Renata is a valuable member of the Whispers, a group of rebels fighting against the brutal king who conquered the kingdom of Puerto Leones and its people, the Moria. When Dez, the leader of Renata’s unit and the boy she loves, is captured on a mission gone awry and taken to the palace as a prisoner, Ren must try to rescue him and complete their mission.

The Moria are a magically gifted people, and Ren is what they call a Robári. Her gift is the ability to steal memories; it’s a dangerous power that, in the extreme, can turn people into hollow shells, void of personality and identity. As a child, Ren was kidnapped and held captive by King Ferdinand, who forced her to use her powers to support his Inquisitors, wreaking havoc on the lives of her people. Though she was rescued by the Whispers, her sense of belonging among them is tenuous, and her guilt and inability to face her memories of that time consume her. Returning to the palace to rescue Dez means confronting her past head-on—and uncovering secrets that could change everything.

Zoraida Córdova’s Incendiary is a satisfying fantasy novel set in a world that draws much from the history of medieval Spain. From the novel’s explosive beginning, Córdova’s pacing is efficient and propulsive, every move advancing both the story and the emotional development of her characters. This world works on both macro and micro levels; we understand its alliances and rivalries, but we also feel its heat and dust.

Anchored in Ren’s deeply personal journey, Incendiary tells a tale of love and war with a thrilling, epic scope.

Chamomile Myles wants the perfect prom dress, an adorable “promposal” and an opportunity to (finally) use the condom she hides in a box under her bed. She doesn’t think that’s too much to ask from the universe, but in Florence Gonsalves’ second YA novel, Dear Universe, nothing is going the way Cham wants.

When she’s around her friends, Cham puts all her effort toward making the last three months of their senior year of high school memorable, spending her time drinking, dancing and daydreaming about her boyfriend. But there’s another side to Cham’s life—practically a whole other universe, in fact—that she won’t let her friends or boyfriend see. Cham’s father has Parkinson’s disease, and she and her mother struggle to care for him at home. In heartfelt pleas to the universe, Cham asks for guidance on how to reconcile the disparate parts of her life while staying afloat in the fishbowl that is high school.

Despite frequent moments of buoyancy and levity, Dear Universe confronts how hard a parent’s illness can be on a family and the pressure it can put on children and teens. Neither of Chem’s parents want to address her dad’s Parkinson’s diagnosis with her. As a result, the unspoken subject weighs on her, and she tries her best to avoid her own worries and uncomfortable feelings, hiding them from everyone who cares for her.

As Cham learns to open up and feel comfortable letting people in, Gonsalves also explores the effects of the intense expectations placed on Cham to have her entire life figured out at age 17. Cham feels out of place in her suburban town, as she’s smart but not academically motivated or driven to succeed in the college acceptance rat race. Fortunately, a supportive teacher and a surprising friendship help her begin to accept that having more questions than answers can be a strength, not a problem to fix.

Readers whose families have also faced a loved one’s illness will find Dear Universe particularly powerful, as Cham and her parents find new ways to be honest with each other. But all families have subjects they find difficult to talk about, and all teens struggle to reconcile social life with home life. What teen hasn’t wished for the universe to reveal an easy path forward into adulthood? The universe may never respond, but Cham’s voice will come through loud and clear.

Soraya grew up with her mother’s stories about a cursed princess whose poisoned skin killed any living creature she touched, and of a cruel prince who consorted with the demonic entities called divs until he became one himself. But these weren’t just stories. They were tales to help Soraya cope with the truth: She is the princess in the story, living in fear that her div-green veins mean she, too, will give in to darkness and transform from girl to monster.

Just before Soraya’s brother, the shah, is to be wed, a captured div named Parvaneh makes Soraya an offer. If Soraya can bring Parvaneh a magical feather from the simorgh bird, her curse will be lifted. At first Soraya is suspicious, as divs are notorious liars. Despite her mis-givings, Soraya sets out to find the feather. As the plot begins to twist like the secret passageways beneath the shah’s palace, Soraya’s conflicted loyalties lead her to a fork in her path. Which parts of herself will she embrace?

Girl, Serpent, Thorn is YA literature at its best. Characters suspended between two forms—here, human and demon—are ideal metaphors for the half-child, half-adult nature of adolescence. The book’s queer romance conveys the headiness and sensuality of falling in love for the first time. Author Melissa Bashardoust draws heavily on the ancient mythology of Persia and includes a fascinating author’s note detailing her sources. Careful readers will also find motifs from fairy tales such as “Sleeping Beauty,” “Jack and the Beanstalk” and “Rapunzel.” 

