Five years after retiring due to health problems, Father Tim Kavanagh is still reeling. What he sees at first as the "yawning indifference" of his church family is hurtful, but time has passed and an exciting trip to Ireland with his wife, Cynthia, has served to cushion the blow. Still, he finds the idea "to withdraw someplace for the sake of seclusion"—and to stay there—far too inviting.

But Mitford is up to its usual tricks—something interesting happening every hour on the hour. So when Hope Murphy, the owner of the local bookstore, has to spend the rest of her pregnancy on bedrest, he volunteers to keep the store open one day a week, and several other friends fill up most of the others. Variations on the theme ensue—and Karon does it once more—makes small-town affairs interesting enough to entertain readers all over again. And again.

Life never slows down, though Father Tim feels he has, and he sensibly declines to take back the parish after his successor creates a scandal. As in all the Mitford books, Father Tim delves into the seriousness of his as well as others' faith, and finds new answers—hard-won wisdom that settles old questions in satisfying ways.

Karon has written nine previous Mitford books, and a few other related titles. Not counting her reckless way with pronouns, they seem only to get better. Although readers should know better by now, her humor is always unexpected and sly, of the smile-out-loud variety, and surely makes the story more palatable for non-religious readers. The rest of us are simply grateful for her ability to home in unerringly on the light spots that make the heavy going of life easier for us all.

It is hard to imagine that there is much more that can be said about Father Tim and his gang, yet Karon keeps finding new fodder. Unexpected opportunities open here for his relationships with his adopted son's family, and Karon has already demonstrated that she can make a rich meal out of unpromising ingredients.

"No two persons ever read the same book," as Karon quotes Edmund Wilson. (The wealth of trenchant quotes about books included here alone make Somewhere Safe with Somebody Good worth reading.) Perhaps Karon's readers are all reading different books, but every one of them is worth the trouble.

RELATED CONTENT: Read a Q&A with Jan Karon about this book.

Judith Frank’s second novel is a powerful tale of a family working its way through unthinkable tragedy. It opens as Matt Greene and his partner, Daniel Rosen, are flying to Tel Aviv—Daniel’s twin brother and his wife have just been killed by a suicide bomber. Ilana and Joel left behind two small children, 6-year-old Gall and baby Noam. A devastated Daniel knows that his brother and sister-in-law wanted Matt and Daniel to raise the children if anything ever happened to them.

Ilana’s parents, Holocaust survivors and devout Jews, are stunned that their only remaining connection to Ilana will now live thousands of miles away with a gay couple. Daniel’s parents are nonplussed as well. They are not fans of Matt and feel as if they should have been the ones chosen to raise the children.

As is typical in tragedies, the characters focus their energy and emotions on the children left behind. Frank, however, spends a good deal of time focusing on the character of Daniel, the surviving twin and now foster father, who is overwhelmed with grief. The multilayered story is about the characters learning to live after a sudden and immense loss. With issues such as the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, terrorism, gay partnership and Judaism in America as a backdrop, All I Love and Know is a powerful novel about love, loss and the will to endure after inconceivable tragedy.

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

Let’s not mince words: George and Irene are weirdos. George is a teacher of astronomy who has visions of ancient gods and goddesses. Irene is an astrophysicist who discovers tiny, purple black holes and doesn’t believe in love or anything else that can’t be measured with very precise instruments. George, on the other hand, longs for love like a consumptive Victorian heroine. They’re both from Toledo and, according to the powers that be, are supposed to end up together. The question Lydia Netzer’s second novel asks is ‘How?’

One way it’s possible is that Irene isn’t as cold-blooded as she wants to be. The second way it’s possible is that a twist of fate finds the two of them at the Toledo Institute of Astronomy at the same time. The Institute has heard about Irene’s mini-black holes and has hired her. George, meanwhile, is kicked out of his office to accommodate Irene and is in a position to resent her. But when he first lays eyes on Irene, he falls for her, hard. How could he not? It beats getting any more serious with his current date, a woman who spent her formative years speaking bird language with her father.

This might be a good time to mention that George and Irene aren’t the only weirdos in this book. Indeed, the reason they get together in the first place is because of a series of weird events that happened before they were born. It could be said that the culmination of the weirdness was them being born at the same time and in the same place. And none of it was an accident.

Though Netzer’s parade of human oddities can be a bit distracting, the book earns its redemptive turn at the end; there just had to be a logical reason why George had visions of deities crawling around the ceiling and falling off of balconies.

Quirky, well written and insightful, How to Tell Toledo from the Night Sky reminds us of the surprises to be found in even the most predetermined circumstances.

