Certain words tend to get overused in book reviews, such as “riveting.” Sorry, but Invisible City, Julia Dahl’s debut novel, is riveting. I couldn’t put it down without thinking about when I might be able to pick it up again, and it was finished all too soon for my taste. This story developed a life of its own, and the cast of characters began to walk off the pages into real life.

Dahl, a journalist herself, has painted the world of reporting and newsrooms with a welcome realism often absent from books that attempt to capture this rapidly changing profession. She is remarkable in her ability to portray the life of a tabloid journalist in today’s New York City, and then she adds another layer by setting the rush and tumble of the city against Brooklyn’s insular Hasidic Jewish community.

Rebekah Roberts, the daughter of a Hasidic mother who abandoned her and her non-Jewish father when Rebekah was a baby, becomes heavily involved in this world when she’s called to a murder scene linked to the Hasidim, as well as to people who may know of her mother’s current whereabouts. Rebekah’s narrative yields a surprising and uncompromising look at the individuals in this multilayered community, with its stalwarts and pariahs, its avid followers and secretive doubters. The reins of power wielded by law enforcement are often compromised by those of the ultra-Orthodox Jewish community, and it’s entirely possible that the murderer may escape into the depths of this society bound by tradition and longstanding fear.

No character in Dahl’s tale escapes scrutiny, and each one is drawn with an exacting brush to the author’s high standards. Each character becomes a surprise as the story unfolds, including several who straddle the line that separates a host of often-conflicting religious and civil constraints.

Rebekah must find her own entry into this tight-knit community, as she travels from the dark and closed homes of powerful Hasidic leaders to the shabby headquarters of a group that welcomes those who’ve come to question whether their strict religion holds all the answers. This is riveting stuff indeed, and Dahl is a major talent I am eager to revisit in the future.

Colin Cotterill lives in Southern Thailand, where he's set the inventive Jimm Juree mystery series in a rural outpost village called Maprao—a funky, lackadaisical, behind-the-times setting painted in cartoon colors with a comic wash. The Axe Factor is the third in this series of imaginatively plotted, very funny crime novels starring Jimm, a 30-something freelance reporter and “English language doctor” who still misses the bright lights and big-city atmosphere of her former home in Chiang Mai. She and her off-the-wall family are the proprietors of the Gulf Bay Lovely Resort and Restaurant, a motley collection of past-their-prime bungalows on Thailand’s south coast, where not much seems to happen during the best of times.

The town’s local Chumphon News has asked Jimm to interview Conrad Coralbank, a well-known writer of crime novels who’s living in the area, and the story takes off as Jimm immediately succumbs to the writer’s considerable charms. However, Jimm’s Grandad Jah and the village’s intrepid Lieutenant Chompu are not convinced Conrad is all he’s cracked up to be, and they begin their own cockamamie version of surveillance on his activities.

But wait: Conrad’s wife has gone missing, and so has a local female medical worker, and Jimm gets embroiled in a search for clues to their whereabouts. The book cleverly ratchets up the tension, interspersing regular chapters with anonymous diary entries written by a determined and graphic-minded serial killer. Readers are left to ferret out the diarist’s identity and discover when things might get dangerous for Jimm.

To top off another layer of mystery, there’s a change in the weather: An ocean storm is brewing just as Jimm’s wacky mother (who’s prone to seasickness) takes a trip out in the bay with Captain Kow, who we learn is Jimm’s real father.

The cast of characters—many returning from previous books—can be both frightening and funny. Jimm’s “language doctor” job involves translating the malapropisms in Thai commercial signs and writing them in “correct” English, and the book’s chapters are headed by hilarious examples of what she’s up against. There’s also a tongue-in-cheek reference to Cotterill’s well-known Dr. Siri mystery series, set in Laos. Each little addition adds atmosphere to the lively text, sure to please Cotterill’s fans and attract many more.

Best-selling author Nevada Barr is well known for her unique mystery series featuring national park ranger Anna Pigeon. Beginning with the award-winning Track of the Cat (1993), set in Guadalupe Mountains National Park in Texas, the Anna Pigeon novels have treated readers to the unique scenic beauty of an array of national parks scattered across the country. Seventeen books later, we’re still enjoying Ranger Pigeon’s thrilling adventures set in both backcountry and urban park settings.

