Jamie is a typical 17-year-old girl, except for the fact that she’s been kicked out of her home for refusing to join a cult. To make matters worse, she is the one who introduced her father to the cult in the first place. She was so taken with Josh, the son of one of the Church of the Right and the Real’s disciples and the most good-looking guy in school, that she ignored the signs that something isn’t quite right about the church.

Jamie struggles to find a place to live, get a job and stay in school. In the midst of all this, she maintains her relationship with Josh and tries to figure out a way to reconnect with her dad. Readers will wonder, “Would I be so strong in such a difficult situation?” However, they may also grow frustrated with Jamie as she succumbs to Josh’s dubious charms and neglects to seek help from the most likely sources.

Finally, in her new co-worker Trent, Jamie finds a true friend and confidant—not to mention a great guy who thinks she’s truly amazing. Even as Jamie starts to get her life back on track, she finds that her dad really needs her help, and she has to decide how to move forward (and whether or not she’s ready to forgive him for abandoning her in the first place). The climax of The Right and the Real will leave readers thrilled, satisfied and eager for more from novelist Joëlle Anthony.

Emily Booth Masters reviews from Nashville, Tennessee.

In The Wicked and the Just, debut novelist J. Anderson Coats intimately introduces readers to an aspect of British history they may not know. American readers, in particular, are often used to thinking of the country we now know as the United Kingdom as exactly that: united. In fact, England, Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales have their own histories of conflicts, stresses and strife.

Coats humanizes one of these conflicts—in the late 13th century—through the characters of two young women. Cecily is English, dragged with her father to Wales, where English lords have been enlisted to help manage the recent colonization of these fiercely independent people. Cecily’s predisposition to think of the Welsh people as babbling barbarians is heightened by her own loneliness. Up until the English King Edward took over Welsh rule, Cecily’s Welsh maid, Gwenhwyfar, would have been the one to live in the house rather than serve in it. Now, though, she and her family are barely staying alive, made invisible by the fortified wall that keeps the impoverished and angry Welshmen outside the city and further burdened by the policies that tax them heavily.

Coats’ thoroughly researched novel is vivid in its descriptions of everyday life in this medieval village town. It is also complex in its characterizations, as both Cecily and Gwenhwyfar—in addition to being headstrong and independent—are short-sighted, prejudiced and inclined to see the worst in others, especially each other. As the two girls come to an uneasy understanding, Cecily gradually realizes that her actions can have unintended consequences, and Gwenhwyfar comes to understand that her people may not be as powerless as she once thought. The Wicked and the Just is the best kind of historical fiction—one that couches still-relevant ideas and ideals in the vividly realized world of the past.

About to start her senior year, Janelle Tenner has always felt most at home in the water. As she’s on her way home from her lifeguarding job, a truck comes out of nowhere, slams into her car and leaves her with dazzling visions—including one in which she’s drowning.

This dissonant vision becomes the first in many disruptions to her ordinary world. Her rescuer, a boy from her school whom she’s never before noticed, has seemingly brought her back from the dead. Her father, an FBI agent, begins to investigate her accident, which may be linked to a bizarre unsolved case from his past. In the meantime, Janelle finds herself less attracted to her boyfriend Nick and more interested in her strange savior, Ben. While dodging dates with Nick, Janelle joins forces with her best friend Alex to begin an investigation of their own. As they research what may be a case of radiation poisoning, they come upon Janelle’s father’s old notes, a crime scene with horrifically maimed bodies and, most disturbingly, an ongoing countdown with no explanation. While Janelle’s daily life goes on—including debating literature in English class and trying to shield her younger brother from their bipolar mother—the countdown continues to tick.

The suspense in Unraveling is palpable, and the ever-decreasing numbers that begin each chapter add to the story’s sense of urgency. When Janelle discovers the truth about Ben, the countdown, the bodies, her visions and her father’s work, readers will feel as though they, too, have been hit by a truck—but in a good way. Fans of science fiction and suspense will find themselves thoroughly engrossed by author Elizabeth Norris’ debut novel.

Lena’s hands have a third knuckle and her feet are too long. Her grandmother thinks she’s inherited these traits from her absent goblin father, one of the Peculiars relegated to half-citizenship in a mythical land reminiscent of late-19th-century England. Shortly after her 18th birthday, Lena leaves home on a quest to find her father and learn the truth about her heritage.

