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On June 1, 1921, a mob of white people descended on the Greenwood district of Tulsa, Oklahoma, known as “Black Wall Street.” They killed hundreds of Black residents and bombed, burned and otherwise laid waste to a neighborhood that spanned 35 blocks. In Black Birds in the Sky: The Story and Legacy of the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre, author Brandy Colbert recounts this history for teen readers and shows how its echoes continue to reverberate today.

As she does in her middle grade and young adult fiction, including the Stonewall Award-winning Little & Lion, Colbert draws readers in with richly detailed settings, and she describes Greenwood with vibrant imagery. Its Black residents built their own economy from the ground up. They could not freely choose where to spend their money in the wider region, but as it recirculated within Greenwood, it created a booming business community. Colbert captures a sense of lively growth that makes the neighborhood’s eventual destruction hit home with visceral impact.

Poor white Tulsans' feelings of grievance and jealousy were factors that led to the massacre, and some local media outlets escalated tensions through false, inflammatory reporting. As the violence spread, the police and the National Guard aided white vigilantes by imprisoning Black residents in internment camps. A grand jury investigation later blamed Black men for inciting violence when they had actually been trying to stop it.

Colbert’s meticulous research holds the book together. Informative sidebars add vital context and will help readers make sense of an almost incomprehensible crime that was driven by white supremacy. A chilling postscript explores efforts to bury this history and the ongoing resistance to its revival. Black Birds in the Sky tells the truth about an event that every American should know about. It’s a horrifying account told with great care.

Black Birds in the Sky tells the truth about an event that every American should know about. It’s a horrifying account told with great care.

It’s 1958, and a serial killer is targeting the Midwest. Their crimes are dubbed the Bloodless Murders, because the victims are all found exsanguinated. The police are baffled by the absence of blood at the scenes, as well as the lack of any signs of struggle.

When the Carlson family is murdered in the small Minnesota town of Black Deer Falls, local police find a teenage girl, Marie Catherine Hale, in the Carlson home, drenched in their blood. They arrest her and charge her as an accomplice, certain that she couldn’t have carried out the murders on her own. But Marie is unwilling to talk to investigators.

Instead, Marie offers to tell her story to the sheriff’s son, Michael Jensen, an aspiring reporter. Thoughtful and unassuming, Michael is a receptive ear for the tale Marie has to tell, even if both a tenacious prosecutor and the townsfolk resent him for it. But as Michael begins to fall for Marie, he struggles to be both her confessor and her savior.

All These Bodies is narrated by Michael, so readers only see Marie through his eyes. Her confession is rife with deflections and uncertainty. It’s clear that she has experienced trauma, though she never reveals its details and is generally spare with information about herself. Readers will more readily connect with Michael’s best friend, Percy, who supports Michael’s dream of escaping their small town, even though he knows it will mean losing him. The two share a deep bond, and Percy is vehemently protective of Michael, sometimes at a great personal cost.

Author Kendare Blake is best known for her paranormal horror novel Anna Dressed in Blood and her dark fantasy series, Three Dark Crowns. All These Bodies, a historical mystery with touches of gothic fiction, crime and the paranormal, is a notable departure for her. Blake is sparse with historical details, which keeps the story moving but can also make its 1950s setting seem arbitrary. However, her depiction of Marie’s misogynist treatment by the press feels both accurate to the period and ripped from contemporary headlines. Readers who enjoy mysteries heavy with ambiguity and light on straightforward, spelled-out solutions should plan for Blake to keep them reading well past bedtime.

When the Carlson family is murdered in the small Minnesota town of Black Deer Falls, local police find a teenage girl, Marie Catherine Hale, in the Carlson home, drenched in their blood.

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Collige virgo rosas. Gather, girl, the roses.

Beck and Vivian’s best friend, Cassie, once had a faux tattoo of this Latin phrase drawn on her leg. It meant to seize the moment, she explained. That was before Cassie was murdered by her boyfriend, the heir to local gun manufacturer Bell Firearms, in a shooting at school.

Gather, girl, the roses. In Morris Award finalist Kyrie McCauley’s We Can Be Heroes, Cassie returns in incorporeal form to remind Beck and Vivian, both still grieving her death and lost in a world without her, to do just that and more. Seize the moment, expose the corrupt sheriff who refused to protect Cassie, fight Bell Firearms and its owner, who controls the entire town, and stop the epidemic of gun violence that disproportionately affects women.

