Stephenie Harrison

A wise man once wrote that the pen is mightier than the sword. Unfortunately, the reluctant protagonist of The Antagonist has never considered himself a wise man. Having spent most of his life being valued for his brawn, not his brains, it is a bitter pill to swallow when Gordon Rankin (or “Rank,” as he prefers to be called) discovers that an erstwhile university friend has published a successful novel featuring a hulking goon of a character whose backstory overlaps rather alarmingly with Rank’s own biography. Incensed and aggrieved by this unlicensed pilfering of his life story, Rank starts up a correspondence with the man he once thought of as a brother in an attempt to set the record straight—and perhaps even right some wrongs in the process.

In the tradition of Canadian literary greats such as Robertson Davies, Edmonton author Lynn Coady has created a spirited—sometimes spiritual—tale about growing up that is truly larger than life. Coady’s rendering of individual characters is lively, but particularly impressive is her knack for nailing the interpersonal dynamics, whether between mother and son, father and son, or young college students trying to find their way in the world. Also remarkable is how keenly Coady evokes her homeland: The book is undeniably and unabashedly Canadian. Yet one does not require any special knowledge of our neighbors to the north in order to identify with Rank’s journey to self-acceptance, or appreciate his discovery that, in life, we are each of us authors of our own story.

A finalist for Canada’s Giller Prize, The Antagonist is a rich and nuanced novel about growing older and wiser that transcends borders and holds universal appeal.

It often seems that an MFA in creative writing is a prerequisite for published authors today. However, Barbara Kingsolver has a different educational background fueling her works: Prior to trying her hand at fiction, she majored in biology and then completed a master’s degree in ecology and evolutionary biology. Kingsolver’s concern for the earth has never been so palpable—or so passionate—as in her latest novel, Flight Behavior, where global warming causes things to heat up in small-town Tennessee.

Flight Behavior begins with a breathtaking image: On the way to throw her good life away, Della­robia Turnbow is stopped dead in her tracks when she glimpses a lake of fire up in her family’s hills. Dellarobia believes her vision is a warning from above that she must mend her traitorous heart and put an end to her sinful ways. When the reality of what she has witnessed is revealed, the church announces that they are experiencing a modern-day miracle; but before long, scientists are swooping in to offer a darker, more sinister explanation for what is happening up on the mountain. Dellarobia soon finds herself embroiled in a battle between fact and faith—and her marriage, her family, her standing in the community, as well as her very conception of the world, hang in the balance.

Inspired by actual environmental events in Mexico, Kingsolver uses Flight Behavior as a platform to deftly enrobe the mounting evidence for climate change and its devastating effects in a satisfying narrative cocoon, an example of literary activism at its finest. Though Kingsolver’s agenda is far from subtle, it is a testament to her skill that the story never loses its way or its heart, and never seems pedantic. Melding the religious aspects of her breakaway hit, The Poisonwood Bible, with the ecological concerns documented in Animal, Vegetable, Mineral, this feels like the book that all of Kingsolver’s previous novels have been leading up to. The end result is a delicate symbiosis between the sacred and the scientific in this richly rewarding novel that will both entertain and incite its readers.

Half the fun of waiting for the next Tana French book comes from trying to predict who will be its star. Unlike many popular mystery series in which the same detective is featured time and again, French shakes things up with each book, promoting a previous supporting character to the lead role. Her fourth novel offers Faithful Place antagonist Mick “Scorcher” Kennedy a shot at redemption.

Broken Harbor revolves around the triple homicide of a father and two children who have been living on an all but abandoned development in the Brianstown area of Dublin—one of the many projects that were begun during the real estate boom and not completed when the market dropped. Mother and wife Jenny Spain survived the attack, but is barely hanging on in intensive care. Solving this kind of headline-grabbing case would make Mick untouchable on the squad, so even though Mick has personal reasons for giving wide berth to Brianstown—a place that is the source of his very worst memories—he partners with rookie detective Richie Curran and prepares to bag the biggest case of the year. It’s not until he and Richie are in too deep that Mick realizes he’s dealing with one of the creepiest cases of his career.