First love, young love, unexpected love—any kind of love with a deep vein of naiveté and innocence—this is Rainbow Rowell’s wheelhouse. She manages to capture raw emotion with a wave of nostalgia that captivates not only her primary audience of young adult readers, but also those of us who, at least in theory, have moved past the age of soaring crushes and crushing heartbreak.

Rowell’s new novel, Landline, aims to capture adult fans with the story of sitcom writer Georgie and the conflict between her relationship with her best friend, the womanizing Seth, and her husband, the long-suffering Neal. Thankfully, Rowell avoids the played-out chick-lit love triangle and creates a much more interesting story of the tension between friendship and love, and between a successful woman’s work life and her family life. Georgie has complicated choices even before she discovers the magic telephone.

That’s right—the title refers to an old phone Georgie uses to call college-age Neal, the boy she fell in love with. Rowell uses the phone to play with the differences between old technology and new, and she leverages it to echo the differences in the relationship between young-in-love college students and the married adults they grow up to be.

The sci-fi elements make Landline a bit of a bumpy ride, and Rowell’s description of adult relationships lacks the authentic feeling of her description of young love. Still, her characters are incredibly true-to-life, and her writing is consistently fun. We may not all have access to magic phones, but Landline gives us all a way to travel back in time and remember the emotional roller coaster of loves we may have left behind.

Carrie Rollwagen writes from Birmingham, Alabama, where she is the co-owner of Church Street Coffee & Books.

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

In One Plus One, British novelist Jojo Moyes (Me Before You) once again introduces her readers to two mismatched lovers who have troubles of their own but find a safe haven in each other.

Jess is always just one missed paycheck away from disaster. A single mother with two jobs, a disappeared husband, a bullied stepson and a brilliant daughter, she is also desperate to deliver her daughter Tanzie to Scotland to take a math exam that will win her a scholarship to a good school.

In steps Ed Nicholls, one of Jess’ housecleaning clients—and a millionaire. Recently accused of insider trading, he’s lost his company and his best friend. Through chivalry or simply a desire to redeem himself, Ed decides to drive Jess and her family (and their gigantic dog) up to Scotland, a trip of several days. Jess accepts, but she has a secret: In an act of desperation, she registered her daughter for that school using money she stole from Ed’s wallet. The road trip that follows is part comedy, part tragedy.

One Plus One is full of quirky characters and absurd situations, but it is written with authenticity, humanity and warmth. It is impossible not to root for Jess, a compassionate woman who knows she hasn’t always chosen wisely, but who is determined to make life bearable for her kids. With her characteristic blend of heart and humor, Moyes takes her characters on a journey, and despite the roadblocks, they find their way home.

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

Emma Straub’s delightful second novel, The Vacationers, is the best work yet from this Brooklyn-based writer, who previously penned the quirky short story collection Other People We Married and the historical novel Laura Lamont’s Life in Pictures.

The Vacationers begins as the Post family is getting ready to leave their Upper West Side apartment for a two-week vacation on the island of Mallorca. Franny is a zaftig travel writer who treats food as a means of therapy; her husband, Jim, was just fired from his longtime job as a magazine editor after having an affair with an editorial assistant barely older than his daughter. Only mildly aware of her parents’ marital problems, Sylvia is focused on starting at Brown in the fall, far away from the brutality of high school bullies.

Joining the group is Sylvia’s older brother Bobby (a Miami real estate agent) and his personal trainer girlfriend, Carmen. Rounding out the bunch of vacationers is Franny’s best friend, Charles, and his husband, Lawrence, who are awaiting possible good news from an adoption agency.

But while Franny meant for the trip to celebrate her and Jim’s 35th anniversary along with Sylvia’s high school graduation, the vacation turns into something much heavier as tensions are inflamed, jealousies are ignited and, ultimately, those pesky family secrets are revealed.

Straub transports her readers to an idyllic paradise of cobblestone streets, olive-tree-strewn hillsides, stunning beaches and rich, foreign delicacies, even as she creates an all-too-real family drama. The Vacationers is as refreshing as a frozen strawberry daiquiri and full of crisply drawn characters you’ll feel you’ve come to know.

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

A liberated Asian at odds with her conservative family or homeland is not a new story. Literature abounds with such declarations of independence in prose, doggedly demolishing superstitions and customs. This is especially true when it comes to an Asian woman’s “proper” role in courtship and marriage, or non-role in the workplace. Jean Kwok’s entertaining second novel, Mambo in Chinatown, thus breaks no new ground, except perhaps that it is her father, not her mother, who proves the protagonist’s foil. Also: ballroom dancing!