Beck is an artist type, while Vivian is an overachiever. They annoy each other but work together out of their love for Cassie. They create large murals around town to honor Cassie, incorporating images of tragic heroines from Greek mythology to condemn Bell Firearms and those who respond to tragedies like Cassie’s with thoughts, prayers and shrugs. The connections McCauley draws between the ancient tales and Cassie’s own story are a highlight of the book. Fans of Greek myths, from Andromeda to Medusa, will appreciate these powerful parallels.

McCauley also plays with form, incorporating transcripts from a true crime podcast about Cassie’s murder as well as chapters written in verse in which the incorporeal Cassie ponders her life, death and afterlife. The novel is heavy on flashbacks, which sometimes weigh down the pace, but the transcripts, helmed by a fiery host, are a podcast enthusiast’s dream. You can almost hear the episodes in your mind as they educate listeners about domestic gun violence and move the plot closer to justice. 

McCauley spends time exploring Beck’s sexuality, suggesting not only that she might be queer but also that she might have romantic feelings for Vivian. McCauley has compared Beck and Vivian to two Marvel characters whose textually platonic relationship is commonly interpreted as queer by fans. It’s an apt comparison: The dynamic between the two girls is neither subtle enough to add tension to the plot nor explicit enough to result in a satisfying moment of catharsis, which some readers may find frustrating. As a story about how friendship can heal the wounds of the past, however, We Can Be Heroes delivers.

“We shouldn’t have to do it— / set ourselves on fire to change the way things are,” reflects Cassie as her friends dig deep to avenge her. “But I think maybe / to be a girl in this world / sometimes you have to burn.” McCauley’s call to action in this not-quite ghost story, not-quite crime thriller is clear: Gather, girl, the roses.

Gather, girl, the roses. In Morris Award finalist Kyrie McCauley’s We Can Be Heroes, Cassie returns in incorporeal form to remind Beck and Vivian, both still grieving her death and lost in a world without her, to do just that and more.

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In 1893 Chicago, Alter Rosen lives on Maxwell Street, a neighborhood populated by Jewish immigrants like himself who have recently arrived from Russia and Eastern Europe. Alter’s life is difficult. He feels lucky to have found a job at a Yiddish newspaper when so many must work in dangerous slaughterhouses and textile mills. Alter works hard and saves as much money as possible to pay for his mother and sisters to join him in America. It’s a task he must undertake alone, after his father died during their own voyage two years ago. Alter must also keep his feelings toward other boys, especially his friend and roommate, Yakov, to himself. 

There are new tensions in the neighborhood to deal with as well. Despite the excitement over the World’s Fair, a series of disappearances—all teenage, Jewish boys—have troubled Alter’s community. When Yakov is found dead, the police declare it an accident and show no interest in investigating further. As Alter assists in the ritual cleansing of Yakov’s body, something strange happens: Alter becomes convinced Yakov is alive, feels their souls cleave together and then passes out. When he awakens, he feels changed by the experience, convinced that Yakov was murdered and determined to find answers. 

With help from Raizel Ackermann, a passionate anarchist and reporter for the Arbeiter Zeitung newspaper, Alter tracks down leads about Yakov and the other missing boys. His search reconnects him with Frankie, a charismatic criminal he knew during his early days in Chicago. Working together, the three race against time to uncover heinous crimes of abuse, coercion, corruption and hatred committed against the backdrop of the Gilded Age’s grand ambitions and gory underbelly. 

Author Aden Polydoros’ third traditionally published novel is a gorgeous, disturbing, visceral and mystical experience. Alter is an exemplary historical fiction protagonist. His perspective, opinions and concerns are fitting reflections of his time, religion and cultural background, but his journey of growth and self-acceptance will satisfy contemporary readers. The inclusion of a subplot drawn from Jewish folklore complements the primary narrative perfectly and adds a clever ticking clock to the story, and though the novel is long, it rarely loses momentum. The relationships between Alter, Raizel and Frankie are tender and playful and provide brightness amid an otherwise dark story.

