Karissa Chen’s Homeseeking is both a love story and a family story, capturing the ever-present yearning for “people, people who shared the same ghosts as you, of folks long gone, places long disappeared.”
Karissa Chen’s Homeseeking is both a love story and a family story, capturing the ever-present yearning for “people, people who shared the same ghosts as you, of folks long gone, places long disappeared.”
Rebecca Kauffman’s thoughtful portrayal of family relationships in all their tension and secrets as well as intimacy and wonder in I’ll Come to You resembles the introspective style of authors like Ethan Joella or Ann Napolitano.
Rebecca Kauffman’s thoughtful portrayal of family relationships in all their tension and secrets as well as intimacy and wonder in I’ll Come to You resembles the introspective style of authors like Ethan Joella or Ann Napolitano.
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Foxes, trains, elaborate outfits, witty sayings, luck and chance, the last days of an empire. Told in two voices, Yangsze Choo’s The Fox Wife is a fitting follow up to Choo’s previous novels, The Ghost Bride and The Night Tiger.

Set in Manchuria in 1908, The Fox Wife plays with Chinese myths about the fox gods: foxes with the ability to transform themselves into beguiling, beautiful and tormented men and women. Legend has it that these fox gods sometimes live among people, causing trouble through their trickery and slippery relationship to the truth.

Equipped with an extreme sensitivity to the presence of truth, Bao is a detective on a mission to figure out what happened to a woman found frozen to death on the doorstep of a restaurant. His chapters—told from a third-person perspective—enthrall with keen observations about the gods, his own past and the people around him.

Snow is on her own quest to understand the death of her only child. She begins working for a family who has been cursed: Their sons die young. Her first-person chapters are particularly intriguing, with a strong voice and sharp turns of phrase. Who is Snow? And what will her journey allow her to discover?

As the story alternates between Snow’s and Bao’s perspectives, the pull to solve these mysteries builds momentum. The voices are compelling; the secrets are rich. When the two tales begin to overlap and the gaps fill in, the surprise is worth the wait. Layers of meaning accrue, bringing together the past and the present, mythology and personal ambition, actions and reactions, control and fate, into a fascinating tale of foxes, foes and friends.

Set in Manchuria in 1908, The Fox Wife combines Chinese myths about fox gods who live among people and the story of a detective determined to uncover the truth behind a woman’s mysterious death.

David Wroblewski spent 10 years writing his first book, the remarkable instant classic The Story of Edgar Sawtelle. Now, 16 years later, he’s delivering a follow-up: Familiaris, which will go on sale June 4th, and is available for preorder now.

We’re thrilled to reveal the beautiful cover, as well as an exclusive excerpt, below, but first, here’s the official synopsis:


It is spring 1919, and John Sawtelle’s imagination has gotten him into trouble . . . again. Now John and his newlywed wife, Mary, along with their two best friends and their three dogs, are setting off for Wisconsin’s northwoods, where they hope to make a fresh start—and, with a little luck, discover what it takes to live a life of meaning, purpose, and adventure. But the place they are headed for is far stranger and more perilous than they realize, and it will take all their ingenuity, along with a few new friends—human, animal, and otherworldly—to realize their dreams.

By turns hilarious and heartbreaking, mysterious and enchanting, Familiaris takes readers on an unforgettable journey from the halls of a small-town automobile factory, through an epic midwestern firestorm and an ambitious WWII dog-training program, and far back into mankind’s ancient past, examining the dynamics of love and friendship, the vexing nature of families, the universal desire to create something lasting and beautiful, and of course, the species-long partnership between Homo sapiens and Canis familiaris.



Cover design by Alenka Linaschke.

Read on for an exclusive first look at the cover of the epic follow-up to The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, plus a sneak peek of the first chapter.

Maria Hummel’s fifth novel offers the atmospheric story of an old friendship gone awry. As Goldenseal opens in 1990, Edith has arrived in Los Angeles, a city that’s unrecognizable to her after 40 years in Maine. Her destination is a grand hotel she once knew well. Waiting for Edith is Lacey, who has withdrawn not only from her old friend, but from the world, making herself a recluse high above the city in the hotel her father owned for decades. 

Lacey is agitated and doesn’t know why Edith has returned, but she has planned a fancy room service dinner for the two of them. As the dinner begins, the two are wary, feeling the presence of the long-ago rupture in their friendship. At 70, Lacey is troubled and fragile, while Edith is restrained, a cipher, “the headmistress incarnate.” Both women have been pummeled by time and by the world.