Her destination is Scree, a land of mining communities populated by opportunists, criminals and—if rumor is correct—Peculiars. Traveling on a Victorian passenger train, she meets Jimson Quiggley, a young man on his way to the seaport town of Knob Knoster to take a job curating the magnificent library at Zephyr House, a mansion owned by the mysterious Mr. Beasley. When circumstances force Lena to stop for a time in Knob Knoster, Jimson helps her find work and lodging at Zephyr House as well.

The mansion and its occupants intrigue the curious Lena. What was that whistle she heard in the hall at night? What secret projects might Mr. Beasley, with his interests in mechanical invention and medicine, be hiding in the house? Did that figure she caught a glimpse of just now truly have . . . wings? As Lena explores the mysteries of Zephyr House and ponders what connections they might have to her own questions, a town marshal is equally eager for this knowledge for purposes of his own.

The Peculiars combines a teenage girl’s search for her identity with a setting that merges the genres of fantasy, gothic and steampunk. A light romance, a bit of adventure and the author’s inclusion of historical notes complete this delightful offering.

Dystopia, fantasy and science fiction crowd the YA shelves these days, but Code Name Verity, Elizabeth Wein’s astonishing new World War II novel, is a reminder of the power historical fiction can have in the hands of an accomplished author. Set in Great Britain and occupied France both before and during the war, Code Name Verity is a complex story of friendship and courage.

As the novel opens, “Verity” has been captured by the Gestapo behind enemy lines. “I wanted to be heroic and I pretended I was,” she begins. We soon learn that she has made a deal with her captor to write down every last detail she knows. As she pens her story, he will return her clothes, piece by piece. In exchange, he will get wireless codes, details about airfields in Great Britain and Verity’s own story.

And what a story it is: Writing on whatever paper is given to her, Verity tells the story of her friendship with Maddie Brodatt, who, as a female pilot in the Air Transport Auxiliary, brought Verity to France. As in the tale of Scheherazade, Verity’s captor appreciates her rich storytelling, but in the end he does not hold the power to determine her fate. In the second part of the book, Maddie takes up the suspenseful tale, while the action builds to an unforgettable encounter between the two friends.

Elizabeth Wein is a pilot herself, and her passion for flying and the details of piloting and caring for a small plane add depth and authenticity to this complex, thoroughly researched novel. She also includes a historical note and a bibliography.

As we have learned with books like The Hunger Games, “YA” and “middle grade” may be convenient labels, but they don’t limit the audience for good books. Yes, we can call Code Name Verity a young adult book. But this sophisticated and compelling novel is likely to find a home on the shelves of teens and adults alike.

Books about genocide usually prompt images of the Holocaust, but in Never Fall Down, National Book Award finalist Patricia McCormick highlights another equally horrific but lesser-known mass killing during the Khmer Rouge’s overthrow of Cambodia in 1975. Based on actual events experienced by Arn Chorn-Pond, a human rights activist, with additional details supplemented by the author’s meticulous research, this fictionalized account is told from Arn’s perspective. His haunting voice—“You not living. And you not dead. You living dead.”—immediately drives the momentum of this page-turner.

Eleven-year-old Arn suddenly goes from skipping school to sell ice cream in order to raise money for his caregiver aunt and numerous siblings, to walking a long road with hundreds of thousands of his fellow Cambodians. Separated from the rest of his family, he is taken to a Khmer Rouge camp, where everyone is given the same black pajamas, told that it’s now Year Zero and to forget all past knowledge, and made to grow rice around the clock. For four years, he nearly starves to death and witnesses murder after murder.

Arn learns quickly to never fall down or display weakness, to hide his emotions and to remain invisible. After showing an aptitude for music, he is forced in just days to learn to play the khim, similar to the dulcimer, and the Khmer Rouge’s propaganda songs, which are broadcast throughout the camp to drown out the sounds of Cambodians being slaughtered. Both music and his own resilience save him from the now infamous killing fields. It is this resourcefulness that leads Arn to finally flee the Khmer Rouge, spending months alone in the jungle, until, just barely alive, he reaches a refugee camp in Thailand.

That one teen could survive so much cruelty is nearly inconceivable if not for the fact that Arn’s tale is true. McCormick brings his story vividly to life in a book that readers won’t be able to put down.