The City Beautiful is steeped in vibrant historical detail, including the exhilarating but superficial atmosphere of the World’s Fair, the vile working conditions of the meat industry, the burgeoning socialist and workers’ movements and the era’s wave of Jewish immigration to America. Polydoros pulls no punches when depicting the horrifically inhuman treatment that workers (many of whom were children) experienced during this time, which some readers may find distressing. His unflinching and well-rounded depiction of Jewish American and immigrant history makes The City Beautiful a superb addition to the ranks of YA historical fiction. 

Author Aden Polydoros’ third traditionally published novel is a gorgeous, disturbing, visceral and mystical experience.

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In So Many Beginnings, Bethany C. Morrow (A Song Below Water) proves up to the challenge of remixing Louisa May Alcott’s most famous work: Little Women.

Like Alcott’s novel, So Many Beginnings takes place during the American Civil War. However, the experiences faced by Morrow’s March sisters—formerly enslaved young Black women—are drastically different from those of Alcott’s more sheltered white family.

In the wake of President Abraham Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation, the Marches have settled on Roanoke Island, along North Carolina’s Outer Banks. Readers may be familiar with Roanoke Island's mysterious history during the colonial period, but few are aware that it was home to a colony of free, formerly enslaved people during the Civil War. As Morrow notes in an afterword, she didn't learn about this history until researching the novel. Roanoke, and a handful of other settlements like it, were considered “contraband camps” by the Union. “Black folk were spoils of war, if they were more than a nuisance,” Morrow writes, “and their greatest value was in not being available to serve the Confederacy.

On Roanoke, the March sisters soon realize that they’ve exchanged the brutality and dehumanization of enslavement for the paternalism and disrespect of Union forces, missionary teachers and other white people who have come to the island to dictate what young Black people should learn, where they should live and even how they should dress.

Morrow’s nuanced take on what life was like for newly freed Black people at this time will prompt readers to reconsider the simplistic good vs. evil, North vs. South mythologies that characterize too many Civil War narratives. Morrow also skillfully incorporates cultural divisions between Southern Black people like the Marches, who lived through enslavement, with those of Northerners who never experienced enslavement firsthand.

Part of the new Remixed Classics series, which reinterprets canonical texts like Treasure Island and Wuthering Heights through diverse cultural lenses, So Many Beginnings contains twists that will surprise even the most devoted Little Women fans. In addition to shedding light on a lesser-known chapter of American history, Morrow takes creative (and for many readers, long-desired) liberties with the fates of the four March sisters. Alcott fans and newcomers alike will find much to appreciate in Morrow’s sophisticated remix.

In So Many Beginnings, Bethany C. Morrow (A Song Below Water) proves up to the challenge of remixing Louisa May Alcott’s most famous work: Little Women.

Rora and her brother, Helos, are shape-shifters who fled their home in the Western Vale and have been living in the kingdom of Telyan. There, Helos works as a healer while Rora uses her shape-shifting abilities to spy for King Gerar. Although she has earned a place at court, Rora has found acclimating to Telyan difficult because of tensions between magical and non-magical people. 

When a deadly sickness spreads throughout the kingdom and the king’s younger son, Finley, is infected, King Gerar sends Rora, Helos and Weslyn, his oldest son and heir, back to the Vale in the hopes of bartering for a cure. It’s a mission fraught with dangerous beasts, poisonous plants and vicious political skirmishes that comes to a crescendo when Rora discovers that one of Telyan’s neighboring kingdoms is vying for war. 

Debut author Elayne Audrey Becker’s Forestborn is an ambitious fantasy novel that explores themes of identity, otherness and belonging. Rora’s ability to transform into animals as well as into other people means that she is never quite comfortable in her own skin, especially when she encounters those who harbor prejudices against shape-shifters. And although Rora and Helos are safe within Telyan, the same isn’t true for magical beings in other kingdoms, who are subject to cruel imprisonment, experimentation and expulsion.

Although political exposition initially weighs down the action, the novel soon moves at an exciting clip as Rora and her companions trip out on hallucinatory dew, meet wizened old giants and escape one dangerous situation after another. Becker has a light touch with the story’s romances: Rora and Weslyn’s shared experiences draw them close, and Helos longs to return to Finley with a cure. 

