You don’t have to be a gambler to know the phrase “high risk, high reward.” Debut author Amanda DeWitt puts it all on the line in Aces Wild, a Las Vegas heist thriller. It’s a story about family, secrets and—you guessed it—taking risks.
Jack Shannon isn’t straight, in more ways than one. He’s the asexual (or “ace”) heir of a less-than-reputable casino mogul, and the triple cherries don’t fall far from the tree: Jack runs an illegal gambling ring out of the basement of his elite East Coast boarding school’s library. He likes playing Danny Ocean (minus the romantic entanglements) well enough, but his dusty blackjack tables and rich, straight patrons leave much to be desired. Jack finds real solace with his friends, a group of ace teens who connected via online message boards but have never met in person.
When his mother is arrested for her ties to organized crime, Jack is pulled back to Las Vegas. There, he must find a way to save his family’s casino and exact revenge on Peter Carlevaro, a rival casino owner who also happens to be his mom’s ex and whom Jack is certain is behind his family’s troubles. With the swipe of a credit card, Jack flies his entire squad out to Vegas and assembles his very own Rat Pack. Together, they’ll rescue Jack’s mom, destroy a Vegas kingpin and secure Jack’s legacy on the Strip.
Aces Wild shines brightest when it leans into its candy-coated noir sensibilities. With puzzles that lead the way to secret clubs, shadowy pink-haired figures, complicated plans for subterfuge and more, DeWitt creates a vibe that’s Spy Kids by way of Ocean’s Eleven in the best way possible. A few slightly too convenient deus ex machina moments, however, detract from some of the fun and prevent the novel from becoming an unqualified jackpot.
Rat-a-tat dialogue and well-developed relationships between Jack and his friends offer more highlights. Lucky, a younger member of the group with an acid tongue and a NASA-level mind, is a particular joy to read. DeWitt seems wholly uninterested in big coming-out moments for Jack and his asexual crew, instead crafting a subplot centered on the mix of confusion and excitement that a crush on someone can bring.
Aces Wild is a fast-paced exploration of the risks we take for the people we love. A gambler might even say that it’s a lesson in when to fold ’em and when to hold ’em.
This heist thriller shines with candy-coated noir sensibilities, rat-a-tat dialogue and a well-developed squad of friends.
Sometimes our hearts can be so clueless. Neil Kearney finds this out the hard way when his friend-with-benefits catches feelings. Neil doesn’t reciprocate, so now he’s lost not only a steady hookup but also a date to his brother’s wedding.
The solution? Neil ropes his obnoxiously earnest, annoyingly hardworking, aggravatingly kind boarding school roommate, Wyatt Fowler, into pretending to be boyfriends for the weeklong nuptial festivities. Sure, Neil and Wyatt can hardly stand each other (Wyatt wears Crocs, for goodness sake!), but what’s the worst that can happen in a week?
Acclaimed author Mason Deaver’s third YA novel, The Feeling of Falling in Love, is a rom-com romp about finding love and yourself when you least expect it.
In the novel’s acknowledgments, you mention that it took years to crack this story. What turned out to be the key to unlocking it? The book has been through so many iterations. It was originally a road trip novel in which Neil enlisted Wyatt to help him get revenge on a boy who cheated on him, and along the way, Neil and Wyatt would fall in love but deny their feelings. So, different, but not that different. Neil and Wyatt largely stayed the same since those original drafts, but I could never really figure out how to connect myself to that plot. And if I can’t do that, then I can’t write something; that’s just how my brain is.
Then I watched My Best Friend’s Wedding at the suggestion of another writer-friend, and everything that I wasn’t getting clicked in an instant: a wedding instead of a road trip, fake dating while also actually falling in love slowly over the week, family drama.
How would you describe Neil and Wyatt when we first meet them? Neil and Wyatt start the book in very opposite places. Neil begins the book in (what I think he’d believe is) a time of contentment. He has friends, he has his thing with Josh, he’s away from his family. Wyatt really is the only thing that concerns him, simply because Wyatt is Wyatt.
Wyatt, however, is frustrated, a fish out of water in a school full of people who make them feel unwelcome, away from their family when they’d love to be back home, doing double the work just to make sure they can maintain their place at a prestigious school they’d probably rather not be at.
But as we move along to the wedding, Neil feels more unwelcome because of who his family is and how they treat him, and while Wyatt might not feel at home around Neil’s family, they’re able to handle the situation better than Neil. It’s a chance for Wyatt to understand where Neil is coming from and what he’s gone through, while Neil comes to understand how his actions have made Wyatt feel.
