All Alexandra Hammond wants is to understand and help her daughter. Tilly, who is on the autism spectrum, has needs that exceed what Alexandra and her husband, Josh, know how to provide. They’ve tried patience, talking to their teenage daughter and coaching her through outbursts. They’ve tried therapy. They’ve tried special schools. But no combination of education and treatment works.

So the Hammonds are taking a drastic measure: They’re leaving Washington, D.C., and joining parenting expert Scott Bean and two other families at Camp Harmony, a refuge for families of special-needs children, in New Hampshire. Even if it means giving up independence and privacy, the family is determined to create the best life for Tilly and her younger sister, Iris.

In Harmony, bestselling author Carolyn Parkhurst (The Dogs of Babel, Lost and Found) again pulls readers into the hearts of her characters. Although this is decidedly a novel, Parkhurst draws on her own experience as the mother of a child with Asperger’s, making Alexandra’s frustration with her brilliant but difficult-to-reach eldest daughter and resulting desperation ring true. When Scott comes along, she questions how a man with scant credentials and no parenting experience can declare himself a child behavior expert. But if there’s hope, Alexandra can’t help but gravitate to it.

By toggling perspectives of the Hammond family women—Alexandra, Tilly and Iris, who is the primary storyteller—Parkhurst deftly illuminates the narrative. As the family settles in, questions about Scott’s sketchy qualifications become impossible to ignore. The result is a riveting read.

This article was originally published in the August 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Call it serendipity, but when author Eleanor Brown stumbled upon a cache of letters chronicling her grandmother’s Jazz Age journey to Paris, the circa 1924  correspondence inspired a novel that pays homage to a chapter of her family’s history, but with a fictional and decidedly modern twist.

Readers who relished Brown’s debut novel, The Weird Sisters, will not be surprised to find that The Light of Paris is also rooted to the timeless themes of home and family, and the messy conflicts that ensue when venerable traditions are threatened by personal independence. 

Brown’s latest heroine, 34-year-old Madeleine Spencer, has forfeited her dream of becoming an artist in order to please her controlling, judgmental mother and the country club set. One day, Madeline has had enough: She packs her bags, walks out on a miserable marriage and heads—where else?—from Chicago back South to her family home in Magnolia, where she discovers inspiration in her grandmother Margie’s journals.

If Madeleine’s narcissistic, stunningly handsome and successful spouse, Phillip, is painted with broad strokes that seem slightly implausible for a book set in 1999 (the couple is childless, but Phillip does not allow Madeleine to work), Brown can be forgiven: Without exception, the other characters populating her novel are achingly real.

Written in a dual narrative style, with colorful chapters from Margie in 1924, interspersed with modern-day chapters in Madeleine’s voice, this page-turner is sure to be a summer favorite with readers who have visited, and loved, Paris, as well as those who understand the tragedy of family history repeating itself. As Brown writes: “So it ran in the family, then, this estrangement. There was a sadness in my mother’s eyes I had never seen before, and it made my heart ache for her, and for myself. How had we spent our entire lives lying to each other? How had she denied herself to me—her real self—for so long?”

Still, it would be inaccurate to sum up The Light of Paris as entirely a mother-daughter story. Brown’s deft narrative touch has also created two love stories as well as an endearing cast of peripheral characters from Magnolia who keep the plot lively, and who, above all, prove that you can indeed go home again.

Best-selling author Emily Giffin brings us a new novel about a pair of sisters engaged in classic sibling rivalry—with a twist.

Meredith and Josie Garland couldn’t be more opposite. Josie, a spontaneous, attention-seeking first-grade teacher, is ready to write off men after countless bad dates and a traumatic breakup. Meredith is settled with a husband and four-year-old, and practices law at a notable firm. Years earlier, they experienced an unthinkable tragedy: Their older brother, Daniel, died in a car accident, just three days after his 25th birthday.

