Previous
Next

Join our list

Get the latest ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.

All Science Fiction & Fantasy Coverage

Filter by genre
Feature by

It’s tough out there for a debut author, but these eight newcomers get nothing but love from us.


Amanda Lee Koe, author of Delayed Rays of a Star

The book: This century-spanning work charts the rise and fall of three of the most famous women of 20th-­century cinema: Marlene Dietrich, Anna Mae Wong and Leni Riefenstahl.

The author: At 25, Amanda Lee Koe became the youngest-ever winner of the Singapore Literature Prize for her story collection Ministry of Moral Panic. She is the fiction editor of Esquire Singapore and the editor of the National Museum of Singapore’s film journal, Cinémathèque Quarterly.

For fans of: Novels that place art within the context of history, like The Last Painting of Sara de Vos by Dominic Smith. 

Read it for: Prose to get lost in, plus a heartfelt tribute to cinema history and the complicated lives of notable women.


Kira Jane Buxton, author of Hollow Kingdom

The book: A foul-mouthed, Cheetos-loving crow named S.T. goes on an adventure to save humanity from doom.

The author: Kira Jane Buxton has been previous published in the New York Times, McSweeney’s and more. She lives in Seattle, Washington, with a menagerie: three cats, a dog, two crows and plenty of hummingbirds.

For fans of: All creatures great and small, as well as funny fantasy authors like Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett and David Wong.

Read it for: A totally fresh take on the apocalypse, peppered with hilarious philosophical discourse and a fascinating, imaginative animal world.


Elizabeth Macneal, author of The Doll Factory

The book: An intricate web unfolds in 1851 London, where an aspiring artist is stalked by a creepy taxidermist.

The author: Scotland-born Elizabeth Macneal is a potter based in East London. She won the Caledonia Novel Award for this debut.

For fans of: Victorian gothic fiction, Jessie Burton, Sarah Waters and Imogen Hermes Gowar.

Read it for: A darkly beautiful exploration of the razor’s edge between creation and destruction.


Tope Folarin, author of A Particular Kind of Black Man

The book: The son of Nigerian parents—including a mother who shows signs of mental illness—grows up in a very white Utah in the late 1980s and early ’90s.

The author: A Nigerian-American author based in Washington, D.C., Tope Folarin won the 2013 Caine Prize for African Writing and was recently named to the Africa39 list of the most promising African writers under 40.

For fans of: Coming-of-age immigrant stories, Imbolo Mbue, Nicole Dennis-Benn and Zinzi Clemmons.

Read it for: Acrobatics in structure and pacing, meditations on memory, layers upon layers to unravel and a sharp perspective of the social structures in white and black communities.


Sarah Elaine Smith, author of Marilou Is Everywhere

The book: In northern Appalachia, a 14-year-old girl tries to escape a bleak life by slipping into the place left behind by an affluent teen who has gone missing.

The author: Sarah Elaine Smith holds two MFAs: fiction from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and poetry from the Michener Center for Writers.

For fans of: Novels that delicately balance the brutal and the beautiful, like Julie Buntin’s Marlena.

Read it for: A mesmerizing blend of dream and reality, wrapped in a palpable love of language and plenty of suspense.


Natalie Daniels, author of Too Close

The book: Connie has found a new friend in fellow mom Ness. But jump forward in time, and Connie has been institutionalized for a crime, and her disturbing story sounds strangely familiar to her psychiatrist. Is Ness at the heart of this tale of madness and toxicity?

The author: Natalie Daniels is a pseudonym for London-based actor and screenwriter Clara Salaman.

For fans of: Provocative, well-written thrillers by Laura Lippman and Alison Gaylin.

Read it for: Entertaining thrills and a perceptive exploration of the way women’s relationships are portrayed in fiction.


Chanelle Benz, author of The Gone Dead

The book: A multiracial woman returns to her childhood home in Greendale, Mississippi, to reckon with weary prejudices and the truth of her father’s death.

The author: Chanelle Benz’s 2017 story collection, The Man Who Shot Out My Eye Is Dead, was long-listed for the 2018 PEN/Robert Bingham Prize for Debut Fiction. Benz lives in Memphis and teaches at Rhodes College.

For fans of: Complicated family stories, wonderful casts of characters, Stephanie Powell Watts, Jesmyn Ward and Celeste Ng.

Read it for: An actor’s ear for dialogue, flawless directorial vision and the many sprawling, tension-building perspectives of the American South.


Zach Powers, author of First Cosmic Velocity 

The book: It’s 1964, and the space race is in full swing. The Soviet launch program seems to be a success, but it’s a ruse. Instead, the program relies on twins: The cosmonaut twin perishes, while the living twin survives on Earth, assuming the life of their deceased sibling.

The author: Zach Powers is the author of Gravity Changes, an award-winning short story collection. He lives in Arlington, Virginia, and works with the Writer’s Center in Maryland.

For fans of: Original alternate histories and juicy tales of Soviet secrets.

Read it for: The psychological burden placed on the twins who are selected to survive.

It’s tough out there for a debut author, but these eight newcomers get nothing but love from us.
Feature by

I love the beginning of a story. I love when the escaped droids crash-land on a sandy dessert in a galaxy far, far away or when the wizard shoves a ring into a hobbit’s hands and tells him to run. There is so much possibility, so many ways the world can change the hero, so many surprises to alter and confound my expectations. Usually I’m left wanting to go back in time to savor the adventure all over again. But sometimes we get rewarded for wanting more than a good start. We get sequels. Both of these series’ first volumes crossed my desk a year ago, and I’m happy to report that these follow-ups more than live up to their excellent beginnings.