Charlie Wong is a shabby dishwasher barely into her 20s when she applies for a job as a receptionist at a dance studio. A serial receiver of pink slips, incompetent and possibly dyslexic, Charlie braces for the worst. It comes, but not before the dancers recruit her to train with them. Charlie has dance in her blood, since her late mother had been a performer for the prestigious Beijing Ballet. At first scornful of Charlie’s calloused hands and appalling fashion-sense, the dancers soon make Charlie one of their flamboyant own.

She keeps her bourgeoning career a secret from her father, who despite his late wife’s occupation would shudder to see his daughter on display, not least because it would confound his intention to see Charlie married to a Chinese. Despite warnings from her fellow dancers, who frown on student-teacher fraternization, Charlie is (wait for it) swept off her feet by an earnest Caucasian pupil. Ooh la la!

The story here may reach escape velocity from Chinatown into Harlequin town, but you wouldn’t know it from the language, which is admirably even-keeled. Charlie’s wide-eyed persona conceals a shrewd and determined woman; her father ends up seeming less like a chauvinist than a straw man, consulting healers and slurping noodles while his daughter waltzes into the American Dream.

It was everywhere and always thus that children have rebelled against elders, from Cain to Holden Caulfield, so it’s perhaps unfair to suggest that this is a hackneyed theme in Asian literature. But even if it is, Cain and Caulfield couldn’t dance.

Jennifer Weiner, the best-selling author of 10 novels, goes a bit darker with her new book, a story about the price some women pay in the pursuit of having it all. In All Fall Down, Weiner tackles a growing epidemic in our society: middle- and upper-class suburban parents who abuse prescription medication to cope with their overworked and overstressed lifestyles.

Allison Weiss is a doting mother to her 5-year-old daughter, Eloise, and a devoted wife to her handsome husband. She’s also a blogger and developer for a website that has taken off overnight. As she struggles to keep everything going, Allison begins to abuse pain pills she was given for a back injury in a “Jump & Pump” workout class. Before she knows it, Allison is taking so many pills a day that she has to resort to hiding money from her husband to buy them illegally online.

In today’s world, blogs, Facebook, Instagram and other social media outlets serve as online “brag books” for people to portray seemingly idyllic lives. Weiner puts into words the pressure many women feel to maintain a Facebook-worthy life—which means being a supermom as well as a supportive spouse who “leans in” at work, maintains a pre-baby body and throws a nightly meal on the table that would make Julia Child swoon. While struggling for sobriety, Allison tries to convince herself she’s not as bad as the addicts around her. She got her pills from a doctor, not on a street corner, right?

All of Weiner’s books are entertaining, emotional and funny, but her latest is a truthful snapshot of the high-functioning addict. All Fall Down asks whether it is possible to take the online reels of other people’s perfect lives and view them for what they are—just part of the story.

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

The socks we say the dryer ate, coins forgotten in the couch cushions, an engagement ring, a home, family, even a life. What if all the things we lose, the mundane and the important, were waiting to be returned? What would we do if we found ourselves in the place that they end up? Such is the inspiration for The Lost, Sarah Beth Durst’s imaginative first novel for adults.

Her disillusioned protagonist Lauren Chase is running from the reality of her mother’s cancer diagnosis. Driving off into the desert one day instead of to work, Lauren gets caught up in a freak dust storm and summarily deposited in the town of Lost. Here, foreclosed or abandoned homes of various styles sit side by side; the last pieces of pie are served at a celestial-themed diner; and stray dogs and kids roam about. Like the town’s other inhabitants, Lauren is unable to leave until she discovers what she has lost. For that, she needs the help of the enigmatic Missing Man, who has inexplicably disappeared—a fact that many of the town’s residents blame on Lauren. Claire, a young girl who carries both a teddy bear and a knife, befriends Lauren and convinces Peter, a brooding young man known as the Finder, to help her. The three form a family of need.

Durst, the author of several YA novels, knows how to captivate readers. As the first in a planned trilogy, more questions are left unanswered than resolved in The Lost, though the author unfolds her fast-moving tale in a beguiling way. The world Durst has envisioned is often disturbing and bizarre, but at times surprises with its beauty and poignancy.

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

Not quite as creepy as the Overlook Hotel, but with its own history of unpleasantness, the Bellweather Hotel in upstate New York dominates the pages of Kate Racculia’s quirky new novel, Bellweather Rhapsody. Here, the really Bad Thing happened in Room 712, some 15 years before the main action of the book, which takes place in 1997. While the tragedy does haunt the hotel, it is in a realistic and not supernatural way, right down to the monster blizzard that socks everyone in for the weekend. Instead of the alcoholic writer Jack Torrance, we get teenaged musicians at different stages of careers that may or may not pan out. Even the cataclysm that harkens back to the Overlook’s malfunctioning elevators isn’t caused by evil spirits as much as rotting infrastructure. Insurance should be able to take care of it.

