Darcy Phillips is a love guru. Through her top-secret relationship counseling service—she emails advice in response to notes her classmates pass discreetly into long abandoned locker number 89—Darcy can solve any romantic woe, no matter how epic or seemingly trivial. 

When popular senior Alexander Brougham spots Darcy opening the locker, however, he quickly pieces together her secret, putting both her business and her reputation at risk. Darcy agrees to help Brougham win back his ex-girlfriend in exchange for his silence, but the task will put her relationship knowledge to the test in more ways than one.

Sophie Gonzales’ Perfect on Paper effortlessly conveys the complex web of social interactions that high school students navigate every day. Darcy’s frank, thoughtful and not quite self-aware narration is captivating and genuine, an authentic depiction of young adulthood in the 21st century. Teen readers will connect with Darcy’s struggles, cheer for her relationships, cringe at her missteps and maybe even take a piece of advice from locker 89 to heart.

Gonzales’ novel also admirably reflects recent shifts in the representation of LGBTQ+ characters in YA literature. By including both queer and transgender characters whose sexuality and gender identity are neither their defining trait nor the source of the conflicts that drive their narratives, Gonzales reflects the lived experiences of teens today and delivers a relatable read with multiple points of identification.

Heartfelt, witty and thoroughly entertaining, Perfect on Paper is an enthralling tale of young love and the joy, heartbreak and growth it brings.

It’s 1959, and 17-year-old Mazie Butterfield dreams of becoming a Broadway star—no easy feat for a Nebraska farm girl who waitresses as a carhop for meager tips. When her beloved grandmother dies and leaves her a small inheritance, Mazie breaks up with her boyfriend, Jesse, and heads to New York City. 

Mazie knows getting a part in a Broadway musical will be tough, but she’s not prepared for the callousness of show business. Before she’s even opened her mouth to sing, casting directors dismiss her for her broad stature, freckles and quaint surname. Just when her money runs out, she gets a part in a traveling stage production that puts her at odds with a lecherous director. Mazie always knew that running toward a dream would be hard; she just never realized the heart she’d break could be her own.

The farm girl with big-city dreams is a classic Hollywood trope that feels fresh and contemporary in Melanie Crowder’s capable hands. The titular protagonist of Mazie is hardworking, if a tad naive. She’s open to new experiences, including getting acquainted with Broadway’s underground gay scene. Her confrontations with men who abuse their positions ring frustratingly true even in our #MeToo era. 

The conflict between Mazie and Jesse highlights the tough choices faced by those who seek stardom, leaving behind family and friends and altering their appearances and even their names to appease audiences. Although Mazie is white and Christian, she is asked to lose weight and slough off her country manners in order to be more palatable to Broadway producers. Crowder has clearly done her research as she brings the golden age of musical theater to life, but readers may find themselves just as nostalgic for the quiet life of a small Nebraska farm as for glitzy, postwar Manhattan by the time they finish Mazie’s story.

Rue is content with life in her childhood home in Houston, where she lives with her mother and younger sister. But after her mother’s unexpected death, her long-absent father returns and takes Rue to Ghizon, a secret, distant island where every citizen can use magic. Rue must integrate herself into Ghizon’s mysterious and rigid magical society, far from the only home she’s ever known.

When Rue escapes Ghizon to visit her sister, she sets off a chain of events that transcends realms and reveals the truth of Rue’s identity as half human, half god. With strength and determination, she rises to confront evil.

Wings of Ebony presents a fresh and complex take on the “chosen one” trope. Honest and often humorous as she explores what it means to balance her magic and her humanity, Rue retains a cutting, clear voice no matter what she’s facing, and her personality often eclipses the magical world around her. 

As Rue paints a vibrant picture of her life in Houston, she’s as critical of her hometown’s systemic racism as she is nostalgic for her neighbor’s cooking. Eventually she learns to recognize the beauty of her magical heritage, too, and she is just as vocal about the racism, colonialism and privilege that plague Ghizon. She is determined to survive, succeed and protect her loved ones, whether they’re from Houston or Ghizon.

Thanks to her fiery nature, Rue develops dynamic relationships with the rest of the novel’s characters. Some see her as an enemy, but others stand beside her to fight for justice. By conveying all of these perspectives, Wings of Ebony asks readers to reflect honestly on their own beliefs and where they would stand. 

Debut author J. Elle’s depiction of a young woman embracing the seemingly conflicting sides of her identity is masterful and moving. Bursting with insight, a deeply felt sense of community and an imaginative magic system, Wings of Ebony tells a thrilling, fast-paced story that illuminates serious issues and is sure to resonate with readers.