As each woman guardedly tells the other her perspective, we learn how Lacey and Edith became like sisters. Occasionally, one will wish for more of this recounting to be shown in scene rather than dialogue, because the novel describes Edith and Lacey’s youth so gorgeously, beginning with Lacey’s late-1930s childhood in her beloved Prague before the sudden move with her Mutti and Papi to New York City as war and the Holocaust loom. When Lacey is sent to summer camp in Maine, she encounters Edith, and they begin an intense friendship. They’re outwardly opposites: Lacey is a pampered only child, while Edith was born into rural poverty and is attending camp on scholarship because her father is the camp’s handyman. Eventually, Edith and Lacey both follow Lacey’s parents to Los Angeles to try out the film business, setting in motion the events that cause their dramatic split. In the novel’s present, the reunion dinner’s end leads to a surprising moment of tenderness: a bittersweet, fitting conclusion. 

In the afterword, Hummel notes that she wrote Goldenseal as an homage to Hungarian author S&aacutendor M&aacuterai’s novel Embers, drawing her structure—two old friends reuniting for one night after a 40-year rift—from the older novel. Goldenseal is an inventive, immersive book recounting the particular past, old hurts and late healing of two singular characters.

Maria Hummel’s Goldenseal is an inventive, immersive novel recounting the reunion of two old friends 40 years after a dramatic rupture.
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Set in a dreamy coastal town, Inci Atrek’s debut novel, Holiday Country, is about three generations of women learning to make peace with the choices they have made. Narrated by the youngest of them all, Ada, the story is as much a coming-of-age tale as it is about lost opportunities and how far one may be tempted to go to recover them.

Things are just as you might imagine in the tiny seaside town of Ayvalik off the Aegean coast of Turkey—sleepy, quiet and slow-moving. Here, time is dictated not by the ticking of a clock but rather by the movement of the sun and tide. Oleander bushes line the pathways connecting the villas, the market and the two lone restaurants (aptly named the Big Club and the Small Club), and gossiping is as crucial a part of the lives of Ayvalik’s mostly retired residents as swimming, eating and sleeping. 

 

19-year-old Ada has spent all her summer holidays here since she was 4. Ada and her mother Meltem’s annual pilgrimage to Ayvalik from San Francisco has been a consistent but mostly unsuccessful attempt to please Ada’s opinionated and controlling grandma, Mukadder, who never quite forgave Meltem for marrying an American and moving away. 

This summer, however, there is uncertainty in the air for Ada, who has not only discovered that her father has been cheating on her mother, but is also unsure of how her impending adult life will change her summer getaways to Ayvalik and, by extension, her connection to her Turkish heritage and her sense of who she really is. Amidst this angst, Ada meets a handsome older man named Levent. Soon discovering he has a romantic past with her mother, she goes on a mission to get them back together again, while unintentionally falling for him herself.

With a setting that comes through beautifully in Atrek’s writing, Holiday Country is tender, well-written and filled with just the right amount of twists and turns.

Holiday Country is a tender coming-of-age story about lost opportunities set in the tiny seaside town of Ayvalik off the Aegean coast of Turkey.
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The mysterious, flamboyant Pietro Houdini calls himself “Chemist. Painter. Scholar. Master artist and confidant of the Vatican.” Whatever he may or may not be, to Massimo, the narrator of The Curse of Pietro Houdini, Pietro is a savior. On the day that they meet in August, 1943, 14-year-old Massimo’s parents have been killed in the bombing of Rome, and Massimo lies beaten in a gutter. Pietro immediately takes Massimo under his wing, and the two head up the hill to seek shelter in a towering abbey in the Italian village of Montecassino.

The Curse of Pietro Houdini boasts a little bit of everything—a truly fascinating setting; an account of pivotal, yet little-known events of World War II; rich, quirky characters; tragedy, suspense, warmth and humor. Readers will quickly discover that unusual, dangerous times call for creative acts of deception on the part of both main characters, whose relationship forms the heart of this unforgettable, cinematic story. Massimo, who narrates the events from an adult perspective, notes: “The man I knew was a thinker and a storyteller and a liar who had as little reverence for the facts as P.T. Barnum.”