Barr’s latest, Destroyer Angel, is an adventure of a different kind, set in the wilds of Minnesota’s Iron Range, where Anna is on a camping trip with four friends. Taking off by herself for a bit of solitude, the ranger is away from the campsite when four armed men take her companions hostage and set off with them through the wilderness toward an airfield rendezvous. One of the captives is a wealthy designer of high-tech outdoor equipment, and big money appears to figure largely as a motive in the kidnapping. The gang’s leader, called simply “Dude,” displays an oddly single-minded, steely determination to complete his errand. However, unbeknownst to the gang, Anna keeps up with the trekkers from a hidden vantage point, and she clearly holds the key to rescuing the prisoners.

Barr (a former park ranger herself) is a fine and engaging writer, and her books have never failed to capture the grandeur of her wilderness locales. Here, however, wilderness takes a back seat as we’re bludgeoned page after page with the message that these are really bad guys. The negative adjectives add up to overkill, contrasting with images of the selfless prisoners falling over themselves to lend a hand and save each other. The good-vs-evil theme soon wears thin.

Lucky for us, the four gangsters don’t know from wilderness, and they quickly fall prey to the power of spooky suggestions introduced by the hostages. This, and the advantage of Anna’s hidden presence and activities in the background, contributes to a gradual weakening of their power over the prisoners.

Readers of Barr’s usually stellar novels will not be deterred from adding this adventure to their must-read lists, and the inventive plot will serve to see us through to her next adventure.

In his second novel, Love Story, with Murders, Harry Bingham brings back the quirky but endearing D.C. Fiona Griffiths. Fiona has never been your standard British police officer—or your typical person, for that matter. Subject to Cotard’s syndrome, or "walking corpse syndrome," she admittedly associates more closely with the dead than the living. Fiona’s odd disorder and unorthodox investigation methods make her a standout character among police procedurals.

Fiona’s day goes from simple to complicated when an illegal dumping turns up a severed leg at the bottom of a freezer. The foot’s pink suede pump identifies the victim as Mary Langton, subsequently opening up a 10-year-old missing persons case that could possibly involve Fiona’s father, strip club owner and ex-criminal extraordinaire. As the police search the quiet Cardiff neighborhood for more of Mary, they come across more body parts belonging to another person, turning their macabre murder investigation into two.

Despite starting off slow, the story’s second half is fast-paced and gripping. Bingham does an excellent job of balancing several plotlines and developing Fiona’s character. Due to her disorder, which makes her more curious about than sympathetic to the dead, she has an unpredictable nature and uncanny humor, which entertain and baffle at times. Only when she experiences her own brush with death does she admit, “Fear has a color. A taste and a feel.” Her character blooms and becomes easier to understand, especially as she confronts other intense emotions, such as love.

Throughout the novel Bingham teases the reader as Fiona seeks to solve her own mysterious past, but unfortunately, nothing is developed or executed on this front. Perhaps readers will have to wait until the third installment in this series to see what makes Fiona Griffiths tick.

The third installment in award-winning author Kristina Ohlsson’s Fredrika Bergman series is a crime fiction fan’s dream. With The Disappeared, Ohlsson creates both an elaborate police procedural and a multilayered mystery that engages readers in a complex case with an unexpected ending. Once again featuring the brilliant Stockholm investigative analyst who tackled confounding cases in Unwanted and Silenced, The Disappeared brings Fredrika back to work on an unsolved missing-persons case. As she tries to make sense of a gruesome discovery—the missing woman’s body is found in an apparent mass grave—Fredrika finds that nobody is above suspicion, even those closest to her.  

This multilayered story builds to a shocking finale.

Ohlsson’s layered approach to storytelling can feel disjointed at first, as she delivers snippets of backstory and brief glimpses of each character’s life. Like rocks in a stone wall, however, the fragments build on one another, resulting in a sturdy structure that depends on the relationships between the pieces. Readers might consider taking notes on the fascinating—if sometimes disturbing—characters that Ohlsson draws forth. There’s an elderly children’s author who hasn’t uttered a word in decades, a former boyfriend with a troubling obsession, and a web of mystery that includes sexual assault charges, pornography and snuff films. It’s dark stuff, and Ohlsson never backs away, but instead takes us in for a closer look at the killer’s motives and methods.