While Becker satisfyingly resolves her characters’ arcs, readers who prefer standalone novels should know that Forestborn ends on a cliffhanger. They’ll need to wait for the sequel to discover whether Rora and her companions’ deeper struggle for their very existence will succeed. 

Rora and her brother, Helos, are shape-shifters who fled their home in the Western Vale and have been living in the kingdom of Telyan. There, Helos works as a healer while Rora uses her shape-shifting abilities to spy for King Gerar.

A decade after the publication of her last Enola Holmes mystery, Nancy Springer returns with a new tale of subterfuge, intrigue and danger as the young sleuth takes on the case of a missing woman.

Now 15 years old and living independently in London, Enola receives a letter from Dr. John Watson summoning her to 221B Baker Street in the hopes that she might rouse her older brother, the enigmatic Sherlock Holmes, from a depressive state. While Enola is tending to Sherlock, Letitia Glover comes by to call upon the famous detective to find her missing twin sister, Felicity. Felicity’s husband, the powerful Earl of Dunhench, claims (without evidence) that Felicity has died. 

With Sherlock seemingly out of commission and smelling a rat herself, Enola vows to locate Felicity. She disguises herself as an aristocrat and drops in on the menacing earl—a dangerous move that even the clever Enola soon regrets. Runaway horses, narrow escapes, close calls and cryptic works of art enliven a well-paced if sometimes predictable mystery. 

Enola Holmes and the Black Barouche never hesitates to critique the abuses of classism and sexism endemic to 19th-century English culture, when it wasn’t unheard of for powerful men to dispose of inconvenient women through duplicity. At its core, however, the novel is an homage to the power of sibling relationships. Despite Sherlock’s initial melancholia, he rallies to protect Enola (even if she has already successfully managed to save herself unassisted), just as Letitia risks her life to save her sister. 

Readers whose only familiarity with Enola is via the recent Netflix movie starring Millie Bobby Brown (of “Stranger Things” fame) will slip easily into this new story, as all necessary context is provided in the form of a jaunty prologue narrated by the delightfully arrogant Sherlock. From there, Enola takes over the narration. Her confidence, self-assured schemes, intellectual wit and SAT-level vocabulary are enchanting and guaranteed to make readers ponder which Holmes is the superior detective. 

Stylishly written and briskly plotted, Enola Holmes and the Black Barouche will scoop up movie fans looking for further adventures with Enola. Best of all, there are six previous Enola Holmes mysteries waiting when they finish this one.

A decade after the publication of her last Enola Holmes mystery, Nancy Springer returns with a new tale of subterfuge, intrigue and danger as the young sleuth takes on the case of a missing woman.

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King Harristan and his brother, Prince Corrick, have inherited a kingdom plagued by a deadly sickness, and the only cure, an elixir made from rare moonflower petals, is in dangerously low supply. As the citizens of Kandala revolt, demanding that the cure be made more widely available, Harristan and Corrick crush all dissent with cruelty and violence.

Meanwhile, healer Tessa Cade and her partner, Wes, a mysterious thief, steal and redistribute moonflower petals to those in need. But as the sickness spreads, tensions rise between those who can afford cures and those who can’t. Desperate, Tessa sneaks into the castle—only to discover that Kandala’s corruption is far more complicated than it appears.

In alternating chapters narrated by Corrick and Tessa, Defy the Night hits the ground running and never slows down, leaping from one charged moment to the next. From horrific public executions to tense council negotiations to shocking rebel counterattacks, author Brigid Kemmerer (A Curse So Dark and Lonely) takes readers on a breakneck journey about power, deceit and the price of progress.

The book achieves a nuanced view of politics by depicting how individual characters impact and are affected by wider systemic issues in Kandala. Tessa sees how the poor struggle to stay alive and how their dissent transforms into revolution, while Corrick witnesses how those with power are willing to violate personal and moral boundaries to keep it.

Tessa and Corrick offer opposing but equally convincing perspectives on complex ethical questions. How should a limited resource be distributed? Are some people more deserving of help than others? What makes someone worthy of living, and what justifies a death? As Kemmerer’s characters wrestle with these dilemmas, readers are sure to rethink many of their own opinions.