The abbey houses over 70,000 manuscripts and works of art, many of them moved there from museums for safekeeping during the war. Now, with an Allied bombing seemingly imminent, two real-life German officers, Julius Schlegel and Maximilian Becker, are secretly carting them out as quickly as possible, sending them back to the Vatican. Pietro hatches his own scheme—”the first art heist within an art heist in the history of the world”—to paint over three undiscovered Titians and sneak them out with Massimo’s help. Along the way, the plotting pair encounter a rich cast of characters and endure many suspenseful, heart-pounding and heartbreaking moments.

Derek B. Miller—the author of How to Find Your Way in the Dark and Norwegian by Night—has shown the range of his talents in six previous novels, but this may be his masterpiece: an epic novel that manages to convey an extraordinary yet realistic story encapsulating the horrors of war. As Pietro explains, “That’s what art does, my child. It opens our hearts to the human condition.”

Read our interview with Derek B. Miller for The Curse of Pietro Houdini.

The Curse of Pietro Houdini boasts a little bit of everything—a truly fascinating setting; rich, quirky characters; tragedy, suspense, warmth and humor. Derek B. Miller has shown the range of his talents in six previous novels, but this may be his masterpiece.
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Written before her death in 2019, and published with the help of her daughter, Katherine Min’s The Fetishist allows Min to pour out something of herself that we might otherwise have sadly missed. Darkly funny, strangely poignant and sometimes startlingly vicious, The Fetishist is a wonderful novel from an author we lost too soon, and a sweeping yet intimate statement on the impacts of racism and sexism on Asian American women.

Kyoko is a Japanese American rock musician, while Alma is a Korean American cellist whose career was sidelined by illness. Both are tied irrevocably to Daniel, a white man and fellow musician whose pursuit of Asian women seems to have ruined both Alma’s life and the life of Kyoko’s late mother. Shifting between these three characters’ perspectives, Min tells us the captivating, hilariously twisted story of their intertwined lives, from a potential hit song and an infamous affair, to a kidnapping gone wrong.

Min’s prose is simultaneously playful and powerful. She crafts sentences that are somehow able to contain both breathless puns and elegant intonations on the meaning of life. The Fetishist flies on the strength of her words, and that strength transfers into her characters. There’s not a simple narrative here, no firm sense of right and wrong that we can apply to every page. Instead, these complicated, messy characters are lent warmth and gravity in each word, each moment. Kyoko, Alma and Daniel are all searching for meaning, all trying to sort through the regrets they carry and the sins they bear. They feel whole, feel human, and therefore are free to surprise us.

While The Fetishist is many things, surprising is probably the most apt word to describe Min’s posthumous work. This remarkably clever, wickedly incisive little book will keep you hanging on every word and leave you with questions you’ll ponder for days.

Darkly funny, strangely poignant and sometimes startlingly vicious, The Fetishist is a wonderful novel from an author we lost too soon.
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As Derek B. Miller sat down to write his seventh novel, The Curse of Pietro Houdini, something magical happened. “I wrote a great first sentence that somehow embedded the whole book,” he says, speaking from his home in Spain. “This is the only time this has ever happened to me.”

Miller had already chosen the setting for this spellbinding historical saga—a Benedictine abbey near Montecassino, Italy, during World War II. In 1944, American pilots dropped more bombs on this hilltop sanctuary than any other single building, mistakenly believing it to be occupied by German forces. While stories abound about the invasion of Normandy, few Americans are familiar with this military operation.
“I have a Ph.D. in international relations,” Miller notes, “and I didn’t know about it.” Part of the reason, he explains, is that “it’s just not a good old-fashioned American hero story. The battle went on for months and months and killed a lot of people.” What’s more, the abbey had been housing thousands of irreplaceable manuscripts and art, sent there for safekeeping in 1943. Thankfully, night after night, a German and an Austrian officer, with the help of the monks, loaded this treasure trove into carts and moved it to Rome before the Allied destruction began—a secretive mission described in his book. “I don’t think an abbey has called out to have its own story since The Name of the Rose,” Miller adds, referring to Umberto Eco’s famed murder mystery.

“I just love big, opinionated, risk-taking, take-no-prisoners central characters.”

