Heather Seggel

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Cute canine sleuths, the glamour of Gilded Age Broadway and a prickly, private librarian—this month's column has something for every kind of cozy reader.

The Unkindness of Ravens

Greer Hogan left her life in New York City behind after her husband’s murder. Starting over as a librarian in the village of Raven Hill has offered some distance from that trauma—until she finds her best friend dead in the library. Greer is still considered an outsider in the tightknit village, so she leans on her own research skills to find her friend’s killer while coming to grips with uncomfortable truths about her husband’s death. The Unkindness of Ravens pushes the boundaries of cozy mysteries: It’s moody and tense, literary and urbane, and an edgy delight to read. Author M.E. Hilliard is herself a librarian, and she gets the job’s balance of fun and drudgery note-perfect. Yes, there are bake sales and charming patrons, but there are also a lot of repetitive tasks and the occasional creep. Analytical and not overly social, Greer keeps to herself, even shying away from the reader at times, which only serves to heighten the suspense. Nods to Trixie Belden, Kinsey Millhone and Edgar Allan Poe tempt the reader to relax into the novel’s bookish atmosphere, until a fast-paced conclusion that’s truly surprising whips things to a close. The Unkindness of Ravens is an exciting debut, and I’m already eager for another installment.

Animal Instinct

When private investigator Corey Douglas was still a police officer, he responded to a domestic violence call in which he could do nothing to help the victim, Lisa Yates. Now, years later, Lisa has died in an unsolved shooting, and Corey decides to try and right a past wrong by solving her murder. Animal Instinct, David Rosenfelt’s second K Team novel, builds suspense by shifting points of view between Corey’s team and their extremely dangerous enemies, who are always a step ahead. Lisa’s job at a medical records company makes for a very data-centric thriller, but plenty of muscle is exerted as well, by dogs as well as humans. Rosenfelt has artfully spun off Corey and his K-9 partner, Simon Garfunkel, from his hit Andy Carpenter series, and Andy appears here in more than a mere cameo, which adds to the fun.

Death of a Showman

Death of a Showman finds lady’s maid Jane Prescott on Broadway, chaperoning her rich employer, Louise Tyler, to rehearsals of a show Louise has been persuaded to invest in. Jane’s not thrilled to be there; her passionate dalliance with composer Leo Hirschfeld abruptly ended when he married a chorus girl, but that doesn’t stop him from flirting with every woman he sees. It’s almost a welcome distraction when the show’s tough-guy producer, Sidney Warburton, is murdered. Author Mariah Fredericks has clearly done her research on Gilded Age New York and its colossal theaters, because she creates a real sense of being behind the scenes and behind the curtain. The murder is nearly upstaged by the drama, backbiting and infighting among the cast and crew, but it’s all told with understated elegance.

Cute canine sleuths, the glamour of Gilded Age Broadway and a prickly, private librarian—this month's column has something for every kind of cozy reader.

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Three young adult novels put inclusive queer representation in the spotlight and capture how contemporary teens connect both in person and online. Although the storytelling styles vary, the emotions in these novels run as deep as love itself.

Meet Cute Diary

Noah is a blogger who’s built a huge following by publishing made-up stories of trans romances that his readers believe are anonymously submitted by real people. But a disgruntled reader has called Noah out, putting his online reputation at risk. To win over the skeptics, Noah embarks on a fake romance with Drew, an older guy who seems too good to be true. Could going along with his own romantic hoax cost Noah a chance at the real thing?

Emery Lee’s Meet Cute Diary is a charming cautionary tale about the limits of online fame. Noah is so overly invested in his blog that he’s often rude to his friends and family. Though he has moments of self-awareness, he soon reverts back to the same behavior. Then he grudgingly takes a summer job that leads to a sweet relationship with a fellow camp counselor. As he and Devin get to know one another, Noah’s need for clicks and likes begins to lose its luster, and he starts to understand that being honest with the readers he once lied to, albeit under the guise of offering them hope, is the responsible thing to do.

