There’s something irresistible about a boarding school novel: the picturesque grounds; the tight-knit community of teachers and students and staff; the routine of seminars, lacrosse games and chapel; the inevitable romances that bud in such an insular world. In The Half Brother, her second novel after 2010’s sensual The Swimming Pool, Holly LeCraw has created an appealing setting in the Abbott School, a campus at the top of a ridge in north Massachusetts where azaleas and cherry blossoms surround the stone and clapboard buildings, and the grass almost shimmers with mist.

After he graduates from Harvard, where he never quite belonged, Charlie Garrett falls under the spell of Abbott. “The only time I felt even slightly proficient at life was when I was holding a book in my hands,” he reflects during his interview to become a teacher. So he is hired to teach English, and one of the true joys of the novel is watching him gain confidence in the classroom. And it is a pleasure to get lost in LeCraw’s prose, which is both graceful and filled with smart observations. (“She nodded like a doctor who was pretending to be solicitous but really was just thinking of her next patient.”) The dramatic plot is less enchanting—though the pages turn quickly as we move back and forth from Charlie’s childhood to a decade of his life at Abbott.

Contrary to the title, the relationship at the center of the novel is that between Charlie and May Bankhead, the daughter of Abbott’s enigmatic chaplain. As May comes of age and the two seem to circle each other in the classroom and on campus, the romantic tension between them is palpable. But for reasons beyond their control, they cannot be together. In a somewhat inexplicable act of sacrifice (or possibly self-punishment), Charlie encourages his half brother, Nick, a golden child, to pursue May when the three of them eventually find themselves on the faculty at the same time. As this love triangle develops, readers will no doubt balk at certain twists that strain belief. Still, by the end, we’re invested in the characters and want to see them happy. And we understand the draw of Abbott, which seems humble yet magnificent—an enclave where people grow up and blossom in the rolling hills and the charming “honeycomb of crisscrossing paths.”

This article was originally published in the March 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Lizzie Vogel has grown up in what she, even at age 9, understands is “a very good situation.” She has a nice home with a nanny and a chauffeur, two siblings and a dog. Then one day, her mother learns that Lizzie’s father has had an affair. The next thing Lizzie knows, her parents have split and she has been shuffled off to live in the country with her mother, brother and sister.

Things unravel pretty quickly in this village outside of London, where Lizzie’s broken mom pops pills, drinks whiskey and writes bad plays while Lizzie and her sister attempt to keep the household running.

 “We went to our mother and asked how she thought we might cope now she was semi-conscious much of the time,” says Lizzie. “She explained that she herself was temperamentally unsuited to housework and laundry and always had been—even before the pills had kicked in.”

Clearly, there is a need for a man of the house. Lizzie and her sister start a list of eligible (or even sort of eligible) men in the village who might make their mother happy again. They try—and fail—to connect their mother with Mr. Lomax the handyman; Phil Oliphant, who likes horses; and Reverend Derek, the vicar. All the while, their mother sinks deeper into depression.

Those who have read Love, Nina, Stibbe’s wonderful 2013 memoir of nannying in London, will recognize her singularly witty voice here. While Man at the Helm is hilarious and heartfelt, it also offers a poignant peek into a not-so-distant time when women’s choices were limited and their dependence on men profound. Based on Stibbe’s childhood, Man at the Helm is a beguiling, often wickedly funny look at an unusual family trying to find its place in a conventional world.

This article was originally published in the March 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

If you’ve been watching Showtime’s “The Affair,” you may see some similarities in I Regret Everything. Writer and producer (“Big Love”) Seth Greenland’s new novel tells the story of a relationship that some might find inappropriate, from the first-person point of view of both parties. There’s melodrama, and a subplot that involves a crime. But there is also real warmth, wit and irreverence woven throughout this thoroughly readable tale.

The book kicks off with our first narrator, Jeremy Best, a Brooklyn-dwelling trusts and estates lawyer who expresses his lyrical side through poetry written under the (somewhat laughable) pen name of Jinx Bell. Aside from this literary diversion, his life seems rather dull and empty.