Nicole Lesperance blends crystalline prose, an atmospheric setting and memorable characters to create a story that dances and shines as brightly as the northern lights in her debut YA novel, The Wide Starlight.

Eli has always known her life should have been different. She should have grown up in the frozen landscape of Svalbard, a group of islands north of Norway, where she was born. She would speak Norwegian and her mother’s family would call her by her full name, Eline. Instead, she lives with her American father on Cape Cod, where everyone calls her Eli and she has lost all familiarity with the language she once called her own. The biggest difference, however, and the loss Eli feels most acutely, is her mother’s absence. Ever since the night she carried 6-year-old Eli out onto a frozen fjord, whistled at the multicolored aurora in the sky and flew away, Eli has felt a gaping hole where her mother should be. 

So when her mother suddenly reappears, Eli is overwhelmed and unsure how she should act or feel. Then weird, inexplicable occurrences begin to happen all around town that may be linked to her mother’s return, and before Eli can begin to piece together what’s going on, her mother vanishes again. Desperate for answers, Eli journeys to Svalbard, but more than family secrets may be waiting for her under the ice.

Lesperance’s story has a breathtakingly frosty atmosphere that’s anchored by her descriptions of the icy world of Eli’s childhood, which is both enchanting and unforgivingly harsh. The author just as vividly evokes the ostensibly mundane contemporary setting of Cape Cod, immersing readers in a seaside landscape dotted with scrubby pine forests. When Eli travels to Norway, readers will practically feel the bitter sting of the frigid air, hear the crunch of packed snow underfoot and see the brilliant gleam of sunlight reflecting off the ice. 

Both locations are perfect choices for a story imbued with magic and wonder. Yet for all its trappings of snow-swept fantasy, what lies at the glowing core of The Wide Starlight is the deep and sacred bond between mother and daughter, as Lesperance explores the lengths to which that bond can stretch and still remain intact. 

Tamsin is a witch, but unlike other witches her age, she has spent the last five years banished from the witches’ land of Within, cursed to never feel love as punishment for a terrible deed. Now she ekes out a lonely existence as a harsh, callous village witch among the Ordinary folk. 

Wren is a source: someone who is magic but cannot use magic. But unlike other sources, she didn’t travel to Within when her magic appeared, as the witches’ governing coven requires. Instead, she stayed behind to care for her ailing father, hiding the evidence of her relationship to magic as best she could. 

When a dark plague sweeps across the land, Tamsin hopes to return to Within and hunt for the witch who cast it, potentially earning the right to return home. Determined to rescue her father from the plague, Wren seeks Tamsin’s aid. The girls strike a bargain and set off to Within. 

The romantic arc of Sweet & Bitter Magic trods an enjoyable if well-worn “opposites attract” path. Chapters alternate between Tamsin’s and Wren’s perspectives, and each young woman exhibits both flaws and growth that readers will find relatable, perhaps even healing. Tamsin must outgrow her tendency to be selfish and let go of her guilt over her past mistakes, while Wren struggles to prioritize her own desires and develop confidence in her own abilities. 

Debut author Adrienne Tooley’s magical system of witches and sources is simple but intriguing, and the novel’s setting evokes a mix of European fairy tales and medieval society. The land of Within is filled with such strange and vivid imagery that readers will be reluctant to leave it behind. With its combination of fresh and familiar elements and two heroines whose emotional journeys are sure to resonate, Sweet & Bitter Magic is a treat for readers who loved the queer fantasy of Melissa Bashardoust’s Girls Made of Snow and Glass and the atmospheric, witchy vibes of Peternelle van Arsdale’s The Beast Is an Animal. 

When you see “Relevant Maps” listed as the first item in City of the Uncommon Thief’s table of contents, you know you’re in for an epic story. What you won’t know until you finish reading, however, is that Lynne Bertrand’s first young adult novel is not only a sprawling work of precise storytelling, but also a literary Rubik’s cube—frustrating at times, but surprisingly fun. 

You should prepare for two hurdles before you begin reading. First, Bertrand’s prose is dense and tricky; you may find yourself consulting a dictionary as you read. Second, Bertrand has very little interest in exposition, so although she has created a vibrant world and an unusual parlance in which its characters speak, she will not hold your hand as she pushes you headfirst over its precipice.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Lynne Bertrand reveals the inspiration behind the unique world of City of the Uncommon Thief.

Bertrand’s titular city is unnamed and has been quarantined from the rest of the world for a long time. The city itself is composed of a thousand towers, linked together by a crisscrossing web of zip lines that teenage runners use to travel from roof to roof. We see this new world through the eyes of Odd Thebes, a wisecracking, self-pitying bard who loves books, girls and being the smartest guy in the room. His cousin Errol Thebes is as swashbuckling as his Hollywood namesake; he’s handsome, arrogant and always ready to play the hero. When the cousins give Jamila Foundling, a mysterious servant, the task of hiding an unusual and potentially powerful stolen object, the three teens become entrenched in a tangled tale of magic, lies and the dark reality of life below the towers. 