Meet Cute Diary has some elements of a rom-com but can feel downbeat on the way to its happy ending. The fact that many trans teens don’t experience the same enthusiastic support that Noah and Devin receive from their families hangs heavy in the background. One of the novel’s best touches is the clear message that there’s no single path to transitioning and no set of pronouns that’s right for everyone. Witnessing Lee’s characters undertake the challenging work of figuring themselves out is inspiring.

Some Girls Do

Some Girls Do captures how two girls with little in common navigate a come-here-now-go-away kind of love. Morgan is a new student, an elite runner embroiled in a lawsuit against her old Catholic school. To Morgan, being out and proud is as necessary as breathing. Ruby is scraping by to make ends meet and running herself ragged on the pageant circuit, where her mother insists she’s on track to become the next Miss America. They meet cute when Ruby almost runs over Morgan with her beloved Ford Torino, and mixed into their mutual anger is an undeniable spark. Morgan would like to coax it to flame, but Ruby’s life depends on her extinguishing it as quickly as possible, and therein lies the dilemma.

Author Jennifer Dugan wisely lets readers spend time inside each girl’s head through chapters that alternate between their perspectives. They are both busy, overworked students, but their shared obsession quickly builds and spills over into a furtive romance. The demands of parents, teachers and friends weigh on each of them differently. For Morgan, being demonstrative and declarative about things in public makes them real; were Ruby to do that, she’d risk being kicked out of her home. Navigating that divide is messy, but Dugan describes it with empathy. The girls’ occupations and relationships feel real and add to the sense of high school as a pressure cooker, especially in what seems like the ultimate small-town setting, where a rumor can make or break a reputation. 

Ruby’s and Morgan’s stories unfold in tandem, intersecting and separating as events progress and both girls grow and change. Some Girls Do is a sweet novel that offers plenty of rough edges and no easy answers.

The Sky Blues

Robbie Couch’s beautifully realized and heartwarming debut novel, The Sky Blues, hinges on the countdown to a high school rite of passage: asking someone to the prom. Sky Baker is gay and a major introvert; this “promposal” is a chance to leave his comfort zone and ask out his crush, Ali Rashad, so Sky and his friend Bree have been scheming up great ideas together. Then a hacker leaks their plans to the whole school, along with a racist, homophobic message that targets both Sky and Ali, and gives Sky a new priority: finding the culprit.

Chapter titles track the number of days remaining until the promposal, and even as plans go awry well before the day arrives, this structure cleverly keeps the story organized and flowing. Ever since Sky’s mom kicked him out of the house for being gay, he’s been living with Bree, with Sky’s older brother serving as an ineffective go-between. Sometimes the weight of Sky’s abandonment sinks him into a heavy depression, which will resonate with anyone who has ever felt the same. It’s touching to see him receive support from classmates and one teacher in particular, and to see him thrive on their care. And there’s good humor to be found in how everyone’s crushes and intentions seem to point in the wrong direction at one time or another. 

A group of students works together to find the source of the email hack, and their teamwork eventually bears fruit, but there’s no simple justice to be had. It’s a painful lesson, but one that underscores Sky’s resilience and growing maturity. The Sky Blues reminds us that deep kindness can carry those we care about through hard times.

Three young adult novels put inclusive queer representation in the spotlight and capture how contemporary teens connect both in person and online.

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A cab driver, a Regency widow and the owner of a milkshake emporium find their lives disrupted by murder most foul in this month’s cozy column.

Death of an Irish Mummy

Expat Megan Malone is back behind the wheel at Leprechaun Limos, this time driving a fellow Texan, Cherise, who thinks she’s heir to an ancient Irish earldom. Cherise is later found dead, just as her three squabbling daughters arrive in Dublin from the States to support their mother’s quest. Megan must find out what happened, partly because she was involved from the start, but also, in a truly hilarious touch, because her boss is beginning to think she’s cursed, given that dead bodies keep popping up around her, Megan must find out what happened. Catie Murphy’s Death of an Irish Mummy is a bright new installment in a consistently delightful series. Megan’s a staunch ally to her limo service co-workers, and when times are tough, it’s nice to see how people have her back in return. She’s slyly conscious of the fact that  drivers are viewed as “the help,” members of the invisible servant class with whom people will sometimes speak too freely, and she uses this to her advantage, accumulating useful information. Murphy balances grief and family secrets with a hunt for buried treasure, keeping things realistic even as the story flirts with the fantastical.

