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.

As a longtime Picoult fan, I was anxious to devour her latest novel, Leaving Time. And she doesn’t disappoint: Once again, Picoult has masterfully woven what appear to be incongruous events and people together into one captivating and emotional story. This time around, the author’s extensive research on elephants and their surprisingly human emotions are a highlight. But wait, there’s more: She has also included a down-on-her-luck psychic, a spunky teen and a haunting murder.

Thirteen-year-old Jenna Metcalf is consumed with memories of her mother, Alice, a scientist who studied grief and other emotions among elephants. Alice vanished after a tragic accident at the New Hampshire elephant sanctuary that she, her husband and Jenna once called home. Using Alice’s research journals as well as a psychic and the detective who originally investigated the disappearance of her mother, Jenna tries to piece together why her family was ripped apart.

Picoult explores the mother-daughter bond from a unique vantage point. Using both elephants and human beings, she asks, are we that much different from our pachyderm friends when it comes to processing emotion? Leaving Time is an emotional study of what mothers will do for their young—and in true Picoult form, the author delivers an ending that even her biggest fans won’t be able to predict.

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

BookPage Fiction Top Pick, October 2014

Jason Mott’s second novel, The Wonder of All Things, is equal parts supernatural thriller and coming-of-age tale as 13-year-old Ava and her best friend, Wash, bravely attempt to navigate their small-town world in the wake of a public disaster. When a beloved local stunt pilot crashes his plane into a crowd of spectators at a festival, Wash is critically injured. When word travels that Ava’s simple act of placing her hands over her friend has healed his wounds, the once quiet town of Stone Temple is soon swarming with folks who are desperate to cure their own loved ones, or themselves.

The resulting mass hysteria is aptly depicted by Mott, in a way that is not entirely unsympathetic to the crowds imploring Ava to share her gift. For Ava, this discovery aggravates an already chronic case of adolescent angst, and it also comes at a steep price: After each healing, Ava is stricken by debilitating ailments and visions of her late mother, whose suicide continues to haunt her and her father, town sheriff Macon Campbell. Can she continue? But how can she stop?

Like Mott’s first bestseller, The Returned, which was adapted for television this spring, The Wonder of All Things has a premise that lies outside the realm of possibility. Still, readers who are willing to suspend reality will be captivated by this poignant story of loss and love—and rewarded with a rich cast of characters.

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

Dan Kelly, the protagonist of Christos Tsiolkas’ latest novel, is not a likable character. He’s not likable in the novel’s first pages, when he’s a scholarship student at a posh boys’ school in Australia, and he remains unlikable at the end, when he’s a 30-something who doesn’t know what to do with his life. However, by the end of the book, we understand Dan, a little. This is why you will stay with Barracuda, why you will keep turning the pages even as you grit your teeth.

As a child, Dan showed great promise as a swimmer and was singled out by his coach as being the fastest, strongest and best of all the boys on the team. Unfortunately, it seems like the adoring Coach Torma either never informs Dan that he’s going to lose a few races even at the height of his powers, or the admonition never sinks in. So when Dan loses one race, he gives up swimming—it will be years before he even swims for pleasure.

Though Dan is called Barracuda because of his swimming chops, he also resembles the fish for his sheer viciousness. He attacks everyone around him, verbally, mentally and even physically. His aggression doesn’t even stop with his loved ones, who include his worshipful mother, a Greek immigrant, his brother, sister and hardworking Dad, an immigrant from Scotland. Only Dan’s best friend, Demet, can stand up to him, and that’s because she’s as mean as he is.

But Barracuda also has insightful things to say about the immigrant experience in Australia and the persistence of family and friendship bonds. This exploration of the mind of a bitter man who destroyed his own dreams is an absorbing if difficult work.

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.