Norah Piehl

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Rachel Hawkins
Author Rachel Hawkins discusses ‘The Villa’: “I’m always interested in talking about women stepping into their power.”

In the midst of a messy divorce and plagued by writer’s block, Emily accepts an invitation from her longtime best friend, Chess (now a lifestyle guru), to spend the summer at a luxurious Italian villa. It turns out, however, that the villa has a sordid history: Nearly 50 years earlier, in the mid-1970s, it was the site of a scandalous celebrity murder that in turn inspired a bestselling feminist horror novel. Emily’s growing obsession with the villa’s history inspires her to write at long last—but investigating that long-ago crime and its aftermath opens up old fissures in her relationship with Chess. Will the villa’s dark history repeat itself? 

Rachel Hawkins’ gothic novel The Villa (8 hours) has a wonderfully complicated narrative: Inspired by everything from Fleetwood Mac and Mary Shelley to the Manson murders, it includes not only two separate narratives with two sets of characters but also a novel-within-a-novel, podcast episodes, blog posts and more. Aided in some moments by music, the talented narrators—Shiromi Arserio, Julia Whelan and Kimberly M. Wetherell—prove more than up to the task of guiding listeners through the emotional atmosphere that Hawkins has so superbly created.

Three talented narrators guide listeners through the complicated emotional atmosphere that Rachel Hawkins has so superbly created in The Villa.
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When Caldecott Medalist Jerry Pinkney died in late 2021, he left behind an inspiring legacy, including the illustrations for more than 100 published books. It turns out that he also left behind an unfinished memoir about his boyhood during the late 1940s and ’50s, when he grew up on an all-Black block on East Earlham Street in Philadelphia.

According to a note from Pinkney’s editor, Andrea Spooner, Pinkney had not yet completed the dozens of graphite drawings he had intended to incorporate into Just Jerry: How Drawing Shaped My Life when he died. But he had finished the text and created many preparatory sketches as well as specific instructions for the book’s design. Fortunately for readers, Pinkney’s publisher chose to move forward with publication, using the available materials to achieve Pinkney’s goal of creating a visually immersive effect while also giving the book a lively, improvisatory feel. As it so happens, using sketchbook pages to illustrate a memoir about a young person’s growing identity as a visual artist is particularly apt: The narrator, like the art, is a work in progress. 

Pinkney, who had five siblings, describes seizing any available area in his overstuffed childhood home for drawing, including a favorite spot under the piano. He recalls how visits to his New Jersey relatives inspired his lifelong love of nature, and how much he admired his father’s ability to build things with his hands. Pinkney also writes frankly about the obstacles in his path, including segregation at school and coping with a learning disability. (He was diagnosed with dyslexia as an adult.) 

The most powerful aspects of Pinkney’s story involve the adults who recognized his innate artistic talents and gave them space to flourish. An elementary school teacher appointed Pinkney “class artist” to alleviate his difficulties with reading, and the owner of the newsstand where Pinkney found his first job allowed him to sell his drawings along with newspapers and introduced him to his first artistic mentor. Even Pinkney’s father, who worried about his son’s ability to make a living as an artist, encouraged his talents by letting him draw on the walls of his bedroom. Just Jerry is a moving and vivid reminder that a life in art can be made possible through hard work and dedication, and by giving talented young people the tools and support they need to succeed.

Just Jerry is a moving and vivid reminder that young people can have successful lives in the arts if they receive the tools and support they need.
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If you’ve done any amount of air travel, you know that airports are perfect places for people-watching. And if you’ve ever encountered a flight delay, you’ve seen firsthand how overcrowded terminals combined with the frustration of changed or canceled plans can become a recipe for a uniquely stressful environment. That mixture makes a busy Chicago airport the perfect setting for You Are Here: Connecting Flights, a collection of linked short stories written by a dozen of the most acclaimed Asian American writers for children and young adults and featuring Asian American characters discovering their strengths and voices.

You Are Here opens with Christina Soontornvat’s contribution, which follows a boy named Paul as he prepares to pass through airport security with his parents, little sister and grandmother for a flight to Thailand. He learns that his grandmother has a secret in her carry-on bag, which begins a chain reaction that reverberates throughout several other stories.