Pint of No Return

Trinidad Jones is determined to make a fresh start after getting divorced, and to avoid her ex-husband Gabe’s two other ex-wives and his protective sister. Fortunately, she received a storefront in rural Oregon in the breakup, and she moves in with plans to turn it into a homemade ice cream and milkshake emporium. When she finds a neighboring business owner dead and one of Gabe’s exes is charged with the crime, Trinidad must change her priorities and see justice done. Dana Mentink’s series starter, Pint of No Return, takes place in a neighborhood common to cozies: a nice town full of good people, if you don’t count all the lying, theft and murder. Noodles, Trinidad’s service-dog dropout who knows he should help but does so in adorably wrong ways, is likely to become a fan favorite.

Silence in the Library

Katharine Schellman’s Silence in the Library is a welcome return to the Regency world of recently widowed Lily Adler. She finds herself saddled with her ailing father as an unexpected houseguest, and he’s in such a foul temper that Lily must escape by visiting Lady Wyatt, who has married Sir Charles, an old family friend. It’s a shock when Sir Charles is found dead, and Bow Street constable Simon Page thinks the fall that caused his death was staged to appear like an accident. Soon enough, Simon and Lily are working in tandem to find the truth. The mystery is complicated by Arthur, one of Sir Charles’ sons, who is autistic. His wealth and privilege have allowed him to escape being institutionalized, but his family has kept him hidden from public view and are quick to blame him in the search for the killer. A touching subplot about Lily tentatively coming out of mourning to embark on a newly independent life—and her father’s subsequent fury at this change—illustrates the tightrope that women had to walk to gain even the smallest bit of freedom. Schellman’s meticulous research puts the reader right in the heart of Regency London, and the hunt for a killer is tense and frightening.

A cab driver, a Regency widow and the owner of a milkshake emporium find their lives disrupted by murder most foul in this month’s cozy column.

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You’d be forgiven for feeling a bit tired of the unreliable narrator, a character that is practically inescapable in the mystery and suspense genre. But even if you think you’re out, the slippery protagonists of these two thrillers will reel you right back in.

It’s natural to be wary of the main character in Rabbit Hole. Alice Armitage is currently enduring an extended stay in a psychiatric hospital and is very upfront about her PTSD, memory lapses and tendency toward misbehavior on the ward. But when a fellow patient is found dead, Alice’s training kicks into gear. Previously a police officer—or so she says—Alice launches an independent investigation of the crime, developing a theory of the case that’s both overly complicated and entirely plausible. When the suspect she’s laser-focused on is also killed, the tightening spiral of this story spins off its axis, taking Alice’s grasp of reality with it.

It’s an audacious move to open a story by essentially waving a red flag and pointing to the unreliability of the main character, but Alice is consistently intriguing, vacillating between lucid, analytical thinking and temper tantrums when she doesn’t get her way. Mark Billingham, author of the bestselling Tom Thorne mystery series, gives Alice a cocky confidence that Rabbit Hole peels away at every turn. One minute she’s wisecracking about her fellow patients and their diagnoses, certain they belong inside while she’s the voice of rationality. Then her father comes to visit, and the exchange is so crushingly awkward that her jokes fail to hide how serious her situation is.

Descriptions of the hospital and its residents are fairly bleak with lots of dark humor. Patients might be friends, but friendship can quickly turn antagonistic and even violent for any reason or none at all. What begins as the story of a maverick cop lands some distance from that premise, will leave you rethinking everything that was said and done along the way to the novel’s surprising and poignant ending.