Paolo Bacigalupi’s debut YA novel (and Printz Award winner) Ship Breaker imagined a future America dependent on scavengers for survival after global warming and peak oil have irrevocably altered the landscape. The Drowned Cities is not a sequel per se, but a “companion” volume packed with new thrills and provocations.

After 10 years, China has given up trying to negotiate peace among the warring factions in the United States, pulled up stakes and gone home. The remaining Americans are engrossed in infighting and the recruitment of children to serve as soldiers: a sure ticket to a brutal and short life, but for many kids the only choice available.

Refugees Mahlia and Mouse have managed to escape this fate, until they find a bioengineered, half-human fighting creature named Tool who was wounded and left to die. Mahlia sees an opportunity to save Tool and “make him into her loyal fighting dog.” But Tool has fought for so long he’s begun to see the futility of battle, and may shift his loyalty at any time. When a crisis strikes, Mahlia must decide between Tool, who may be her ticket to safety, and Mouse, who once risked his own life to save hers.

The Drowned Cities is an adventure story, a thriller and a sharply drawn fable about the state of the world today. It succeeds handily on all three fronts. Bioengineered man-dog border guards may not be with us today, but child soldiers, sadly, are, and they become harder to ignore when they’re here at home.

Bacigalupi does a masterful job of letting the action propel the plot and the scenery tell the larger story. The White House is never identified by name but described so we can recognize it, despite the fact that half of it has been shelled to smithereens. K Street in Washington, D.C., is now the K Canal, winding through the ruins of a once-great city. The perception of foreign aid by those receiving it is captured here as well: “Mahlia could imagine all those Chinese people in their far-off country donating to the war victims of the Drowned Cities. . . . All of them rich enough to meddle where they didn’t belong.”

The Drowned Cities is dark, and the violence is unrelenting, but Bacigalupi allows for a hopeful conclusion—possibly the riskiest move in this entirely cutting-edge novel.

Sixteen-year-old Odile first meets the famous Doctor Henry Jekyll in a Paris zoo, where she has tried a magical spell on the monkeys—with disastrous results. To distract the doctor from her bloody business, Odile promises to procure elephant steaks from her butcher boyfriend. The Franco-Prussian War is raging and meat is scarce, so the wealthy are dining on slaughtered zoo animals while Odile sells dead rats for those desperate enough to eat anything.

When Odile worries that her witch powers will not save her younger brother from a degenerative eye disease, she turns to the gracious doctor for help. But she isn’t done experimenting, and in Doctor Jekyll’s laboratory, she creates a magical potion that transforms her brother into a monster. What she doesn’t know is that the shrewd doctor has been spying on her, and that his interest in her well-being springs not from charity, but from his fascination with magical transformation. Thus begins a retelling of the famous Doctor Jekyll’s story, as seen through the eyes of a poor orphan girl, who unintentionally gives the doctor the resources he needs to become the dangerous Mr. Hyde.

Best-selling author James Reese has created an enigmatic story. Odile’s first-person narrative is engaging and the descriptions of 19th-century Paris are historically authentic, despite the novel’s fantastical bent. Readers needn’t be familiar with the original Robert Louis Stevenson text to understand the message of this fresh take: that to mess with human nature welcomes disastrous and often deadly results.

“Have you ever noticed how minutes or hours seem to speed up sometimes, but other times they go really slow? And how you remember things that happened a long time ago and it was like only yesterday? Ever think that maybe it doesn’t just seem that way? That time really does speed up and slow down?”

Ted Kampfert, a homeless musician in Elizabeth Hand’s vibrant new novel, Radiant Days, addresses these questions to two young creative types in the early morning hours of October 9, 1978. The idealistic and passionate young woman, Merle, has been kicked out of art school and is nearly homeless herself, spending her time painting graffiti art with the tag “Radiant Days.” She lives in Washington, D.C.

The boy, named Arthur, is a talented teenage poet. He, though, is living in 1870, in France. But on this magical night they are brought together, on a journey which, like the novel itself, explores the meaning and making of art, and the intensity of being young.

It was no accident that Hand chose Arthur Rimbaud as her time traveler in this complex and passionate depiction of youth. Hand herself discovered the poet when she was a teenager, and in her author’s note she tells us that Arthur Rimbaud may be considered the “patron saint” of young poets, as he wrote most of his poems before he turned 20, and many between the ages of 16 and 18.