Fonda Lee’s Jade War takes us back to the Kaul family of No Peak Clan, a crime syndicate vying for control over the city of Janloon. After the tragic events of Jade City, Kaul Hilo finds himself making a truce with his rivals, the Mountain Clan, to protect the mining and export of jade. Though he loathes the public nature of the alliance, the powers of jade are too important for the two clans to be in conflict. Hilo’s sister Shae, his second-in-command, struggles to steer the clan as international forces try to disrupt Janloon’s sovereignty over the precious jade. Their cousin Anden, banished from Janloon, starts to find his way in a new city. When aggressions finally spill over, will the clan be able to avoid an all-out war?

Lee effortlessly injects more complexity into an already-rich universe in Jade War. We get more storylines, more subterfuge and more cloak-and-dagger mafia business. But we also get some very tender and nuanced looks at what it means to be family, the meaning of community and the depths of love. And throughout it all is a sense of tenuous control, the possibility that the family could watch their success evaporate overnight. This is a maturation of the saga, an expansion in both storytelling and scale. But if you’re just craving some more jade-fueled magic, you’ll be right at home, too. There are moments when the statecraft and maneuvering between clans slowed the pace, but several scenes, including a fantastic duel in the middle of the story, picked it back up. Lee proves she’s still a master at mafia-magic storytelling, and this second volume is deeper and more ambitious than the first.

Though Rin was able to end the Third Poppy War with a massive inferno, R.F. Kuang’s The Dragon Republic finds our hero in a sorry state. Overcome with grief for her lost comrades and smoking opium in order to dull the voice of the Phoenix god in her mind, she spends her time planning revenge against the treacherous Empress. When a classmate rescues her and takes her to the powerful Dragon Warlord, she finds a new cause to believe in: democracy. With a proper army, the Dragon Warlord can establish a new government in the name of peace for all. But war with the Empress draws closer every day, and when Rin discovers that her power over fire might not be permanent, she’s left to grapple with who she really is and what she really cares about.

Rin saw more pain and more blood in The Poppy War than almost any other character I have encountered in the last year. Kuang does a wonderful job of showing the effects of that pain in the initial period of this book, as well as the impact of addiction and PTSD. Rin seems destined to find war wherever she goes, and Kuang is fantastic at putting us in Rin’s head to witness her internal conflict. Rin’s army unit serves as a source of both humor and camaraderie in a sometimes-bleak world, but Rin’s ongoing war in her own mind is the real through-line in Kuang’s powerful follow-up.

These fantasy follow-ups more than live up to their excellent beginnings.

Feature by

★ Ninth House
In Leigh Bardugo’s instantly gripping new fantasy, Ninth House, Alex Stern can see ghosts. This ability makes her perfectly suited to monitor Yale’s underground societies, which perform occult rituals under cover of darkness. When a ritual goes wrong and Alex senses the ghosts of Yale becoming restless, she must race to find out the sinister reasons why. The world of this book is so consistent and enveloping that pages seem to rush by. Bardugo, a veteran of the fantasy space with her Grishaverse series, never lets the narrative become overtaken by the lore, and she includes plenty of winking callouts to the horrors of modern collegiate experiences. Creepy and thrilling, this one deserves a place on your fall reading list.

Steel Crow Saga
Expansive yet personal, Paul Krueger’s Steel Crow Saga starts with a bang and never slows down. A soldier seeking vengeance, a prince looking for home, a detective with a secret and a thief wanting redemption unite to face an abominable evil. Saga’s magic system centers on animal familiars that can be summoned to fight alongside characters—think Pokémon meets The Golden Compass, with plenty of original and frightening twists along the way. While the influence of colonial Asian history is clear, it adds to the world building rather than taking the reader out of the action. Krueger deftly gives each character their own point of view without losing sight of the novel’s central theme: We’re stronger together than we are alone.

How Rory Thorne Destroyed the Multiverse
Sometimes a book just flat-out charms you—How Rory Thorne Destroyed the Multiverse by K. Eason is one such book. Rory is a singular woman, anointed with blessings from 13 fairies and destined to rule the interplanetary government. In a clever twist, one of the blessings gives Rory the ability to hear the truth when someone is lying. These lies and truths offer funny contrasts on the page, and lead to some wonderfully surprising moments. When Rory discovers a sinister conspiracy at the same time she is engaged to a prince from another planet, she must rely on all of her blessings to save the day. Eason’s heroine is a whirlwind, a one-woman battering ram whose tenacity is exciting and funny. This is the first in a series, and I anticipate many more pages of Rory confounding expectations (and anyone she meets).

 

★ Ninth House
In Leigh Bardugo’s instantly gripping new fantasy, Ninth House, Alex Stern can see ghosts. This ability makes her perfectly suited to monitor Yale’s underground societies, which perform occult rituals under cover of darkness. When a ritual goes wrong and Alex senses the…

It’s the time of year when pumpkin spice suddenly flavors everything. But what if autumn were distilled into a book? The mixture of crispness and warmth, the thrill of possibility, the bittersweetness of change—these books are pure pumpkin spice.