After finishing Louise Candlish’s The Other Passenger, I patted myself down to be sure my wallet was still accounted for. This gorgeous, meticulous nail-biter is a smooth work of narrative criminality. Here are the basic facts: Jamie has just ridden the ferry to begin an average workday when two police officers stop him. His friend and fellow commuter Kit is missing, and Kit and Jamie were seen fighting the night before Kit’s disappearance. Jamie swears he knows nothing of Kit’s whereabouts, and from there things get very stressful very quickly.

Through a series of flashbacks, Jamie explains how he and his partner, Clare, and Kit and his wife, Melia, became close friends, a complex foursome full of hidden resentments and deep financial grievances. There’s extramarital sex and the potential for a payday that’s too big to resist. The heady feeling that comes with doing the wrong thing and getting away with it falls apart spectacularly when consequences come into play; the shame and regret feel like gut punches when they land.

Key to all this drama is Melia. Clare was the first to befriend her, only to later observe that a preference for being called “Me” might signal a hint of narcissism worth watching out for. False leads and feints recall The Usual Suspects and will keep the reader hyperalert, bordering on paranoid. Music figures into the story as a layer of commentary that also builds atmosphere: In a scene where Melia dances with a girlfriend, the lyrics of the Lana Del Rey song that’s playing add a sinister undertow. 

Candlish never lets the tension slacken as deep discussions of income disparity, aging, love and loss keep readers’ loyalties shifting between characters. There’s the potential for at least one character, perhaps more, to appear in another novel. It would be thrilling to see them again. The villains in The Other Passenger are never held at arm’s length. We care, even as their ordinary lives turn monstrous. 

Don’t trust—or turn your back on—these narrators.

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Good company, beautiful scenery, false pretenses and uninvited guests make for nerve-rattling, riveting armchair travel in these two thrillers.

At the beginning of Kimberly McCreight’s Friends Like These, five friends reunite for a bachelor party in the Catskills. The sixth member of their group, Alice, died by suicide in college, and they’ve kept secrets about the events surrounding her death ever since. But the trip has a more serious purpose that’s yet another secret to keep: The group plans to hold an intervention to convince one of their number, Keith, to check into rehab.

But when the weekend is over, someone is missing, someone is dead and Julia Scutt, a local detective, is tasked with prying the truth from people so insulated by privilege, they’re shocked to find themselves affected by anything, let alone a tragedy of this caliber. And Julia has a tragedy in her own past that may be clouding her judgment.

The community where the party’s host, Jonathan, owns an opulent country house is in an economic slump, which results in a tense dynamic where “weekenders” like this group are both hated and needed. It can be hard at first to distinguish the individual members of the clique; the specifics of their relationships and connections could fill a wall chart with connecting strings. But their collective self-absorption makes it that much more satisfying when some comeuppance is finally distributed.

An intricate resolution involves performance art, the mafia, armchair detectives addicted to true crime podcasts and three big twists. (The third is a doozy.) As each character narrates their version of events, new pieces of information bring you closer to the truth . . . if only there weren’t so many lies mixed in. The false leads and big cast of characters make Friends Like These an entertaining puzzle. Take this book on your vacation and be glad you’re not on their vacation.

Getaway drops three women, two of them sisters, into the Grand Canyon for some adventurous hiking and unforeseen terror. Sisters Imogen and Beck have made the trip before with their family, but in the intervening years, Imogen suffered two major traumas that have turned her focus inward. Beck hopes the trip will restore her sister’s courage and also help mend Imogen’s rift with their mutual friend Tilda, a less experienced hiker who waits until they’re well into the hike to tell them as much. That would be bad enough, but soon all three women begin to have the sneaking suspicion that they are not alone on the trail.

Author Zoje Stage (Baby Teeth) gives this horror-tinged thriller emotional depth through a careful layering of big themes and tiny details. Stage has hiked the Grand Canyon herself, and her characters’ descriptions of the hike have an immersive, absorbing effect. The violence in this novel is truly frightening, more so because of how it contrasts with the beauty of the canyon’s vistas, sounds and silences.