The collection takes place on the weekend before Independence Day, so many characters are heading off on summer adventures, such as Mike Chen’s Lee, a talented Chinese American guitarist who’s en route to visit his uncle, and Susan Tan’s Ari, who’s navigating the recent divorce between her Jewish mother and her Chinese father. Others are preparing to discover their heritage through visits to their family’s countries of origin, though Meredith Ireland’s Mindy isn’t as eager to visit her Korean birthplace as her white adoptive dads seem to be.

Many characters experience racism and must find ways to counter stereotypes, including some that are internalized. Characters’ paths cross just like they would at a real airport, and careful readers will enjoy discovering how the stories intertwine in clever and revealing ways.

You Are Here was edited by We Need Diverse Books co-founder Ellen Oh, and it’s the first release from Allida, a new imprint at HarperCollins Children’s Books led by author Linda Sue Park and editor Anne Hoppe; both Oh and Park also contribute stories to the volume. In the book’s back matter, biographies of each author indicate who wrote which story and what contributors like Grace Lin, Minh Le and Erin Entrada Kelly have in common with their characters.

You Are Here vividly illustrates the talents of a diverse group of creators as well as the rich and varied range of Asian American experiences and identities.

You Are Here vividly illustrates the talents of a diverse group of creators as well as the rich and varied range of Asian American experiences and identities.
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In previous bestselling, award-winning books such as The Invention of Hugo Cabret, Wonderstruck and The Marvels, author-illustrator Brian Selznick has centered his richly imagined, deeply cinematic stories on children growing up alone and navigating worlds both dangerous and wonderful. Selznick explores similar themes in Big Tree, but this novel’s children aren’t human; they’re the seeds from a massive sycamore tree.

Louise and her brother Merwin (a nod to the poet W.S. Merwin) have spent their entire lives packed onto a seedball alongside their countless siblings, dangling from a branch of their enormous tree. Like all parents, Mama hopes to give her children “roots to settle down, and wings to bravely go where [they] need to go.” Louise is a dreamer, while Merwin is more of a pragmatist, and when a fire ravages their forest, the two must work together to find a safe place to put down roots. But the world and time itself have more in store for the siblings than even Louise’s wildest flight of imagination could conjure.

Big Tree audiobook jacket
Read our review of the audiobook, narrated by Meryl Streep.

It’s not uncommon for middle grade novels to focus on the natural world, but Big Tree’s devotion to plants rather than animals sets it apart. People do make an appearance in the book’s final chapter, but even then, their presence takes a backseat to Louise and Merwin’s story, which spans millennia and poses provocative questions about the relative prominence of the human species when compared with the vast history of planet Earth.

Like many of Selznick’s novels, Big Tree is, well, big. At more than 500 pages, it’s epic and substantial, filled with significance, yet its text is spare and often feels like a fable. The narrative unfolds through both words and pictures, and some plot points are only conveyed visually. Exquisite double-page spreads of Selznick’s signature pencil artwork compose much of the book.

Louise and Merwin’s story is an odyssey, a survival tale and an invitation to think both philosophically and scientifically about the world around us. It’s truly awe inspiring, and it’s sure to prompt readers to bring a sense of wonder to their next walk in the woods.

Big Tree is an awe-inspiring odyssey, a survival story and an invitation to think both philosophically and scientifically about the planet we call home.
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Tracy Kidder’s 2003 bestseller, Mountains Beyond Mountains, profiled international humanitarian and activist Dr. Paul Farmer, who died in 2022. In Rough Sleepers (8.5 hours), Kidder focuses his attention closer to home with a moving portrait of Dr. Jim O’Connell, head of the Boston Health Care for the Homeless Program. After graduating from Harvard University Medical School in the 1980s, O’Connell deferred a prestigious oncology fellowship to pursue what was supposed to be a one-year stint providing medical care to Boston’s homeless citizens. Decades later, O’Connell has built a multimillion-dollar program that serves as a model for other cities seeking to improve public health services for their homeless populations. 

