Eric Jerome Dickey doesn’t write about the nicest people in the world, but who would you rather read about Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm or Gideon, Dickey’s not-quite-cold-blooded hitman and the protagonist of his latest noirish novel? In Sleeping with Strangers, first in a two-part series, we meet Gideon on a plane to Europe. He’s between hits, but mostly between two women, the endlessly grieving Mrs. Jones and Lola Mack, a chatterbox of an actress/masseuse. As befits a noir anti-hero, Gideon has an attitude toward women that’s not as enlightened as it might be, which doesn’t stop him from getting entangled with both of them (to what end we will no doubt see in part two, Waking With Enemies, to be published in August). Once in London he reconnects with Arizona, a con artist who’s still smarting from their thwarted romance and who shows herself to be so mean that her own sister puts a contract on her. Along with the murders for hire, Gideon has also come to Europe for a reckoning with Thelma, a prostitute who did him very very wrong a long time ago. What is revealed at their meeting in London’s red light district is so shocking that if you saw it coming, you’re as much of a genius as Dickey.

Dickey, aside from being a fine writer his strengths here are pacing and plot and his descriptions of a perpetually cold and rainy London has a disturbing knowledge of the world of professional assassins, including the many ways it’s possible to dispatch a human being. The way Gideon kills one of his victims is so inventive that the reader feels a tug of admiration. But Gideon isn’t a monster; this particular hit was nearly a friend, and his death fills Gideon with something like remorse for a few minutes. He takes care of Lola when her dreams of life in London don’t pan out, and his instinct is to genuinely comfort Mrs. Jones, whose marriage is breaking up. Dickey once again displays his rare gift of keeping readers engaged with unsavory folk. Sleeping with Strangers is a true page-turner you won’t be able to wait for the conclusion.

Arlene McKanic writes from Jamaica, New York.

When Sydney married Laurus in 1940, she learned to cook “frikadeller and buttermilk soup and cauliflower in shrimp and dill sauce, recipes sent by Laurus’ mother” from Denmark. They had a ground-floor apartment in the Village with a tiny shade garden off the kitchen. After a lifetime of edgy living with her spectacularly self-centered mother, Sydney was finally learning “what it feels like to have a happy family.” Unfortunately, the world intervened.

While Sydney honed her domestic skills, Laurus, a concert pianist, “never ceased to be a man whose homeland had been invaded.” The contrast between the two world outlooks shapes the remainder of this unforgettable book, as Laurus leaves Sydney behind to tend their home and have their baby, while he joins the support system for the Danish resistance.

As few novelists could, Beth Gutcheon, author of six other outstanding books, juggles the incredible, little-known story of Denmark’s citizens’ rescue of almost 7,000 Jewish compatriots with the story of wartime America. Laurus’ family, especially his sister Nina, imprisoned at Ravensbruck, endure horrors the Americans cannot be expected to understand, and everyone is changed forever by the experience.

Gutcheon’s occasional dry, even deadpan, humor lightens the atmosphere (about a mother’s public display of devotion to her retarded child: “there are worse things . . . than to have a child trapped in childhood, as long as the trap is sprung after continence has been achieved and before the onset of adolescent rebellion.”) What’s more, her skill reaches beyond the juxtaposition of worlds, into the purely personal territory of Sydney becoming her mother, and kindly Laurus coming to terms with the results.

Gutcheon sees the human condition clearly and records it with compassionate understanding. Ugly as some of the scenes of Nazi occupation are, Leeway Cottage (named for the family’s summer retreat in Maine) is a gentle, even tender book. Every reader will be the wiser for it. Maude McDaniel writes from Maryland.

In the world of knitting, there is a category of projects known as UFOs: Unfinished Objects. Everybody has them the knitting that is hidden away because it was too hard, too boring or too ugly to finish. First-time author Anne Bartlett, clearly a knitter, knows all about UFOs, and in this crisp, slim novel she introduces us to two women whose unresolved business of life threatens to overwhelm them.

Sandra and Martha meet on a city street where they both stop to help a fallen man. In this chance encounter, the two women begin a relationship that Bartlett renders in a totally unsentimental way. They could not be more different: Sandra is a buttoned-up academic, grief-stricken and furious at the recent death of her husband. Martha looks for all the world like a frumpy, wandering bag lady. After a few timid meetings, Sandra discovers that Martha is a ferocious, brilliant knitter, so she asks Martha to help her knit a group of vintage patterns for a textile exhibit she is mounting.