Something as insignificant as a sliver of granola bar wrapper in an unexpected location can actually mean a great deal, but only if the people you’re traveling with and counting on listen to and believe you when you point it out. When there are three people in a challenging setting, two are almost always aligned while the third feels left out, and that can shut down communication and make it difficult to solve problems. Empathetic Imogen has the sense that she knows what’s really going on and how best to help, but there’s a chance her compassion is blinding her to how dire their situation really is. 

Getaway plays with shifting loyalties, old hurts and the potential for reconciliation in a way that’s emotionally affecting but never slows down the plot. A truly devilish thriller, it balances gut-twisting suspense with heartfelt connection. 

Good company, beautiful scenery, false pretenses and uninvited guests make for nerve-rattling, riveting armchair travel in these two thrillers.

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Not one, not two, but all three of the books in this month’s cozy column received starred reviews!


Mango, Mambo, and Murder

Miriam Quiñones-Smith has just relocated from New York City to tony Coral Shores in Miami. A former food anthropologist, she lands a gig teaching Caribbean cooking on a morning show and works to grow a social circle, but at her very first meeting of a women’s club, one of the attendees keels over. Mango, Mambo, and Murder has everything you look for in a cozy mystery but also feels like a breath of fresh air. Author Raquel V. Reyes fills this story with details that make it feel real, despite there being a character named Sunny Weatherman. Cuban American Miriam and her family, friends and co-workers are well-rounded personalities whom readers will be eager to learn more about. Miriam’s attempts to find a killer take her to strip malls filled with questionable folk healers and incredible restaurants serving Cuban American standards like ropa vieja and pollo a la plancha. Reyes incorporates Spanish into characters’ dialogue throughout, adding authenticity, while subtly providing context so that readers who aren’t Spanish speakers won’t miss a beat. Dig into this inviting, suspenseful feast for the senses.

★ The Man Who Died Twice

It’s impossible to single out any one feature that makes The Man Who Died Twice such an absolute treat. The plot is a crackling mystery: Septuagenarian retiree and amateur sleuth Elizabeth gets a coded message from someone in her past asking for help, as he’s stolen a lot of diamonds from some very angry people. When two people are killed, the hunt is on for the killers and the diamonds. English TV presenter and comedian Richard Osman creates real magic with his characters. They are frequently laugh-out-loud hilarious but also entirely real and three-dimensional. There’s also dogged police work, tradecraft most devious, a lot of cocaine and those diamonds. If possible, this sequel is even better than the Osman’s charmer of a debut, The Thursday Murder Club. This series is both a load of fun and an ode to how the power of friendship is important throughout one’s life but especially during the final stretch. Don’t miss it.

★ Seven-Year Witch

Seven-Year Witch finds Josie Way settling into life as a librarian in rural Wilfred, Oregon, and deepening her powers as a witch, thanks to letters left to her by her grandmother. The old mill in town is set to be turned into a lavish retreat center, but rumors that the site is cursed raise local hackles, especially when the disappearance of one of Wilfred’s inhabitants is followed by the discovery of a bloody weapon. Josie’s love interest, FBI agent Sam Wilfred, returns to town, but things between them are complicated by the news that he’s married with a baby. Author Angela M. Sanders uses the eerie atmosphere to great effect and also plays with the assumed charms of a small town. For example, the locals lose some of their warmth when there’s a killer in their midst. Josie’s witchcraft plays into solving the mystery, but the story feels realistic overall. Full of false leads and truly surprising reveals, this terrifically plotted mystery is hard to put down.

Not one, not two, but all three of the books in this month’s cozy column received starred reviews!

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"Nate stood up. He was very still, but I knew from dance how stillness could explode into movement.” That tension, between the threat of violence and the act, is at the heart of Strings Attached, the latest thriller by National Book Award winner Judy Blundell.