Miller was introduced to the Montecassino abbey while working on a previous novel, Radio Life, which was inspired by the acclaimed 1959 science fiction classic A Canticle for Leibowitz, a post-apocalyptic story about monks who protect books during nuclear war and its aftermath by hiding them in an abbey. The book’s author, Walter J. Miller (no relation) was a radioman and tail gunner whose role in the Montecassino abbey bombing left him with post-traumatic stress disorder and undoubtedly inspired Canticle. Now, Derek Miller wanted to explore the setting of the abbey itself, but he was having trouble deciding what story he wanted to tell. “This isn’t nonfiction,” Miller says. “I didn’t want to be an academic. I wanted to be a dramatist. And I wanted to find the story within the story that could be mine.”

The plot finally began to emerge when Miller wrote that first sentence—“Pietro Houdini claimed that life clung to him like a curse and if he could escape it he would.” Instantaneously, one of the novel’s two main characters sprang into focus. As his name implies, Houdini is a larger-than-life character who may not be what he claims to be: a “master artist and confidant of the Vatican.” “I just love big, opinionated, risk-taking, take-no-prisoners central characters,” Miller says.

“Once the name popped out,” Miller continues, “once I had Houdini and a curse, and the abbey all sort of there, I realized that interrogating the curse mattered. And I was wondering who else was there? Who was he talking to? Who would care about something like that?” Before long, Miller envisioned an orphaned 14-year-old—Massimo—whom Pietro finds lying battered and beaten in a gutter. The two walk up the hill to the abbey, setting into motion a vibrant, well-crafted tale that’s rich in history, drama, intrigue, tragedy and well-placed doses of humor—at which Miller excels. Ultimately, he has created a story about both the heroics and the horrors of war, as well as the powerful bonds that can form in the midst of calamity.

Massimo’s first-person narration convincingly guides the book, and it is framed by an introduction and conclusion written from Massimo’s adult perspective decades later. “When I’m writing,” Miller explains, “I really have no idea what’s going to happen next. I only had milestones and a chronology [of historical events] that I decided to stick to seriously, partly because I’m a scholar.” Many readers, in fact, may be reminded of Anthony Doerr’s beloved World War II novel, All the Light We Cannot See. “This is going to sound shocking,” Miller says, “but I haven’t read it yet.”

Similarly surprising comparisons were made after the publication of his award-winning novel, Norwegian by Night: People complimented him on doing such a wonderful job writing Scandinavian crime. “I said, ‘That’s interesting, I’ve never heard of it.’ I thought I was writing a story about an old Jewish guy running through the woods in Norway. But apparently, it was part of an entire genre that I was unaware of, even though I was living in Norway at the time.”

“I haven’t really written love stories as such—you know, boy-meets-girl, that kind of thing. But there is, very much with Pietro and Massimo, love.”

Both Norwegian by Night and The Curse of Pietro Houdini feature an adult and child paired as main characters. “A lot of my books are really quite multigenerational,” Miller says. “It gives me tremendous scope for wisdom, dialogue, humor, misunderstanding and competing interpretations. And it’s fun, because old people being frustrated with young people, and young people being frustrated with old people is just hilarious.”

Miller also describes the pairing as a “useful literary device,” saying, “It’s always helpful for somebody in the know to have somebody to talk to who’s not in the know for the benefit of the reader. And in my books, there’s a lot going on.” Such a marvelous embarrassment of riches is certainly the case in The Curse of Pietro Houdini, in which many of Pietro’s discussions of art, history and the war with Massimo serve as vital backstory provided in an entertaining fashion. Miller points to the power of the connection that these characters establish, saying, “Being alone and then finding someone to connect with in the midst of that loneliness is essential in the human experience. I haven’t really written love stories as such—you know, boy-meets-girl, that kind of thing. But there is, very much with Pietro and Massimo, love.”

“Writing is a full-contact blood sport,” Miller concludes. “It’s a crazy way to make a living—almost an impossible way.” He started trying his hand at fiction during a number of unscheduled months spent waiting for his Ph.D. program to begin in Switzerland, and he continued with the craft alongside his studies. He eventually published his third manuscript, Norwegian by Night, in 2008, after 12 years of writing. That book came together when he elevated Sheldon Horowitz, who had been a minor character in a draft manuscript, to a central character. He turned out to be such a wonderful personality that Miller later wrote a prequel about his childhood, the suspenseful tragicomedy How to Find Your Way in the Dark.

