Jessica Inman

Sometimes you can have it both ways. Maile Meloy’s new collection of short stories, for example, is an exhibition of both substance and style.

Both Ways Is the Only Way I Want It features 11 fresh and unique stories, many set in the author’s native Montana. Some, like the story of two combative brothers, are wryly funny; some wear a deep sadness, like the story of a ranch hand who spends almost all of his time alone; and some, like the story of a teen’s last summer at home, are simply true. In all of them, the air is heavy with meaning.

Meloy’s standout is “Lovely Rita,” a love story that mostly takes place in a nuclear power plant. It’s completely heartbreaking in an accessible, believable way. And the rest of the stories offer that same believability as they trace the lines of grace and beauty in everyday human existence. Each one is told patiently, perfectly—even the ones that explode with fear or passion.

That may be Meloy’s greatest strength as a writer: her skill with clarity and control. The images and storylines in Both Ways are clean, yet complex, and somehow Meloy deftly avoids being too obvious. Her dialogue also earns high marks.

But what edges out the other qualities of Both Ways is that these stories, even in their simplicity, are so deep and involving that they forbid their readers to stop turning the pages. Not only will you want to read this book in one sitting, you will want to read each story a second time—and a third. And that’s something not every short story collection achieves.

Meloy has received much praise—including a Guggenheim fellowship and a spot on Granta’s list of Best Young American Novelists, among other honors—for her novels, Liars and Saints and A Family Daughter, and her first book of short stories, Half in Love. She’s undeniably talented, and Both Ways is the latest installment in what is sure to be a long list of beautiful, truthful tales from Maile Meloy.

Jessica Inman writes and edits in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

In New World Monkeys, former advertising copywriter Nancy Mauro offers a debut novel that cannily and artfully shows the wild side of human nature.

Lily and Duncan are spending the summer in a small town upstate. On the drive into town, they hit a snag—specifically, they run over a wild boar with their car. And in the moment that sets the story spinning into motion, Lily puts the animal out of its misery with a tire iron. Unfortunately, the boar was the town’s mascot, and soon his owner seems to have the whole town in on his thirst for revenge. Then Duncan discovers a human femur in the backyard, which they discover may have belonged to Lily’s grandfather’s nanny.

All they have to do before the summer ends is dig up the dead nanny and hide their guilt in the death of the boar, thus avoiding the wrath of the eccentric residents of Osterhagen. Meanwhile, Lily works on her dissertation and Duncan, an ad man, dreams up a new campaign. All the while, the couple must navigate the next bend in their tired, chilly marriage.

Duncan may not be exactly what he seems. Underneath his urbane, Saab-driving exterior may lurk something nearly bestial. The academic Lily, for her part, has her own contradictions. Sure, she killed the boar when Duncan showed reticence to do so, but she also clings desperately to him at social gatherings. Duncan and Lily may not truly know each other’s depths and capabilities, and the events of the summer hold surprises for both.

And then there’s Lloyd, Lily’s fellow library patron and the local peeping tom with whom she, crazily enough, finds herself going on expeditions. As his thrill at seeing what people are really made of grows ever more frightening, it also becomes a mirror to show Lily parts of herself that she didn’t know existed.

With narration that sounds at times like the work of Zadie Smith, New World Monkeys weaves a funny and macabre tale. Its quirkiness and ingenuity should earn this novel a spot on many fall reading lists.

Jessica Inman writes and edits in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

If you ever thought of the 18th century as stuffy, you were wrong. Jane Kamensky and Jill Lepore have brought the era to life with their first collaborative novel, Blindspot. Through their engaging tale, we're treated to a brand-new vision of life and literature in the years leading up to the American Revolution.

Stewart "Jamie" Jameson, exiled from Scotland, has just washed up in America to set up shop as a portrait painter. To establish credibility with his new clientele, he puts out an ad for an apprentice, which leads him to Fanny Easton. A fallen woman with a talent for art who's estranged from a powerful family, Fanny assumes the role of a teen boy named Francis Weston. When one of the town's revolutionary leaders is murdered and his slaves are indicted for the crime, Jamie and Fanny join Jamie's brilliant friend Ignatius Alexander in trying to solve the mystery—even as they face the mysteries of love.

As a leading man, Jamie is nothing short of dreamy—passionate and funny with a big heart. Fanny charms him with her wit even while disguised as a boy, and the apprentice soon finds herself anguished by a crushing love for her master, which she is sure can never be requited. Their stories are laced into a backdrop of the tragedies of poverty and the slave trade in the young American colonies. Kamensky and Lepore, both professors who have written nonfiction, have endeavored to create not just a historical novel, but also a kind of faux 18th-century novel. Told alternately from Jamie's perspective and through Fanny's letters to a girlhood friend, the book is a combination picaresque and early American novel that's original but historically credible, complete with real news postings and letters, and even characters that are tracings of historical figures. The result is so authentic the book seems to breathe. Blindspot is full of beautiful narrative and wonderfully quotable lines like "whence Reason when Justice places a man in a cage?" But make no mistake: it also has plenty of, er, action.

Jessica Inman writes from Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Some first novels give the feeling of having grown in a chrysalis, only to emerge at the very height of readiness. Sylvia Sellers-García's When the Ground Turns in its Sleep is just that kind of novel.

After the death of his father and the loss of his job, Nítido Amán has run aground. He travels to Guatemala, his parents' homeland, hoping to discover the truth about their mysterious past. All he has are his father's beautiful but confusing journals. He doesn't know why his family left, or why they won't talk about Guatemala. He arrives in a rural village a few miles from his birthplace to learn that the residents think he's their new priest, and rather than correct them, he plays along, hoping to gain insight into the town and its people. As the realizations unfold, Nítido feels the horror of stumbling among lives disrupted by bloody conflict. He's a stranger here, and yet not a stranger at all.

In graceful prose, When the Ground Turns in its Sleep offers in narrative form an insider's look at the Guatemalan conflict, how it turned neighbors into enemies and ruined the lives of families. And in what might be the book's best asset, accomplished scholar and short-story writer Sellers-García evokes compassion as she describes historical events on the ground level. The author also has a way of bringing to life certain experiences through apt description, like the feeling of missing out on important nuances when speaking a second language or the confusion of trying to piece together the past and distrusting one's memory.

Jessica Inman is a writer and editor in Tulsa.