Kit Corrigan is a struggling chorus girl in New York City, having fled her home in Rhode Island for a shot at life onstage. It’s 1950, the Korean War is just beginning, and Kit’s ex, Billy, has enlisted in the Army. She’s surprised when Billy’s father, Nate Benedict, offers her a leg up. He provides her with an apartment, tailored clothes and connections leading to bigger and better jobs. In exchange, Kit must keep tabs on Billy and do occasional favors for his dad. Easy enough, right? But Nate Benedict is a lawyer with mob connections, and his favors have potentially fatal consequences.

If that wasn’t enough, there’s something not quite right about how close Billy was with Kit’s brother Jamie. And the family is still smarting from a falling-out that sent their aunt so far away that nobody can find her.

Strings Attached sets a murder mystery, love story and rich family history in a meaty stretch of American history. Between two wars, the anti-Communist blacklists, air-raid drills, automats and a thriving nightclub scene largely run by the Mafia, Blundell weaves a complex story. Readers will get a generous dose of history here, but it’s the glamour and mystery, along with concern for Kit and her family, that will keep them hooked. Strings Attached is a winner.
 

"Nate stood up. He was very still, but I knew from dance how stillness could explode into movement.” That tension, between the threat of violence and the act, is at the heart of Strings Attached, the latest thriller by National Book Award winner Judy Blundell.

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Before even glancing at chapter one of Battle Dress, Amy Efaw’s sharply observed novel about the six weeks of New Cadet Basic Training at West Point (a ritual also known as “the Beast”), turn directly to the back of the book. There you’ll find a glossary of military terms and cadet slang that will be your life raft once the story gets under way.

For Andrea “Andi” Davis, the Beast is a ticket away from her miserable home life and a shot at something better, not just in terms of education but self-worth. Her crazy family is shown in the briefest of scenes, and it’s a relief when they leave the campus, for us as well as Andi. She immediately takes to the intense discipline and focus required of new cadets, and exceeds expectations as a scholar, athlete and potential soldier. But the transformation doesn’t take place overnight.

The first few days on campus are similar to those in other books and movies set among new recruits to the military: lots of being awakened in the middle of the night, punishments for seemingly ridiculous infractions and wildly theatrical insults screamed in ALL CAPS, all in an attempt to drive someone to quit or break down. Coming from a highly dysfunctional household, Andi takes to this regimen faster than most; when a cadet punishes her to the point of tears, then asks tauntingly, “Homesick?” her response is telling: “I shook my head from side to side. ‘No . . . sir . . . It’s . . . too much . . . like home.’ ”

Author Efaw attended West Point herself; as a Beast survivor, she captures the intensity of basic training in artful strokes, and keeps front and center the fact that this training is intense, meticulous and repetitive for a reason: The ultimate purpose of a soldier is to kill. Mistakes equal death. Precision, and personal accountability, are paramount in building trust on the battlefield, and that’s where Andi finds her biggest challenge. A star performer on her own, she needs to prove her leadership skills in a group where she’s one of only two girls. When her plan fails in a training exercise, harming a colleague, she’ll need to summon the ego needed to give orders and see them carried out. It brings a smart novel to a gripping conclusion. Battle Dress is a hoo-ah read from start to finish (look it up!).

Before even glancing at chapter one of Battle Dress, Amy Efaw’s sharply observed novel about the six weeks of New Cadet Basic Training at West Point (a ritual also known as “the Beast”), turn directly to the back of the book. There you’ll find a…

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On June 1, 1921, a mob of white people descended on the Greenwood district of Tulsa, Oklahoma, known as “Black Wall Street.” They killed hundreds of Black residents and bombed, burned and otherwise laid waste to a neighborhood that spanned 35 blocks. In Black Birds in the Sky: The Story and Legacy of the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre, author Brandy Colbert recounts this history for teen readers and shows how its echoes continue to reverberate today.

As she does in her middle grade and young adult fiction, including the Stonewall Award-winning Little & Lion, Colbert draws readers in with richly detailed settings, and she describes Greenwood with vibrant imagery. Its Black residents built their own economy from the ground up. They could not freely choose where to spend their money in the wider region, but as it recirculated within Greenwood, it created a booming business community. Colbert captures a sense of lively growth that makes the neighborhood’s eventual destruction hit home with visceral impact.