Now Miller is working on a book set in the late 1950s on the coast of Spain, where Salvador Dali had his house in Cadaqués. Miller and his family live about an hour south of Barcelona, after living and working in Norway for a number of years (Miller’s wife is Norwegian). “I needed a change and it’s an adventure for the kids,” he says. “Life is short, so you take some bold decisions, if you’re so inclined.”

At some point, Miller hopes to finally visit the Montecassino abbey, which has been rebuilt since the World War II bombing. He says, “My deep, deep hope is that I can get The Curse of Pietro Houdini translated into Italian and that I have an excellent reason to go.”

Read our starred review of The Curse of Pietro Houdini.

Author photo by Camilla Waszink.

Derek B. Miller returns with a captivating historical tale centered on a pivotal yet rarely told episode of WWII: the bombing of the abbey of Montecassino, Italy. When a mysterious master artist, or possibly master con artist, and a 14-year-old orphan take shelter in the abbey, they are drawn into the mission to save precious art stored there from destruction. The adventure that ensues is tragic, funny and thrilling, with plenty of sleight of hand and even more heart.
Review by

Grief is a devastating stimulus. The manifestations of mental anguish form the subject of Bird Life, Anna Smaill’s elliptical, poetic follow-up to her Booker Prize-longlisted 2015 debut The Chimes.

The story centers on two very different women, Dinah and Yasuko. Dinah, a New Zealander, is in Tokyo on a work visa to teach English to engineering and science undergraduates. She’s mourning her twin brother, Michael, a promising classical pianist who died under circumstances Smaill leaves vague until late in the book. Shortly after her arrival, Dinah begins seeing Michael everywhere, first in reflections of darkened car windows, then in the apartment she lives in.

Yasuko, an older woman with a college-aged son, Jun, is one of Dinah’s colleagues at the university. Yasuko “came into her powers” at 13 when a cat spoke to her. Soon, trees spoke to her, too, and she could even hear people’s thoughts. Over the years, her abilities abandoned her, but they return when Jun moves out—“I need some space,” he explains in a message—and she hopes to use them to bring him back.

Much of the novel focuses on the friendship that develops between Dinah and Yasuko as they help one another deal with their respective traumas. Particularly memorable are scenes in which Yasuko reconnects with her powers, such as when carp break the surface of a pond and quote the I Ching to her, or when birds land in Yasuko’s cupped hands to offer helpful advice.

Some scenes contain extraneous dialogue and go on too long, but Bird Life is nevertheless an evocative and sensitive depiction of mental distress and the importance of perseverance. Yasuko’s father, a crystallographer, keeps a photo of the first X-ray image of DNA on his pin board because it reminds him “that there is more in the world than I can easily understand” and “that I always need to keep looking.” That’s the key message of this subtle book: Though it might be difficult to detect them during times of hardship, glimmers of hope are always visible if one knows where to look.

Bird Life is an evocative and sensitive depiction of mental distress that argues that, though it might be difficult to detect them during times of hardship, glimmers of hope are always visible if one knows where to look.
Review by

Karl Marlantes, author of the epic Deep River, returns with a new tale of the Koskis, a family of Finnish immigrants to the Pacific Northwest in the early 20th century. Set just after World War II, Cold Victory follows Louise Koski, granddaughter-in-law of Aino Koski, Deep River’s fiery and unforgettable protagonist.

Louise moves to Helsinki with her husband, Arnie, who’s been appointed as the military attaché to the American legation. Soon she befriends Natalya Bobrova, while Arnie befriends Natalya’s husband, Mikael. The two men discover they previously met during the war, when Russians and Americans were still allies. Meanwhile, Arnie’s Finnish cousin struggles to run an impecunious orphanage, which Louise, whose one sorrow in her otherwise sunny life is her childlessness, takes up as a cause. But how to raise money? After Arnie and Mikael decide on a booze-fueled lark to have a cross-country skiing race, Louise gets the idea to fundraise through a raffle where people bet on who will win.

This is a terrible idea.

In an atmosphere of ratcheting Soviet-U.S. tensions, news of the race quickly travels and becomes a symbol of the international divide: Soviet communism vs. American capitalism. The two men, unreachable in the snowy wilderness, have no way of knowing that if Mikael loses this race, Comrade Stalin will send him to Siberia. Or worse.

