aug24-upload

Review by

On the first morning of preschool, Ravi comes downstairs wearing ladybug wings and antennae. When he refuses cornflakes for breakfast, his mother tells him that it’s actually a bowl full of “aphids,” leading him to slurp it down. Later, when she suggests that Ravi brush his teeth, he replies, “Ladybugs don’t have teeth . . . but my mandibles could do with a clean—they’re full of aphid guts.” Such is the delightful back-and-forth between a mother and her imaginative son in Ali Rutstein’s Ladybugs Do Not Go to Preschool, a familiar tale of first day of school jitters with a creative twist.

Despite his reluctance, Ravi is a “curious sort of ladybug,” somewhat tempted by his mother’s promise of new friends and art projects. There’s a perfectly balanced interplay between Ravi’s worries and his mother’s support and encouragement. Kids will enjoy the exchange of ladybug details, although additional educational facts about these insects would have been a nice addition for eager learners.

Niña Nill’s cheerful art adds just the right touch, transforming Ravi and his bowl haircut into a ladybug look-alike, and adding subtle details such as an “Aphids” label to the cereal box. Nill puts elements like this on every page—Ravi’s red cheeks look like ladybug spots, and the house’s bright floral dining room rug, seen from an overhead perspective, makes readers feel as though they’re gazing into a garden scene.

Ravi’s worried expressions readily transmit his fears, which evaporate when he sees a helpful omen once at school, as well as other students’ imaginative costumes on the final spread. Ladybugs Do Not Go to Preschool overflows with imagination and humor, making it an excellent choice for young new students.

Ladybugs Do Not Go to Preschool overflows with imagination and humor, making it an excellent choice for young new students.

Artist Komail Aijazuddin creates oil paintings and installations glowing with vivid color, religious iconography and simmering sensuality. Now, he’s expressing himself in a new way: His debut memoir, Manboobs: A Memoir of Musicals, Visas, Hope, and Cake, is a smart, funny and moving account of his fascinating life thus far.

The author grew up in Lahore, Pakistan, “a repressive place where girls didn’t feel safe, you couldn’t kiss anyone in public, and there wasn’t a single Burger King.” Thanks to a cherished VCR and parents who appreciated musical theater—“in the name of The Fiddler, The Phantom, and The Wiz, amen”—he immersed himself in dance movies and Disney cartoons galore (Romy, Michele, Buffy and Oprah earn fond shoutouts, too).

Such on-screen delights provided a welcome escape from Aijazuddin’s formative years at the local all-boys school, where he felt shame over his secret gayness and the “manboobs” that infused him with a “deep sense of physical betrayal in my body.” Aijazuddin kept secrets about his heart at home, too, and dreamed about moving to the “gay promised land” of America, where he could finally embrace his true self.

Close friendships with “other girly boys at school” and his dedication to making art sustained Aijazuddin until his talent earned him spots at NYU and the Pratt Institute in New York City. Alas, post-9/11 prejudice against South Asian people made this new home not nearly as easy or welcoming as he’d hoped. But despite his disillusionment, Aijazuddin didn’t give up on his now-adjusted American dreams, which required him to become a resident of New York. After learning that accomplished artists may be granted immigration visas, he moved back to Lahore and began creating a substantial body of work.

Readers will both root for the author to carve out a life in Pakistan that’s fulfilling and safe, and cheer when he becomes a citizen of the United States at last. And they’ll revel in the powerful prose and writerly panache that makes Manboobs a winning and heartfelt debut rife with plentiful humor, sharply observed commentary on religion and politics, potent musings on identity, and an inspiring message from one man’s path to hard-won self-acceptance: “I choose happiness over hate, freedom over falsehood, and celebration over self-censorship.”

 

Komail Aijazuddin’s Manboobs is a winning and heartfelt debut memoir, rife with clever humor and an inspiring message of hard-won self-acceptance.
Review by

Karen Kirsten spent afternoons as a young child at the home of her Polish grandparents in Melbourne, Australia, eating cakes from her grandmother’s favorite patisserie and listening to classical music. Adored by her maternal grandparents Alicja and Mietek, both Holocaust survivors, she could not understand why they never spoke about their past. As a young adult, she wondered why she was taught nothing about Judaism, and she struggled to explain her mother’s tales of a troubled and abusive childhood with parents she claimed did not love her.

What Kirsten didn’t know is that when her mother, Joasia, was 32, she received a letter from a stranger that blew open her world. It was from her real father—not Mietek, but another man who was living in Canada—and he wrote that her actual mother, Alicja’s sister Irena, was fatally shot by the Nazis in occupied Poland. Joasia would soon learn that as a baby, her father smuggled her out of the Warsaw ghetto in a backpack. Alicja and Mietek, her aunt and uncle, never told her the truth. And like her aunt and uncle, Joasia kept these revelations a secret from her own children for decades.

Irena’s Gift: An Epic WWII Memoir of Sisters, Secrets, and Survival chronicles Kirsten’s remarkable, decade-long quest to understand and heal the transgenerational trauma of war on her family. Using historical accounts, interviews and extensive archival research, Kirsten movingly reconstructs scenes of violence and heroism in the lives of everyday people, most notably the extraordinary women who came before her. After years of emotionally intense research reconstructing her mother’s and grandparents’ past, Kirsten takes Joasia to Poland to uncover the origins of their pain.