It is not easy to write about knitting without slipping into mawkishness. What is most admirable about this novel is the way Bartlett refuses to let Sandra and Martha become instant bosom buddies simply because they both love textiles. The fragility of their relationship it can’t really be called a friendship is plausible because it isn’t perfect. That texture, that imperfection, is what makes Bartlett’s novel so compelling. Knitting is for anyone who has enjoyed Carol Shields or the brittle Anita Brookner. There is a lot in this book for anyone who ponders the big questions of life: the nature of friendship, the need for meaningful work, the comfort of sharing grief. But let’s face it any knitter will be turning the pages for the true drama of this book: what is the elaborate white project Martha keeps working on? Will it become a UFO, too? Ann Shayne writes about knitting with her friend Kay Gardiner at www.masondixonknitting.com. Their book, Mason-Dixon Knitting, will be published next spring.

Florida author Kristy Kiernan’s stunning debut explores the lives of two sisters who were very close as children but drifted apart as they moved into adulthood. Estella and Connie Sykes grew up in a beachside home on an island off the Gulf Coast of Florida. When Estella was a preteen, her father discovered that she had extraordinary ability in mathematics, and she was labeled a genius. At the age of 12, Estella enrolled in college, and the close bond that she and Connie shared gradually eroded. Estella became known as the smart sister, and Connie relied on her beauty to garner attention.

Years later, both women are in their 40s, living disparate lives. Estella is an Atlanta math teacher, and Connie lives in Florida with her husband, Luke, and two sons, Gib and Carson. When their mother asks them to help close up the island home, asserting that she wishes to sell it, the two estranged sisters are reunited for the first time in years. As Estella and Connie travel together to their childhood home, they struggle with the uncomfortable silences between them. But once in Florida, both sisters see the beauty of the island, even as they recall the difficult moments of their youth. In a remarkably poetic chain of events, Estella and Connie share with one another secrets about their present-day lives even as they reveal hidden truths about their pasts, and the guilt and misunderstandings that have divided them. Connie and Estella’s poignant journey back toward the friendship of their youth will resonate with readers. Catching Genius is simply mesmerizing, not only because it expertly captures the unbreakable bond between sisters. The novel also explores the many facets of very real characters, breathing life into the seamlessly plotted storyline. This author’s first novel is a must-read for women’s fiction fans of all ages.

Sheri Melnick writes from Enola, Pennsylvania.

Author Jacquelyn Mitchard offers an intriguing study of a quintessential American family in her latest novel, The Breakdown Lane. Julianne Gillis, upper-crust daughter of a famed New York author, works as an advice columnist for the Sheboygan, Wisconsin, newspaper. She and her husband Leo Steiner, an attorney, are the parents of teenagers Gabe and Caro and toddler Rory. Julianne is happy with her life, until her husband’s midlife crisis strikes. As Leo embraces all things organic and eschews materialism, he imposes his values on his family. Much to the dismay of his children, Leo insists that they forgo modern-day electronics, limiting television and computer use. The real clincher is even harder to bear Leo decides to take a sabbatical not only from his job, but from his family, as he searches for his true sense of self at an upstate New York hippie commune.

While the departure of a spouse often results in irreparable harm to the fractured family, Leo’s abandonment is especially damaging, as Julianne is diagnosed with MS shortly after he disappears. Single parenthood is difficult enough, but Julianne must tame her rebellious teens and care for young Rory while struggling with MS and the side effects of the potent medications used to control it. Much of the novel is narrated by Gabe, delving into his innermost thoughts as he copes with anger at his father’s abandonment and his mother’s debilitating illness. On the cusp of manhood, Gabe details his romance with a young visiting Thai student and his battle with a learning disability. Julianne takes a turn as well, complete with clips of her column chronicling her advice to the lovelorn. Interestingly, her own life is a study of disillusion with the institution of marriage and family bonding. Mitchard smoothly moves the story forward, emphasizing the complexities underlying familial relationships in this thought-provoking, introspective novel. Sheri Melnick writes from Enola, Pennsylvania.