The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach
Lake Michigan on a cool morning, a well-worn copy of Moby-Dick, a lazily draped scarf worn to a beloved college class—this is pumpkin spice latte territory. Chad Harbach’s debut novel is a philosopher’s playhouse, a literature student’s carnival and a baseball fan’s last hurrah of the season. It’s the story of shortstop star Henry Skrimshander and the many intellectuals in his orbit at Wisconsin’s small Westish College. Cute literary jokes abound (Henry’s last name is an obvious nod to Melville and scrimshaw), and meandering passages are capably balanced by thrilling baseball scenes. There’s angst and romance as well—always best in autumn—and a cheeky sense of humor that looks so good with your fading summer tan. —Cat, Deputy Editor

I Remember Nothing by Nora Ephron
First of all, what’s more autumnal than the words of Nora Ephron? (Think “bouquets of newly sharpened pencils.”) But I love this collection in particular because it’s the last book Ephron published before she died. Every time I read I Remember Nothing, I cherish it more urgently because I know I’m approaching the end of her expansive but finite body of work. (Oh, for a thousand more charming observations about seer­sucker napkins!) I think this makes it a perfect book for fall, which is the season for lapping up every drop of beauty we can before it’s gone. Poignantly, the last essay in the book is a list called “What I Will Miss,” and it includes: fall, a walk in the park, the idea of a walk in the park and pie. —Christy, Associate Editor

Possession by A.S. Byatt
This supremely meta, deeply romantic bestseller is a lot. But its dual narratives—a doomed romance between Victorian poets and the modern-day scholars who stumble upon their story—offer some sublimely cozy pleasures for a very specific type of book nerd. If your ideal autumn involves prowling through Victorian letters while a storm rages outside, taking baths in crumbling old manor houses and sighing over love thwarted and love gained, Possession is the book for you. And for those who miss school (but not its over-caffeination and assigned reading), A.S. Byatt’s awe-inspiring creation of not only the work of two poets but also the modern scholarly commentary surrounding them will scratch that essay-writing, argument-crafting itch—sans the all-nighter. —Savanna, Assistant Editor 

Calling a Wolf a Wolf by Kaveh Akbar
Scalding, flavorful, and unapologetic, this poetry collection invites readers to scrutinize its speaker’s struggle with alcoholism, desire, and mental obstruction. The reader is welcomed into madness, ardor, misery and silence, but this is not our madness, our sadness, or our experiences. We may not have experienced alcoholism, but we are allowed to smell the same odors, hear the cacophony of a bar and call out to the speaker’s hope. This collection taught me that poetry is never about the reader, but is ultimately an act of generosity. I thank this book for the warmth it gave me, for I needed a comforting drink to withstand its multiclimatic world. Ultimately, I found myself warm enough—and secure enough—to ditch my cup. Prince Bush, Editorial Intern

An Enchantment of Ravens by Margaret Rogerson
If your perfect walk through autumnal woods—fallen leaves in fiery hues crunching beneath your boots, the scents of mist-damp soil and October’s chill filtering through the air—comes with the sense that something is hiding behind every tree, waiting just ahead at every crook in your path, something not sinister but curious about your strange mortal ways, then may I suggest settling down with An Enchantment of Ravens once your latte has chased your chill away? Full of tricksy fairies, a delicious slow-burn romance and plenty of wit and literal Whimsy (the name of the village where Margaret Rogerson’s characters live), it reads the way autumn feels, deep down in your bones. —Stephanie, Associate Editor

It’s the time of year when pumpkin spice suddenly flavors everything. But what if autumn were distilled into a book? The mixture of crispness and warmth, the thrill of possibility, the bittersweetness of change—these books are pure pumpkin spice.


The Art of Fielding by…

Humor may be the hardest thing to write. Everyone’s sense of humor is different, and it takes a very special person to see the hilarity in day-to-day life, so it’s understandably hard to find a novel that truly makes you laugh. For me, Elizabeth Strout, Gail Honeyman and Jen Beagin make me laugh (though, honestly, Mary Roach’s nonfiction is my go-to laugh machine). 

In 2019, we’ve enjoyed a number of good comic tales—but they’re dark, a little wicked, and even when they’re a little fantastical, they’re deeply, utterly real. Here are five of our favorites.


Gravity Is the Thing by Jaclyn Moriarty
The stronger the wellness and self-help industry grows, the more we need fiction to poke fun at it. Moriarty had me guffawing from the opening pages of her debut, the story of a woman who attends a retreat to discover the mystery behind The Guidebook, a strange guide that has been mailed to her for 20 years, one chapter at a time, and certainly not in order. But the humor serves to break down any skepticism in the reader (because the premise definitely gets stranger), allowing them to be vulnerable and receptive to the underlying message of loss, grief and recovery.

Live a Little by Howard Jacobson
There’s always a place on our reading lists for late-in-life love stories and tales of grumpy old men and women. In Jacobson’s latest novel, the humor is highbrow and crotchety, as two nonagenarians strike up a conversation that blooms into a friendship and more. Of the two characters, snarky Beryl Dusinbery’s very bad attitude was my favorite, but I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed her snide remarks without the counterbalance of Shimi Carmelli. It takes a little while to get to the wittiest parts, but patient readers will be rewarded.

There’s a Word for That by Sloane Tanen
It’s a feat to write a novel about a flawed family that makes the reader laugh—but not at the characters. I’m not interested in ridicule or judgment of complicated, ridiculous people, and neither is Tanen. Her latest novel, about two crumbling celebrity families that collide at a rehab clinic, will appeal to optimistic readers who love Hollywood stories and thoughtful takedowns of delusional, self-involved characters.