Girl, Serpent, Thorn is a richly metaphorical story of a teen claiming her identity and her place in the world.

In the kingdom of Etrusia where dragons fly, the emperor has died, and five teens must compete to become his successor. But instead of calling the eldest child of each house, as tradition dictates, a ragtag bunch of misfits have been selected: Emilia, a scholar with deadly powers; Lucian, a repentant soldier who wants to be a monk; Vespir, a servant and dragon trainer; Ajax, a thief; and Hyperia, a cunning and savage member of the nobility. 

The teens compete with their dragons in challenges that test their physical strength and political prowess. Although they know only one will be crowned and the other four will be killed, the competitors bond when a mysterious puppeteer begins toying with them, turning the atmosphere from cutthroat to cautious. As certain death looms, they must unite to expose a sinister plot before the kingdom—and everyone they love—is destroyed.

Despite clocking in at over 500 pages, House of Dragons moves at a fast clip. Dragon races and basilisk-hunting—aided by romantic drama and villainous face-offs—fuel the action, while the short chapters, narrated by perspectives that rotate among the five protagonists, drive momentum and tighten pacing. 

Jessica Cluess effortlessly juggles individual arcs for all five protagonists and explores thought-provoking questions about the relationship between nature and nurture. Ajax, for example, a thief raised by the man who raped his mother, shares the circumstances of low birth with Vespir, the dragon trainer, but finds common ground with Hyperia, whose ruthless actions are shockingly violent. Yet Ajax also uses humor as a defense mechanism, which brings much-needed levity to tense scenes, and the nuance in Hyperia’s character hints that redemption may await her in later books.

Readers will be lured in by the dragons and “Game of Thrones”-style subterfuge, but Cluess’ world building and high-stakes conflict will ensure they stick around for the sequel.

Kit Sweetly loves working at a medieval-themed dinner theater restaurant called the Castle. Although her role is “serving wench,” she longs to ride out as a knight like her older brother, Chris, crushing the patriarchy and earning a desperately needed higher wage. Corporate policy says only men can play the knight roles, but when Kit secretly takes Chris’ place one night, triumphantly revealing herself at the end of the tournament, she sparks a movement that could earn her and her fellow wenches the opportunity they’ve been dreaming of.

The Life and Medieval Times of Kit Sweetly, Jamie Pacton’s pitch-perfect debut novel, has nerves of steel beneath its mischievous exterior. Kit’s feminism is rooted in her utter confidence that women can do anything men can do, but Pacton gives her would-be knight higher stakes than mere glory. Without the additional income from the knight’s role, Kit won’t be able to pay for college, and her family may lose their home. Kit’s determination to help her single mom provide for her family and carve out a future for herself keeps the plot moving without weighing it down. The world of the Palace is vibrant and expertly realized, with a cast of finely honed characters who support Kit, throw obstacles in her path and even infuse the novel with a sweet touch of romance. 

A fantastic blend of frankness, feminism and pure fun, The Life and Medieval Times of Kit Sweetly will appeal to anyone who has ever felt called to do more than is expected of them.

In Maggie Tokuda-Hall’s self-assured debut, The Mermaid, The Witch, and the Sea, an imperialist system clashes with the ancient power of the sea while two teens from different backgrounds find unexpected love. 

Lady Evelyn Hasegawa, the black sheep of an aristocratic family, faces a journey aboard a ship called the Dove that she’s been dreading: She’s being married off to a stranger. A member of the Dove’s crew, Florian—born Flora—has been assigned to attend to Lady Evelyn. Tough and capable of handling the violence common to the harsh world of the Dove, Florian is working to earn enough to return with her troubled brother, Alfie, to their homeland. 

Lady Evelyn surprises Florian at every turn with kindness, humor and openness. But their growing relationship is a problem, because the Dove isn’t a passenger vessel. It’s a pirate ship whose passengers have no idea that the captain and crew plan to sell them into slavery.

This intriguing premise blooms into an enchanting, complex tale that explores politics, piracy and the magic of storytelling itself. In Tokuda-Hall’s world, witches can use words to coax magic out of any object, a pirate’s honor is signaled by their relationship with the sea and mermaids can both preserve and destroy memories. Tokuda-Hall’s imperialist political system, clearly inspired by the Japanese and British Empires, is brilliantly detailed. While the romance between Evelyn and Florian moves quickly, both characters have well-defined perspectives and appealing motivations. 