Bertrand dangles revelations around every corner and has twists and turns to spare. The satisfaction of seeing the puzzle pieces of her story come together, of witnessing her trio of heroes learn what’s inside of them and who they really are, proves a satisfying reward for the reader’s hard work. City of the Uncommon Thief is genre-defying fiction at its finest, and Bertrand sticks the landing on a book that knows no fear.

Nala’s priorities for the summer before her senior year do not include activism, but they do include finding love. So when she begrudgingly tags along to an Inspire Harlem event with her cousin Imani and meets charismatic Tye Brown, she decides an interest in social justice might not be so bad after all. But as she feigns a full slate of volunteer commitments and an in-depth knowledge of social movements (not to mention a vegetarian diet), Nala quickly realizes she’s in over her head. Her relationship with Imani becomes strained, and she finds herself sacrificing more and more of her real self in exchange for Tye’s love. As her lies finally unravel, Nala learns that loving herself is the real revolution.

In Love Is a Revolution, Newbery Honor author Renée Watson (Piecing Me Together) spins a fresh teen love story. Though Nala and Tye’s budding romance takes center stage for much of the book, readers are most likely to see themselves in Nala’s relationships with her friends, her family and herself. From Nala’s efforts to impress Tye by achieving a “Black-girl-natural chic look,” to her secret ice-cream-and-advice meetings with her grandmother’s boyfriend, to her feminist dance parties with her friend Sadie, Watson builds this book on small, detailed moments that bring each character into focus. The authenticity and specificity of these relationships make the growing rift between Nala and Imani feel real and immediate as both girls learn to love themselves and each other.

Nala’s lies are eventually exposed, forcing her to reckon with who she actually is versus what she wants others to believe about her. Watson handles this moment with respect and nuance, propelling Nala to the right path without pretending the journey will be easy. Readers who have struggled with identifying who they are or who they’re supposed to be, navigating evolving relationships or practicing “radical self-love” will find Love Is a Revolution to be an inspiring guide—not to mention a delightful read.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Love Is a Revolution author Renée Watson shares the story behind the book's title and reveals what she and her protagonist have in common.

“This is survival,” says Nora O’Malley, a teenage con artist holed up in a bank that’s being robbed. She’s nervously plotting her escape with her girlfriend, Iris, and ex-boyfriend and best friend, Wes. There are others trapped in the bank as well, but they can’t help—not like Nora can. Not like Rebecca, Samantha, Haley, Katie and Ashley can. See, they’re all one and the same, a Rolodex of all the identities Nora has known since she was a child. To Nora, the men with guns in the bank are just more men to con, more men she has to survive.

Nora was born into a life of lies and violence. Her mother, a con artist with predilections for abusive men and the finer things in life, bestowed different identities on her daughter, giving her personalities and hair colors to match. Nora learned to assume roles such as the good girl or the victim—whatever it took to win over a mark. As Nora calls upon the skills her mother taught her in order to outwit the trigger-happy bank robbers, author Tess Sharpe unveils the stories of Nora’s past identities and recounts how Nora’s older sister, Lee, drew her away from their mother to begin a new life.

Not since “Veronica Mars” have hardscrabble swagger, enormous grief and teenage noir been combined into such a satisfying piece of storytelling. The Girls I’ve Been is a heart-wrenching, perfectly paced, cinematic thriller with a Netflix adaptation helmed by “Stranger Things” star Millie Bobby Brown already in the works.

One scar at a time, Sharpe reveals the connections among Nora, Lee, Wes and Iris. She examines their wounds with care, rather than picking at them for shock value or cheap thrills. Every act of violence these characters have experienced, no matter how small, adds weight to their actions and deepens our understanding of who they are.

Nora is an astonishingly strong protagonist, though as this thrilling book argues, she shouldn’t have to be. Like many who have experienced abuse, Nora has often felt that she had no choice but to survive. “I told you,” she says to Iris. “I’m someone who survives. We’re going to survive together.” The Girls I’ve Been is a romance, a tragedy and a story about reclaiming agency and power. It is a triumph.

San Francisco’s Chinatown in the mid-1950s contains two worlds folded into one another: Its tightknit community looks out for its own interests, but many of its businesses serve white tourists in search of a particular experience that the community feels obligated to deliver. At 17, Lily Hu is also living two lives. A good student and obedient daughter, she knows she likes girls and has begun to fall for her new friend, Kath. She also knows she can’t be open about their relationship, but the gay nightclub she’s been sneaking out to—full of white faces and casual racism—is hardly a safe haven either. Malinda Lo’s Last Night at the Telegraph Club is a work of historical fiction that’s as meticulously researched as it is full of raw, authentic emotion.

