Millie Price has her heart set on Broadway, so when her single dad tells her that he wants her to stay in New York for her senior year of high school rather than attending the prestigious musical theater pre-college she’s been accepted to in California, she feels her dreams slipping away. When she stumbles across her dad’s old college-era LiveJournal, however, she discovers the perfect solution. If Millie can find her mom, she’s convinced she’ll have an ally—but the LiveJournal entries mention three different women. As Millie sets out to find out which of her dad’s former flames is her mother, she realizes there’s someone else she needs to get to know: herself.

Emma Lord’s When You Get the Chance is an exuberant celebration of all things Broadway, complete with musical theater references on nearly every page. But this gender-bent Mamma Mia! retelling is also a touching exploration of what family really looks like, and a powerful reminder that sometimes everything we need is already right in front of us.

Millie describes herself as “a lot,” and she’s not wrong. With her meticulously styled looks and her “Millie Moods,” which she describes as feeling like “everything is just so much that . . . it’s going to spill out of me if I don’t find a place to put it,” Millie is an unapologetically loud character who is unafraid to take up space. Add in her deep-seated kindness and her single-minded pursuit of her goals, and Millie is a fun and easy protagonist to root for.

The book’s supporting characters come to life just as vividly, from Millie’s steadfast best friend, Teddy, and her drama club rival-turned-crush, Oliver, to her introverted dad and the outgoing aunt who helped him raise her, to each of her potential moms. This rich cast of characters creates an enviable found family that lifts one another up and shows Millie that there might be a better way to achieve her dreams.

Perfect for the “theater dweebs” to whom the book is dedicated, as well as any teen who’s ever felt somehow incomplete, When You Get the Chance is a joyful read that will have readers tapping their toes to the music in Millie’s heart.

Two profound events change teenager Hope Cassidy’s life. First, she catches her dad jamming out to classic rock ’n’ roll, an explicit violation of her mother’s strict religious code of conduct. In that moment, Hope is introduced not only to rock music but also to rebellion.

Second, Hope’s older sister, Faith, runs away from home. After their younger sister, Charity, hears that Faith has been locking lips with the cute girl who works at the record shop, she tells their mom, who decides to send Faith to a camp that practices so-called conversion therapy. Faith’s disappearance paralyzes Hope’s entire family. As weeks turn into months and eventually an entire year without Faith, their home becomes a pit of despair.

Hope, who describes herself as “born full of swear words,” spews rage as she rebels in her sister’s absence, while remaining hopeful that she might be able to find Faith. She gets a questionable tattoo from a questionable but cute boy, finds catharsis in a private karaoke room where she hones her Janis Joplinesque pipes, and most consequently, invites her longtime crush, Danny, to move in after he is kicked out of his house for revealing to his family that he is gay. When Danny discovers that Hope can sing, he talks her into forming a rock band.

Read our Q&A with Preston Norton.

And that’s just the beginning. Alt-Rite, a hate-fueled band fronted by Danny’s twin brother, is favored to win the annual battle of the bands, but not if Hope Cassidy and the Sundance Kids have anything to say about it. Hope discovers a lesbian sci-fi novella that has been going viral online but seems very familiar. And at home, Hope’s mom accepts Danny with open arms in an effort to relearn what it means to be a “good Christian.”

Preston Norton’s Hopepunk is perhaps the most foulmouthed, punk rock book to ever be written about religion and forgiveness. It’s stellar. Jampacked with plot and overflowing with characters who turn from hilarious to downhearted on a dime, it is a wonder that instead of seeming dense and manic, Hopepunk is instead clever and precise.

Norton pulls off several impressive hat tricks. He tells a layered and complex story about forgiveness and family. They also write a surprisingly emotional sci-fi romance story-within-a-story and original songs that you can practically hear through the page. Hope is emotional, funny and crass, like a wounded insult comic who, instead of landing punchlines, wails melodies to speak her truth. Norton surrounds her with a cast of diverse and interesting friends and allies who want to help her find Faith and her own voice.