Fleishman Is in Trouble by Taffy Brodesser-Akner
I’m just as surprised as you are that the story of a divorced dad being inundated with sexual advances via his dating app is necessary reading for 2019, but here we are. Brodesser-Akner is vicious as she nails the woe-is-me cry of a man who has no idea how much of a fool he is. For divorcees, for dating-app users, for anyone trying to understand what love is or what marriage is, this is the book. But if you’re not sure if this one appeals to you, I suggest trying it on audiobook. Reader Allyson Ryan nails the satirical tone, so you’ll never miss a punchline.

Hollow Kingdom by Kira Jane Buxton
Who, I thought as I started reading Buxton’s debut novel earlier this year, who am I going to recommend this book to?! The answer is: weirdos with an outstanding sense of humor. It’s a philosophical zombie novel narrated by a Cheetos-loving, foul-mouthed crow who sets out on a journey to try and save humanity. You already know if this appeals to you just from that line—so check it out, hug your pets and then blow your friends’ minds by telling them all about the novel you just read.

In 2019, we’ve enjoyed a number of good comic tales—but they’re dark, a little wicked, and even when they’re a little fantastical, they’re deeply, utterly real. Here are five of our favorites.
Feature by

Folktales may be the bedrock of contemporary horror, but they have seeped into the mainstream. From sparkling vegetarian vampires and werewolves playing basketball to witches and wizards parking their broomsticks in the house on the cul-de-sac, yesterday’s bogeymen are today’s brooding protagonists, even in television shows about vampire slayers. Given this reality, any novelist dealing with the paranormal must confront the new comprehensibility of the monsters under the bed. Are they forces of nature beyond mortal ken? Or are they humankind’s kindred spirits, in the most literal sense possible? T. Kingfisher (Ursula Vernon’s nom de plume) and Vivian Shaw take radically different approaches to answering this question, but both are blessed with an irrepressible sense of humor that makes their books equal parts scary and funny.

In The Twisted Ones, Kingfisher depicts a kind of magical elsewhere filled with strange compulsions and warped conjurations that enchant and ensnare humans led astray. It is a skeptic’s telling of a scary story, in which an editor called Mouse, while cleaning out her late, estranged grandmother’s house in rural North Carolina, is unwittingly drawn into the world of the tall, pale folk who once stalked her step-grandfather. Mouse discovers his journal in the assorted rubbish, and the fact that the terrors he describes within start to happen to her does not prevent her from approaching the text with the eagle eyes and determined skepticism of an editor. Mouse’s narrative is gripping in its uncertainty and her refusal to believe what she sees, but also genuine in her morbid fascination with her unexpectedly paranormal milieu and her unwavering love for her dog. Kingfisher imbues a classic “things-that-go-bump-in-the-night” monster story with hints of modern context without dwelling on the issues that context raises, simply because it is irrelevant to the story she wants to tell. The result is tense, well-crafted Southern horror with a meta twist.

Shaw’s Grave Importance, on the other hand, is the conclusion of an epic trilogy about a doctor to the undead who, with the aid of several vampires, a witch with prehensile (and somewhat fidgety) hair and an old family friend who happens to be a high-ranking bureaucrat in Hell with a gift for mathematics, manages to save her world from an untimely apocalypse. Greta Helsing, scion of the Helsing family of former vampire hunters and current vampire doctors, is called to fill in when the lead physician at a mummy health spa leaves to spend several months on an urgent case in Cairo. Apparently the mummies are having fainting spells and nobody quite knows why. Meanwhile, the fabric of space-time is ripping, and the demons tasked with keeping an eye on it are very concerned. Shaw’s writing is more Pratchett than Lovecraft: There are different species of vampire with different dietary restrictions, mummies make a living as programmers and Dr. Faust runs the finest medical institution in Hell, with cutting-edge imaging technology that can diagnose even the most complex of curses. It is, in short, less horrifying than hilarious, and delightfully so.

What these books share, however, is an interest with how the supernatural is portrayed. Kingfisher has great fun with the tropes of found-manuscript horror stories, while Shaw recasts Dracula’s kin as misunderstood outcasts. Both writers humanize their monsters and rationalize the actions of their human protagonists. Mouse walks into danger out of filial responsibility, then curiosity and finally for the unbreakable bond between a woman and her dog, while Greta is simply following the Hippocratic Oath as applied to the undead. The Twisted Ones and Grave Importance are radically different in tone and scale, but they are equally enjoyable modern folk takes.

Folktales may be the bedrock of contemporary horror, but they have seeped into the mainstream. From sparkling vegetarian vampires and werewolves playing basketball to witches and wizards parking their broomsticks in the house on the cul-de-sac, yesterday’s bogeymen are today’s brooding protagonists, even in television…

Feature by

From orcs to elves to dragons, non-human beings in fantasy books often fall into two camps. Some are presented as basically human, if often exoticized. The rest are generally presented as bestial: They may or may not be able to speak, but at their core they’re not too different from beasts of burden. Regardless of the archetype, their thoughts, feelings and cultures (when they have any at all) are described in relation to a human or human-like surrogate. Both Unnatural Magic by C.M. Waggoner and The Deep by Rivers Solomon (with Daveed Diggs, William Hutson and Jonathan Snipes) buck this tradition, creating non-human characters that are defined not by their relationship to humans but in the context of their own societies.