I think that’s what makes them both perfect for each other: They’re missing what the other has, and they’re never afraid to challenge each other.
“It’s a scary thing, asking someone to love you, and it’s never just once. Love is a risk you take every single day.”
The Feeling of Falling in Love has such great tropes, including a time-constrained plot, fake dating, a wedding and an enemies-to-lovers romance. What do you love about these tropes? This book has some of my favorite tropes, even ones you didn’t mention, like a grumpy/sunshine dynamic and a height difference. But enemies-to-lovers (or enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, rather) is an absolute favorite of mine. I love exploring just why these characters dislike each other—sometimes for valid reasons, other times for something shallow and silly—and watching as they slowly find common ground, a connection.
What elements of the tropes did you want to preserve in this book versus what elements did you want to upend or subvert? I wanted to subvert something you might not think of as a trope—but sometimes tropes can be a bad thing—which is the idea of a trans/cis romance. It’s so common in stories about a transgender person falling in love for them to find a relationship with a cisgender person. Even my own work includes it. Wyatt’s character was trying to tell me something about themselves I hadn’t cracked yet. And now the book gets to be a sweet romance between two trans teens, something even more rare than the trans rom-com.
Neil’s reflection on his relationship to his body after gender-confirmation surgery is so powerful and complex. Why was it important to you to include these moments in the story? Neil’s relationship to his body is a story that mirrors mine and many other trans people’s stories. There’s this idea that surgery is a magical fix for trans people, or that it’s this necessary party of transitioning, and that once you’ve gotten it, all your dysphoria vanishes—when that couldn’t be further from the truth. Some trans people want surgery, and nothing can be more affirming. Others are fine with just having one surgery over the other. Some might not want surgery at all or even to undergo hormone replacement therapy. There’s no one singular way to be trans, and so long as you’re comfortable with where you are in your journey, nothing else has to matter.
I very much wanted to explore how different trans experiences can be. Neil is at a place in his journey where he wanted top surgery but not bottom surgery, where he was offered the chance to cover his scars but decided they’re a point of pride for him. He’s very proud of his trans body, and he likes who he is, for the most part.
“Neil and Wyatt rhyme with each other. They have what the other doesn’t, both literally and metaphorically.”
I also really love that you explore how deeply class differences impact how Neil and Wyatt have been perceiving each other. How did you craft this aspect of the novel, and what do you hope readers take from it? On the surface, it was such an easy way to make Neil unlikable. He’s a spoiled rich kid with no regard for anyone but himself. He dresses in expensive brands, throws money at his problems and doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. I love characters like that, the irredeemable jerks you aren’t meant to like.
But beyond the surface of Neil’s character, I wanted to explore this idea that money hasn’t really gotten him anywhere. He afforded the surgeries and his expensive school, but at the cost of any real connections in his life, both to his friends and to his family.
Neil and Wyatt rhyme with each other. They have what the other doesn’t, both literally and metaphorically. Neil’s money would solve so many of Wyatt’s issues at home, allow their parents to take a break and pay off loans or buy new clothing. But Wyatt’s family have these rich connections with one another, and they’re an actual family who love and care for one another. So Neil has something Wyatt wants, and Wyatt has something that Neil wants. The two of them go together in that sense.
There are two incredibly rich scenes in this book that both involve suits. What kinds of research did you do to create these scenes? Why are these scenes so meaningful for Neil and for Wyatt, and how did you create that richness of meaning? Just as reaffirming as surgery can be, fashion for trans people is instrumental in our ability to represent ourselves. Sure, clothing has no gender and anyone should be able to wear whatever they want, but for trans people, that euphoria of searching through the men’s or women’s section can mean so much as we find cuts and styles that make us feel welcome in our bodies.
I spent way too much time researching the brands in the book, even the ones that aren’t named, scoping their websites and using their catalogs to give Neil his knowledge and love of fashion. Neil loves the feeling of a suit and that euphoria it gives him to dress exactly how he feels, while Wyatt has never had access to these kinds of clothes before. Wyatt becomes uncomfortable when presented with clothes that could put groceries on his family’s dinner table, whereas Neil doesn’t bat an eye as he swipes his mother’s credit card without even asking Wyatt how he feels.