Hopepunk is both a balm and a call to action. “Art means nothing without the people who experience it,” says one of Hope’s bandmates. When it comes to reading Hopepunk, oh, what an experience!

The true story of the final group of people who were forcibly brought to the United States and enslaved is rendered powerfully and poetically in African Town, a novel in verse by Irene Latham and Charles Waters.

The poets (co-authors of two previous books, Can I Touch Your Hair? and Dictionary for a Better World) offer a tangible and memorable way for readers to bear witness to the lives of the 110 Africans brought to the U.S. in 1860 by Captain William Foster aboard a ship called the Clotilda. They were pawns in a cruelly casual bet made by a wealthy Mobile, Alabama, landowner named Timothy Meaher. Meaher bet $1,000 that, despite a decadeslong ban on the importation of enslaved people, he could pay Foster to smuggle people into the U.S. without getting caught.

Throughout the book, the poets move between voices and poetic forms as they imagine the long and terrible journey. They embody the despair of a religious man named Kupollee down below (“We are inside a / terrible story. When will it end?”); the denial of Foster, above (“I can’t think of them as humans. I won’t.”); and the anguish of the Clotilda herself (“If I’d been built with a heart, it would be broken”).

Read our Q&A with Irene Latham and Charles Waters.

Among the 14 voices that narrate this history is Kossola, a young man eager to learn from his Yoruba elders at home and who, once in America, encourages fellow survivors to find home within each other. Teens Abilè̩ and Kêhounco forge a sisterhood that unites them in grief and love. And Meaher, well, he holds fast to his beliefs, repugnant as they are.

Readers will feel heartened to learn that, after the Civil War ended and the Clotilda survivors were freed, they worked together to create a community that was theirs alone, and that the African Town (now Africatown) of the book’s title still exists today in Alabama. In fact, Joycelyn M. Davis, an Africatown resident descended from Oluale, one of the survivors, wrote the book’s introduction.

Plentiful back matter includes a glossary, timeline and bibliography, news about Africatown’s present and future plans and more. A section called “Poetry Forms/Styles” offers fascinating insight into the authors’ creative process; their descriptions of the poetic forms employed in the book are little poems in and of themselves.

African Town is a book that should be both taught and treasured.

For the inhabitants of the frozen planet Tundar, survival is a daily struggle. Powerful corporations and crime syndicates rule through greed and fear, and everything from the weather to the wildlife can kill you in an instant. The only resource the desolate planet can offer the interstellar economy is exocarbon, a rare metal that can only be mined during Tundar’s annual sled race in which would-be miners drive teams of genetically engineered vonenwolves across hundreds of miles of deadly wilderness to reach the dig site first. With fame and fortune on the line, racers are just as likely to be killed by another team as they are by Tundar’s giant osak bears and blizzards.

Sena Korhosen knows this all too well: Five years ago, both of her mothers died in the race. Since then, Sena has sworn off all things race-related. When circumstances force her to rescue Iska, a wounded fighting wolf, and enter the competition she despises, Sena must use everything her mothers taught her and more in order to survive to the finish line.

Cold the Night, Fast the Wolves makes full use of its perilous setting. Debut author Meg Long spends a significant amount of time familiarizing readers with the culture and creatures of Tundar, as well as exploring Sena’s reluctance to race, which effectively builds a sense of danger and dread for the looming competition. While some readers might find such methodical world building a little slow out of the gate, particularly for a story about racing, the novel’s third act will reward patient readers with all the brutal, fast-paced survival action they could ever want.

Sena’s grief over the loss of her mothers and her deepening connection with Iska form a quiet emotional counterpoint to the novel’s harsh setting. Sena’s memories of her mothers are a source of pain, love, protection and strength, all of which she finds mirrored in the wounded wolf she’s tasked with healing. Whether Iska is helping Sena cross a frozen wasteland or melting her frozen heart, the bond between girl and wolf is lovely and touching. Readers will root for them as they’re swept along on their wild ride.