Rough Sleepers moves between a chronicle of O’Connell’s life and career and Kidder’s present-day observations of O’Connell and his colleagues at work. Kidder’s narration (with a Boston accent that he dials up and down as needed) adds further intimacy to the book’s very personal stories. It feels almost like we’re riding along in the van with O’Connell as he checks on his patients. Listeners will connect with the humanity of O’Connell’s patients and admire the medical professionals who tirelessly treat them with the care and compassion they deserve.


Also in BookPage: Read our starred review of the print edition of Rough Sleepers.

Tracy Kidder’s narration of Rough Sleepers (with a Boston accent that he dials up and down as needed) adds further intimacy to the book’s very personal stories. It feels almost like we’re riding along in the van with Jim O'Connell as he checks on his patients.
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Jojo Moyes’ novel Someone Else’s Shoes (12.5 hours) starts with a lighthearted premise—the accidental swap of two nearly identical bags belonging to two very different women, Sam and Nisha—but soon takes on weightier themes. These include explorations of the ebb and flow of both long marriages and female friendships, as well as considerations of mental and physical illness and emotional abuse. 

With excellent pacing and expression, British actor Daisy Ridley (whose deep alto voice will be familiar from her role as Rey in the Star Wars saga) capably narrates both the humor and serious undertones in Moyes’ novel. Ridley pulls off Nisha’s American accent and brings to life a range of voices for a well-rounded cast of secondary characters, including Sam’s longtime best friend and her clinically depressed husband, and both women’s professional colleagues. 

Although the novel is long, the story breezes by, propelled by the plot’s steadily mounting tension that’s relieved by moments of levity and even some slapstick elements. Listeners will relish this uplifting story of transformation and second chances.

British actor Daisy Ridley (whose deep alto voice will be most familiar from her role as Rey in the Star Wars saga) capably narrates both the humor and serious undertones in Jojo Moyes’ novel.
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Twelve-year-old Addie is still working through the aftermath of a family crisis when her dad, a futurist, decides the two of them need a change of scenery for the summer. He’ll oversee a university research lab where talented students are experimenting with using virtual reality as a tool to teach everything from nutrition to empathy. While her dad is engaged with his work, Addie is more than happy to retreat into the VR headset she borrows from the lab. Entire days go by as she explores a virtual world without ever leaving their small campus apartment.

Virtual reality is easy and fun, but real life and real relationships can be scary, and Addie is initially hesitant to form a friendship with her new neighbor Mateo. His life, filled with family, hobbies and volunteer projects, seems so uncomplicated compared with Addie’s. But as Addie begins to open up to Mateo, she’s inspired to hatch a plan for a new way to use VR to make other kids’ real-life anxieties a little more manageable.

Bestselling children’s author Wendy Mass (The Candymakers, Jeremy Fink and the Meaning of Life) has more than two dozen books under her belt, so it seems funny to refer to her as a debut author, but with Lo and Behold, she’s making her graphic novel debut. The book is a collaboration with comics artist Gabi Mendez, who’s also a first-time graphic novel illustrator, and the two work well together. Mass has always been skilled at portraying the hidden thoughts and emotions of young people, and Mendez is adept at capturing Addie’s changeable moods, from loneliness and worry to excitement and elation, in her expressive face and body language. 

Mendez also excels at depicting the virtual reality worlds that Addie explores, creatively using background colors and patterns to differentiate the VR world from the real one. Mendez’s rich, vibrant artwork beautifully expresses the natural world, too, and her evocation of the play of light and shadow under a tree is especially effective. 

Readers who, like Addie, are excited about the potential of virtual reality technology won’t want to miss the incredibly cool augmented reality feature included in the book, which further enriches an already full and complex story.

Bestselling author Wendy Mass’ first foray into graphics follows a girl who retreats into virtual reality rather than navigate the complications of real life.
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Humorist Samantha Irby’s fourth collection of essays, Quietly Hostile (9.5 hours), delivers another winning blend of hilarious observations and emotional insights, combined with a charming aura of disbelief over no longer being just a humble blogger. According to hate mail from angry fans, she’s now ruining the “Sex and the City” reboot as one of its newest writers. 