The novel includes a number of what I’d call near kisses—moments when it seems like Neil and Wyatt are definitely going to kiss, but don’t. Be honest: Did you ever laugh an evil laugh while writing these? Absolutely I evil laugh. I love these fake-out moments, these just misses. It adds so much to the characters, gives them so much to reflect on, these fleeting moments when something could’ve happened, but didn’t.
“There’s still such a lack of romance stories centered on trans characters, on trans joy, trans happiness and trans characters finding love in both themselves and each other. It makes me sad that we don’t have more.”
Toward the end of the novel, a few different characters offer Neil some pretty similar pieces of advice. My favorite is when Neil’s cousin tells him, “Love is a risk, okay? Every single person in love takes a risk every single day of their lives.” What advice would you give someone who, like Neil, finds love absolutely terrifying? That entire ending is a conversation with myself, I think. Being trans and wanting love are two things that always seem at odds with each other. Wanting a relationship with someone means outing myself and having that conversation, something that could potentially go very badly and end things. Or, possibly worse, they just don’t understand your identity.
It’s a scary thing, asking someone to love you, and it’s never just once. Love is a risk you take every single day, and it’s never one of those things that gets less scary, you just learn how to deal with it on a day-to-day basis.
That’s what Neil is struggling with: letting someone in who could possibly hurt him, letting someone see the uglier side of him, working on himself to keep this relationship alive. It’s the lesson he learns in the book, that love is a risk worth taking.
I’m ending at the beginning: This book is dedicated to “every trans person who ever believed they were too complicated for a love story.” Why are stories of trans love and trans joy so important? I grew up never seeing stories about queer love. The first time I ever read a book where a queer character got a happy ending, got the boy and the kiss, was Becky Albertalli‘s Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda. Steadily, year by year, we’ve been opening ourselves up to so many different stories by so many different kinds of writers, and it’s amazing to see.
But there’s still such a lack of romance stories centered on trans characters, on trans joy, trans happiness and trans characters finding love in both themselves and each other. It makes me sad that we don’t have more. But that just means that we need to foster trans writers, uplift their work and convince them that their stories are worth being told and worth being put on shelves.
Author photo of Mason Deaver courtesy of Mason Deaver.
Acclaimed author Mason Deaver's third YA novel, The Feeling of Falling in Love, is a rom-com romp about finding love and yourself when you least expect it.
Neil Kearney has never been in love. This becomes a major issue when Josh, his friend-with-benefits, confesses that he’s in love with Neil. Neil promptly rejects Josh but doesn’t understand why Josh is so upset. The two had agreed that their relationship wouldn’t go beyond simple hooking up, and now Neil is in exactly the messy situation he’d hoped to avoid: During their bougie boarding school’s spring break, they’re supposed to attend Neil’s brother’s fancy wedding together, but that’s clearly a bad idea now that Josh has caught feelings. The solution? Neil’s roommate, Wyatt. Neil and Wyatt are far from friendly, but surely they can pull off a week of fake dating and convince Josh that Neil has moved on. Right?
Over a marathon week of wedding obligations with Neil’s wealthy family, Neil and Wyatt finally forge the close, intimate friendship they never had as roommates. Wyatt sees that Neil’s brash, confident exterior conceals turmoil caused by his unsupportive, emotionally distant family— especially Neil’s grandparents, who routinely make callously transphobic comments toward him. In turn, Neil opens his eyes to Wyatt’s reality as a scholarship student whose hardworking parents can’t provide a fraction of what Neil takes for granted.
The sense of ease that develops between Neil and Wyatt is unlike anything Neil ever thought possible. As their boyfriend act begins to feel real, Neil is thrown off balance. Is this what it feels like to fall in love? If so, how do you hold on to it? And scariest of all, how could Neil possibly deserve Wyatt’s love?
In The Feeling of Falling in Love, Mason Deaver (I Wish You All the Best) delivers a satisfying romance right out of the rom-com playbook. Though there are plenty of these-two-are-obviously-in-love moments and heaps of witty banter, other details are what make this book truly exceptional: While some characters don’t treat Neil with respect, the novel always does. And when Wyatt’s own questions about gender identity arise, Neil adjusts supportively. Deaver gives characters chances to reflect on and address harm they’ve caused, but provides no abrupt or trite conclusions. The Feeling of Falling in Love is a delightfully nuanced queer rom-com that fans of contemporary YA romances will love.
For many young queer people, life beyond “the now” exists only in the imagination. Imagine: a home where I’m loved. Imagine: feeling safe. Imagine: living on my own terms. Lio Min’s debut YA novel, Beating Heart Baby, is a story of high school band geeks, internet friends turned IRL besties and what it’s like when the life you imagined becomes a reality.
