Argentinian author Samanta Schweblin’s English-language debut, Fever Dream, snares readers. It’s a page-turner of mounting dread, unfolding entirely through a conversation between a bedridden young woman and the boy who whispers in her ear.

Amanda lies dying in a hospital clinic in rural Argentina. Sitting next to her is David, a boy who asks her—urges her—to remember the events of whatever trauma rendered her terminally ill. At his behest, Amanda recalls meeting David’s mother, a nervous and elegant woman named Carla. Carla tells Amanda a strange story about a very young David, who drinks the same toxic water that kills Carla’s husband’s prized stallion. To spare her son’s life, Carla calls upon a local woman with medicinal and magical abilities. By splitting David’s soul with another child’s, she saves the boy.

But this is only the beginning. Why is Amanda in the hospital? And what has happened to Amanda’s own daughter, Nina? Time and again, Amanda references the “rescue distance,” the variable space between her and Nina, the distance between a mother and any worst-case scenario that may imperil her child. “I spend half the day calculating it,” Amanda says. As she recalls more and more details, Amanda begins to tell the story her own way, trying to make sense of what matters in these events and what does not—and decide which threats are inevitable or imagined.

With the urgency, attention to detail and threat of an abrupt ending that define short stories, the novel builds unease seamlessly through exceptionally well-paced dialogue. The sparseness of Schweblin’s prose, translated by Megan McDowell, anchors this strange conversation and keeps it from becoming disorienting. 

Minimalist yet complex, monochromatic yet textured, Fever Dream is a delicate and marvelously constructed tale, like a bundle of our darkest worries artfully arranged into our own likeness.

This article was originally published in the January 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook

BookPage Fiction Top Pick, January 2017

While much of the world watched the Gulf War play out from the safety of their homes, Derek B. Miller found himself smack-dab in the middle of the action as an American university student studying abroad in Israel in the early 1990s. Now, with The Girl in Green, the award-winning writer (Norwegian by Night) returns to the conflict in Iraq in a darkly comic thriller that lays bare the absurdities of war.

It’s 1991, and the Gulf War has officially ended, but Arwood Hobbes, an American solider, is stationed at a sleepy outpost 100 miles from the Kuwaiti border. He is approached by Thomas Benton, a British journalist keen to visit an off-limits town; reckless from boredom, Hobbes allows Benton to pass. The off-base excursion, however, ends in tragedy when both he and Hobbes are forced to watch the cold-blooded killing of a young girl dressed in green.

Flash-forward to 2013: In the midst of a different war taking place in Iraq, Benton receives a call from Hobbes. A girl with an uncanny resemblance to the teenager they watched die 22 years earlier has shown up in a viral video of a mortar attack, and Hobbes thinks she has survived. As impossible and ill-fated as this mission seems, neither man can pass up a second chance to atone for a failure that has haunted them for decades.

A modern masterpiece, The Girl in Green taps into the same satirical vein as Joseph Heller’s war classic, Catch-22, as the two mismatched protagonists set out on a quixotic quest for redemption. Miller, who wrote his Ph.D. dissertation on the Iraqi war and has worked for the United Nations in disarmament policy, is well qualified to explore the tangled political, bureaucratic, cultural and religious issues at play in the Middle East. His tongue-in-cheek candor brings much-needed levity to the proceedings, making the difficult subject matter relatable and engaging. Bursting with humanity and humor, The Girl in Green is heartbreaking and hopeful in equal measures, delivering nail-biting suspense while bringing readers into the heart of the conflict in Iraq.

RELATED CONTENT: Read our Q&A with Derek B. Miller.

This article was originally published in the January 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Just when you think you’ve got things straight, Christopher Brookmyre throws you another curveball in his newest book, Black Widow. Brookmyre builds layers of intrigue like a chef crafting a multilayer cake, with each layer providing another tantalizing clue or red herring to keep readers guessing. But no matter how diligently readers strive to piece everything together, it’s doubtful anyone will see the final twist before its reveal.

The “black widow” in the title is Dr. Diana Jager, a successful surgeon and outspoken critic of sexism in medicine on her blog. Her pulls-no-punches social media diatribes ultimately land her in hot water when a hacker reveals her true identity, bringing her career crashing down on her. Vulnerable for the first time in her life, she finds comfort in a young IT specialist, Peter. After a whirlwind romance, the pair marry and appear to resume a semblance of a normal life. Until Peter is killed in a car crash.

Brookmyre, who is a popular crime novelist in Scotland with 18 previous novels and multiple awards to show for it, brings his longtime investigative reporter Jack Parlabane into the mix when Peter’s sister, Lucy, implores him to find the truth behind Peter’s death. Specifically, she steers him toward Diana as a suspect, and before long the trail of clues and evidence seem to bear her out.