In her debut novel Unnatural Magic, C.M. Waggoner spins a coming-of-age tale of love, friendship and murder that is both universal and completely new. Unnatural Magic’s first strand of story is that of Tsira, a half-troll whose heritage has made it difficult to fit in among her home clan. When confronted with first a half-dead solider and then with an attempt on her own life, Tsira is forced from her solitary existence. The book’s second strand is that of Onna, a girl with a prodigious gift for magic and the guts to blaze her own academic path when she’s denied a higher magical education due to her sex. But as she embarks on her new scholarly adventure, Onna quickly becomes pulled into a hunt for a troll murderer—and unknowingly sets out on a crash course towards Tsira. Equal parts romance, bildungsroman and murder mystery, Unnatural Magic can’t decide on a genre archetype, and that’s a good thing. The resulting amalgamation is delightfully unpredictable.

Rivers Solomon’s The Deep, in contrast, is a story of pain and new beginnings. Holding the collective memories of an entire race of people isn’t easy. It is even less easy if your underwater-dwelling people are descended from the children of pregnant African slave women thrown overboard by their captors and left to drown. Yetu’s duty is to remember the pain of her ancestors so that the rest of her people can live in the moment, free from the trauma of the past. She is freed from the memories only during an annual ceremony in which Yetu shares the history with her people. Overwhelmed at the prospect of taking back the memories of her ancestors, Yetu flees to the surface in the middle of one of these Tellings. On the surface, she will learn not just of the world her people left behind, but also of her people’s future. Philosophical and atmospheric, The Deep is not just a story of trauma. It is a story that looks carefully at the individual’s place in society and explores what it means to collectively heal and to move forward by accepting, but not forgetting, the past.

Unnatural Magic and The Deep are as different in tone, writing style and subject matter as two fantasy books can be. But what the two share is a deep sense of empathy. As readers, we are not meant to identify with either Yetu or Tsira as though they were human. Instead, both Solomon and Waggoner ask us to imagine beings different from ourselves and then to meet them without trying to force them into human-shaped boxes in our minds. The results are as challenging as they are enjoyable, and any reader willing to try something different will be rewarded handsomely for the effort.

 

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Go Behind the Book with C.M. Waggoner.

Unnatural Magic by C.M. Waggoner and The Deep by Rivers Solomon create non-human characters that are defined not by their relationship to humans but in the context of their own societies.

Feature by

The season's biggest SFF releases include an introduction to a compelling new fantasy world, a story of family and intrigue, and one very cranky dragon.


★ The Unspoken Name

Expansive and compelling, A.K. Larkwood’s The Unspoken Name has everything you’d want in a new fantasy universe. Csorwe, an orc disciple of a dark god known as the Unspoken One, is living on borrowed time. As a priestess, she will have to die as a sacrifice made to the Unspoken One. When a strange wizard saves her and takes her far away, Csorwe finds new purpose, traveling through the multiverse in search of an ancient artifact and finally discovering who she really is. Larkwood constructs her fantasy world with confidence and detail, and Csorwe’s journey from wide-eyed sacrifice to formidable warrior is satisfying and earned.


Sign up for our SFF newsletter!


Highfire

Eoin Colfer, author of the beloved Artemis Fowl series, makes a hilarious and suspenseful return with the fantasy crime caper Highfire. Squib, a teenage troublemaker from Louisiana, witnesses a murder committed by a malicious crooked cop, Regence Hooke. Desperately trying to escape through the bayou, Squib is hauled out of the swamp by a completely unexpected savior: a dragon. Last of the Highfire line of dragons, Vern spends his days in his lounge chair watching Netflix. With this act of charity, Squib, Vern and Hooke find themselves on a collision course that’s sure to end in fire. Central Louisiana has rarely been as vividly rendered as it is here, as Colfer gleefully piles on the mud and muck from the very first page. Highfire is funny, menacing and unlike anything else I’ve read recently.

The Unwilling

A sharp, simple concept launches a story of family and intrigue in The Unwilling  by Kelly Braffet. Judah, a girl with no noble blood, is linked with Gavin, the heir to the city of Highfall. No one can explain why, but when one of them feels anything, from pain to happiness, the other feels it, too. When Gavin’s marriage and court accession threatens Judah with exile, she must discover how to break the connection and be free at last. Braffet has a real gift for dialogue, and Judah’s quick cleverness is a constant joy. This is especially welcome in the story’s darker moments, which never shy away from examining the most painful ramifications of Judah and Gavin’s magical connection. Readers will fall in love with the contemplative pace, brisk dialogue and rebellious heroine of The Unwilling.


Chris Pickens is a Nashville-based fantasy and sci-fi superfan who loves channeling his enthusiasm into reviews of the best new books the genre has to offer.

The season's biggest SFF releases include an introduction to a compelling new fantasy world, a story of family and intrigue, and one very cranky dragon.


★ The Unspoken Name

Expansive and compelling, A.K. Larkwood’s The Unspoken Name has everything you’d want in a new fantasy…

Greek to Me by Mary Norris

Mary Norris is sort of my idol. A grammar virtuoso, with a storied career editing some of the greatest writers of the last 40 years, and she studied Greek? In college I minored in Koine Greek, an ancient language so systematic that translating a sentence often feels like solving an algebra problem. In fact, my love for the precision of Greek led me to my current occupation as an editor. Greek to Me: Adventures of the Comma Queen is so suited to my interests that reading it makes me physically giddy—but I assure you that people with fewer than 18 credit hours of Greek to their name will also find plenty to love here. Norris is a sharp-witted, word-perfect narrator, and her wells of knowledge are as deep as they are lyrical. Anybody with a reverence for words will bow down to this book.