Santiago Arboleda is overwhelmed the first time he arrives at his new high school in Los Angeles. The other students are way more outgoing than kids were at his old school, and they’re relentless about not letting Santi fade into the scenery. The Sunshowers marching band is also one of the best in California, so Santi has a lot of catching up to do—a fact that Suwa, a musical prodigy and trumpet section leader, makes abundantly clear. When Santi realizes that Suwa is transgender, Suwa becomes even more antagonistic. Miscommunication, pride and swirling hormones act like magnets between the two as Santi works to prove that he deserves his place in the Sunshowers.
Meanwhile, Santi is also dealing with the ghost of a soured internet relationship with someone he knows only as Memo. The pair connected online over anime, music and queerness, but when Santi accidentally leaked a song Memo composed and it became a viral sensation, Memo lashed out and disappeared. Clues emerge about Memo’s real identity, but the search takes second chair to Santi’s growing sense of a found family with the Sunshowers—and an emerging romance between Santi and Suwa.
That’s only scratching the surface of this remarkable novel, which is filled to the brim with reflections on the music industry, generational trauma, food, sex, anime and all manner of heartbreak and love. Min’s exploration of coming out and owning your story as an artist is particularly exhilarating and nuanced.
Much of the book’s vernacular and aesthetic is informed by Min’s background as a seasoned music journalist with experience interviewing such acts as Japanese Breakfast, Mitski (who is quoted in the book) and Christine and the Queens. Like the music of these badass queer rock ‘n’ roll stars, Beating Heart Baby aches for a softer world. It’s an epic tale of queer validation, filtered through the light of the California sun and Sailor Moon, and an essential read for anyone searching for a blueprint of their soul.
Music journalist Lio Min’s debut is an epic tale of high school band geeks, queer validation and what it’s like when the life you imagined becomes a reality.
Zharie’s mother began turning into a zombie five days before she died, and Zharie has been seeing the undead everywhere ever since. To avoid these apparitions, she prefers to sit alone in her room in her aunt’s apartment, texting her internet friend, Mini. Returning solo to the dance studio where Zharie and her mother prepared together for West Coast Swing competitions is out of the question. And she definitely isn’t interested in talking to Bo, the boy who just moved into the apartment upstairs.
But when Bo appears to be partially zombified and then mysteriously returns to his normal self, Zharie decides that he might be the key to understanding why she’s plagued by these gruesome visions. Spending time with Bo and his family and friends makes Zharie feel happy and safe, until she witnesses something that shatters her newfound sense of belonging. Finding a way forward will require as much love, courage and forgiveness as Zharie can muster.
Much like the zombies of debut author Britney S. Lewis’ The Undead Truth of Us, Zharie’s journey toward healing staggers, stumbles and trails broken, rotting parts in its wake. The question of whether the zombies Zharie sees are real underpins every encounter with them, and Lewis wrings every possible drop of suspense from this uncertainty as she leads readers to the novel’s final revelation, which is both totally surprising and utterly satisfying.
Lewis’ novel has many strengths, including nuanced depictions of Zharie’s experiences as one of the only Black dancers in the mostly white world of West Coast Swing. Zharie’s dreams and visions, inspired by Dutch impressionist painter Vincent Van Gogh, are filled with stunning imagery of climbing vines and blooming sunflowers.
Every generation remakes literary creatures of the night anew. Slow burning and surreal, The Undead Truth of Us more than earns the mantle of Gen Z’s first great zombie novel.
This slow-burning and surreal debut novel more than earns the mantle of Gen Z’s first great zombie novel.
A soldier. A runaway. A barmaid. Mererid has played many roles, but beneath them all, she has always been a water diviner, blessed with the magical ability to control water in all its forms. Prince Garanhir secretly abused her power for years, until Mer discovered his treachery and fled. Now she longs for a peaceful home of her own, but when her mentor, Renfrew, asks her to join him for one final mission, Mer can’t refuse.
The mission is simple: Break into the prince’s castle to steal his gold and the source of his magic. Mer joins a crew that also includes a fighter, a scholar, a thief and a corgi. Along the way, she encounters old flames, uncovers kingdom-shattering secrets and realizes that carrying out the heist won’t be nearly as straightforward as she thought.