Queer and gender nonconforming characters are everywhere, and their normalization within the world of the book is remarkable and praiseworthy. A strikingly original and accomplished debut, The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea reads like an undiscovered classic with impressively modern flair. 

When Mae and Hannah’s parents are killed by a tsunami in Malaysia, the two sisters’ lives are turned upside down. Hannah, emotion-driven and artistic, struggles under the weight of opioid addiction as she grieves for her family and the life she’s lost. Meanwhile, Mae, who dreams of working at NASA, grapples with having been orphaned by the loving parents who adopted her and wonders how much more she’ll have to give up to save what’s left of her family. As the aftermath of the wave washes up family secrets and questions about the future, both girls must learn to move forward, holding onto each other and the love their parents left behind.

In Little Universes, Heather Demetrios (I’ll Meet You There) delivers a story that will break readers’ hearts and put them back together again several times over. As the novel alternates perspectives between poetic Hannah and logical Mae, Demetrios creates two equally powerful voices that evolve brilliantly, growing more distinct and yet drawing together as the two sisters navigate their changing relationship through their unique responses to unimaginable trauma.

Demetrios addresses potent material, including death, addiction, abortion, sexual assault and adultery, with incredible nuance and respect, enabling readers who don’t share Hannah’s and Mae’s experiences to connect deeply with what they’ve been through. Little Universes is a challenging, emotional read, but it will leave readers reassured by the power of love and of their place in this universe.

It Sounded Better in My Head takes place in Australia, where summer is in January and senior year ends before college admissions are announced. The novel’s narrator, Natalie, feels in between. She’s in between her parents, who have blindsided her with an amicable announcement that they are divorcing, and in between her best friends, Zach and Lucy, who have started dating. But mostly, Natalie is in between being an introvert with severe acne and being an outgoing teenager who goes to parties. And then at one of those parties, she plays a game of spin the bottle and kisses Zach’s brother, Alex.

In this deceptively complex book, superficial questions about the intricacies of texting your crush accompany serious explorations of body image, sibling dynamics and interpersonal trust. Debut author Nina Kenwood hilariously chronicles Natalie’s bumbling attempts to pursue Alex through an awkward first date, unintended mishaps and more. But Kenwood also follows Natalie as she engages in meaningful conversations with Alex about physical intimacy. The pair’s on-the-page discussions of contraception, past partners, STIs and infidelity are frank and honest, and would serve as excellent models for readers in need of a script for such conversations in their own lives. It’s also heartening to read Natalie’s realization that intimacy and intercourse don’t need to be synonymous: “I never thought about how nice it would be to just have someone touch you softly and gently. . . . I thought it was sexy stuff or nothing.”

With candor and affection, It Sounded Better in My Head captures a teenager navigating the final moments of one stage of life and the first moments of the next.

Halle Leavitt, whose parents are filmmakers, has bounced from town to town so many times that she’s never invested in IRL friendships. All her friends are online, where they know her as Kels, a successful blogger who showcases cupcakes she’s baked to accompany book reviews. Frequent among her DMs is Nash, a cute web comic artist who’s never seen Halle’s face.

While her parents film a documentary in Israel, Halle moves in with her recently widowed grandfather. When she runs into Nash at the library in her new town, she’s too shocked to tell him they already know each other. Then “Kels” is offered a publishing opportunity that could guarantee Halle’s spot at her dream college—but could also expose her ruse and cost her the only friend who matters.

Debut author Marisa Kanter, who has worked in book sales and publicity, peppers What I Like About You with publishing in-jokes, which are counterbalanced by Halle’s earnest championing of the books she loves. Snippets of DMs and texts also add personality and levity.

The book’s emotional landscape is deepened by its exploration of Halle’s and her grandfather’s grief at the death of Halle’s grandmother, with whom Halle shared a strong bond. It’s a powerful reminder that everyone processes loss in different ways. Jewish American teens and their families are still uncommon in YA novels with contemporary settings, so What I Like About You contributes welcome diversity to the category. It all adds up to a charming, witty story about authenticity in the social media age, told with a wink and a string of heart-eyes emojis.

This review was updated in January 2022 to more precisely contextualize the novel within the landscape of contemporary Jewish young adult fiction.