Utilizing short, punchy chapters full of period detail, Marlantes keeps you wondering how this potentially deadly breach of protocol is going to end. His investigation of postwar diplomacy just as the Iron Curtain is about to fall for good is riveting. You’ll be as shocked as Louise at how paranoid the Russians are about everything: It’s a given that friends, husbands, wives and au pairs spy on each other, that apartments are bugged, that one misstep can result in being taken away and killed. Marlantes cleverly demonstrates how, in a Soviet satellite, even American optimism becomes dangerous. As Louise realizes, “naiveté was not an excuse; it was a flaw. And it was a flaw that hurt people.” Cold Victory is another enthralling work from a great writer.

In Karl Marlantes’ new novel, an American and a Soviet soldier decide on a booze-fueled lark to have a cross-country skiing race. This is a terrible idea.
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Being an émigré isn’t that unthinkable: Just imagine that you have to leave home forever, potentially never to return. Or imagine that you never had a home in the first place; that the very word “home” taunts and perpetually eludes you; that everywhere you go, you try to find or create it to no avail. Still can’t imagine it? Hisham Matar’s new novel My Friends will help. Following Khaled Abd al Hady, a young Libyan man, as he moves from Benghazi to London, this scintillating novel from the Pulitzer Prize-winning author is filled with equal parts history and fiction.

Khaled is the son of a school headmaster and a headstrong mother. Innately curious, he spends days reading books from his father’s vast library. When Khaled and his family hear a short story read over the radio about a man being eaten by a cat, broadcast by Libyan BBC reporter Mohammed Mustafa Ramadan (a real journalist who was assassinated in broad daylight in 1980), they are fascinated and discover that the author, Hosam Zowa, is a Benghazian living abroad to pursue university in the U.K. Khaled is inspired to apply to university in Edinburgh and is miraculously accepted. Although he is thrilled to embark on this adventure, his family seems hesitant: They know, though he doesn’t, that once Khaled leaves, he will never come back.

In Edinburgh, Khaled meets other Libyan students, though they all live under the shadow of the Qaddafi regime, unable to trust even one another. At a demonstration in front of the Libyan embassy in London, an actual event that took place on April 17, 1984, Khaled is shot by a gunman in the embassy and, in the aftermath, is outed as a radical. Eventually, he meets Hosam, the author of that strange short story, and his life is forever changed.

From its opening when Khaled and Hosam part ways for what is likely the last time, My Friends flows quickly and vividly. The story is structured around Khaled’s reminiscing as he walks around London, visiting the spots where the events he is retelling took place. This foundation of memory allows Matar to imbue each scene with rich, nostalgic emotion, especially as much of the book is based on reality. As Khaled reflects on the heartbreaking and life-affirming relationships he has had over the course of his life, readers are sure to be touched, coming to a deeper understanding of friendship, nation and home.

Pulitzer Prize-winning author Hisham Matar imbues each scene of this scintillating novel with rich, nostalgic emotion, combining history and fiction as he follows a young Libyan man’s move from Benghazi to London.
Review by

Who gets to forgive, who gets to forget and who decides when someone has paid their debt? These questions, like life itself, are messy and open to speculation, particularly in Claire Oshetsky’s latest novel, Poor Deer. Her charmingly weird 2021 debut, Chouette, won the William Saroyan International Prize for Writing and was nominated for the PEN/Faulkner Award. If there is such a thing as a sophomore slump, Oshetsky has deftly sidestepped it, producing a tale that both enchants and perplexes.

Margaret Murphy, a 4-year-old child in a Northeastern mill town, is inadvertently responsible for the death of her best friend, Agnes, when an invented game, “Awake, Oh Princess,” goes terribly wrong. Margaret is dimly aware of her misdeed but is too young to recognize its complete horror.

Much like the Under Toad in John Irving’s 1978 classic The World According to Garp, a misheard adult phrase morphs into an ominous presence in the active mind of the young child. This time it’s the Poor Deer, a cloven-hoofed apparition with yellow nubs for teeth who visits Margaret as accuser, judge and jury.

At the book’s outset, Margaret (now a 16-year-old) and Poor Deer are locked in a battle of wills. She has promised to finally tell herself, and the reader, the truth, and the story alternates between the present day and the fateful events surrounding Agnes’ death. Yet despite her intentions, Margaret emerges as a classic unreliable narrator. Time and again, the fog of memory occludes any attempt at a journalistic account of past events, and readers are left with the task of winnowing the wheat from the chaff.