Poor white Tulsans' feelings of grievance and jealousy were factors that led to the massacre, and some local media outlets escalated tensions through false, inflammatory reporting. As the violence spread, the police and the National Guard aided white vigilantes by imprisoning Black residents in internment camps. A grand jury investigation later blamed Black men for inciting violence when they had actually been trying to stop it.

Colbert’s meticulous research holds the book together. Informative sidebars add vital context and will help readers make sense of an almost incomprehensible crime that was driven by white supremacy. A chilling postscript explores efforts to bury this history and the ongoing resistance to its revival. Black Birds in the Sky tells the truth about an event that every American should know about. It’s a horrifying account told with great care.

Black Birds in the Sky tells the truth about an event that every American should know about. It’s a horrifying account told with great care.

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Elizabeth Bertelsen’s life is not sheltered—far from it, in fact. Growing up Mormon during the late 1870s means she is close to the land, to matters of life and death and to the complex dynamics of a polygamous household. But Elizabeth has quite literally set her sights on the stars; she hopes to become an astronomer at a time when women studying science is tantamount to witchcraft. Rosalyn Eves’ Beyond the Mapped Stars blends fiction and fact to create an adventure that doesn’t shy away from difficult topics.

It all hinges on a solar eclipse, the first that the Western states will experience in almost a hundred years. When Elizabeth finds herself close to the path of totality (the area on Earth where the moon will completely block the sun), she’s willing to make major sacrifices to be there to witness it. Chapters count down the days and then the hours to the eclipse, which keeps a sense of urgency bubbling as Elizabeth makes new friends and begins a tentative romance. A brother and sister whom she meets after a train robbery offer support as well as a chance for reflection; some of Elizabeth’s assumptions about them are based on the color of their skin, and she’s surprised to learn that their family makes assumptions about Mormons in a similar fashion.

Beyond the Mapped Stars offers a portrait of a diverse American West that’s filled with promise, but it does so with honesty about where and from whom much of that promise was stolen. If that seems like a modern flourish, Eves makes a strong case for its basis in historical fact in her author’s note, while also revealing a deeply personal dimension to the story.

The whole novel takes place amid a six-week journey by train, carriage and on horseback, during which Elizabeth finds her courage, makes mistakes and learns from them. It’s a thrill to travel alongside her. Faith, family, race and gender are the earthly concerns that draw her down from the clouds, but as Eves expertly incorporates them into Elizabeth’s life-changing summer, Beyond the Mapped Stars takes flight and soars.

Rosalyn Eves’ Beyond the Mapped Stars blends fiction and fact to create an adventure that doesn’t shy away from difficult topics.

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When Maeve is tasked with cleaning out a storage space at school as a punishment for throwing her shoe at a teacher, she finds an old tarot deck. She’s a quick study with the cards, and before long she’s doing readings as a sort of cottage industry in her private Catholic school. A reading for her ex-best friend, Lily, turns into an argument when it brings up painful parts of the girls’ pasts. Afterward, Lily disappears without a trace, prompting Maeve to explore witchcraft further in order to find her. All Our Hidden Gifts takes magic seriously and reminds us it’s everywhere we look.

Author Caroline O’Donoghue grounds this story in rich details. Scenes in which Maeve does card readings or spellwork are fascinating. They never slow the plot down with esoterics, and they build on one another so that we’re learning right along with Maeve. It’s clear how tiring the work and concentration required by witchcraft are; there are no spells enacted by a mere wiggle of the nose here.

O’Donoghue depicts Maeve’s school and home in a way that’s true to life, and we get a feel for her neighborhood in Ireland. A conservative religious youth group is beginning to take a hold in the area, which not only poses dangers to LGBTQ+ characters, including Maeve’s sister Jo and her friend/crush, Roe, but also adds a frightening edge to Maeve’s quest to find Lily. There’s an emotional authenticity to Maeve’s tetchiness, too. She was to blame for the collapse of her friendship with Lily, and she’s often demanding and jealous in her tentative new friendships, as well as with her family. Witchcraft offers her a center to return to, not to mention some anchoring confidence.