The action revolves around the talented Hatmaker twins. There’s bassoonist Bertram, also known as Rabbit and his sister Alice, a singer. They’ve both been chosen to participate in the Statewide festival, which is traditionally held at the Bellweather, and from the moment they arrive, Rabbit and Alice are confronted with situations and people who aren’t what they seem. Is the Ichabod Crane-like Scottish conductor with the maimed hand as mean and crazy as he seems? Did the second Bad Thing to happen in room 712—where Alice is staying!—happen or not? Did the big fat lady with the deaf dog have anything to do with it? Is the new head of Statewide really a psychopath?  I will spare the reader the suspense here and answer with an emphatic “Yes.” She’s one of those villains whose comeuppance—which couldn’t possibly be too ghastly—the reader prays for.

All the while Alice, a somewhat insecure girl who hides her insecurities with an outsized personality and an outsized voice, strives to get to the bottom of it all.  Rabbit, having come to terms with his gayness, is more interested in getting next to a handsome tenor who looks like Ralph Macchio and standing up to the screwy conductor.  How folks cope, or not, keeps the reader turning the pages of Racculia’s weirdly enjoyable and fast-paced mystery.

The automobile is one of the inanimate objects most subject to the practice of personification. How many besotted car owners have referred to their shiny vehicle as “she” and stroked the hood as one would perhaps stroke a woman? In All I Have in This World, novelist Michael Parker’s eighth novel, a sky blue Buick Electra is as much a character as any other. Readers follow the car, in nonlinear fashion, from its birth to death; what comes in between is compelling, although the story takes a bit of time to rev up.

The two main human characters here are Maria and Marcus, who meet in the West Texas car lot where the 20-year-old Buick Electra has most recently landed. Maria is a young woman returning to her hometown for the first time since an extremely traumatic event drove her away 10 years ago. Marcus is a middle-aged man whose North Carolina business venture has failed, leaving him homeless, jobless and aimless. When his bad luck extends to having his truck stolen in Texas, he sees the Buick as his possible salvation. Maria, having lived a life of walking and taking public transportation, is at the lot to purchase her very first car. She, too, is instantly attracted to the Buick. It isn’t long before they make the improbable agreement to purchase the car together and alternate the days they will drive it.

How that seemingly preposterous agreement came to be is told through their backstories and the history of the Buick itself. Each previous owner has an emotional motive for unloading the car, some more believable than others but all pointing to the tradition of auto anthropomorphism.

As these stories weave into those of Maria and Marcus, both before and after the Buick purchase, another theme emerges as well: that of the past attached to so many objects we come to own. When you buy a used book or piece of furniture or article of clothing, how often do you consider the lives of those who possessed them before you? Or of those who created them? This initially slow-going but ultimately rewarding novel allows the reader to ponder this in a fresh and moving way.

The story of the once-successful novelist trapped in the throes of writer’s block, personal woes and emotional contemplation is a favorite of many novelists, from Stephen King to Michael Chabon, but lesser versions of the tale often veer into the realm of plodding semi-autobiographical navel-gazing and serve the writer more than the book itself. With her latest novel, Tatiana de Rosnay not only avoids the pitfalls of the struggling-novelist story, but also obliterates them with a lush, beautifully rendered saga layered with secrets, scandal and, yes, an exploration of what it means to be a writer who’s terrified of having nothing left to say.

When Nicolas Duhamel was 24, he made a discovery that shook everything he knew about his family. This shocking revelation inspired a novel that rapidly became an international bestseller. A few years later, Nicolas is a wealthy author with a hit film based on his book and throngs of adoring fans, but the next novel, the one he’s been promising his agent, isn’t coming. Hoping to revitalize his creativity, Nicolas takes his girlfriend to an exclusive coastal resort in Italy, but what he finds there is far from the peace he was hoping for. As his personal life rapidly changes, the old secrets begin to haunt him again, and Nicolas realizes that if he hopes to rediscover that creative spark, he must contend not only with a frightening new future, but also with an increasingly haunted past.

By jumping between past and present tense to tell the dual stories of Nicolas pre- and post-fame, de Rosnay tells us right away that this novel is a meditation on time, legacy, memory and what the stories of our youth do to us when we’re older, but The Other Story is much more than a saga of past and future. By showing us the world through Nicolas’ eyes, de Rosnay is able to give us portraits, both of a deeply flawed man and the world around him through the perceptive lens of a storyteller. Throw in a remarkably complex cast of supporting characters, a series of juicy new developments in Nicolas’ life and always engaging dialogue, and you’ve got a brilliant combination of page-turner and character study.