The book is divided into sections, with timelines that highlight historical events and situate the lives of Lily’s family members among them. Senator McCarthy’s antagonism toward Communism has made neighbors afraid of one another, and his movement also targets people who are gay and lesbian. If Lily and Kath’s relationship is discovered, the consequences for Lily’s family will be disastrous. Lily’s parents’ own stories are complicated and full of difficult choices, and they want their daughter to choose the easier path that their sacrifices have made possible. But Lily is a protagonist to be reckoned with. Her aunt’s work at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory sparks her fascination with space exploration. When her relationship with Kath leads to heartbreaking consequences, Lily is steadfast and faces them head-on.

Lo’s writing is packed with sensory details; her descriptions of midcentury San Francisco are gorgeous, and she vividly brings its lesbian subculture to life. Among these excellent details are the pulp novels Lily reads, which allowed queer people to see themselves on the page (though such representations always ended in suffering), as well as popular music that revealed how gender could be a playground, even in a period with rigid masculine and feminine roles.

Shout it from the highest hills: This is a beautiful, brave story, and Lily is a heroine that readers will love.

Fans of Kristin Cashore’s previous books set in the fantastical world of the Seven Realms (Graceling, Fire and Bitterblue) will pick up Winterkeep with certain expectations. Breathe a sigh of relief now: Winterkeep does not disappoint.

Told in multiple narrative voices, not all of which are human, and featuring both new and returning characters, Winterkeep begins with a mystery. Why did a ship carrying Queen Bitterblue’s envoy to the nation of Winterkeep sink before its passengers could convey a critical message about zilfium, a powerful but environmentally destructive fuel mined there? Bitterblue, along with her adviser Giddon and spy Hava, departs on a diplomatic voyage to investigate, but very little goes as planned.

In a seemingly parallel story set in Winterkeep’s renowned academy, a politics and government student named Lovisa—whose parents represent the continent’s two political parties, the earth-conscious Scholars and the practical Industrialists— goes in search of a mysterious hidden object. And at the bottom of the ocean, an enormous, many-tentacled creature of the deep who has grown fond of sunken ships and sparkly treasures begins to sing.

There’s no straightforward good and evil in Winterkeep. Instead, there are cats and keys and cake, telepathic foxes and flying airships, dolphins that speak only in images, locked drawers and very interesting teas. And lurking in the background are tales of the Keeper, a monster of myth who keeps the land and sea in balance and rises up in fury if the balance is disturbed.

By transporting the action to a new stage, Cashore ensures that Winterkeep is as accessible as possible to readers unfamiliar with her previous books, though there’s much here to reward longtime fans. Winterkeep is a tale full of plotty intrigue and characters who must uncover truths within themselves even as they navigate a world of secrets around them. The detailed world building, slow-burning suspense, emotional tenderness and nuanced perspectives on gender and sexuality, all of which have become Cashore’s calling cards, are all on full display and as enjoyable as ever.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Winterkeep author Kristin Cashore reveals her favorite literary winters.

Angie Thomas returns to the Garden Heights neighborhood in Concrete Rose, a powerhouse prequel that explores the life of Maverick Carter, the father of The Hate U Give’s protagonist, Starr.

As the book opens in 1998, Maverick is a carefree 17-year-old kid. He’s happy to spend time with his girlfriend, joke around with his cousin and deal a bit for the King Lords alongside his best friend—just enough to help his mom bring in a little extra cash, since his dad has been in prison for nine years.

But when Maverick finds out he’s the father of a 3-month-old boy, his world changes in an instant. He accepts his responsibility on the day he receives the results of the paternity test and begins to raise the child, even as the boy’s mother disappears.

As the weight and exhaustion of fatherhood begin to add up for Maverick—on top of balancing high school, work, relationships with his friends and maybe-still girlfriend, and the sudden, violent killing of someone who was like a brother to him—Thomas chronicles the makings of a character that readers have only previously known as a mature man and father figure. Along the way, Maverick wrestles with loyalty, revenge, responsibility and the siren song of the streets—one that promises a fast life down a hard road to ruin. Thomas also reveals the meanings behind Maverick’s name and his children’s names and deepens our understanding of the resonance of Tupac’s lyrics in these characters’ lives.

The Hate U Give became a literary phenomenon because of the depth and authenticity of Thomas’ characters, and those elements shine once again in Concrete Rose. Though it can be read as a standalone work, this prequel adds so much to our understanding of The Hate U Give that reading them together will be especially rewarding.