Cas, the younger lord of the Oliveran fortress city of Palmerin, is no stranger to death. Mysteriously abducted near the Oliveran border in the midst of war with the neighboring kingdom of Brisas, he watched from afar for three long years as thousands fell to brutal violence and thousands more to a pestilence that ravaged the land. The plague’s only mercy is that it allowed Cas to escape his cruel captors. All Cas wants now is to return home, reunite with his older brother, Ventillas, and make up for the years he’s lost—but death still stalks the younger lord of Palmerin.

When he finally arrives in Palmerin, Cas—who was presumed dead—is met with chaos. A slippery assassin threatens the lives of the Oliveran royal family, who have fled the plague-ridden capital and taken up residence in the Palmerin Keep. As he enlists the help of Lena, a court historian and half-sister to the king, Cas realizes that the only path to tranquility will be to find the would-be killer. 

Makiia Lucier’s fourth novel, Year of the Reaper, is a fast-paced, fantastical mystery that’s rife with courtly intrigue and twisty secrets and rooted in nuanced depictions of personal and societal trauma. As Cas and Lena work together to identify the assassin, a wellspring of secrets begins to burble forth, engendering mistrust among the characters and threatening to break the tenuous peace between kingdoms. Lucier’s nimble plotting creates an ever-widening spiral of doubt that drives the story irresistibly forward. 

Set in a fictional land inspired by Spain in the late Middle Ages, the novel resists getting bogged down in overly expository world building, which can easily become dry. Instead, Lucier spends time refining small details such as local delicacies, colorful textiles and scents that give dimension to the kingdom of Oliveras and enrich the plot. War and plague have left deep scars, but the people of Oliveras are lively and engaging despite the terrible things they’ve endured. 

Lucier is particularly adept at portraying relationships. Cas and Ventillas’ brotherhood is complex; love and trust are foundational to the pair’s conversations, but resentment and suspicion seep in slowly through invisible cracks. Similarly, Cas and Lena’s budding romance is believable because of their genuine friendship, which Lucier develops through harrowing adventures and intimate, convincing dialogue.

Year of the Reaper is quick to enthrall, with enough of an echo of the COVID-19 pandemic to be frightening. Seasoned fantasy readers will be beguiled by its unusual setting and Lucier’s graceful sidestepping of cliches common to the genre. Though its conclusion leaves some threads untied and may not satisfy readers who prefer to have all their questions answered by the end of a book, Year of the Reaper is an emotionally immersive and consistently compelling read.

What if the events in the fairy tales you heard as a child didn’t really happen that way at all? This is the question posed by Martha Brockenbrough’s Into the Bloodred Woods , a savage spin on happily ever after. 

The novel takes place in a mythical kingdom ruled by a king, his gold-spinning queen and their twin children, Ursula and Albrecht. Ursula, a serious and thoughtful princess, can transform into a bear, which gives her tremendous physical strength. She dreams of the day that she will become queen and can free other shape-shifters from the oppressive rules that limit their freedom. Cruel Albrecht fancies himself an inventor, but his horrifying creations often involve unwilling test subjects. When the king dies, his kingdom is divided between the twins until Albrecht invades Ursula’s half, usurping his sister’s land. To save her people and protect herself, Ursula must destroy her brother or die trying.

Brockenbrough offers a thoroughly feminist novel that reimagines many well-known fairy tales. In her versions, Little Red Riding Hood falls in love with the wolf, while Hansel and Gretel are kidnapped by Albrecht and forced into servitude. Rumpelstiltskin, Cinderella and the Pied Piper are also referenced, but Brockenbrough reconfigures their stories so that they’re far less Disney and far more Grimm.

Toward the end of the novel, a character muses, “Why was it a crime to be more than one thing? Why could people not be exactly who they chose to be in the world? Who was harmed when people lived their own truths?” It’s a striking moment that will resonate with teens who have asked themselves similar questions about their own world. As potent an allegory as the fantastical stories upon which it draws, Into the Bloodred Woods reminds readers of the power such stories hold—and of their own power to rewrite them.