Blonde, blue-eyed Dana Clarke seemingly has it all: Hugh, the handsome, rich attorney husband who adores her; a baby girl due any minute; a loving grandmother who raised her; and the warm support of many friends at her grandmother’s knitting shop.

The only clouds in Dana’s picture-perfect life are her in-laws. The Clarkes are an old, illustrious New England family who can trace their lineage back to the Mayflower. Dana’s father-in-law is a well-respected author who has written best-selling books on the Clarke family history. Not only is Dana not a blue-blooded New Englander, she doesn’t even know much about her father and this is not the heritage the Clarkes envisioned for their grandchildren.

When Dana’s adorable daughter Lizzie is born with obvious African-American features, her world is shattered. The uptight in-laws are horrified; her husband becomes distant and tentative to both Dana and Lizzie, and people jump to the conclusion that Dana had an affair with her African-American neighbor, who is Hugh’s best friend.

The gamut of reactions to Lizzie’s appearance may be uncomfortable to read at times, in particular self-proclaimed liberal Hugh’s uncertainty, but it seems realistic. And while Dana’s placidity and years of little interest in her family history is unusual, she remains a compelling and likeable character.

Loyal readers who have followed Barbara Delinsky’s writing for many years, from romance novels to women’s fiction, will not be surprised at the depth of characterization in Family Tree. Delinsky’s latest is well suited for fans of the serious themed books of Jodi Picoult, Anita Shreve and Jacquelyn Mitchard. In fact, Family Tree includes a Reading Group Companion for book clubs.

Full of complex and fascinating family dynamics as its characters are forced to come to terms with issues such as faith, race and loyalty, Family Tree is thought-provoking and memorable. After 26 years of publishing and 19 New York Times bestsellers, Delinsky will be discovered by a new generation of readers. Dedra Anderson writes from Highlands Ranch, Colorado.

Betta Nolan stops running when she reaches Stewart, Illinois. Actually, she has been driving for days, fleeing Boston after her husband dies of liver cancer, in search of their shared dream of making a new life in some unknown little town. To explore other ways of living, to leave behind his psychiatry practice and her career of writing children’s books, and find something altogether different to do has now become her private duty. Single-mindedly, she seeks to carry out his last wish: for her even in sorrow especially in sorrow to find joy. It’s a tall order. Stewart turns out to be just right for the project, but Betta threatens to founder until she reconnects with three old college friends with whom she had lost contact during her marriage. Along with new local friends, including the young boy next door and his struggling single mother, they help to reconnect her to all the small blessings that life can offer. (See her celebration of small-town alleys early on in the book for a delightful example.) Elizabeth Berg has written 12 previous novels, including several bestsellers and an Oprah’s Book Club selection (Open House). Reminiscent of Anne Tyler, she deals with middle-class realities and works toward hopeful rather than happy endings. Bulging with insights ( so much of grieving was holding things at bay ), and savory with clear-sighted humor ( sometimes sorrow was a complex form of aggravation ), The Year of Pleasures is perhaps improbably sunny for our time. The modern reader’s cynicism drops its guard only gradually, but the rewards are worth the vulnerability. Maude McDaniel writes from Maryland.

Consider yourself warned. Me ∧ Emma, the second novel by former Time and People writer Elizabeth Flock, is a tour de force in the telling. But it can be painful to read. This much you might guess from the opening line: “The first time Richard hit me, I saw stars in front of my eyes just like they do in cartoons.” The “me” of the title is Caroline Parker, the novel’s eight-year-old narrator, and Emma is her younger sister and only ally in the brutal Parker household, headed by their violent loser of a stepdaddy, Richard. After Caroline and Emma’s father was killed in a robbery, their mother a woman of dubious maternal skills to begin with emerged from the shock apparently having decided to accept the first dismal suitor to appear at her door. She couldn’t have done any worse than Richard. Mean, drunk and unemployed, Richard moves in and takes to beating his new wife and stepdaughters for sport, among other, more creative acts of cruelty. But Emma and Caroline’s mother stands out as uniquely awful in her own right she not only fails to protect her daughters, she appears indifferent. When Richard chains the girls up like dogs as punishment for running away, her response is chilling: “Don’t fight him,’ she whispers, easing her fingers into the links to pull a gap between the chain and my neck. Why you gotta sass all the time? You just bricks weighing me deeper into the river.’ ” Meanwhile, there are people in their small town of Toast, North Carolina including the shop owner who gives the girls refuge in an after-school job who suspect the worst but fail to intervene.