The book’s ending leaves the door open for a sequel, and readers are sure to clamor for one. Maeve is a complex hero just coming into her powers, and she deserves more opportunities to use them. All Our Hidden Gifts is grounded and realistic, even when it’s got a foot in the supernatural, and it captures the complex, emotional nature of teen relationships with ease.

When Maeve is tasked with cleaning out a storage space at school as a punishment for throwing her shoe at a teacher, she finds an old tarot deck.
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When Oliver Park visits a gay bathhouse in search of an anonymous hookup, he’s putting a lot at risk: his comfortable relationship with Nathan, his upper middle-class life, even his hard-won sobriety. The encounter takes a violent turn that he’s lucky to survive, but his bruises demand an explanation. While Nathan worries about Oliver’s safety, Oliver equivocates and dodges. Bath Haus starts out as a cat-and-mouse thriller, but by the end you’ll realize that everyone is both cat and mouse. You’ll also be a breathless wreck, because this book is not fooling around.


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Author P.J. Vernon’s (When You Find Me) concoction moves with can’t-put-it-down quickness, but you may find yourself lingering over it nonetheless. The writing is economical when it needs to be, but descriptions of the couple’s swanky Georgetown home are full of visual pops. Nathan’s mother serves cutting lines with stiletto precision; she’s a villain to hate while secretly wishing you were her. (Just me? I’ll own it.) Sharp observations about addiction, relationship stagnation and the homogeneity of gay club culture fill in the story’s world while never slowing it down.

Shifts in points of view let readers see that there’s more at play than Oliver’s assault and the possibility that he’s being stalked. Nathan pays for both of their phones and has access to the passcodes. He clearly knows more than he’s letting on. Things come to a head in a finale that initially feels like a collision between The Boys in the Band and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? but quickly spirals into genuine nail-biting terror. 

Don’t miss Bath Haus. It’s intricate, speedy and scary.

When Oliver Park visits a gay bathhouse in search of an anonymous hookup, he’s putting a lot at risk: his comfortable relationship with Nathan, his upper middle-class life, even his hard-won sobriety.

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In Caroline Kepnes’ third You novel, Joe Goldberg is ready to settle down. Volunteering at a library on Bainbridge Island, he’s keeping things squeaky clean while also falling in love with his boss, Mary Kay. Her social and family ties distract her from Joe—the real thing, staring her in the face across the circulation desk—but this time, he’s committed to doing no harm. If he gently thumbs the scales of justice (and true love) in his favor, surely that will be OK, right? Of course, this new beginning is dogged by loose ends from his last known address that refuse to be neatly tied off.

You Love Me is a wild ride, full of twists and slapstick gore. It's also a metatext in some ways. Joe’s obsession with Mary Kay is true to what we know of him, and his interior monologue full of TV, music, film and book references make him a compelling antihero. Mary Kay’s relationship with a rocker from the heyday of Seattle’s grunge scene feels realistic, while her female friends are more like caricatures, overdrawn in a way that’s often hilarious. A plot thread featuring a screenplay based on Joe’s life is both a callback to Hidden Bodies and a wink at the Netflix series based on the books.

Kepnes makes Joe compelling in a way that allows for some brilliant sleight of hand. Surprises seem to come from out of nowhere, and the end is truly shocking, yet there’s a relaxed flow as it all unfolds. You Love Me is more broadly funny than You; Joe’s restraint from violence does not mean the body count is low, and some of the deaths are, to put it mildly, absolutely bonkers. The reader has to wrestle with a character who is charming, funny, well read, accommodating to a fault—and also a monster. Start here if you like, but be prepared to read the whole series. It will really get under your skin.

In Caroline Kepnes’ third You novel, Joe Goldberg is ready to settle down. Volunteering at a library on Bainbridge Island, he’s keeping things squeaky clean while also falling in love with his boss, Mary Kay.

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