In 17 short essays, Irby addresses topics that range from her unapologetic love for the Cheesecake Factory and the Dave Matthews Band to her misadventures in pandemic pet adoption. Some essays—especially those focused on her parents and her estranged brother—are emotionally affecting, while others (such as one essay consisting of her descriptions of various porn video tags, or another structured as an FAQ about bathroom etiquette) are gleefully crude. Regardless of the mood of each piece, Irby’s narration, with matter-of-fact delivery and flawless comic timing, amps up the intended effect, making the listener feel like they’re just having a nice long hang with their funniest friend.


Read our review of the print edition of Quietly Hostile.

Samantha Irby’s narration, with matter-of-fact delivery and flawless comic timing, makes listeners of her fourth essay collection feel like they’re having a nice long hang with their funniest friend.
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Zelda lives in the kind of quaint, upbeat town worthy of a montage. People greet her by name, wish her good luck on her geography test and loan her a bike when she’s running late. But after a close call on that bike with a car and a disappearing boy, Zelda starts to question her perfect town. Why does that geography test—which she’s pretty sure she also took yesterday—make no sense? Why does the town laundromat sport its own creepy clown? And why has her dead cat, Patches, shown up . . . talking?

Zelda starts to suspect that she’s actually inhabiting a dream, even more so once she reencounters that mysterious boy, Langston. But whose dream is she in? And what if the dreamer wakes up? Will they all just cease to exist?

To find out, Zelda, Langston and Patches head toward the limits of the known dream world. What they discover includes a robot house, an ice cream vendor who speaks in rhymes and the four gym teachers of the apocalypse, all of which are depicted in black-and-white illustrations by author Adam Rex. If this sounds kind of silly, it is. Those familiar with Rex’s books for younger readers will recognize his zany humor here as well, but even as the absurdity is pushed to extremes, A Little Like Waking maintains a level of seriousness as well.

The dreamscape is influenced by personal history and often tinged with tragedy. At every turn, the characters consider big questions: “Do you want to grow up? Do you want a life that’s easy or a life that’s real?” Zelda must confront the fact that if she’s not the dreamer, she’s not the star she once assumed. As she puts it, “Growing up is realizing you’re not the main character. Or everyone else is, too.”

A Little Like Waking is sneaky like that, planting nuggets of philosophical and moral truths alongside carnival rides that sprout from the earth like giant vegetation. It’s also romantic and a little sad, with moments of quiet, bittersweet loveliness that stand out in high relief from the near-constant backdrop of hilarity. Rex’s quest narrative is like none other, sure to leave readers marveling at the wonder of dreams and the power of imagination.

A Little Like Waking plants nuggets of philosophical and moral truths alongside carnival rides that sprout from the earth like giant vegetation.
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Christian Cooper may have come to national prominence as the Central Park bird-watcher who was the target of a racist incident in 2020, but as his memoir makes perfectly clear, that viral episode hardly defines his life story. In Better Living Through Birding (10.5 hours), Cooper delves into his identities as a gay man, a Black person, a devotee of comic books, superheroes and other facets of nerd culture—and, of course, a birder.

With birding tips and many glimpses of the often surprising rewards of birding, Cooper makes a compelling argument for his obsession—er, hobby—to become more inclusive. He inspires by showing how he has allowed his recent fame to propel him into new and rewarding professional directions, such as becoming the host of National Geographic’s TV show “Extraordinary Birder.” Cooper’s voice is warm and approachable as he reads his book, and the bird songs that punctuate section and chapter breaks offer clever and appropriate ambiance.

Read our review of the print edition of Better Living Through Birding.

Christian Cooper’s voice is warm and approachable as he reads his memoir, and the birdsongs that punctuate section breaks offer clever and appropriate ambience.

Leg

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Greg Marshall has penned a different kind of coming-out memoir: With Leg (10 hours), he writes about his evolving understanding of his identity not only as a gay man but also as a disabled person. Out of a well-intentioned desire to prevent their son from focusing on his differences, his parents kept his cerebral palsy diagnosis a secret and led Marshall to believe that he just had “tight tendons” until his early thirties. Marshall’s memoir-in-essays (some of which have been published elsewhere in standalone form) transforms what could have been a fairly tragic tale—growing up as a disabled kid with two chronically ill parents—into wry comedy, thanks in no small part to a colorful family life, a fair amount of raunchy humor and a willingness to make fun of himself. Marshall, who reads his own work, forewarns listeners that they may “notice occasional mouth sounds that accompany this reading” due to his disability, but even this author’s note is couched in wit and humor.