Enter Spaulding Simonson, the boss’ pretty and precocious 19-year-old daughter, a budding poet herself who has somehow uncovered Jeremy’s secret identity. She has her own very real troubles: a bitterly broken family, a history of depression and deep loneliness.

As soon as they meet, it’s obvious there’s chemistry between the two. It’s also apparent that Jeremy’s monotonous existence is about to undergo a radical change, despite the real risks involved.

A smart reader may worry about the clichéd premise. But Greenland is smart, and so are his characters. Their inherent likability, along with the humor that’s a welcome contrast to the more maudlin aspects of the story, easily save this sparkling read.

This article was originally published in the February 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Nick Hornby is an expert story-teller who reveals the nuances of his characters’ lives, and in the process, allows readers to understand a world unlike their own. His expert lens is most often trained on male characters, although 2001’s How to Be Good is an exception, and the male protagonists in 2009’s Juliet, Naked, share pages with a strong woman who goes beyond love interest.

Hornby’s latest novel, Funny Girl, treads in less familiar territory. Not only is it centered on a woman, it’s also set in the past. He has entrenched his female protagonist in a man’s world: that of comedic actors in the 1960s. Today, Mindy Kaling, Tina Fey and Amy Poehler stand out among their peers; in the world of Funny Girl’s Barbara Parker, Lucille Ball is the aspiring actress’ only role model.

But Barbara is determined to move ahead, no matter the cost. After earning the title of Miss Blackpool 1964, she realizes the crown is only a guarantee that she’ll be stuck in Blackpool indefinitely. So Barbara packs her bags, moves to London and ultimately transforms herself into Sophie Straw, a darling of the silver screen.

The novel feels bloated at times, as it traverses decades of Sophie’s eventful life. But as Hornby chronicles Sophie’s development as an actress and the ways class and age influence life and love, he reveals a portrait of an era—and of a woman crafting a lasting legacy.

This article was originally published in the February 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Grace Chapman has a seemingly perfect life: She’s a lifestyle icon with a best-selling author husband, a loving daughter and a gorgeous home outside of New York City. A former cookbook editor, she now cooks legendary meals for the local women’s shelter and plans community fundraisers.

But look closer. Grace’s charming, handsome husband, Ted, has a vicious temper, a mammoth ego and a wandering eye. One moment a loving, attentive spouse, Ted can switch in an instant, yelling and blaming Grace for the slightest mishap. After growing up in the shadow of her mother’s mental illness, Grace cowers when her husband berates her. She worries that mental illness lurks in her own genes.

When their dependable, longtime assistant quits, Grace hires a new assistant to organize their lives—and keep Ted in check. Beth gets their lives in much-needed order, managing Ted’s temper as easily as she manages their calendar and quickly becoming indispensable to the couple.

But Grace can’t shake the feeling that there’s something amiss. As plain, timid, competent Beth begins transforming into a glamorous Grace clone, Grace wonders whether she is slowly being replaced in her own life, and she has to decide whether it is a life she wants to fight for.

With Saving Grace, Jane Green proves yet again that she is one of the most dependably compelling writers of women’s fiction around. Her characters are flawed but likable, her stories intriguing but believable. Even when she occasionally lapses into lazy prose (“her heart breaks open into a smile”), Green consistently delivers compassionate, relatable stories about the issues facing contemporary women. Grace is a vintage Green character: all-too-human and stronger than she thinks.

This article was originally published in the January 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

BookPage Fiction Top Pick, January 2015

We hear plenty of stories about falling in love. What we don’t often get, especially in romantic comedies, is the idea that marriage just might be the beginning of the love story, not its culmination. As The Rosie Effect shows, sometimes it’s possible, and even necessary, to fall in love with your partner over and over again. Sometimes that process can be just as beautiful—and just as romantic.