The aftermath of World War II is rarely addressed in YA fiction. Narratives typically conclude with scenes of liberation and celebration as good triumphs over evil, and everything returns to normal. Monica Hesse’s They Went Left begins where those narratives end. 

Zofia’s story opens in 1945, a few months after she and thousands of others were liberated from concentration camps and sent back into the world to reclaim what they lost. For Zofia—who witnessed her entire family except her little brother, Abek, being sent into the titular left line that led to the camp’s gas chambers—this is not a simple or easy task.

Zofia is broken, physically and mentally, and has spent the months after liberation in a hospital. She clings to the memory of her final goodbye to Abek, and to the promise she made in that moment that she would find him after the war. Released from the hospital, Zofia returns to her family’s home, only to discover that all of their possessions are gone and their neighbors are openly hostile to the idea of Jewish families reclaiming their residences. Desperate, Zofia sets out across war-torn Europe to find Abek while trying to piece together the truth behind her memories.

They Went Left takes readers deep into Zofia’s thoughts, pulling us along through her experiences, past and present, even as she begins to wonder whether she can trust her own perceptions and memories. Hesse’s meticulous research is evident on every page but never distracts from her propulsive plot. 

Combining history, romance and mystery, They Went Left is a heartbreaking yet hopeful story of what it takes to survive after trauma.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Go behind the scenes of They Went Left with author Monica Hesse.

Enebish, a warrior in the Sky King’s army, is a Night Spinner, capable of bending the darkness to her will. Or she was—until the night that her power broke free and she massacred innocent merchants instead of enemy soldiers. Enebish doesn’t remember that night; all she knows is that her adopted sister, Commander Ghoa, stopped the slaughter by severely injuring Enebish’s arm and leg, and then intervened with the Sky King on her behalf. Instead of being executed, Enebish was given traitor’s marks, cut off from her powers and sentenced to live out the rest of her days in a monastery. Two years later, Ghoa returns from the front lines with an offer: Return to the city, befriend Temujin—the leader of a group stealing vital supplies from the military—and deliver him into custody.

As Enebish gets closer to Temujin, she discovers that he’s been distributing the stolen supplies to impoverished shepherds whose winter grazing fields are damaged, while the Sky King and his army are doing nothing. She also learns that Temujin, like her, still prays to the forbidden First Gods rather than to the Sky King. Although Temujin’s cause may be just, Enebish still isn’t sure whether she can trust him. Caught between yearning for her freedom, loyalty to her family and her desire to know and do what is right, Enebish must learn how to be a warrior again, despite her fear of losing control.

Author Addie Thorley conjures a social setting drawn from an intriguing mix of cultures, in an environment that combines wintry tundra and harsh steppe, along with hints of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Its twisty plot, intriguing blend of magic and religion, and a vulnerable but noble narrator make Night Spinner perfect for readers looking for a slightly offbeat YA fantasy.

Sharon Cameron’s The Light in Hidden Places is based on the true story of Holocaust heroine Stefania Podgórska, a 16-year-old Catholic girl in Poland who not only took care of her younger sister but also hid 13 Jewish people in the attic of her tiny apartment.

In order to tell Stefania’s story, Cameron (The Dark Unwinding, The Knowing) did extensive research, which included interviewing several of the attic’s survivors, gaining access to Stefania’s unpublished memoir and traveling with Stefania’s son to Poland. There, they visited the places in which this incredible tale unfolded. Cameron saw for herself the minuscule, cramped space where 13 people cowered for more than two years with no electricity, water or toilet, and which Stefania and her sister could only access via a ladder to bring them food and water and carry out their waste in buckets. 

What’s more, an SS officer lived in an adjacent apartment for months, and by the end of the war, two German nurses had moved into Stefania’s apartment. The nurses often brought their SS boyfriends home for the night, making Stefania feel like she was not only secretly and illegally hiding Jewish people but also “running a Nazi boarding house.”

Cameron’s wide-ranging research and deft storytelling abilities combine to create an astoundingly authentic first-person narration. Her exquisite prose conveys in riveting detail exactly what it was like for Stefania to live through the horrors she witnessed, as well as the difficult decisions that had to be made by both survivors and those who did not, ultimately, survive.

Though it at times reads like a memoir, The Light in Hidden Places is a tense and gripping novel, full of urgency, in which death seems to wait around every corner. Although it’s still early in the year, it seems destined for my list of the best books of 2020.