But, as with any Brookmyre novel, not everything is as simple as it appears. While the narrative takes on a decidedly slow build toward its multiple twist ending, Brookmyre keeps things interesting by mixing up his narrators from chapter to chapter. Part of the story is told directly through Diana’s eyes in a first-person narrative, while other chapters look over Jack’s shoulders. Still other chapters are seen through the eyes of the police, who are trying their best to make sense of what happened as well.

Not everything you read should be taken at face value, and there will be surprises in store, no matter who you believe.

Matthew is out of a job, down on his luck in Brooklyn and still grieving over his father’s disgraceful disappearance years ago. He feels sincere gratitude to his cousin and childhood friend, Charlie, for an invitation to spend the summer with him and his wife, Chloe, at their beautiful house in the mountains of New York State. There, he can try to get his life back in shape.

Sounds placid enough, doesn’t it? How can this seemingly innocuous scenario go so quickly and inexorably to hell in James Lasdun’s new psychological thriller, The Fall Guy? 

One reason, I think, is because the author is a poet first. Much like his peers James Dickey and Stephen Dobyns, Lasdun’s poetic talent has veered toward the genre of criminal suspense. All three poet-novelists have the natural capacity to wield words with uncanny and disorienting power, exposing the shocking capacity of ordinary human beings to act out their darkest fears and desires. Nicely complicating Lasdun’s case is the fact that he’s a Brit, but longtime resident of the United States, and therefore able to chart the complicated axis of two cultures separated by the same language. 

At the heart of this hypnotic narrative lies Matthew’s barely concealed passion for Chloe. What begins in Matthew’s mind as a strong feeling of connection with his cousin’s wife undergoes a monstrous transformation, in which all three individuals—the two cousins and the beloved woman between them—play a guilty role. Long-buried sins from their shared history now rise up with an inexorable vengeance. There is no moral lesson at work in the novel, only a ruthless unfolding of events, in which love is undone by selfishness.

The Fall Guy has the quality of a dream that follows its own terrible logic, impossible to break free from, never to be forgotten after you wake up.

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

Zoe Whittaker, the much-loved wife of a rich, handsome Wall Street guru, has a past at odds with her current situation. A name change and a coast-to-coast move to a new life put her unsavory past behind her—or did it? 

The Vanishing Year offers a brief flashback, showing Zoe at the worst time in her life. She’s in mourning after her adopted mother’s death, and to numb her pain, she turns to drugs and alcohol and consorts with the dregs of society, drug dealers and pimps. Once Zoe learns her suppliers are involved in human sex trafficking, she cleans up her act and turns state’s witness. After being starved and beaten by the thugs, Zoe flees California and begins a new life in New York City.

Now it seems that her past is infringing on her present. At first, Zoe blithely chalks up nearly being hit by a car as a quintessential New York City experience. But when her apartment is ransacked, Zoe starts to wonder if the incidents are connected and begins to fear for her life. The story is fraught with Rebecca-esque tropes, such as a disturbingly devoted housekeeper and a husband who worships Zoe, his new second wife, but tends to be suspicious of her actions.

Zoe enlists the help of a society-page reporter to uncover part of her past that she wants revealed, that of her birth mother. Since Zoe’s husband doesn’t support her search, she does her sleuthing without his knowledge, and he becomes even more suspicious of her behavior. Readers will wonder who is good, evil, or simply the victim of misguided thinking as they devour bestselling author Kate Moretti’s latest book, full of expertly placed screens and revelations.

In as little as 24 hours, your life can irrevocably change. Gilly Macmillan unflinchingly explores this reality in her second novel, The Perfect Girl. A year after publishing her bestselling, Edgar-nominated debut novel, What She Knew, Macmillan captivates readers with a story just as addictive as her first.

The titular “Perfect” girl is 17-year-old genius musician Zoe. Zoe and her mother, Maria, have been outcast from their former community after Zoe was found guilty of driving under the influence and killing three local teenagers, including her best friend. Maria has remarried into what is dubbed the “Second Chance Family,” which includes new husband Chris and his teenage son, Lucas, both oblivious to Zoe and Maria’s marred past. Their lives are intertwined with Sam, Zoe’s former lawyer; Tessa, Zoe’s aunt and Maria’s sister; and Richard, Tessa’s loving yet alcoholic husband.

The relationships in the “Second Chance Family” are fraught with secrets. Brooding Lucas is obviously carrying around the weight of his own past, while Maria maintains a precarious presentation of herself and Zoe to meet the expecations of suspiciously controlling Chris. When Maria is found dead, the thread holding everyone together unravels during the next 24 hours. Having already been institutionalized, Zoe fears she will become the prime suspect, but those closest to Maria and Zoe cannot be discounted as potential murderers.