Read our starred review of the print edition of Leg.

Greg Marshall’s memoir-in-essays transforms what could have been a fairly tragic tale—growing up as a disabled kid with two chronically ill parents—into wry comedy.
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A young unnamed Black boy wakes up on an ordinary school day with a smile on his face, eager to enjoy his favorite breakfast: “pan-fried bologna, homemade pancakes, strawberry jam.” He hugs his dog, endures a raucous school bus ride and settles in at school. But his unremarkable day is disrupted by insensitive, likely routine remarks from his classmates, who make assumptions and try to box him into prescriptive categories: “Can I touch your hair? . . . You don’t sound Black . . . Do you play basketball? . . . Where are you from?”

In I’m From, the protagonist is from all the things he loves: notebooks, caramel candy squares and late-night belly laughs. He feels most at home when he’s drawing pictures of himself and his dog as superheroes, and when he’s in the warm embrace of his family. Their gentle reminder about their shared traditions, hopes and aspirations give the boy a sense of purpose and belonging, which allows him to fall asleep warm and secure under “handcrafted blankets, knitted with memories.”

Illustrator Oge Mora depicts these blankets and the other illustrations with bold, warm colors and patterns. Her artwork—created with a mix of paint, collage, markers, airbrush and other media—echoes author Gary R. Gray Jr.’s heartfelt words. Harsh colors and shapes mirror the emotional impact of the classmates’ sharp words, but the words of affirmation from the boy’s family are set amid a culminating, joyful spiral of swirling purples and magentas that carry him as high as his imagination can reach. This buoyant story of everyday love and frustrations will comfort readers who just want to be valued for who they are.

I’m From is a buoyant story of everyday love and frustrations that will comfort readers who just want to be valued for who they are.
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Bradley Graeme and Celine Bangura used to be best friends. Then Brad joined the popular football crowd, leaving Celine to lean into nerd culture and her TikTok account. Though Celine has no shortage of self-confidence, she’s always resented Brad for choosing popularity over loyalty. Their friendship fallout feels especially painful since Celine and Brad are among the few Black students at their school. Shouldn’t they be supporting each other?

But the former besties still have plenty in common. They both aspire to get accepted into Oxford or Cambridge and pursue careers in law, so it’s not surprising that they both find themselves in a competitive program run by one of the U.K.’s most prominent Black lawyers, a woman who is Celine’s personal hero. At stake is a university scholarship—if the participants can survive a series of leadership and team-building challenges in the forests of England and Scotland. Brad and Celine will have to overcome their differences and get along, but their reconciliation might be more complicated—and more romantic—than either of them expect.

Author Talia Hibbert’s fantastic Brown Sisters rom-com trilogy won over adult romance readers with her signature blend of witty dialogue, self-discovery and true love. She makes her YA debut with Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute, and the result is sheer delight. 

In her previous books, Hibbert has skillfully explored complicated family dynamics as well as themes of mental health and disability, and she does so here as well. Brad speaks candidly about having obsessive-compulsive disorder and the strategies he’s learned to manage it. Celine gradually realizes that she could benefit from therapy, especially once she recognizes that she might have selected her career goals for the wrong reasons. Along the way, both teens find the courage to be honest—with others and with themselves—about their desires. 

The novel’s dialogue is fast-paced and funny, and thanks to a hilarious glossary, U.S. readers can learn a great deal about U.K. secondary school and youth culture. Hibbert’s book launches Joy Revolution, a new imprint curated by YA authors Nicola and David Yoon and dedicated to YA romances by and about people of color. Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute will leave readers eager to discover what else Joy Revolution will publish.

Adult romance author Talia Hibbert makes her YA debut with this rom-com about two former BFFs who must work together in order to achieve their ambitious goals.

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