An eventual connection between Tessa and Corrick reveals what can happen when individual people are empowered to make real, lasting change. Thoughtful, multifaceted and truly character-driven, Defy the Night is ultimately a hopeful story that shows how those who dare to envision a better future also have the power to make it a reality.

King Harristan and his brother, Prince Corrick, have inherited a kingdom plagued by a deadly sickness, and the only cure, an elixir made from rare moonflower petals, is in dangerously low supply. Meanwhile, healer Tessa Cade and her partner, Wes, a mysterious thief, steal and redistribute moonflower petals to those in need.

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Finch Kelly feels most at home on the debate stage, and he knows winning the national debate championship could be his ticket to achieving his dreams: admission to Georgetown University and the first step toward becoming the first transgender member of Congress. But his family’s finances are falling apart, his feelings for his debate partner, Jonah, are growing more and more complicated and the topic for the championship debate will require him to argue against his own human rights. As the pressure mounts, Finch begins to lose confidence in everything he once believed.

In this sharp and emotional first novel, author Peyton Thomas explores the queer high school experience through Finch, who longs to look more like the teenage boy he is and whose feelings for Jonah are causing him to question his sexual orientation. The novel also confronts racism through Jonah’s experience as a Filipino American who deals with microaggressions from debate judges and his gorgeous, Juilliard-bound boyfriend. Add in the socioeconomic woes that are never far from Finch’s thoughts, as his parents grapple with unemployment and his debate opponents' families write huge checks to prestigious colleges, and Both Sides Now is jampacked with timely issues.

Thomas doesn’t pull any punches on difficult topics and never once reduces his characters to objects of pity. Instead, he depicts teenagers who are working hard to find their places in a world that has thrown obstacle after obstacle in their paths. The novel balances serious political conversations and scenes of moving emotional hardship with moments of comedy and a spirit of true camaraderie and respect between Finch and Jonah.

Teens who participate in their schools' debate or Model United Nations programs will especially appreciate the book’s detailed exploration of contemporary political issues, but Thomas’ witty prose, strong pacing and knack for creating vivid, dimensional characters have broad appeal.

Finch Kelly feels most at home on the debate stage, and he knows winning the national debate championship could be his ticket to achieving his dreams: admission to Georgetown University and the first step toward becoming the first transgender member of Congress.

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Elizabeth Bertelsen’s life is not sheltered—far from it, in fact. Growing up Mormon during the late 1870s means she is close to the land, to matters of life and death and to the complex dynamics of a polygamous household. But Elizabeth has quite literally set her sights on the stars; she hopes to become an astronomer at a time when women studying science is tantamount to witchcraft. Rosalyn Eves’ Beyond the Mapped Stars blends fiction and fact to create an adventure that doesn’t shy away from difficult topics.

It all hinges on a solar eclipse, the first that the Western states will experience in almost a hundred years. When Elizabeth finds herself close to the path of totality (the area on Earth where the moon will completely block the sun), she’s willing to make major sacrifices to be there to witness it. Chapters count down the days and then the hours to the eclipse, which keeps a sense of urgency bubbling as Elizabeth makes new friends and begins a tentative romance. A brother and sister whom she meets after a train robbery offer support as well as a chance for reflection; some of Elizabeth’s assumptions about them are based on the color of their skin, and she’s surprised to learn that their family makes assumptions about Mormons in a similar fashion.

Beyond the Mapped Stars offers a portrait of a diverse American West that’s filled with promise, but it does so with honesty about where and from whom much of that promise was stolen. If that seems like a modern flourish, Eves makes a strong case for its basis in historical fact in her author’s note, while also revealing a deeply personal dimension to the story.

The whole novel takes place amid a six-week journey by train, carriage and on horseback, during which Elizabeth finds her courage, makes mistakes and learns from them. It’s a thrill to travel alongside her. Faith, family, race and gender are the earthly concerns that draw her down from the clouds, but as Eves expertly incorporates them into Elizabeth’s life-changing summer, Beyond the Mapped Stars takes flight and soars.

Rosalyn Eves’ Beyond the Mapped Stars blends fiction and fact to create an adventure that doesn’t shy away from difficult topics.

When you consider all the time, effort and hope that goes into writing a book, it only makes a truly great debut that much more impressive. Here are the debuts we’ll never forget.