Macmillan shines when exploring the intricacies of relationships, and the ties that bind this family are strained and complicated indeed. The story is told from the perspective of only three narrators: Zoe, Tessa and Sam. Yet through these lenses, we gain intimate insight into the other characters in whom we have become so invested. Macmillan adeptly demonstrates through her chosen method of storytelling that 24 hours can pass in what seems like a second—or a lifetime.

Macmillan has provided a follow-up novel possibly even better than her first, and fans of Tana French, Ruth Ware and Gillian Flynn will become completely entrenched in the unfolding details. 

Comparisons to Lee Child’s Jack Reacher are inevitable when considering many action thriller novels with larger-than-life heroes. But when Child himself makes note of it, you know the book at hand has got to be pretty damn good. Such is the case with Erik Storey’s debut novel, Nothing Short of Dying. In a prominent book cover blurb, Child says: “Reacher is keeping an eye on this guy.” And so should you.

The novel follows loner Clyde Barr—adventurer, soldier and most recently an unjustly imprisoned convict—as he attempts to blend into his Utah countryside and escape the burdens of humanity. But as fate would have it, he receives a desperate call for help from his estranged sister Jen and must drop everything to come to her aid.

With the help of plucky bartender Allie and some rather unsavory former associates, Clyde quickly tracks his sister’s whereabouts to a mountain hideaway in Colorado where she is being kept prisoner by a ruthless criminal. Clyde boldly mounts a rescue operation with his sidekicks, resulting in an explosive exchange of gunfire and fisticuffs. The rugged countryside lends itself well to the story, creating a bleak, rugged landscape for Clyde to play in, like a classic Western showdown.

Storey doesn’t pull any punches with his crisp, in-your-face dialogue and vivid action, and neither does his hero. Clyde’s sense of commitment to his sister is both emotional and inspirational as he confronts seemingly impossible odds. Jack Reacher would be proud.

If there’s anyone out there still lamenting the absence of Elmore Leonard’s “Justified” on TV, you can get your fix of small-town Kentucky criminals in Jesse Donaldson’s debut thriller, The More They Disappear. The novel starts with the shocking assassination of longtime Kentucky Sheriff Lew Mattock at his own re-election campaign barbecue and quickly escalates into a thrilling manhunt for his killer.

Chief Deputy Harlan Dupee steps up as acting sheriff to investigate the shooting, following a trail of dark secrets amid the townsfolk he only thought he knew. Along the way he discovers his former boss wasn’t as upstanding a lawman as he believed. At the root of everything is a prescription drug trade that has its hooks in everyone, from the town’s most innocent children to even its most prominent citizens.

Donaldson keeps the plot moving at a swift pace, adding more mystery and a growing list of suspects with each chapter. Thrown into the mix is whether Dupee should seek to run for election when Mattock’s own son, Lewis, also intends to win his father’s badge.

The novel works on a number of levels and should appeal to a broad swath of readers, whether you’re looking for an action-filled genre story or an introspective study of how addiction and poverty can lead to absolute corruption, lies, and shattered dreams. Dupee’s deeply moral sense of right and wrong and his doubts as to the effectiveness of the law add a layer of sophistication and rumination to an otherwise straightforward whodunit.

Donaldson writes with authority on the Kentucky hill country, as he was both born and raised in the bluegrass state. His writing has appeared in The Oxford American, Crazyhorse and other magazines.

Edie is in her 30s, lives alone, works as a waitress and is pregnant. Hers is an unremarkable life, except for the horrific secret she keeps buried in her past. Edie has all but erased that moment by cutting off contact with her mother, moving far from her sleepy hometown and, most importantly, not speaking with Heather—her best friend who was also involved—for 17 years. But when Edie suffers from severe postpartum depression, she becomes physically incapable of caring for the baby. When Heather unexpectedly appears at Edie’s side, offering to move in and help with little Maya, Edie knows that for the sake of her daughter, she cannot refuse. As she emerges from the haze of her depression, her fears return. What does Heather want, and why has she returned after all this time?

A teenage Heather narrates passages that take place before the incident, while Edie recounts chapters occurring in the present. As the narrative voices alternate, the reader’s loyalty to Edie waxes and wanes. Present-day Edie has lost some of her spark; she is more reserved than her teenage self, but is kind and intelligent. Her fear of Heather is absolute and visceral, and author Camilla Way adeptly transfers this paranoia to the page and the reader. But high school-aged Heather is also a sympathetic character. Awkward and anxious, her devotion to beautiful, confident Edie is understandable. Heather’s strangeness and unpopularity are skillfully written as pathetic yet relatable.

Way proves to be an expert at setting narrative traps, providing enough information for readers to make inferences and assumptions, but stealthily holding back the key elements as long as possible. While much psychological suspense has focused on spousal relationships, Watching Edie thoughtfully explores female friendships and betrayal. A compelling voice in suspense fiction, Way keeps readers guessing throughout this smart, taut psychological thriller.