In The Rosie Project, we met Don. He may or may not be on the autism spectrum, but he certainly relies on logic instead of emotion and is often baffled by his interactions with other people. When he meets brash, break-the-rules Rosie, he discovers a love that defies logic.

We left them at happily ever after. Now we meet them again after a life-changing move to New York and news of a pregnancy. Both Don and Rosie are growing as people, but they’re not really growing together, and Australian author Graeme Simsion portrays that tension beautifully. Just as in a romantic comedy, we find ourselves hoping that two characters will overcome obstacles to find true love—but this time, they’re sitting just across the dinner table from each other.

Many sequels falter, but this one is pitch-perfect. It’s cute, but it isn’t cheesy. It’s extremely funny and clever, but not at the expense of the characters or as an insult to the reader. The unexpected twist in The Rosie Effect is the way Simsion manages to make marriage romantic. This book isn’t really about pregnancy or living with autism or moving to a new city. It’s about having your world rocked when you really, truly have to compromise with another person. It’s about how tricky that is, how hilarious that can be, and how beautiful it is when you pull it off.

This article was originally published in the January 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read a Q&A with Simsion for The Rosie Effect.

BookPage Fiction Top Pick, December 2014

Reading Anita Diamant’s The Boston Girl is a bit like listening to an older relative tell stories at Thanksgiving—and that’s a good thing. Because Addie Baum, the book’s 85-year-old narrator (who is telling her tales to her college-age granddaughter throughout the book), is one entertaining older relative.

The story Addie weaves is of her own life, which began in Boston in 1900. She grew up as the whip-smart daughter of Polish Jewish immigrants, who struggle to understand their free-spirited child, the only one of their three daughters born in the U.S. But despite being routinely smothered at home, she ably explores life on her own terms.

In 1915, the bookish Addie is asked to recite “Paul Revere’s Ride” at the Saturday Club, a group of young women from many different religious and ethnic backgrounds. This is the start of her intellectual, artistic and feminist journey. From there, we follow Addie as she forms friendships, endures family tragedies, explores career options and social activism and eventually finds romance, all as key world events unfold in the background. While, refreshingly, men are far from her chief focus, one of the more touching sections of the book centers on her short-lived and disastrous relationship with a soldier suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.

Diamant, best known for her best-selling book-club favorite The Red Tent, does a fine job of instantly endearing Addie to the reader. Fiercely independent, frequently awkward and quite witty, Addie is simply fun to hang out with, in a literary sense. Her journey through the 20th century is one readers will relish.

This article was originally published in the December 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Curtis and Kathleen Kaufman are living every parent’s worst nightmare: Their son, Daniel, a musical prodigy attending Oberlin College, was mowed down by a drunk driver. In The Fragile World, Paula Treick DeBoard explores the aftermath of this shattering event.

The Kaufmans’ solid marriage disintegrates in their mourning. Their other child, Olivia, a lovely and decidedly normal preteen (there is really only room for one prodigy per family), feels the pressure to fill the hole left by Daniel. Seeking a fresh start, Kathleen moves to Omaha. Olivia stays with her father in Sacramento, where they subsist on frozen food and never address their lingering pain.

When Curtis gets a letter notifying him that Daniel’s killer is up for early parole, something in him snaps. He makes plans to bring Olivia, by now a goth-wannabe who has given up on ever filling Daniel’s shoes, to her mother before continuing to Oberlin to face the man who destroyed his family. From here, The Fragile World takes a turn from a lovely, quiet meditation on grief to one of the most recipe-for-disaster road trips since Thelma and Louise got in that Ford Thunderbird. Eventually, Curtis must decide whether his thirst for revenge is more powerful than his instinct to keep his family intact.

The Fragile World is told alternately from Curtis’ and Olivia’s viewpoints, and DeBoard perfectly captures the angsty, ironic tone of a teenage girl hiding oceans of pain. It is a beautifully evocative journey through a family’s darkest hours, one that reminds us that even the most broken among us are capable of resilience.