If your notes fail to fully illuminate the winding path through this mystery, Ohlsson does provide guideposts along the way, as the investigators stop to consider the evidence and its implications. The action never pauses for long, however, and soon Ohlsson has us following another lead down another trail, wondering how they will all fit together. When they do, it’s in a most surprising but satisfying way.

Readers who haven’t yet discovered Elly Griffiths’ wonderful mystery series set on the remote and scenic ocean sands of Norwich, England, have a delayed treat in store. Griffiths’ newest, The Outcast Dead, continues to pique our interest in her continuing characters: forensic archaeologist Ruth Galloway and the stable of marvelous, scruffy characters that inhabit her life, including DCI Harry Nelson, the father of Ruth’s 3-year-old daughter. (This is mostly a secret, though not to Nelson’s wife, Michelle.)

Not the least of the major characters in these novels is the picturesque though vaguely scary setting. Ruth chooses to live in relative isolation near the edge of a salt marsh, amid sand dunes, sea grass and ocean light. Notably, in the series debut, The Crossing Places, the remains of an ancient henge are discovered amid the sands, setting the tone for the entire series.

In The Outcast Dead, while on a dig near Norwich Castle, Ruth uncovers what appear to be the remains of a Victorian child murderer known as Mother Hook, infamous in Norfolk history, nursery rhymes and horror tales for the iron hook she wore in place of a missing hand. Though she was executed for the crimes, there’s some historical evidence that suggests she may have been innocent, and Ruth is asked to participate in a popular British TV series exploring the notorious events.

Eerily and coincidentally, Nelson and his police force have arrested a local woman suspected of killing her own child, and there are limited but striking connections to an old child murder case in which both Nelson and Ruth were involved. Tensions mount when two local children go missing, and one is the son of a member of Nelson’s police team.

Among this series’ best features are its many moments of wry humor, as we’re witness to characters’ inmost thoughts and sometimes-outward rants. Storylines wander and then converge, as we’re drawn into the lives of the colorful individuals that Griffiths paints so well. There are just a few too many characters floating around—most notably, children—and it’s sometimes a challenge to keep them straight and to remember whom they belong to and who has begotten whom. But we never lose sight of the action, which is purposefully written and always enhanced by a setting that manages to be both enticing and dangerous.

William Shaw, an award-winning pop-culture journalist, does a standout job with his debut novel, She’s Leaving Home. This British crime thriller has a compelling whodunit plot staged in ’60s London, rampant with racism, sexism and an ever-growing counterculture of groupies clinging to the belief that love is all you need.

After a disreputable act of cowardice, Detective Sergeant Cathal Breen has one chance to regain face in his police squadron. Breen takes the murder case of an unidentified woman found near Abbey Road Studios, believing the victim to be a Beatles fan who frequently camps outside. Many of his colleagues are unsympathetic, wanting to call the case as it is, but Breen suspects there is more to the story.

He is joined by Helen Tozer, the first woman on his detective staff. Her tomboyish nature and brash characteristics at first unnerve Breen, who is more traditional, but their seemingly conflicting natures perfectly complement each other. Breen brings years of policing and detective methodology to the table, while Tozer, a Beatles junkie herself, empathizes with the younger generation. As the investigatory duo get closer to solving the case, they soon find themselves caught between intergenerational quarrels, racial tensions and political revolutionaries.

Shaw’s dialogue is well developed and his period detail is razor sharp, immersing the reader in the tumultuous era of swinging London with immediately relatable characters. She’s Leaving Home is the first installation in a trilogy of cultural thrillers, so keep an eye out for this dynamic duo. Whether you’re a Beatles fan or a mystery lover, this book comes highly recommended.

Who knew that in 2014, with the book world awash in knit-and-craft cozies, Scandinavian noir and genre detectives competing with hot new sleuths of every description, there’d be room for a couple of fresh, intriguing characters, or a series with both dark local realism and laugh-out-loud moments? It’s all here, in M.R.C. Kasasian’s immensely pleasurable debut mystery, The Mangle Street Murders. Set in London of 1882, the first in a new series introduces 21-year-old March Middleton and her guardian, the celebrated private detective Sidney Grice. They find themselves sharing Grice’s London townhouse after March’s father dies and she has need of a new home.

Move over, Holmes and Watson. Kasasian's debut mystery introduces our favorite new detective duo.