The painful loss eventually drove the Garland parents to divorce, and strained the sisters’ bond. Though both live in their hometown of Atlanta, Meredith and Josie only see each other out of necessity or at family gatherings. Both women are finally taking a long, hard look at the lives they’ve created since Daniel’s death, and realizing that neither one knows how they got here.  Ironically, they both want what the other one has. People-pleaser Meredith starts exploring what it means to live life on her own terms, something she hasn’t done since Daniel’s death. Meanwhile, Josie, now in her late 30s, is weighing her options for starting a family without a husband. While they navigate their complicated relationships with others and themselves, a secret is uncovered about the night of Daniel’s accident. Suddenly, the Garland sisters are forced to face the realities of grief, forgiveness and putting love first.

Much like her other novels, which include Something Borrowed and Babyproof, First Comes Love is a classic “beach read,” but this time Giffin digs deeper. With strong, relatable characters, she manages to address a myriad of challenges that women face as they enter adulthood, while also keeping with her familiar, light-hearted dialogue that Giffin’s readers know and love. She cleverly shines a light on the nitty-gritty of marriage, motherhood, and sibling relationships without going too dark. Though the novel is full of “what ifs,” we’re certain that First Comes Love is this summer’s must-read.

British writer Catherine Banner’s first novel for adults, The House at the Edge of Night, takes place on the imaginary Italian island of Castellamare, off the coast of Sicily. Amedeo Esposito, the island’s only doctor, finds himself jobless after being suspected of sleeping with il conte’s wife. To support his own wife and their newborn child, Amedeo takes over a café bar perched high on the cliffs overlooking the Mediterranean. Among the bougainvillea, serenaded by the crashing waves, this house at the “edge of night” becomes the place generations of Espositos and other islanders gather to gossip, pray, lament and face the changing times. 

The novel begins in 1914 and spans almost a century. Life on the island is increasingly influenced by the two world wars, tourism, politics and other world events. In fact, so fine-tuned are the historic events within the story that one almost forgets that Castellamare doesn’t actually exist. Just like the characters, the reader is torn between the romance of island life and the world beyond. This magical novel is a fantastic Italian escape with just the right dose of drama, love and hope. If possible, enjoy with a glass of limoncello.

This article was originally published in the July 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Early in Terry McMillan’s hilarious, sad, wry, raunchy novel—-aren’t all of her books thus?—the protagonist, 50-something Georgia Young, opens the door to a handsome 18-year-old pizza delivery boy. With memories of How Stella Got Her Groove Back swimming in her head, the reviewer immediately thought, ‘Oh Terry, don’t go there. Please don’t.’ I won’t reveal where McMillan goes with the hot pizza delivery boy, but the places she takes readers in I Almost Forgot About You are utterly fascinating.

Georgia is an optometrist living in the San Francisco Bay area. She’s comfortable financially: She has a big honking house and shops at Whole Foods without trauma. Her two daughters are grown; she’s a veteran of two divorces; and she’s bored rigid with her life. When a patient reveals that she’s the daughter of one of Georgia’s old flames, who is alas, no longer alive, Georgia gets the idea to contact all—well, a lot—of the men she had relationships with in her torrid past and let them know what they meant to her. A rollicking story ensues.

The reader finds herself torn between gritting her teeth at how right McMillan gets the relationships between best friends, ex-spouses, ex-lovers, parents and children and putting the book down to laugh out loud. What else can you do when Georgia describes an ex-husband’s perfidy making her want to turn her head around “like Linda Blair in The Exorcist”?

Head-spinning aside, what an amazing character Georgia Young is! She’s loving, though everyone she loves gets on her nerves. She’s wise and foolish, whip-smart and sort of dumb. Isn’t she a bit like you and me? She’s also supported by one of the best cast of characters McMillan has conjured up in a long time. Run, don’t walk, and pick up this exuberant summer read.

This article was originally published in the June 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Emma Straub has been making her mark in the genre of domestic drama—see her 2014 hit, The Vacationers—and her latest has all the necessary elements for a repeat: an appealing cast, interwoven plot lines and an insightful take on the ups and downs of both marital and parent-child relationships.

Over two decades ago, four Oberlin College students formed a band and achieved a modest amount of local fame. After the band dispersed, Lydia, the lead singer, became famous on her own before dying from an overdose at age 27. Now in their 40s, the other band members—Zoe, Andrew and Elizabeth—all live in Brooklyn: Andrew and Elizabeth are married and have a 17-year-old son; Zoe and her wife, Jane, own a local restaurant and have an 18-year-old daughter.