Emily Lloyd-Jones‘ The Drowned Woods is based on the Welsh myth of Cantre’r Gwaelod, a sunken kingdom purported to lie beneath Cardigan Bay and sometimes called the Welsh Atlantis. Set in the same fantastical world as Lloyd-Jones’ 2019 novel, The Bone Houses, The Drowned Woods introduces a large cast of new characters and stands easily on its own.
The novel has all the elements of a classic heist, including a band of experts who each have a specialized skill, a villain in a fortified stronghold and a seemingly impossible goal. Within this framework, however, Lloyd-Jones delves deeply into the psyches of each member of the crew to thoughtfully explore themes of morality and grief.
Outwardly, Mer seems fiercely independent, always prepared for every possible outcome, but she struggles with guilt over her time spent in the prince’s service. She longs for freedom and meaningful connections with others, but her own self-loathing holds her back. The rest of the crew is just as well developed, and each member brings compelling personal histories, emotional demons and ulterior motives to the collective mission.
Thrilling and perceptive, The Drowned Woods blends the most-loved aspects of a heist narrative with meaningful, profound portraits of characters who satisfyingly defy archetypes and expectations alike.
Based on a myth sometimes known as the Welsh Atlantis, The Drowned Woods blends aspects of heist narratives with thoughtful explorations of morality and grief.
Bestselling YA fantasy author Sabaa Tahir’s first contemporary novel, All My Rage (10.5 hours), is told from three points of view, and each character gets their own voice actor in the audiobook production. Narrators Kamran R. Khan, Kausar Mohammed and Deepti Gupta bring personality and insight to their performances, contributing to the believability of this heavy, beautiful novel. At the same time, each actor maintains a similar tone of dramatic suspense to build a cohesive listening experience.
Khan narrates as Sal—a high school student challenged by his academic situation, his father’s alcoholism and his mother’s illness—in a voice deep with suppressed feeling, conveying an almost hypnotic sense of impending doom. Noor, Sal’s former friend and would-be love interest, is energetically brought to life through Mohammed’s gravelly voice. Misbah, Sal’s mother, performed by Gupta, has the wistful, accented voice of a wiser, middle-aged immigrant who’s weak with illness.
Each actor reads in a measured pace that allows listeners to envision the scenes and feel the weight of the characters’ emotions and relationships. This is a riveting production that most readers won’t want to end.
Narrators Kamran R. Khan, Kausar Mohammed and Deepti Gupta bring personality and insight to their performances, contributing greatly to the believability of Sabaa Tahir's heavy, beautiful novel.
Ray is a seer, but instead of visions of what’s to come, she sees the truth of the present—the way things really are. Her rare ability has made her a pragmatist and a realist, but it’s also left her lonely. Ray believes her ability precludes her from forming close relationships, so she avoids physical contact and romantic endeavors. Instead, her goal is to become a member of the Council, the ruling body of the magical world, so she can use her gift to help others and eventually learn to see the future. When she needs a break, Ray slips into her favorite bakery, a place where emotions are magically baked into every sweet treat.
Laurie desperately wants to be a musician. Between unsuccessful auditions, he works at his aunt’s bakery, smiling at the cute girl who comes in every day for tea and a pastry. Masking his own insecurities and grief with that smile, Laurie strikes up an easy friendship with Ray, which soon gives way to flirtation and the possibility of a deeper connection. For the first time, Ray wants to give romance a shot, but if she joins the Council, she’ll be erased from the memories of everyone she knows and loves. Does dedicating her life to helping others mean giving up on her own dreams?
The web comic that would become Crumbs saw massive popularity on the online comics platform WebToon before being acquired for publication, and it’s easy to see why. Danie Stirling offers a warm and lightly fantastical slice-of-life tale about choosing your path. As Laurie and Ray navigate their new relationship, they must also traverse the nebulous transition to adulthood and the many choices that come with it.
Stirling’s art style is sweet and fluffy, all rounded edges and soft lighting. Though it’s not a manga aesthetic, the characters’ expressiveness and frequently glittering eyes will resonate with anime fans. The illustrations exude as much warmth as the story, with subtle visual renderings of magic that become sweet garnishes atop a richer cake.
Crumbs’ cozy vibes will attract fans of Suzanne Walker and Wendy Xu’s Mooncakes, but its emotional complexity will keep them turning the pages. Within the narrative framework of a rom-com, Stirling has written a poignant book about the danger of putting others’ happiness before your own, the burnout that can come from idealism and working in public service, and the realization that no one is ever given a single path to follow. As Ray learns to summon visions of the future, she must also learn to see them for what they are: potential futures in a universe of limitless possibilities.