The novel is buoyed above the gloom, though, by the fresh and even witty perspective of its heroine, who seems to sense that Richard is a broken man and time is on her side. But Caroline is also an unreliable narrator, infusing an element of mystery that sets Me ∧ Emma apart in a way that can’t be explained without giving away too much of the plot. Suffice it to say, it’s worth discovering. Rosalind S. Fournier writes from Birmingham, Alabama.

A young, hungry assistant pays her dues while working for a near-impossible boss with a psychotic streak. Sound familiar? Yes, the easiest way to summarize Debra Ginsberg’s Blind Submission would be to call it The Devil Wears Prada set in the book publishing world, but this debut novel’s sharp writing and intriguing mystery elements turn what could be the same old story into something fresh and new.

Angel Robinson is completely happy living and breathing books in her job at an independent San Francisco bookstore. Then, slow business forces the store to close, leaving Angel unemployed. Encouraged by her novelist boyfriend, Angel successfully applies to be the new assistant to powerhouse literary agent Lucy Fiamma.

Angel quickly finds herself both fascinated with and overwhelmed by this new world. Lucy compliments Angel when she rescues a sexy Italian memoirist’s manuscript from the slush pile, but she also leaves impossible to-do lists and creates an atmosphere of instability with her fickle ways. And there’s the added drama of an anonymous writer submitting chapters of a novel one at a time. Angel is intrigued by this nameless scribe’s work, until the tale starts to eerily resemble Angel’s own life. Is someone spying on her? Her boss, her boyfriend and her co-workers all become suspects as Angel attempts to learn the identity of this mysterious writer.

The shell of the story is hardly novel (is the potential pay-off of a demanding entry-level job worth the sacrifice to sanity and relationships?), but the suspenseful who-wrote-it sets the novel apart from other so-called assistant lit Angel has bigger problems than fetching a complicated Starbucks order. Memoirist Ginsberg (Waiting, Raising Blaze and About My Sisters) clearly knows the ins-and-outs of the publishing world, and Blind Submission offers an engaging look at the backstabbing that takes place behind the books. Iris Blasi is a writer in New York City.

Readers of Connie May Fowler’s earlier novels, including Before Women Had Wings, will recognize some familiar elements in this, her fifth: her unique blend of lyrical prose and mysticism, musings on the power of love and the devastation caused by its loss, and a deft portrayal of the resilient bonds of friendship.

In a manner reminiscent of Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones, the opening scene of Fowler’s latest depicts the death of the protagonist 35-year-old Murmur Lee, who drowns under mysterious circumstances in a north Florida river. The narrative is then taken up by the friends Murmur left behind as they try to adjust to life without her. Fowler has crafted a memorable cast of these secondary characters, and through their eyes the reader comes to know Murmur herself. Her best friend from childhood is Charlee Mudd, who returns from Harvard Divinity School and a broken engagement for Murmur’s funeral, and ends up staying. Others in their group of “buddies” include Dr. Zach, who lost his wife to cancer and now feels somehow responsible for Murmur’s death; Edith, a transsexual former Marine still fighting visions of Vietnam; Lucinda, a local artist and yoga teacher; Hazel, the bartender at Murmur’s bar; and Billy, Murmur’s boyfriend, who was on the boat with her on New Year’s Eve 2001, the night she died.

In chapters alternating with those in her friends’ voices, Murmur recalls scenes from her past, including the death of her seven-year-old daughter from leukemia. She is also able to see things she never knew on earth, such as the fact she was the product of her mother’s rape at last an explanation for her father’s lifelong indifference to her. Halfway through the novel, the central question becomes clear: was Murmur’s death accidental, a suicide or something else? The truth, perhaps slightly contrived, does come out in the end. With an engaging cast and a lush Florida setting, Fowler’s latest novel offers poignant reflections on what keeps us together, even after the separation of death. Deborah Donovan writes from Cincinnati and La Veta, Colorado.