—Christy, Associate Editor


The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch

I’m a simple woman with simple tastes, and if a book can be genuinely described as a “romp,” I’m probably going to like it. Scott Lynch’s debut novel is a romp set in a fantasy version of Venice populated by con artists, gangsters and a cranky priest/mentor named Father Chains, so I was contractually obligated to love it to pieces. Our titular hero, a snarky trickster who’s very bad with a sword but very good at swindling people out of their money, decides to continue his most ambitious con yet, even though the mysterious Gray King is killing off members of the criminal underworld. Irrepressibly funny even as it goes to some very dark places, Locke Lamora’s heart is pure gold, albeit a bit crooked.

—Savanna, Assistant Editor


Stag’s Leap by Sharon Olds

Throughout life, I have lost many things. Many of those things cannot come back, and many of those things have been people. Every time I return to this collection, I am susceptible to a sense of longing. Every loss becomes current again, even the things I’ve recovered: The one that got away is getting away, the neighborhood I left is leaving, the dead in my family are dying. In my own poetry, I am open to returning to any point in my life, even the most heartbreaking. I love longing and reading about longing. Sharon Olds’ obituary for her marriage brings about feelings I share and enjoy taking notice of. I have found an abundance in loss, and I think, more likely than not, it can unite and bring about something else, or someone else—that someone else possibly being a better me.

—Prince, Editorial Intern


The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater

I was 7 years old the first time I heard a pennywhistle. It was on a Chieftains cassette my mom played in the car. Something about that music—the plaintive whistle, the lumbering bagpipes, the sprightly fiddle, the pulsing bodhran—called to something deep in my bones. That same call sings in Maggie Stiefvater’s award-winning novel The Scorpio Races, a salt-soaked, wind-whipped ode to the way a fast horse at a flat-out gallop can feel like flight and freedom. The story is set on a small fictional island off the coast of Scotland you’ll be shocked not to find on a map. If you’ve ever experienced the bittersweet desire to visit a place that feels real but isn’t, the next boat for Thisby leaves on the first page of The Scorpio Races.

—Stephanie, Associate Editor


Virgil Wander by Leif Enger

I moved away from Minnesota when I was 11, so I can’t claim any ownership of its lakes and woods beyond my earliest memories. But almost better than those recollections is the Minnesota that lives in my imagination, and Leif Enger has contributed to that vision in no small way. Minnesota is a heavenly and forbidding landscape, this I know to be true, but I’ve never had a chance to understand the people who choose to live in such a cold place. Enger’s stories give me a little bit of that, and his third novel finds the members of a small town doing their best to cultivate some collective healing. The reader is looped in to their process through Virgil, who’s attempting to reclaim his life after a car crash. Like the kites flown over Lake Superior by an elderly character, the heart can’t help but lift.

—Cat, Deputy Editor


The Hold List features special reading lists compiled by BookPage staff—our personal favorites, old and new. 

When a book finds its ideal reader, it feels like the best kind of magic—as if the author has written a love letter straight to you. Though these books are loved by many, we accept them as the perfect gifts that they are.

My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante

What if we considered our lives as marked not by romantic entanglements but by the big friendships that nourish and thwart us? The first in Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan novels, My Brilliant Friend depicts the early lives of narrator Lenù and her best friend Lila, who come of age, dramatically, by the book’s end. Their impoverished Naples neighborhood is rife with violence: Early in the novel, Lila’s father throws her out a window, breaking her arm, and the girls routinely witness neighbors being beaten in the street by the local mafia. Both girls show promise in elementary school; while Lenù must study hard, Lila seems to excel without trying. Idolatrous as much as they are envious of each other, Lila and Lenù are cutthroat competitive, but they find that their friendship creates space for imagination, creativity and envisioning a future outside of their neighborhood. Until that space abruptly closes, and Lila sees that her future will be one of mere survival. Few narratives capture the euphoric, gutting fluctuations of friendship so specifically. Translated from Italian by Ann Goldstein, Lenù’s singular voice is propulsive and urgent. You will see yourself in both characters, and you will be drawn to the darkness. 

—Erica Ciccarone, Associate Editor


Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt

Growing up, I was utterly obsessed with the ocean, and I wanted to be a marine biologist. Unfortunately, I eventually learned that marine biology was more science and less dolphin whispering, but I still get excited when I come across a story that recognizes the magic of the marine world. The premise of Remarkably Bright Creatures immediately caught my eye: a giant Pacific octopus befriends an elderly woman and helps her solve the mystery of her son’s death. Tova, our protagonist, is gentle yet resilient, earning the adoration of Marcellus (the octopus) as she works the night shift cleaning his aquarium. Marcellus has an agenda of his own—yes, we get to hear the octopus’s thoughts—but he balances it with compassion for Tova and for the human race that humans, honestly, could learn from. The characters in this story are kind to each other, yet the goodness doesn’t feel contrived. Rather, Shelby Van Pelt has achieved a tale where there are no villains but the stakes are still high. Tova and Marcellus each have a heart as big as the deep blue sea, and their unique bond reminds us what we stand to gain from offering love, empathy and generosity to the remarkably bright creatures around us.