The Poppy War

The first installment in R.F. Kuang’s epic military fantasy trilogy is essentially one book that transforms into another. It begins as an iteration of the well-loved “story set in a magical school,” as the orphaned Rin escapes her abusive, impoverished life in southern Nikan by winning a scholarship to the famous military academy of Sinegard. Sure, it’s a bit more blunt and brutal than you’d expect—Rin burns herself with candle wax to stay awake while studying, and schoolyard brawls between students with martial arts training turn bloody fast—but Kuang’s earthy sense of humor lightens the mood. And then Nikan is invaded, and The Poppy War morphs into a grimdark meditation on whether it’s possible to retain your humanity if you can wield the powers of a god. Neither half would work without the other, and Kuang’s mastery of both proves that her career will be endlessly fascinating.

—Savanna, Associate Editor


The Story of Owen

Canadian author E.K. Johnston’s debut asks an irresistible though not previously unasked question—what if dragons were real?—and its answer is the best I’ve ever read. When Canada’s highest paid dragon slayer retires to Siobhan’s small town of Trondheim, Ontario, to train her teenage nephew, Owen, Siobhan never expects to become part of their story, let alone be invited to become the bard who will tell it. Johnston takes world building to new heights, offering explanations of everything from the rise of corporate-contracted dragon slayers to why postmodernists incorrectly blame “the decline of the dracono-bardic tradition on the sudden and soaring popularity of the Beatles.” The dragons are attracted to carbon emissions, so teens take driver’s education to learn “the more banal aspects of safe driving: four-way stops, three-point turns, small dragon evasion, and the like,” and Michigan’s factories attracted so many of the beasts that humans abandoned the state completely. To read this book is to understand why Johnston has become one of the most consistently surprising YA writers working today. 

Stephanie, Associate Editor


White Teeth

This book came out when I was 10 days old, right at the start of the new millennium. Zadie Smith herself was 25 when her debut landed—young enough to be the voice of a new generation but still old enough to know how silly such a title is. Soon after its release she would become one of the most important authors around. Though I didn’t read it until 20 years after its release, this book still feels as impactful and fresh as it must have felt in 2000. Family dramas were big in literary fiction at the time (e.g., The Corrections, Infinite Jest), but White Teeth, with its ethnic, ideological and thematic diversity, stands out among the pack. From the iconic opening line through each intertwined storyline, Smith tells a story that captures the anxiety and hope of both an older generation entering a new world and young people conquering an old one. 

—Eric, Editorial Intern


The People in the Trees

Sometimes it feels like a debut novelist purges all their best ideas for that first book, using up every resource for their big entrance. After coming out of the gate so hot, they can’t be blamed for not writing another, or for experiencing what we in the book reviewing biz call the “sophomore slump.” I’ll admit that when I read Hanya Yanagihara’s debut back in 2013, I believed that this was the kind of writer she had to be. A novel this complex, profound and imaginative, with writing so visceral and poised—surely this was everything she had, dumped out in the exuberant, chaotic flurry of the new artist. But as proven by her virtuosic follow-up, A Little Life, that was hardly the case. In writing this column, I wondered how well my memory of her first book would hold up, and a return to The People in the Trees has once again left me in awe at her overwhelming descriptions of the Micronesian jungle, her nuanced portrayal of a predatory genius and the fact that this book still, after all these years, has no equal.

 —Cat, Deputy Editor


Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight

Serial memoirist (and occasional novelist) Alexandra Fuller has lived quite a life—expansive enough to fill five books, and counting. But her first memoir, Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight, is the one that has haunted me the most. Growing up with her white family in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) during the Rhodesian Bush War, Fuller experienced things that were thrilling, beautiful and dangerous. In the bush of southern Africa, she and her sister learned to shoot guns, kill snakes and avoid landmines and guerrilla fighters. She survived hazards closer to home, as well, such as her mother’s alcoholism and the loss of their family farm to land redistribution after the war. Danger is barely kept at bay throughout this book, and not everyone survives. But the telling is so moving, and the writing so beautiful, you’ll savor even the bitterest parts of this chronicle of a remarkable childhood.

—Christy, Associate Editor

It was love at first sight for the BookPage editors and these five debuts.