As Modern Lovers opens, things are not running smoothly among these longtime friends. Elizabeth, a successful real estate broker, is mystified, even after all these years, by Andrew’s lack of commitment to a “normal” vocation. From a wealthy family, he’s never really had to work, and he’s thinking of investing in a shady yoga/health center. Zoe and Jane are seeing a marriage counselor, and they may be close to splitting up. Then a Hollywood producer contacts Elizabeth about buying the rights to a song for an upcoming biopic about Lydia. All three must sign off on the rights, but of course, they can’t agree: one more complication threatening their friendship.

Straub perceptively explores this new phase of her characters’ lives in chapters told from each one’s point of view as they realize they must leave their combined past behind to deal with what lies ahead. Straub weaves their stories together with wit and empathy, creating an engaging read about love in its many guises.

This article was originally published in the June 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In English author Yvvette Edwards’ second novel, following her acclaimed debut, A Cupboard Full of Coats (2012), she delves into the timely issue of violence against and between young black men—both its possible causes, and its heartrending effects on the families involved.

The Mother opens in London, as Marcia Williams prepares to attend the first day of the trial of the young man accused of stabbing to death her bright and loving 16-year-old son, Ryan. We learn that Ryan was returning to the Sports Ground to retrieve his football shoes after practice; that a jogger saw a young man run toward Ryan and stab him four times; and that the accused, Tyson Manley, claims to have been with his girlfriend at the time of the murder.

Edwards leads the reader through the jury selection, the opening statements and the evidence presented by both the prosecution and defense in complete detail. But in the process of laying out these basic facts, Edwards perceptively explores a wide realm of issues, uncovering layer by layer the complicated answers to the questions that have hounded Marcia since her son’s death. How could someone so young kill another person so brutally? Why does Tyson show no remorse? Why would his girlfriend lie for someone who has shown no respect for her?

Edwards writes with compassion for her characters and with intuitive understanding of the effects of loss on a family, as well as the underlying causes that can lead to senseless crimes such as this one. The Mother is highly recommended for readers who enjoy current issue-related fiction by authors such as Jodi Picoult and Jacquelyn Mitchard.

This article was originally published in the May 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In the small township of Bledsoe, Mississippi, sits Singer’s Trailer Park, a collection of trailers, campers and sometimes tents. Inside Singer’s lives a clever young girl named Solemn Redvine, whose family prefers to keep their distance from their neighbors—with the exception of Solemn’s father, whose occasional wanderings lead Solemn to believe the infant child of a couple down the way may be her half-sibling.

When Solemn witnesses a shocking event late one night in Singer’s, she struggles to reclaim the sense of innocence she felt before and find her balance. As more changes happen to Solemn’s family dynamic and within the community, she wonders who she will become as her life develops among such turmoil. She longs to leave Singer’s, where she feels trapped by her connection to a crime she saw and can’t forget. When Solemn’s father’s latest mistake leads to her removal from her parents’ custody, Solemn gets the escape she has been looking for, albeit under less-than-perfect circumstances. But she finds herself facing the same questions about her identity. There might not be an easy way to grow up.

Kalisha Buckhanon has presented realistic portraits of modern African-American life in her previous novels, Upstate and Conception. With Solemn, she has created an emotional and expressive novel about family, obligation and community. This twisting, expressive coming-of-age story not only offers readers a young girl’s experience of seeking her place in the world, but also illustrates the struggle of life in the rural South.

This article was originally published in the May 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Each day is filled with hundreds of tiny choices: Will you take this route to work, or that one? Stop for coffee, or continue directly to the office? Speak to the stranger in front of you in line, or keep to yourself? Most of these decisions seem insignificant. But you never know when a moment will change the course of your life. 

In The Versions of Us, a #1 bestseller in the U.K., debut novelist Laura Barnett explores the paths that branch from a central moment in Eva Edelstein’s and Jim Taylor’s lives. The pair meet in 1950s Cambridge, when a dog runs in front of Eva’s bicycle. Jim steps in to help, and their next moves will determine the rest of their lives. 