—Jessica Peng, Editorial Intern


First Test by Tamora Pierce

In First Test, Tamora Pierce takes readers back to the enchanting and beloved realm of Tortall, which was first introduced in her acclaimed young adult fantasy series, the Song of the Lioness. Although it has been 10 years since it was decreed legal for women to become knights, Keladry of Mindelan (Kel) is the first girl brave enough to openly train for knighthood. Facing extreme scrutiny, an unfair probationary year and a training master hellbent on her failure, it seems like Kel might never achieve her dream. Enter Nealean of Queenscove (Neal), who is also considered an oddity as the oldest of the first-year pages. Neal takes Kel under his wing and becomes one of her biggest champions in her uphill battle to prove that she’s just as good as the male pages. As they bond over being set apart due to their unusual circumstances, their friendship allows them to overcome every obstacle thrown their way, from hazing taken way too far to being thrown into the middle of a very real battle. Together, best friends Kel and Neal prove that they are exactly where they are meant to be.

—Meagan Vanderhill, Production


On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous is an unusual love letter—written by a son to his mother, even though she cannot read. As a child in Vietnam, her school was destroyed by American napalm. Her son, called Little Dog, grew up in Hartford, Connecticut, after she immigrated there with him, and became a writer. With this letter, he is putting into words the physical language of harm and care that forms their intricate bond. He describes the impact of her PTSD from living through the Vietnam War, combined with the isolation and vulnerability of being unable to speak English in Hartford: When he tells his mother he was attacked by bullies at school, her response is to hit him, then admonish him to use his English to protect himself, because she cannot. In a way, his journey into writing is an act of love towards her, the fulfillment of her wish, even as it takes him further and further from her. Vuong tells this story with arresting beauty and intensity, following Little Dog through world-shifting experiences with love, sex and loss into his adulthood as a published writer.

—Phoebe Farrell-Sherman, Associate Editor

Valentine’s Day draws our attention to romance, but these four tales of friendship, connection and the parent-child bond affirm that platonic love is just as beautiful and impactful as romantic love—if not more.

In the event of a zombie apocalypse, it would be wise to have a plan in place. Perhaps most importantly, who would be on your team? We’ve picked our preferred partners—magical powers are allowed, but no dragons, bears or mythical beasts!


Edmond Dantès from The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

I have long resigned myself to my own lack of apocalypse survival skills. I can’t run without getting winded. I don’t have combat skills. I can’t farm or dress wounds or build shelter or tools. In truth, I would be among the first to go—unless I aligned myself with someone wealthy and powerful. Edmond Dantès is the perfect choice: rich, scrappy and weirdly fixated on avenging himself against those who have wronged him. We could quite comfortably wait out the apocalypse from inside his château. And if that fails, the man owns his own island. Everybody knows zombies can’t swim, so a quick yacht ride to the Island of Monte Cristo would solve our little army-of-the-undead problem.

—Christy, Associate Editor


Sabriel from Sabriel by Garth Nix

Like many of my colleagues, my talents are perhaps better suited to rebuilding the world after the zombie apocalypse than surviving it in the first place. That’s why I need someone like Sabriel on my team, and not only because she possesses a bandoleer of seven magical bells with the power to send the dead back through the nine gates of death to their final rest, although I acknowledge that will come in handy. But Sabriel is also resourceful, adept at other forms of magic, brave and kind. As we make our way to a population-sparse area like—ha, as if I’d tell you my plans—I know she’ll leave me behind only if she absolutely has to, and if I get bitten, she’ll make my death swift and ensure I stay dead.

—Stephanie, Associate Editor


Frank Mackey from Faithful Place by Tana French

My biggest fear wouldn’t be zombies, as they are usually stupid. I’m more afraid of humans in a crisis, as they are, historically, the worst. And that’s why I want Irish undercover cop Frank Mackey on my team. First introduced in Tana French’s The Likeness, Frank becomes the central character in Faithful Place, which puts his ability to pursue multiple, sometimes conflicting objectives—while manipulating almost everyone around him—to the hardest test, as he has to do it to his own dysfunctional family. If he can do that and emerge (somewhat) in one piece, he’d easily survive the human chaos of an apocalypse. Frank is also funny as hell, so we’d have some laughs while trying not to die.

—Savanna, Associate Editor


Vasya from The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden

To give myself a real shot at living through this, I need a partner with knowledge of mythical and otherworldly situations, as well as the powers to match—and I need her to live in the middle of nowhere. In Katherine Arden’s debut novel, headstrong young Vasya is an heir to old magic and has the abilities to protect her family from dangers that are plucked straight out of folklore. She’s got a great attitude—which I’ll appreciate when I get upset about the situation—and she excels at riding horses and saving people, so we’ll get along great. We’ll treat the apocalypse like it’s a long winter night, hidden away so deeply in the wilderness of northern Russia that we might not even notice when the end of the world is over.

—Cat, Deputy Editor


Captain Woodrow F. Call from Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry

Genre-bending is prominent in today’s cultural landscape. From rock with hip-hop beats to Mexican-Korean fusion, the lines have dissolved. All of these hybrids make me think that a cowboy would feel right at home in the zombie apocalypse, and Captain Woodrow F. Call—brave, strong, levelheaded and loyal to the bone—is the paragon of cowboy-ness. Take, for example, when Call saves Newt, the youngest member of the Hat Creek Outfit, from a soldier harassing him. Call beats the man to a pulp until Gus McCrae has to lasso him off. The only explanation Call offers for this violent outburst: “I hate rude behavior in a man. I won’t tolerate it.” Just imagine what the man would do to a zombie!

—Eric, Editorial Intern

In the event of a zombie apocalypse, it would be wise to have a plan in place. Perhaps most importantly, who would be on your team?
Feature by

This spring, YA superstars Sarah J. Maas and Veronica Roth make their adult debuts.

