” Like any good novelist, she’s more interested in the motivations and choices of her characters than in passing judgment. If she aspires to the status of a 21st-century Edith Wharton, chronicling the deeds and misdeeds of New York’s upper class, she’s off to a respectable start.

You don’t have to like baseball to savor Chad Harbach’s sumptuous debut novel, a wise and tender story of love and friendship, ambition and the cruelty of dashed dreams, featuring an appealing cast of characters.

From the day he discovers Henry Skrimshander on a sun-bleached American Legion baseball field, Mike Schwartz is on a mission to turn the gifted shortstop into a major-league-caliber player. Mike, the team captain who’s writing his senior thesis on the Stoics and quotes Schiller in his pregame speeches, persuades Henry to enroll at tiny Westish College, a school with a charming, if eccentric, attachment to Herman Melville that stems from the unearthing of a long-forgotten lecture the novelist gave there in 1880.

Thanks to Mike’s obsessive coaching, Henry is on the fast track to a hefty signing bonus, until the day a routine throw to first base sails wide, nearly killing his roommate, outfielder Owen “Buddha” Dunne, probably the only player in baseball history to read Kierkegaard in the dugout. But Owen is much more than a victim of Henry’s errant arm. He’s the lover of Guert Affenlight, Melville scholar and Westish College president, whose 23-year-old daughter Pella appears on campus, fleeing her brief marriage, and eventually falls into a relationship with Mike Schwartz. The ensuing intricate emotional dances only add to the growing tension as the Westish Harpooners improbably claw their way to the Division III national championship game.

Harbach demonstrates an impressive gift for balancing his exploration of these fragile entanglements with an absorbing, well-plotted story, so we’re rooting as hard for the small company of troubled souls as we are for the ragtag Westish nine.

There aren’t many books of 500 pages that feel too short. But like a true fan enjoying a game of baseball as it scrolls its leisurely signature across a summer afternoon, there are moments when you will find yourself wishing The Art of Fielding would never end. It’s that good.

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BookPage editor Eliza Borné chats with Chad Harbach minutes before his appearance at the Southern Festival of Books:

To the ranks of memorable literary heroines add the name of Margo Crane, the protagonist of Bonnie Jo Campbell’s passionate new novel, Once Upon a River. Navigating the borderline between civilization and the harsh, dangerous natural world, it’s a story of a journey that begins with the search for a missing parent and ends in self-discovery.

After her father is killed in an incident provoked by her own impulsive act, 16-year-old Margo sets out in a flat-bottomed teak rowboat on the Stark River in southwestern Michigan to find her mother, who has abandoned the family. Margo’s hero is Annie Oakley, her bible a biography of the legendary sharpshooter. With Oakley, Margo shares an uncanny ability to wield a .22 Marlin rifle, displaying feats of marksmanship that provide some of the novel’s most dramatic moments. Though it’s set in the late 1970s, that linkage contributes to the novel’s timeless feel.

Along the way, Margo encounters a succession of men whose conduct runs the gamut from depravity to tenderness. To one of these men she’s the “wolf girl,” to another she’s a “river spirit,” but whatever form her complex, shape-shifting character takes, Margo manages to sustain herself in every sort of adversity through a combination of courage, stubbornness and ability to thrive in the natural world. Her most improbable relationship is with an elderly, dying man named Smoke, whose solicitude, born of an understanding of the real nature of Margo’s quest, provides the foundation on which she can hope to build something approaching a normal life.

This is not a novel for the squeamish. There’s incest, rape, murder and graphic descriptions of animal skinning, from deer to muskrat, while Margo’s self-absorption and frequent misjudgments hardly qualify her for sainthood. Campbell, who lives in Kalamazoo, excels at evoking her home territory with a keenness of observation and naturalism that call to mind the best of Jim Harrison’s Michigan-based fiction. Combine these qualities with a plot that’s a thrilling variation on the classic journey narrative, and one has a novel that stakes a serious claim to an enduring place in our literary world.