They seem ready to turn the science of detecting on its ear. March is outspoken and smart, and in a brief introduction she writes for the book, she appears to be a kind of chronicler of Grice’s life and escapades. But when we meet her in chapter one, we sense that she’ll be much more than that, as she takes an active role in her new life from the get-go, listening in on cases, accompanying Grice and making her opinions known—at a time when women were properly seen but not heard. There’s a mysterious past love that haunts her days and provides a hint for future intrigues.

As for Grice, he’s one for the ages, with his short stature and unpredictable glass eye. Irascible, vain to a fault, lacking social skills to the nth degree (and terrified of umbrellas to boot), he’s made a name for himself in the great city and is called upon to solve some of the day’s knottiest crimes. After March arrives on the scene, they are soon investigating the brutal murder of a young woman whose husband is the major suspect. Grice thinks he’s guilty, while March wants to prove his innocence. Guardian and ward set out to seek a killer on London’s streets and in its murky canals, visiting places where ladies never travel, in back alleys, mortuaries and the unsavory East End, all the while tossing back banter and clues in this marvelous get-under-your-skin story.  

Kasasian describes Victorian London in all its vibrancy—never sparing us the dirt and details of its dingy, teeming streets—but couples this grit with an underlying sense of fun and outlandish humor. This book should hit the “favorites” list of readers who seek new criminal ground and tantalizing characters to savor.

Absence may make the heart grow fonder, but it can also make the mind grow suspicious. That’s what happens in Laura Lippman’s insightful new mystery, After I’m Gone, when the wealthy, charming Felix Brewer chooses to escape his shady past by simply disappearing. While Felix makes a clean getaway, it’s not so easy for his widow, daughters and mistress to pick up the pieces of the schemes and dreams he has left in his wake.

Award-winning mystery writer Lippman nimbly poses the elaborate riddle of Felix’s disappearance by asking confounding questions at every turn. Why did he set up his mistress, stripper Julie Saxony, with her own business, but neglect to leave anything for Bambi, the wife he claimed to love above all else? Why has he never contacted his adult daughters? And most unanswerable of all, why was Julie murdered 10 years after Felix skipped town? And by whom?

Underlying everything is the question of just how far the characters will go to protect themselves and each other. With her signature attention to her characters’ inner lives, Lippman develops several plausible, and sympathetic, suspects. We get to know every one of these women—and a few men—through seamless flashbacks and the unfolding of complex family dramas. Gradually, we realize that every character has something huge to hide.

After I’m Gone winds up with surprising revelations on several fronts, not just the hunt for a murderer. As we learn the truth about everybody’s whereabouts on the day Julie was murdered, we keep thinking we’ve surely spotted the killer, but Lippman proves us wrong many times before the actual culprit comes forth. The last 50 pages fly by as we race to work out what really happened after Felix has gone.

Martha Grimes—an official Grand Master crime writer—has returned. After the author was “let go” from her longtime publisher, Knopf, she responded with a best-selling novel, Foul Matter (2003), that tackled (and tore apart) the publishing industry. Now in a sequel, The Way of All Fish, Grimes continues to eviscerate the rapidly changing publishing world with her quick wit and colorful cast of characters.

The Way of All Fish opens with novelist Cindy Sella having a very bad year. She’s paralyzed by debilitating writer’s block and is being sued by her former agent, L. Bass Hess, who will stop at nothing to ruin Cindy. While the lawsuit doesn’t have much basis (Cindy fired Bass long before he represented her most recent novel), it could drain her of all her time, energy and finances.

Enter hit men/amateur literary critics Candy and Karl, who first made their appearance in Foul Matter. Readers unfamiliar with that story might initially be put off by the speed with which Grimes dives back into its world. But it doesn’t take long to be amused by these Mafioso men, whose mission is not to snuff out Hess but to drive him to the point of insanity.

Still, The Way of All Fish isn’t just a takedown of a money-grubbing bad guy. It’s a clever romp from the Florida Everglades through the galleries in Soho all the way to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Whether Grimes is concocting hilarious scenes featuring the stoner crowd of novice writers, alligator wrestlers and junkyard managers that Cindy happens to befriend, or characterizing nitpicky authors analyzing every minute detail of their contracts (including the font size!), this novel is a madcap mystery packed with delight. Perhaps what’s most enjoyable is the author’s rampant criticism of the stereotypical days of publishing, when two-martinis lunches were the norm. “All of this lunchtime drinking,” Grimes ponders. “How did people manage to work?”