“The night before Amelia Anne Richardson bled her life away on a parched dirt road outside of town, I bled out my dignity in the back of a pickup truck under a star-pricked sky.” The very first sentence of Amelia Anne Is Dead and Gone tells a surprising amount about the unfolding story and its narrator Becca. Newly graduated from high school and looking to escape small-town life, Becca finds her plans change once she hears of a stranger’s murder. Instead of packing for college, she gets bogged down in the flow of local gossip about Amelia’s death. Vacillating between worry and a kind of internal deadness, she grows concerned that her boyfriend James may be covering for a suspect in the case. Alternating chapters reveal uncanny parallels between Amelia and Becca’s lives, and we watch as one life approaches its end and another is altered forever.

This is author Kat Rosenfield’s first novel, and she’s to be commended for taking risks with Amelia Anne that aren’t common in young adult fiction. The violence in this book is brutal and intimate, but never voyeuristic—don’t be surprised if you physically recoil yet can’t stop reading. Some of Becca’s chapters seem almost to be observed from the air above the town, such as a lengthy meditation about how small-town legends persist and evolve. These musings are dreamy and slow as molasses on the page, yet build and add to the suspense of the mystery. By the end, two people have died as a result of passion and stupidity, and there are no easy explanations for either crime. Amelia Anne Is Dead and Gone blends elegant writing and brutal behavior into a sharp and haunting novel.

Elvie Nara is a totally normal soon-to-be teen mom in the year 2074. She wants to colonize Mars when she grows up, she easily fixes the computerized cars that everyone drives, and she’s a devotee of old 20th-century flat pic movies.

Shortly after an encounter with heartthrob Cole leaves her pregnant, Elvie learns of the Hanover School for Expecting Teen Mothers, a school in an Earth-orbiting cruise liner. Enrolling at Hanover for a year and then putting her baby up for adoption seems like the perfect plan. That is, until Elvie learns that her nemesis, Cole’s cheerleader girlfriend Britta, is also pregnant and will also be attending Hanover.

Sneaking onto the school’s observation deck one day with a pint of ice cream, Elvie is the first to see the arrival of a group of invading aliens. Their presence sets in motion a series of adventures that will take all of Elvie’s resourcefulness—and her sense of the absurd—to resolve.

Authors Martin Leicht and Isla Neal balance Elvie’s significant decisions about the future of herself and her baby with plenty of action, humor and interesting characters. This futuristic romp will delight readers and leave them anxiously awaiting the next book in what promises to be a fun, thoughtful trilogy.

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Read an interview with Martin Leicht and Isla Neal for Mothership.

While her father lies in a coma in an assisted living facility, the result of a construction accident two years earlier, Ellis Baldwin’s late-night radio goddess mother has brought up the ultimate question again: whether it’s time to disconnect him from the machines keeping him alive. As the 15-year-old weighs the approach of death and loss, she also begins to recognize the things that give her life meaning. She makes a list that becomes the framing device for Kekla Magoon’s at once bittersweet and hopeful 37 Things I Love (In No Particular Order).

Some choices, like warm chocolate chip cookies, sleeping in one’s own bed or the last days of school, are clear-cut loves; others are more complicated. Ellis still loves her best friend Abby, but no longer appreciates her increasingly self-absorbed style and wishes they could go back to the friendship they had “long before boobs and boys and parties.” Just when Ellis notices the sexually suggestive glances she’s starting to receive from boys, former best friend Cara re-enters her life. Their renewed friendship explores a new emotional and even physical intimacy, which may lead to one more love.

Ellis’ realistic, conversational style is chock full of teen appeal, and fans of Gayle Forman’s If I Stay will enjoy this equally quick yet emotionally charged story. Despite all the things she loves, they may mean more if she could share them with the people she loves. Letting go may mean letting in. As Ellis accepts finding love in truth, a good cry and ultimately saying goodbye, readers should have plenty of tissues at hand.

The League of Heroes would be out of a job if there were no supervillains for them to vanquish, and the Vindico have played that role for a long time now—too long. With an eye toward retirement, they kidnap five teenagers to train as their replacements. Giving kids the capacity to mind-meld and shift matter: What could possibly go wrong?

Author Wesley King strikes a balance between superhero action and humor in The Vindico. It’s a little like Lish McBride’s horror-humor mashup Hold Me Closer, Necromancer, only the laughs here come from the consequences of giving teenagers superpowers. When flaky ladies’ man Hayden spies a chamber to trap and destroy the Vindico, it’s only natural that he’d neglect to check the “destroy” function until after the archvillains are trapped. Needless to say, chaos ensues.

The five teens fight, form alliances, switch sides, pair up, split up and fight some more, all of which can get confusing. But the yin-yang symbiosis of the good and bad guys is neatly rendered, and each character gets enough backstory to make them distinct. The fight scenes are winners, too, frenetic and fantastical. The Vindico is good (and evil!), action-packed and a very good time.

There’s nothing like the simple, delectable pleasure of getting lost in a book on a summer’s day—as author Huntley Fitzpatrick understands. Her debut novel, My Life Next Door, follows Samantha Reed during her 17th summer, when she falls for the most unlikely candidate imaginable: the boy next door.

Samantha lives in a coastal Connecticut town with her mother and older sister, Tracy, in a house so pristine her mother has been known to vacuum behind the girls as they walk out the door in the morning. It’s quiet, clean and, Samantha must admit, a bit boring and lonely.

No wonder she’s been watching the large, boisterous family next door for years. Her mother has forbidden Samantha from playing with the Garretts, but despite the scattered toys, unkempt lawn and Mrs. Garrett’s habit of breastfeeding yet another new baby, something about their messy life appeals to her.

Then she meets Jase Garrett and everything changes. Samantha is drawn into Jase’s life and grows comfortable with the entire family. When something terrible and unexpected happens, Samantha faces a heartbreaking decision that tests her love for her family and her own sense of right and wrong.

Samantha and Jase embark on their romance not in a vacuum, but as real teens who balance family responsibilities, work, worries about friends and questions about their futures. Fitzpatrick, a mother of six, captures the magic of family and love in this impressive debut.

Sixteen-year-old Cassandra, her twin brother Paul and their father have always lived by the Old Way, even before the government forces them to move from the concrete Corridor to the sanctuary of an island populated by a band of their people, the Métis tribe of Western Canada. Unlike other newcomers, Cass and her family know how to live without the Corridor’s technology. And although she’s ordinarily indifferent to boys, Cass finds herself attracted to Bran, son and potential heir of the band’s missing chief.

Madda, the local medicine woman, takes Cassandra on as an apprentice, helping her develop talents she’s always possessed but never studied. Cassandra can heal wounds, see the invisible animal shades that accompany her people (similar to the dæmons of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy) and travel into the spirit world. But she cannot see her own shade, cannot help Paul find peace from the ghosts that haunt him and cannot convince various jealous factions to welcome her into their community.

In Shadows Cast by Stars, debut author Catherine Knutsson, herself a member of the Métis tribe, blends a contemporary feminist sensibility with Arthurian legends, Greek mythology and Native traditions to create a rich and captivating story.

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

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

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

Emily Booth Masters reviews from Nashville, Tennessee.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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