Claudie Durand is 18 years old and knows that she will never marry. She will be useful and dependable, but nothing more. Her father decided this when Claudie was young, after her mother abandoned their family to join a religious order. Claudie’s beautiful younger sister, Mathilde, will marry and begin her own life, while Claudie will take over running the family inn. But when the French Revolution finally reaches the northwestern region of Brittany and the revolutionary army destroys Claudie’s village, both Claudie’s and Mathilde’s plans for the future disappear in the smoke.

The two sisters, the sole survivors of their village, are thrust into the resistance efforts of a group called the Legion. Together, Claudie and Mathilde make their way toward the Breton capital of Rennes and then to England, joining forces along the way with a resistance leader known only as the Rooster of Rennes. Claudie’s intelligence and capability propels them forward, and as she grows closer to the cause—and to the Rooster himself—Claudie finally begins to recognize her worth.

In The Diamond Keeper, Jeannie Mobley (The Jewel Thief) thrusts readers into the midst of the French Revolution, vividly illustrating the horrors of war. Claudie is an appealing protagonist who brings historical events to life for readers as they follow her journey from France to England and her transformation from indifference and insecurity to passion and confidence. Claudie’s romance with the Rooster of Rennes is endearing, if a bit predictable, and it’s enjoyable to see Claudie discover her own strength as she repeatedly saves the day, not to mention the Rooster’s life.

More poignant is the evolution of Claudie’s relationship with Mathilde. Claudie has served as a maternal figure for Mathilde since both girls were very young. Mathilde, it seems, recognized Claudie’s potential long before Claudie ever did, and as Claudie’s emotions toward Mathilde shift from resentment and envy to respect and even admiration, readers will be moved by the new and more mature bond of sisterhood that forms between them.

The backdrop of the French Revolution will pique the interest of young history buffs, and Claudie’s leadership will make the book a hit with readers who’ve questioned their self-worth, their purpose or their path.

On the rocky cliffs near their cottage in the Scottish Highlands, Rowenna witnesses her mother Mairead’s death at the hands of a gruesome sea creature. Afterward, she mourns not only the loss of her mother but also her only chance to learn how to master and control the magical craft they share. But the morning after Rowenna rescues a stranger named Gawen from a storm, Mairead miraculously returns, rosy-cheeked and claiming to have rejected her craft entirely.

Although her grasp of the craft is merely rudimentary, Rowenna can tell that whatever has come back from the sea is not her mother; it’s not even human. The monster steals Rowenna’s voice and curses her brothers and Gawen, transforming them into swans. To break the curse, Rowenna sets off for the city of Inverness, where she’s heard of a wise woman who might be able to help her before the monster’s curse becomes permanent and her whole village succumbs to its malevolence.

Laura E. Weymouth’s A Rush of Wings is an immersive retelling of Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale “The Wild Swans.” Weymouth’s writing is rich with sensory details, lush descriptions and prose that often feels like poetry. She creates a beautiful world that straddles the line between the real and the unreal. Here, the sea teems with otherworldly creatures, the wind speaks to women, and magic seems truly possible. Although Weymouth’s story has plenty of high stakes and horrifying villains, she tells it in an unhurried, intimate way, balancing heart-pumping battles with hushed, hopeful conversations.

Rowenna is an unusual fairy-tale hero who is curious about the limits of her abilities yet hesitates to use their full potential when doing so would harm others. She recognizes that her lack of control makes her weak but also fears what could happen should she become more powerful. Some characters believe her to be naive, while others accuse her of deceit, but Rowenna recognizes the complicated, contradictory aspects of her own identity and longs to bring them into balance.

It’s easy to lose track of time while reading A Rush of Wings. It’s a mesmerizing story with wonderful ambiance that asks readers to question their preconceived notions of heroes and villains. Readers looking for something both fresh and familiar are sure to enjoy this powerful retelling.