Danie Stirling’s debut graphic novel is a cozy, poignant and lightly fantastical story about protecting your happiness and choosing your path in life.
Smart, tenacious teen sleuths star in three remarkable mystery novels. These detectives have curious minds, a knack for sussing out secrets and a thirst for justice.
★ Hollow Fires
In Samira Ahmed’s powerful Hollow Fires, 17-year-old aspiring journalist Safiya Mirza describes herself as “a giddy teen rom-com cliché, but with more panic and terror churning in the mix.”
True, the high school senior does enjoy fun times with friends and a budding romance with a handsome classmate at Chicago’s private DuSable Preparatory High School, where she’s a scholarship student. But Safiya is also deeply troubled by the disappearance of 14-year-old Jawad Ali, a freshman at a nearby public school. When Jawad brought a cosplay jetpack to class, his English teacher mistook it for a bomb and he was arrested, suspended and dubbed “Bomb Boy” by right-wing media. Jawad was quickly cleared of all charges, but he and his family became the targets of harassment, unfounded accusations of terrorism and death threats.
Jawad’s disappearance attracts scant press coverage or police interest, so Safiya angrily decides to investigate on her own. She’s urged on by a soft but insistent voice that she realizes is Jawad, imploring her to find him so his parents can find closure amid their fear and grief.
When Safiya discovers Jawad’s body, some questions are answered, but even more are raised about who could’ve done such a horrible thing. Classism and racism abound at school and in Safiya’s neighborhood; could the culprit be someone she’s encountered? After all, as Jawad muses, “The most terrifying monsters are the ones you know.”
Ahmed unfurls this story through chapters that alternate between Safiya’s and Jawad’s perspectives, while also layering in news articles, blog posts, phone transcripts, tweets and other social media posts. The result is a compelling portrait of how hate spreads, radicalization takes root and danger grows.
In an author’s note, Ahmed shares that she wrote Hollow Fires to call on readers to “step forward, to face the truth of all we are.” Her devastating and inspiring book is at once a gripping thriller and a passionate call for change that’s urgent and timely—and sadly, also timeless.
Murder for the Modern Girl
As 1927 turns to 1928 in Chicago, Ruby Newhouse toasts the new year in a “party frock that was practically required by law to set heads turning.” The sassy 18-year-old daughter of the Cook County state’s attorney is gorgeous, and she knows it. She also knows what everyone around her is thinking, because she can read minds “like a supernatural radio antenna.”
Ruby keeps that power secret, while using it to reduce the number of terrible men who prey on vulnerable women in her beloved city. Poison is her preferred method (the lethal stuff fits nicely in tiny needles or hollowed-out hairpins), and so far, she’s gotten away with it.
But in Kendall Kulper’s sparklingly clever Murder for the Modern Girl, Ruby’s anonymity and freedom are threatened when a young morgue employee named Guy Rosewood begins investigating a strange series of poisonings in an effort to impress Dr. Gregory C. Keene. The doctor’s research on cellular metamorphosis has been met with derision, but Guy is a shape-shifter who desperately wants to control his abilities, and he believes Dr. Keene could help him learn how.
When Guy meets Ruby, he wants to impress her as well—not realizing she’s the vigilante he seeks. And when Ruby discovers Guy’s secret, she agrees to keep it quiet while charming him into assisting her as she tries to track down the people responsible for an attempt on her father’s life.
Ruby leverages sexism (underestimation!) and sexiness (distraction!) to her advantage as she pursues her quarry; Guy assists when he’s not pursuing his own mysterious goals. Both characters are intelligent, caring and driven by a shared belief that, as Ruby says, “you’ve gotta protect the weak and punish the wicked.” Murder for the Modern Girl is a smart, suspenseful and action-packed period piece that thoughtfully explores whether all crimes are truly criminal..
Gideon Green in Black and White
As the title of Katie Henry’s winning and inventive Gideon Green in Black and White indicates, the 16-year-old Gideon Green spends a lot of time immersed in absolutes. For example, since honesty is the best policy, Gideon doesn’t understand why everyone keeps getting mad any time he merely states the truth, however inconvenient.
Gideon’s penchant for clarity is bolstered by his favorite noir films, which he watches every day after school. Despite his frustrated dad’s pleas that he consider a new hobby, Gideon finds comfort in the movies’ familiar beats. He also emulates his noir detective idols by wearing a trenchcoat and fedora, never mind that he lives in sunny California.