At the time of their meeting, Eva is an aspiring writer involved with an actor, David, who is considered the prize among the university’s theater crowd. Jim is the son of a renowned, deceased painter, and a talented artist himself, but he’s set on pursuing a career as an attorney. 

Barnett follows Eva and Jim over decades and through three versions of what could be. In the first, they fall in love; in the second, they say hello and continue on; in the third, Eva feels a connection to Jim but opts to stay with David. On each of these paths, their lives will again intersect. 

Barnett masterfully pulls the reader through these alternating tales. Each option is compelling and believable. Perhaps there’s a lesson to be learned here: Regardless of the paths we choose, the people who are meant to be in our lives will find their way there.

This article was originally published in the May 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Elizabeth Crane’s latest novel, The History of Great Things, is a poignant dual narrative featuring a mother and daughter whose disparate paths ultimately prevent them from ever truly understanding each other.

For Crane’s two heroines—ambitious Lois, who speaks from beyond the grave, and her only child, Elizabeth, who shares a name with the author—untangling the knots of their messy lives means sifting through decades of memories, both shared and separate. These include the Great Depression and Lois’ Midwestern youth, the early days of Lois’ first marriage, and the turmoil of Elizabeth’s childhood and adolescence as she copes with her mother’s absence.

A gifted musician and aspiring opera singer, Lois feels trapped by the soul-numbing domesticity prescribed to women of her generation, and she doesn’t hesitate to ease her unhappiness by sacrificing her daughter, whose birth has cast her ambitious mother’s dreams asunder. While many women of her era would have accommodated a passion for music by joining the church choir, compromise is not in Lois’ vernacular. Her pursuit of her career comes at the detriment of her soon to be ex-husband and daughter.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth’s problems are rooted in the perils of self-medicating with alcohol, which she first turns to as a way to escape her pain and anxiety as a teenager as she shuttles between Iowa and New York City. As an adult, she has difficulty establishing a healthy relationship.

Alternating between laugh-out-loud humor and heart-rending melancholy, Crane gives us a mother and daughter who never quite grasp each other’s life stories, but who find truth through unconditional love.

A reader of fashion writer and editor William Norwich’s latest novel, My Mrs. Brown, could be forgiven for thinking its titular heroine is living in the 1950s, like Evan S. Connell’s Mrs. Bridge. The lady described is in late middle age. Mrs. Brown is modest, fair-minded and dutiful, and lives in a quiet Rhode Island town. The highlight of her year is being asked to help with an inventory of the estate of a philanthropic widow. Only then does it becomes clear that the story takes place in the present day. Are there still people like this?

Norwich’s answer is an enthusiastic “Yes!” There are ladies who wear twinsets and sensible shoes, bake morning glory muffins and still write letters in the age of Facebook and endless texting. You’ll be surprised how shocked you are when you encounter the first F-bomb in this book. No, it does not come from Mrs. Brown.

During the inventory, Mrs. Brown sorts through Mrs. Groton’s sumptuous dresses, and she finds one whose twin she simply must have. She’s a good seamstress but she could never sew such a glorious garment. No, Mrs. Brown has to go to New York to find such a dress, and the prospect fills her with the terror and excitement of a recruit waiting to storm a beachhead.

Even if you find Mrs. Brown anachronistic, with the gentle conservatism of an age long-gone, you come to like and respect her. Then, you come to love her. For along with her belief in decency and humility comes tenacity. She is determined to overcome her fear of New York—its crazy transit system and good/bad smells and confusing street signs and all the rich and sophisticated people who still manage to be kind when they meet her—because she must have that Oscar de la Renta dress, which she has painstakingly saved for. She does not want the dress to entice a man, or to flatter her figure or even because she thinks she’s as good as Mrs. Groton, although she is. The reviewer will leave it to the reader to find out the reason why.

Goodness really is its own reward, says Norwich’s gentle-hearted book. Better yet, sometimes goodness is rewarded.

This article was originally published in the April 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.