Veronica Roth is best known for her intense, mega-bestselling Divergent trilogy, and Sarah J. Maas’ sweeping Throne of Glass and A Court of Thorns and Roses series have garnered her a massive following. With their new novels, the two YA authors fully cross over for the first time into fiction for adults. Both books sit squarely within the realm of science fiction and fantasy, but each represents a very different approach to the genre.

Maas’ House of Earth and Blood, the first book in her new Crescent City series, introduces half-Fae party girl Bryce Quinlan. After Bryce comes home to find her closest friends literally ripped limb-from-limb by a demon, she is left alone and devastated, her only solace that the perpetrator is behind bars. But two years later, a string of similar murders begins, and Bryce realizes that her friends’ killer was never caught. With the help of Hunt Athalar, a fallen angel and assassin enslaved to the city’s governor, Bryce must navigate the darker side of Crescent City to try to bring the killer to justice. 

Maas’ world is rich and sensuous, a dark urban fantasy with mythic overtones. Perfect for readers looking for both dramatic and romantic tension, it will make you hold your breath and leave your heart pounding.

Where House of Earth and Blood straddles the line between romance and mystery, Roth’s fantasy novel Chosen Ones takes a more traditional approach to the genre. The novel opens 10 years after the defeat of the Dark One, a mysterious and magical entity responsible for the deaths of thousands of people. The Chosen—the five teens responsible for the Dark One’s downfall—have grown up and moved on, creating lives that are as close to normal as they can get. 

But not everyone can move on. Sloane is plagued by PTSD and the feeling that she’ll never be anything more than one of the Chosen. But then the death of one of the Chosen forces the remaining four to reckon with a new terror: the idea that the Dark One might not be as vanquished as they once thought. 


ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: See what Veronica Roth has been reading.


Chosen Ones gives us a glimpse into a world after the heroes have won, and the result is stunning. Simultaneously heart-wrenching and heart-pounding, Roth’s latest will leave you gutted and wishing for just 10 more pages.

For readers who already love Roth or Maas, Chosen Ones and House of Earth and Blood will be automatic additions to their collections. For adult readers who have been hesitant to delve into the world of YA, both books serve as perfect introductions to their authors’ work. Take your chance now, and pick either (or both) as your next thrilling ride.

This spring, YA superstars Sarah J. Maas and Veronica Roth make their adult debuts.
Feature by

The two novels featured here represent speculative fiction escapism at its best—a gentle, magical love story and a story as refreshingly strange as it is affecting.

The House in the Cerulean Sea is the story of a rather round man named Linus Baker. Linus is used to rain and dour prospects. As a case worker for the Department in Charge of Magical Youth, he must perpetually deal with the inanity of a 1984-esque bureaucracy that decides the fate of orphanages for magical youth. But Linus’ bubble of depressed rule-following is popped when he is sent to investigate an island orphanage with potentially volatile charges and an eccentric orphanage master.

The book is also the story of a man named Arthur Parnassus. Arthur—the master of the orphanage in question—is a man whose trousers are perpetually too short but whose kindness and love for his charges is endless. As Linus goes deeper into his inquiry, both men begin to understand exactly what was missing in their lives.

The House in the Cerulean Sea is the book that I never knew I needed, but now that I have it, I could never bear to live without it. In its pages, TJ Klune shows us the worst bureaucracies and mundane cruelties of a fictionalized version of our own world. But he also shows us what we could be. Marsyas Island, with its enthusiastic magical children and eccentric caretaker, wouldn’t be out of place in an episode of “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood”—if Mr. Rogers tried to teach Lucifer moral philosophy, that is.

Simultaneously fluffy and heart-rending, The House in the Cerulean Sea is the perfect pick-me-up for anyone stuck inside or wishing for a peaceful day by the sea.

Where Klune’s work shows us a lighter world, Jeffrey Cranor and Joseph Fink’s latest installment in the world of Night Vale shows us a stranger one. Set in a slightly off-kilter world where dog parks can be gateways to other dimensions and where a Vague, Yet Menacing, Government Agency hovers in helicopters overhead, much of The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home is remarkably normal historical fiction. The Faceless Old Woman tells us her story in a series of flashbacks, recounting first an idyllic childhood on the Mediterranean and then a life of crime and revenge after the tragic murder of her father. The story culminates with her death and travel to the town of Night Vale, where today she secretly lives in everyone’s homes.

Between chapters telling of swashbuckling adventures, the Faceless Old Woman talks to one of her hosts, a man named Craig. And while those talks feel like just another of the woman’s monologues made famous in the “Night Vale” podcast, they are anything but. As the story progresses, we learn that the Old Woman’s past and present are—unfortunately, horrifyingly—linked.

For readers unfamiliar with the Night Vale universe, never fear. While there are callbacks for readers in the know, the book requires no knowledge of the podcast in order to enjoy. (That said, you may find yourself reaching for a pair of headphones as soon as the book is over.) For fans of the podcast and the other Night Vale novels, The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home likely feels long overdue. Equal parts running joke and legitimate character, the Faceless Old Woman’s history has been rarely alluded to, but here she—and her world—comes alive, tempting readers with sweet oranges, the smell of the sea and the bitter taste of betrayal. Although we know the Old Woman’s fate, we also know that something remarkable must have happened along the way.

The two novels featured here represent speculative fiction escapism at its best—a gentle, magical love story and a story as refreshingly strange as it is affecting.

Trending Science Fiction & Fantasy

Author Interviews

Recent Features