Although Gideon is impressively astute, he didn’t understand why his best friend, Lily Krupitsky-Sharma, ghosted him in middle school. But Lily approaches him as the book opens. She wants a promotion to editor-in-chief of the school newspaper next year and thinks a splashy investigative feature will do the trick. Will Gideon help her secretly investigate a recent uptick in their town’s nonviolent crime rates?
Lily gets Gideon a copy editing gig as a cover, and he revels in being welcomed to the tightknit staff, led by lovely editor-in-chief Tess. For the first time, Gideon feels like he’s part of something, but too soon, there’s another first: discovering a dead body in the course of the investigation.
Gideon’s interactions with his town’s police officers are a hoot, thanks to the cops’ exasperation at his confident matter-of-factness. His blooming romance with Tess is delightful, too, as is his growing awareness that there might be more to life than being precisely correct. It’s enjoyable to watch Gideon discover meaning in the grays. Gideon often contemplates how scenes might unfold differently if his life were a noir film, complete with excerpts from the movie scripts in his imagination, upping the fun factor in this highly entertaining, empathetic mystery.
Can you solve these cases before their teenage detectives? There’s only one way to find out.
Everything changed the night Danny Chen died. The Silence That Binds Us follows Danny’s parents and sister, May, in the aftermath of Danny’s death by suicide.
May and Danny’s Taiwanese American parents raised their children to be xiàoshùn: “obedient, respectful, caring, and every other desirable quality rolled into one intimidating word.” In the wake of their loss, May and her family struggle to move forward together. When a prominent, wealthy member of their suburban Bay Area community publicly claims that Asian American parents “push their kids so hard” and blames the Chens for Danny’s death, May must make an impossible choice. Should she keep her head down and stay silent, or should she speak up and tell her story, even if it means putting everything on the line?
The Silence That Binds Us depicts anti-Asian racism with raw, powerful honesty. It also explores complex webs of prejudice among and against the Bay Area’s ethnic communities, touching on subjects such as redlining and the myth of the model minority. Joanna Ho (Eyes That Kiss in the Corners) captures the emotions of characters experiencing racism for the first time as well as those who have never known a life without its toxic presence.
Bestselling picture book author Ho’s first YA novel is a deeply felt portrayal of a family shattered by tragedy and a thoughtful depiction of how injustice plays people against one another—and themselves—in order to perpetuate itself. In the end, The Silence That Binds Us finds its way through heartbreak to hard-won hopefulness and healing. As May realizes, “Every time we speak out, it is an act of love. Love is how we overcome fear.”
The first YA novel by bestselling children’s author Joanna Ho is a moving portrait of a family who find their way through tragedy to hopefulness and healing.
Ivy and her boyfriend are driving home from a party to kick off the beginning of summer break when a strange girl appears in the middle of the road. She’s naked and unafraid, and she seems to recognize Ivy. After this, even more strange things start to happen. Ivy finds a decapitated rabbit in her driveway, and that night at the dinner table, her mom, Dana, spits a rabbit’s tooth out of her mouth. Dana seems increasingly upset by the disturbing string of events—until she disappears, leaving Ivy to figure out what’s going on, protect her family, unearth her mother’s secrets and discover her own true identity.
Alternating between “the suburbs, right now” and “the city, back then,” Our Crooked Hearts unravels both Dana’s and Ivy’s stories. As a teenager in Chicago, Dana experiments with witchcraft and gets in over her head. Twenty-five years later, Ivy must deal with the catastrophic results. Readers will be enchanted as the two young women’s storylines hurtle toward each other, past and present colliding in a supernatural climax that will transform mother and daughter completely.
Melissa Albert (The Hazel Wood) delivers the twisted fairy-tale magic that fans of her Hinterland novels have come to love, along with sharp prose, dark family secrets and a captivating coming-of-age journey for its teenage protagonist. Albert expertly blends mundane high school drama (romantic break-ups, getting grounded, navigating crushes) with black magic (a jar of dirt and blood that Dana buries in the backyard, the mysterious rippling visions in Ivy’s mirror, the aforementioned rabbit). Presented against the vividly rendered and decidedly realistic backdrops of 1990s Chicago and present-day suburbia, all of these elements come together to create a truly bewitching novel.
Every gripping chapter of Our Crooked Hearts is packed with suspense, spellbinding prose and impossible decisions. Despite their otherworldly proclivities, Albert’s dimensional characters feel wholly believable as they grapple with questions of protection, betrayal, friendship and the price of power.