Oshetsky deftly pulls aside the curtain to show us Margaret’s struggle to reconcile her emotional, subjective history with the persistent, objective one that keeps intruding on her psyche. Ultimately, even if the details are somewhat suspect, emotional honesty may earn Margaret the right to the forgiveness she so desperately craves, and convince Poor Deer to trot back into the subconscious forest from which she sprang.

Claire Oshetsky deftly sidesteps the sophomore slump with Poor Deer, an enchanting, perplexing tale of a young girl haunted by a cloven-hoofed apparition.
Review by

“Once upon a time, there was a beautiful village inside an ancient forest on the slope of a mountain that looked down upon the sea.” As the protagonist, Irini, repeats this refrain throughout Christy Lefteri’s latest novel The Book of Fire, the words start to feel like an omen of tragedy instead of a fairy-tale beginning. One scorching summer day, Irini’s idyllic Greek island village is irrevocably transformed when a fire set by a man greedy to build property burns out of control. Irini, her husband, Tasso, and her daughter, Chara, survive the hellish experience with scars both visible and painfully unseen. In the fire’s aftermath, Irini begins to record what happened in a journal that she calls “The Book of Fire.” She cannot bring herself to play her beloved music, much like how Tasso, an artist, cannot lift his paintbrush. Her village—the village of her great-grandfather—is mourning the beauty and innocence it has lost along with the people who died. The villagers focus their collective grief and anger into hatred for the man who started the fire. And yet, in her confusion and pain, Irini wonders about a broader shared responsibility for the devastation, asking, “Could there be something destructive and barren in all of us that bleeds out onto our land?” 

Much like she did in Songbirds, which elevated the voices of migrant domestic workers, Lefteri draws on real events in this new novel, having traveled to Mati, Greece, to speak to locals about the fire they endured in 2018. In The Book of Fire, Lefteri turns her sensitive gaze to global climate change and how increasingly prevalent deadly fires have become. Her zealousness in warning of the dangers posed by our neglect of the land and its needs occasionally veers into overt preaching, yet this sense of urgency does propel the plot forward. Her language, as always, is evocative and precise, and her story remains heartbreaking even as it inches toward healing and the hope of restoration. Irini observes that the “fire has burnt our souls, our hearts. It has turned to ashes the people we once were,” but this stalwart community, like the ancient chestnut tree that figures prominently in the story, is “still alive . . . and its branches reach up to the sun.”

Christy Lefteri draws on real events in this new novel about an idyllic Greek island village that is irrevocably transformed when a fire set by a man greedy to build property burns out of control.

Perhaps the most commonly touted piece of advice for writers is to write what you know. It’s clear that Shubnum Khan has taken this counsel to heart with this dazzling novel (her first published in the U.S.), spinning a magical and richly atmospheric gothic coming-of-age tale set in Durban, South Africa, the same city the author herself calls home.

In a piece for the literary journal Portside Review, Khan described her hometown as “a place where people leave.” Slow and stuck in time, the coastal city is somewhere to go when one wants to forget and be forgotten in turn. Durban is the perfect backdrop for Akbar Manzil, the gothic mansion at the heart of The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years. Once a palace of wonders and luxury for an extremely wealthy family, Akbar Manzil is now a moribund manse haphazardly converted into apartments and home to a ragtag group of misfit tenants. Amongst the complex’s denizens are teenager Sana and her widowed father, newly arrived and looking to start fresh after a terrible loss. Whereas the other residents drift through the grounds blind and incurious to their home’s quirks and mysteries, Sana resists the soporific effects of the estate and delves into abandoned corridors and locked rooms, determined to shine a light upon the shadows, secrets and spirits that lurk within. But Sana’s relentless pursuit of the past is not without consequence. Her discovery of a star-crossed romance that took place many years earlier agitates a grieving djinn and threatens to throw the lives of Akbar Manzil’s present-day residents into chaos.

Cinematic in scope and rendered in redolent prose, The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years is a deeply immersive and inventive exploration of the many facets of love, loneliness and grief. Khan’s descriptions of Durban ground the story despite its fantastical elements, making the novel all the more compelling. Fueled by its vivid details, bewitching setting and a colorful cast of characters (including the house Akbar Manzil itself), this engrossing read acts as a potent reminder that the past does not merely hold the power to hurt us, but also to heal us.

Fueled by its vivid details and colorful cast of characters, The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years is a richly atmospheric gothic coming-of-age tale set in Durban, South Africa.

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