But even more compelling here is the way Elizabeth Hand captures Merle’s edgy, nervous energy and the 1970s setting. As Ted Kampfert reminds us, sometimes it really does seem like things from long ago only happened yesterday.

Mirabelle has no memory of her parents, who died in a fire shortly after she was born. As her godmothers prepare to celebrate her 16th birthday, the desire to visit her parents' graves overwhelms her, and she secretly boards a bus for Beau Rivage, the town of her birth.

Once there, she falls in with a set of very unusual characters. Blue, a boy her age with ferociously blue hair, tries to scare her off, while his older brother, Freddie, welcomes her and offers her a place to stay in their family's casino hotel. Their friend Viv, in the meantime, is constantly comparing her beauty with that of her stepmother, Regina. As Mira spends more time in Beau Rivage, she learns that teenagers born there—including herself—are each fated to live out the role of a character in a traditional fairy tale. Viv is Snow White, and her on-again, off-again boyfriend is the Huntsman—but what roles do the increasingly attractive Blue and Freddie have? And what about Mira herself? Could her role have anything to do with the odd rules her godmothers have enforced over the years, like their refusals to let her date or their prohibition against sharp objects?

Kill Me Softly focuses on Mira's quest for her own identity and her struggle to understand the sometimes incomprehensible world around her. She wants to make her own decisions, but how can she control her situation when every choice seems to be predetermined? The answers Mira finds are sure to satisfy readers seeking a contemporary retelling of fairy tales, a story with a strong female protagonist or a suspenseful romance.

Beatrice Prior is about to leave her prior life behind. She loves her family and their tightly controlled life, but individuality and freedom are calling. In Beatrice’s dystopian Chicago, every 16-year-old must choose their “faction” and devote themselves to that group for the rest of their lives. The factions, which correspond to specific characteristics, work to encourage specific virtues: Candor (chosen by the honest), Abnegation (the selfless), Dauntless (the brave), Amity (the peaceful) and Erudite (the intelligent). When the time comes for Tris (as Beatrice renames herself) to pick her faction, she opts for adventure over predictability. That decision calls everything into question, from who her family really is to what lurks behind the facade of this new, allegedly perfect society—and why being labeled “divergent” must be kept hidden at all costs.

With Divergent, debut author Veronica Roth has created a startling future world on the verge of war. The adventures Tris goes on with the members of the Dauntless faction are breathtaking in their danger, and the dizzying heights and terrors leap right off the page. Her relationships are fraught with worry; since everyone is jockeying for inclusion and not everyone will make it, who can she really trust? You'll be up all night with Divergent, a brainy thrill-ride of a novel. And good news—it’s the first book of a planned trilogy.

Willo lives in a future in which the planet has been plunged into a near-constant, bitter winter. The government controls the scarce electricity and food for most people, but Willo lives with his family on a snow-covered mountain, catching what food they can, waiting for the short spring thaws to come. Willo doesn’t mind their harsh life; he’s proud of his hunting skills and pays no mind when his dad talks about the comforts of the past or the hope he sees in the future. But one day, coming home from a hunt, Willo sees his family taken away, and for the first time he truly is on his own.

After the Snow is a beautifully written novel about the kind of life that might await us if winter never ended, but more than that, it’s a book about a teenager discovering the world and his place in it. While Willo’s father fears he’s been hardened by the harsh realities of his childhood, Willo is actually full of innocence, shown in his pure desire to help a girl he finds along his path, and even more so by the constant guilt that haunts him over a baby bunny that died after he killed its mother. He’s tough when battling the elements or any other cruelties nature throws at him, but having been raised by kind people, he is completely unprepared for the cruelty of men.

Author S.D. Crockett’s only misstep is her desire to make the novel into something it’s not: a mystery. The setup of the mystery comes too late, the reveal comes too quickly, and all the questions that surround it are overshadowed by the book’s brilliantly drawn characters: Willo; Mary, the girl he rescues who seems so breakable in the wild yet taps into a strength that astounds him in the city; the strangers he encounters who are willing to share what little they have; and those he thought were friends who are ready to use untold brutality against him.

Set in a sparse, cold landscape, with hardships befalling its protagonist at every turn, After the Snow is surprisingly hopeful, and sure to keep you engrossed through the final page.

Molly Horan is a grad student at The New School getting her MFA in writing for children and young adults.