It may be hyperbolic to claim that French has reinvented the police procedural, but there’s no denying that her Dublin Murder Squad series has breathed fresh life into the genre, throwing the standard mystery tropes out the window. Rife with the ambiguity and uncertainty that reign supreme in real life, French’s novels are deliciously addictive, even though her protagonists—no matter how beloved or long-suffering—are not guaranteed a happy ending. Whether you are a fan of mysteries or not, Broken Harbor is complex storytelling at its most masterful and should not be missed.

With her first novel, A Discovery of Witches, Deborah Harkness experienced the kind of success few authors dare to dream of. At a time when there is no shortage of books devoted to creatures that go bump in the night, Harkness’ hefty tome—the first in a trilogy—managed to find its way into the hands of millions of readers. It introduced readers to Diana Bishop, a witch who denies her craft, and Matthew Clairmont, an austere geneticist who also happens to be a vampire, entrancing us with the irresistible—but forbidden—relationship that developed between the two. When last we saw Diana and Matthew, they were attempting to travel to the 16th century in an effort to preserve their lives and unlock the secrets surrounding Diana’s magic.

Shadow of Night picks up right where the previous book left off, with Diana and Matthew touching down in Elizabethan England. Their hunt for a witch who can help Diana harness her powers and the mysterious Ashmole 782 volume carries them through the labyrinthine streets of London, as well as across the sea to France and Prague. Initially reveling in her ability to bend time, Diana soon learns that you can travel across the globe and even across centuries, but the troubles of your life will always find you. As Diana struggles to master the secrets of her craft, she must also confront the fact that Matthew has been keeping some earth-shattering secrets.

From the very first pages of Shadow of Night it is evident that this novel is as much a love story about a bygone era as it is about Matthew and Diana. It overflows with a colorful cast of characters, many of whom Harkness has plucked straight from the history books, and Harkness renders the late 1500s in exquisite detail. At times, this meticulousness causes the plot to stall, but the writing is so rich, and the characters so compelling, readers are sure to forgive. Best of all, Harkness manages to execute with aplomb the act of answering old questions while posing new ones that will intensify anticipation for the final installment. Readers who have been counting down the days, take heart: The wait was most assuredly worth it.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE:
Read a Q&A with Deborah Harkness for A Discovery of Witches.

Toni Morrison has more than 15 literary awards to her name, including both a Pulitzer and a Nobel Prize. This goes a long way toward explaining why, rather than comparing her to other authors, Morrison is measured against herself. It is understood that a Toni Morrison novel will challenge and humble its readers in terms of content, language and scope, so the real question when picking up her newest novel is never “Will this be a good book?” but rather, “Will this book be as good as all her others?”

When it comes to Home, Morrison’s 10th novel, the short answer is a clear “yes.” This is a very good book that easily takes its place in Morrison’s canon. Although the writing feels somewhat stripped down, the story itself is ambitious and vital, belying the small size of the book itself.

Home is largely the story of Frank Money, who left behind both the safety and the shackles of small-town Lotus, Georgia, by enlisting to fight in Korea, vowing never to return. Alas, the horrors of war leave Frank shell-shocked and bruised, a shadow of his former self. With whiskey and the comfort of a woman named Lily, Frank manages to keep his misery at bay, but these things offer temporary relief. It is only when he receives word that his little sister Cee is dying, having suffered at the hands of a eugenics-obsessed doctor, that Frank finally musters up the courage to return to the place he once called home, where his true healing can begin.

In many ways, Home touches on themes and ideas that have formed the backbone of Morrison’s previous works, namely the search for identity and community as framed in the historic context of the black American experience. Life is rarely kind to Frank, Cee and Lily, yet Home is still an immensely compassionate narrative that speaks to the unrelenting resilience of the human spirit. Morrison’s characters are frequently bloodied and bruised, but they are never fully broken. If there is one thing Morrison has mastered in her 40 years of writing books, it’s how to pack a punch so hard your lungs crumple. Excruciating in the moment, the next breath you take is all the sweeter for it. It’s these juxtapositions of sadness and joy, despair and hope, darkness and light, that ultimately make Home such a visceral read.