This is the year Julieta Villarreal will figure out how to escape from the climate disasters threatening her home, the broken friendships she’d rather leave behind, and the grief of losing her twin sister. So when the Cometa Initiative, a private space program, invites New American students to join a space mission, Juli sees a perfect way to restart her life. 

Gloria Muñoz’s This Is the Year is a story about transitions. Perhaps the biggest change for Juli is the loss of her twin, Ofe, in a hit-and-run accident, a loss that lingers over the story. Driven by Juli’s first-person narration—some of which is directly addressed to Ofe—and excerpts of her prose poetry, This Is the Year takes a creative approach to storytelling that allows readers to observe the shift in Juli’s emotions, thoughts and opinions as a teenager growing up. Finishing her senior year of high school means facing the very people, disasters and feelings she’s so afraid of, but when she does, Juli finds that maybe there are things at home worth holding on to.

The rest of the world in this book is also in transition—and it’s less than idyllic. Juli and the other characters must come to terms with the consequences of climate change and heightened socioeconomic inequality, especially as humanity looks to space as the new frontier. There is speculative local and global chaos in this book, yet the world also feels hauntingly familiar—perhaps a warning of what may be to come. However, while This Is the Year is unflinching in its portrayals of natural, social and economic disasters, it is also careful to demonstrate that healing is possible, whether it be in community, through individual effort or even within one’s own self.

Ultimately, This Is the Year is a story of hope, not destruction. Juli’s story asks readers to take an honest look at the world around them and ask: Where is my true place? What does it mean to keep dreaming here? And, as Juli must decide: How do we keep moving even when things don’t go according to plan?

Thirteen-year-old Kaya Song has long been excellent at compartmentalizing whenever something feels strange or scary: “I forced myself to shove the whole mess to the corner of my mind, where so much of my pain was boxed up and stored for another day.” 

It works, to some extent. The tween’s life in Lihiwai, Maui, is in many ways idyllic. She has caring friends; earns excellent grades; indulges in favorite pastimes like reading and drinking boba; and gets to work with friendly, cute Taiyo when she helps out at her parents’ Chinese restaurant.

Nonetheless, in debut author Gloria L. Huang’s fantastical, heartfelt coming-of-age tale Kaya of the Ocean, Kaya’s “anxiety [is] so severe that my skin was raw and red from washing and scratching, that my mind was always filled with worries and my heart filled with dread.” 

Fear of water is central to Kaya’s anxiety, exacerbated by the fact that Maui is, well, an island, and Kaya’s friends are avid surfers. As Kaya of the Ocean opens, they’ve convinced her to join them at a secret cove. She and Taiyo stick to “baby waves,” but a giant yellowfin tuna knocks Taiyo off his surfboard and Kaya must rescue him. Less traumatizing, but no less weird is when, at home, the water in a drinking glass seems to move toward her. What is going on?

Fortunately, Kaya’s aunt is visiting from New York City and may have answers. She’s researched their family history, which includes an ancient Chinese water goddess named Mazu. Could Kaya’s anxiety and water-based goings-on be something else altogether? 

Huang employs vivid flashbacks (to China in 1629 and 1949, and San Francisco in 1876) plus a cascade of present-day revelations as she unfurls the surprising truth about Kaya’s connection to Mazu. “I couldn’t help feeling optimistic that things could change. That I could change,” Kaya muses. Her gradual willingness to talk about her feelings, trust herself and believe she deserves the support she needs will resonate with readers on their own journey to self-confidence, magic-infused or otherwise.

Dania is in prison for a murder she did not commit. She spends every day plotting her escape and listing off the people responsible for her imprisonment: Vahid, the cruel emperor; Darbaran, the loathsome head of the palace guards; and Mazin, Vahid’s ward and Dania’s ex-lover. After a failed attempt to break out, Dania is surprised when Noor, a fellow prisoner, tunnels into her cell. When Noor reveals that she has a plan to escape, as well as a way to access hidden djinn magic, Dania sees a clear way to get her revenge.

A fantasy-fuelled retelling of The Count of Monte Cristo, For She Is Wrath takes the tension and mystery of Alexandre Dumas’ classic novel and transfers it to a lush, exuberant, Pakistan-inspired setting. Emily Varga’s narrative drops readers straight into the action from the very beginning: A prison escape, dark magic power and secret identities set up heart-pounding action that remains present throughout the entire tale.

But For She Is Wrath is not just about getting revenge. It’s also about how shaky the path to it can be. Dania’s growing desire for retribution is a force that not only drives her forward, but also compels her to look backward. As they work together to achieve revenge, Dania and Noor must come to terms with the price of vengeance—and decide whether that price is worth it. The book is not shy about the impact of Dania and Noor’s actions, asking them to sit with the repercussions of their schemes. Is violence ever warranted? Is it all right to harm others in the pursuit of justice?

This is a fresh story with bold heroines and a unique, vibrant setting. For She Is Wrath has the intrigue of The Count of Monte Cristo, but is ultimately sweeter, with wholesome characters and nuanced themes about justice, healing, and forgiveness. Readers, especially fans of Dumas, are sure to appreciate Varga’s multilayered twists and turns as Dania and Noor uncover world-altering truths about their imprisonments, their backgrounds and the empire in which they live, and learn what it is they truly stand for.

Carmela Tofana wants more than anything to join the women at La Tofana’s, an apothecary run by her mother Giulia in 17th-century Rome. On her 16th birthday, she’s finally allowed in the door, first as front-of-house help, sweeping the floors and greeting customers, then eventually earning the ability to work with the recipes and herbs themselves. It is not always pretty work, but it is important work, and Carmela loves it.

But when a woman comes in asking for her mother’s secret and powerful poison, Aqua Tofana, Carmela realizes quickly how dangerous their line of work can be. If the poison ends up in the wrong hands, Carmela’s whole world could come crumbling down. But when the women in her community need help, Giulia Tofana steps up—and Carmela is determined to do the same, no matter who calls her a witch.

Blood Water Paint author Joy McCullough returns with another historical young adult novel that blends prose and poetry, as Everything Is Poison imagines the life of the daughter of famous real-life poisoner Giulia Tofana. Chapters in prose following Carmela’s life alternate with short about the lives of people around Carmela: abusive husbands and struggling wives, lonely children and pained adults.

McCullough’s focus rests on relationships conventionally overlooked in history: those among found families, female friends, and groups of women shoved to the outskirts of society. The desperation and determination of all these women in Everything Is Poison draw from rich historical detail while creating obvious parallels to modern struggles. “That is the daily work we are here for. Giving women a choice over what happens in their bodies,” remarks Giulia to her daughter, and that fierce and quiet theme permeates the story.

Readers who enjoy historical fiction focused on the power of community will find much to love in Everything Is Poison. Fans of Ruta Sepetys and Stacey Lee should pick up this fiery, unflinching novel.