Melissa Albert delivers the twisted magic that her fans have come to love via two storylines that hurtle toward each other on a supernatural collision course.
We are in the midst of a golden age of gentle YA romantic comedies. There’s no shortage of reading material for anyone who loves swooning over winsome leads who just can’t seem to get it right until the excruciating final pages, or curling up with novels tailor-made for Netflix adaptations sure to launch the next wave of teen actors. From Jenny Han’s To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before to Alice Oseman’s Heartstopper, YA shelves are awash with feel-good rom-com vibes. Lucy Keating’s Ride With Me is a winning addition to this canon. It’s a perfect bubblegum pop of a read—light and sweet, but with plenty to chew on.
Charlie Owens is anxious to escape her sleepy hometown of Chester Falls, Massachusetts, nestled deep in the Berkshires. The area’s charm has faded, and visions of a more exciting future in art, architecture and design fill her head. “I’ve lived here for seventeen years,” Charlie says. “I don’t want to get stuck here.”
For now, though, when Charlie’s not fretting about her family’s historic farmhouse and her parents’ love lives, both of which are increasingly in disrepair, she’s driving for Backseat, a local ride-sharing app created by teens, for teens. Charlie drives as often as she can, saving her earnings for an epic road trip she hopes will help her discover where she’s meant to be. Charlie has a vision and the single-minded determination to achieve it. That is, until she rear-ends a parked car belonging to Andre Minasian, a cute but standoffish classmate.
Keating could teach a master class in concocting a natural meet cute and keeping the sparks flying between her characters. Charlie begrudgingly agrees to become Andre’s personal driver; in exchange, Andre agrees not to report the fender bender to Backseat. To Charlie’s annoyance and intrigue, Andre is as enchanted by their hometown as she is jaded, and the more time they spend together, the more she begins to let her guard down. The tug of war between the two teens is paced within an inch of perfection.
Ride With Me also makes room for real depth amid all this delicious froth. Keating cleverly foregrounds questions of home via Charlie’s rundown house as well as through the small town she’s so desperate to leave. Can you change your home? Should you? Or is it better to cut and run and find a new home somewhere else? Watching Charlie and Andre grapple with these questions even as they fall for each other is pure pleasure. Ride With Me is well worth the trip.
Lucy Keating’s Ride With Me is a winning addition to the YA rom-com canon. It’s a perfect bubblegum pop of a read—light and sweet, but with plenty to chew on.
In her fourth novel, Katzenjammer, author Francesca Zappia crafts a surreal and frightening world that parallels the innate horrors of high school. This story of subversion and sleight-of-hand trickery is difficult to discuss—or forget.
Cat and her classmates live at School. They don’t know why. No one can remember when School’s doors and windows went away. Cat has lost her face, her eyes and even her real name. The class president is a life-size porcelain doll; Cat’s best friend, Jeffrey, has a cardboard box for a head. Some students wander the constricting halls, alone and unmoored, while a few others rule over private domains in School’s underbelly.
The tenuous equilibrium between School and its students is broken when the class president is found brutalized in the courtyard. More broken bodies follow, and the students’ fear grows. Someone—or something—is killing them, and they can feel the clock beginning to tick. As Cat desperately searches her memories for answers, she circles around truths that are too unbearable to look at directly. But to find the way out of School, Cat must face the thing waiting in the shadows of her mind.
Katzenjammer is a postmodern nightmare, a David Lynchian spiral of terror. Absurdist body horror mingles with slasher-film suspense, and the consistent suspension of reality gives the novel a disorienting, dreamlike quality. Yet Katzenjammer‘s potency is undeniable. Cat’s memories are frequently as disturbing as her new reality. “We all take from each other. We take and take and take,” Cat says of her peers. It’s a cynical view of adolescence, but it will strike true for many teens. Zappia makes no effort to shroud her novel’s darkness. Visceral, bloody and cruel, it almost dares the reader to look away.
Katzenjammer is not a book for every reader, and Zappia includes a series of content warnings on the book’s copyright page: “School bullying and violence, mention of eating disorders, and scenes of gore, blood, and death.” Although she’s not the first YA author to depict school violence and its aftermath, she writes brutality with a frankness that’s virtually unmatched. Teens so often go ignored by their parents, their teachers and people in positions of power. What Katzenjammer ultimately offers its teen readers is the feeling, finally, of being heard.
Francesca Zappia crafts a surreal and frightening world that directly parallels the innate horrors of high school in this disorienting, dreamlike novel.
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