This article was originally published in the November 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

If the mark of a great author is not merely how much she incites the imaginations of readers but the extent to which she inspires fellow writers, then there can be no doubt that Jane Austen is the greatest author of them all. Just when you think the market for Austen spinoffs has reached capacity, a new book comes onto the scene that turns the genre on its head. Such is the case with First Impressions, Charlie Lovett’s delightful new novel.

Sophie Collingwood has always loved books and also fancies herself something of a detective, so when the opportunity to work at one of London’s antiquarian bookstores presents itself, it seems a dream come true. But when two different men request her assistance in tracking down an obscure religious text, Sophie is drawn into a hunt that calls into question the authorship of the most famous work of English literature: Pride & Prejudice. As the mystery around this potentially earth-shattering tome thickens and the literary treasure hunt turns deadly, Sophie finds herself worrying that her own life may be on the line along with Austen’s reputation.

Part mystery, part love story, First Impressions is a 100 percent thumping good read and a loving homage to one of literature’s most beloved authors. Lovett takes readers on a rollicking adventure that cleverly weaves in the best elements of Austen’s novels, while also giving life to Austen’s own personal history in a satisfying and captivating way. It’s a giddy novel that celebrates books and the people who love them as much as it entertains, making it the perfect read for bookworms and Janeites alike.

RELATED CONTENT: Read a Q&A with Lovett about First Impressions.

This article was originally published in the November 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

A blend of mystery, supernatural tale and love story, The Midnight Plan of the Repo Man borrows from several genres but ultimately gets by on its humor. W. Bruce Cameron, best known for his dog-centered fiction series and the memoir 8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter, uses his own past as a repo man to craft the character of Ruddy McCann, failed college football star who now plays the sometimes dangerous game of seizing autos from their delinquent owners. Residing in the small and dismal-sounding town of Kalkaska, Michigan, he also helps his mousy sister, Becky, manage the family bar and grill, walks his dog and hangs out with the obligatory quirky characters who seem to populate such areas.

Aside from the tragedy that ended his promising football career, there is nothing remarkable about Ruddy’s life—until he starts hearing a voice in his head. And this is no typical voice: It has a name (Alan), and it claims to be a murdered real estate agent. Initially disbelieving, Ruddy slowly begins to build a rapport with Alan, even as part of him insists he must be in the midst of a psychotic break. In short order, Ruddy goes from repo man to detective, helping Alan solve his own murder. At the same time, Ruddy is nursing a crush on a woman who happens to be (perhaps?) the daughter of his current internal companion.

What saves this improbably silly plot is the smart, wry humor that peppers the prose. The Midnight Plan of the Repo Man is a light, breezy read that is pure entertainment.

This article was originally published in the November 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Like all good scary stories, Rooms begins with a death. When Richard Walker passes away, his estranged family must return to the erstwhile family home to sift through a household—and lifetime—of memories and belongings. But Richard’s ex-wife Caroline and troubled children, Trenton and Minna, are not alone as they work to rid the house of the traces of the man who once lived there: Their actions and emotions are acutely observed by two former residents of the home, Alice and Sandra, each so different from the other, yet both bound to the house by dreadful tragedies.

Although death has sought to rob the two women of their voices, they manage to subtly communicate beyond the grave through the house itself, from the creak of a floorboard to the rattling of the shutters. As both the living and dead struggle to carry the burdens of the past, long-buried secrets are brought to light and the barriers between the two worlds begin to soften, resulting in explosive consequences.

Although author Lauren Oliver has had success as a YA novelist, it can be tricky making the transition to an older audience. But Rooms is written with grace and confidence, and packs the emotional wallop of someone unafraid of tackling difficult and delicate issues. Rooms doesn’t scare so much as haunt, and for a tale narrated in part by ghosts, it is remarkably full of life. Utterly captivating and electric, this richly atmospheric ghost story is excellent reading.

This article was originally published in the October 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.