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Explosive, long-buried family secrets lie at the heart of Malla Nunn’s vivid and arresting Sugar Town Queens, but so do friendship, hope and the promise of love.

Aptly named for the Zulu word for power, Amandla Harden is a bright and empathetic biracial girl who lives with her unstable white mother, Annalisa, in a tidy one-room shack on the outskirts of Durban, South Africa. Their daily life is a balancing act. Amandla manages their household and the vicissitudes of her mother’s fractured mind while also having typical teenage experiences. She worries about how to make their food money last but also thinks about university and wonders if a cute boy will ever look at her the way she can't help but look at him. It’s a precarious existence, but she’s mostly made it work.

Then around her 15th birthday, Amandla finds a mysterious note and a large wad of cash among her mother’s belongings and decides to investigate what Annalisa has been hiding for so long. The quest turns both of their lives upside down as Amandla opens herself up to new friends and turns to neighbors for support.

As Amandla explores her mother’s connections to an entirely different world from the one Amandla has grown up in, Nunn takes readers into intimate spaces within vastly different sectors of a very stratified and segregated society. Along the way, the novel effectively explores the contradictory racial dynamics of contemporary, post-apartheid South Africa.

Nunn paints an especially grounded and nuanced portrait of life in the townships. Danger lurks around the corner in this ramshackle, hardscrabble place, but the crowded lanes are also full of complicated people who care about and take care of each other. Annalisa and Amandla’s home comes alive on the page—the good, the bad, the ugly and the merely human.

Nunn’s evocative storytelling will make you ache for Amandla. She is a complex creation whose circumstances are sensational but whose journey is relatable. Nunn surrounds Amandla with a diverse cast of characters who are similarly interesting and strongly developed. The novel’s hard truths about race and class are more than balanced by the love of all types that Amandla experiences. These supportive relationships are the most rewarding part of Sugar Town Queens, the glue that holds it all together.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Malla Nunn reveals the personal memories she drew on to create Sugar Town Queens.

Explosive, long-buried family secrets lie at the heart of Malla Nunn’s vivid and arresting Sugar Town Queens, but so do friendship, hope and the promise of love.

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In the small community of Amity Falls, 18-year-old Ellerie Downing spends her days tending to her family’s beehives and secretly dreaming of life beyond the woods that surround the village. But when townsfolk begin to go missing, tales of beasts that stalked the settlement in its early years resurface. Could there be a terrifying reality behind the stories?

Erin A. Craig follows her 2019 debut novel, House of Salt and Sorrows, with another absorbing, uncanny tale that walks the fine line between fantasy and horror. A winding mystery loosely based on the fairy tale “Rumpelstiltskin,” Small Favors takes a haunting look at the limits of human civility.

Tensions rise among the people Ellerie once called her friends as strange phenomena start to occur. Animals give birth to grotesque creatures, and mysterious symbols appear in unexpected places. Winter sets in, trapping Amity Falls’ residents in the village, and reality itself twists unsettlingly. Ghosts are seen in places that later go up in flames, and neighbors blame one another for inexplicable sabotage. Claustrophobia and dread seep into the very fabric of the community, and a stifling sense of hostility causes the town to turn on itself. Ellerie must uncover what’s really troubling Amity Falls before she loses the home and people she loves.

Ellerie is a kind and dutiful older sister, and Craig crafts the considerable cast of characters who surround her into a complex web of personalities and relationships. Through Ellerie’s eyes, readers experience Amity Falls as a cozy and cordial place, which makes it all the more heartbreaking when the town begins to crumble. From gossip that permeates conversations at church to bickering between once amicable neighbors to shocking accusations directed at old friends, Ellerie witnesses the transformation of Amity Falls into a place she hardly recognizes as home. As she confronts sinister and possibly otherworldly forces, readers must decide what’s real and who can be trusted.

Small Favors is as much about humanity as it is about horror. Perfect for readers who love mysteries and the macabre, the novel poses provocative questions. What can we keep for ourselves, and what must we give up for others? How far are we willing to go for what we want? How will we know when we’ve sacrificed our souls in order to gain our heart’s desires?

Erin A. Craig follows her 2019 debut novel, House of Salt and Sorrows, with another absorbing, uncanny tale that walks the fine line between fantasy and horror.

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