Pain sometimes travels through families until someone is ready to feel it. This memoir is the result of Kirsten’s journey to break open the seal of suffering and rebuild her family’s Jewish identity after decades of silence. Irena’s Gift is a beautifully written testimony to the power of memoir to heal and recreate a family’s history.

Weaving history with mystery, Karen Kirsten uncovers her family’s traumatic experiences during the Holocaust in her remarkable memoir, Irena’s Gift.
Review by

Sometime during the bleak 11th century, 17-year-old Roscille’s father sends her away to marry Macbeth, the fact that she does not wish to leave the land of her birth inconsequential to father’s need for allies. The large, brutish Thane looks “born right from the land of Glammis itself, right out of the earth,” and Roscille senses no warmth from him—only deep, unending cruelty.

Macbeth wants to marry Roscille for one reason: her magic. Roscille wears a veil at all times to hide her eyes, which can compel mortal men to do as she wishes. That power, combined with the witches Macbeth keeps chained beneath his castle, can help him fulfill the numerous prophecies about him and improve his political position. But Roscille does not wish to be his partner nor share his marital bed, to “submit herself to him like all the world’s women have before,” and as she fearfully starts to try and pull the strings of power, it sets off a chain of events that could both destroy the few people she cares about and force her to join the witches in the cold and the dark.

Author Ava Reid (Juniper and Thorn, The Wolf and the Woodsman) seems unconcerned with exploring the original themes and dynamics of the Scottish play. Instead, Macbeth is used as set dressing for a story about a young girl wed into terrible circumstances, a decision that will please fans of historical-inspired horror more than it will Shakespeare aficionados. Roscille’s main goal is to manipulate her way out of sharing Macbeth’s marital bed; unlike her theatrical counterpart, she is not concerned with power outside of how it keeps her safe. Despite the signs of distress and uncertainty Macbeth shows early on, any nuances in the Thane’s character vanish as he becomes a leader consumed by foolish and cruel ambition, a misandrist caricature that feels vaguely anti-Scottish and eradicates any moral complexity in Reid’s retelling.

Reid’s attention to stark, dark historical details combined with Roscille’s constant fear and anxiety (“her mind writhes with possibilities, like maggots in rotten meat”) gives Lady Macbeth an unearthly, nightmarish quality. Fans of the romance in Reid’s previous works will not find it here. Though Roscille does get a few moments of reprieve in her conversations with a spindly yet protective hagseed prince—”hagseed” meaning the son of a witch, and thus immune to Roscille’s eyes—Lady Macbeth is a horror novel about survival. Roscille has heard stories about sexual assault, spends the entire book fearing it and ultimately endures being raped by her husband as well as threats and physical abuse from men she once considered manipulable allies. Roscille feels herself going mad, though mileage may vary on whether readers find this ever-present danger thematically appropriate or wearying. Only in the last few chapters, as Roscille begins to understand her power, does retribution both magical and personal arrive.

Readers seeking stories of abuse survivors finally conquering their abuser and fans of grimdark historical fantasy will find Lady Macbeth elegantly written and right up their alley.

Readers seeking stories of abuse survivors finally conquering their abuser and fans of grimdark historical fantasy will find Lady Macbeth elegantly written and right up their alley.

Hum

Review by

When it comes to dystopian futures, author Helen Phillips hits the American zeitgeist jackpot in her sixth novel, Hum. Cancel culture, job displacement due to AI, government overreach, deteriorating middle class wealth, missing children, declining air quality, bad breakfast cereals . . . the future’s so dark, you gotta wear a miner’s helmet.

In fiction, a trip out into nature almost always ends up with Job-like trials being visited upon the vacationers. Deliverance. 127 Hours. Jurassic Park. Into The Wild. Even Hansel and Gretel, for goodness’ sake. But despite these fictional precedents, when May makes a little extra money by submitting herself as a test subject for a surgical procedure that will disguise her features from the latest iteration of AI recognition software, she decides to take her family on vacation to the very expensive hyper-natural Botanical Garden. May hauls her two kids and her husband off into this Disney-fied paradise, requiring them, for good measure, to leave their phones and other communication devices at home so they can reap the full benefit of the experience.

And reap it they do.

The “hum” of the title is an AI-powered, jack-of-all-trades android, able to fill roles from a dental hygienist to a pop psychotherapist. If there was any question as to whether Phillips has seen 20 minutes into the future, in addition to dispensing whatever wisdom is appropriate to the moment, hums shill commercial products—unless you upgrade to the ad-free tier. Hum is, as dystopias go, reasonably breezy; it’s suitable for a coast-to-coast airline flight or an extended stay on the beach as an antidote to binge-watching the latest season of your favorite TV show. For those just dipping their toes into speculative fiction, the setting is relatable enough to not make you feel like (ahem) a stranger in a strange land.

For those just dipping their toes into speculative fiction, Helen Phillips’ prescient dystopia Hum is relatable enough not to make you feel like a stranger in a strange land.
Review by

It’s not a total mystery who killed Gauri Lankesh, a hard-charging local journalist and activist in the South Indian city of Bangalore who was assassinated in 2017.

Lankesh, the daughter of a famous Indian writer and publisher, was an aggressive critic of India’s right-wing religious groups, which have grown in power, prominence and violence under Prime Minister Narendra Modi and his ruling party.

While a few alternate theories are proffered about her death, I Am on the Hit List: A Journalist’s Murder and the Rise of Autocracy in India is not really a whodunit. Instead, it’s an obituary of a complicated woman and a portrait of a country’s descent into chaos, hatred and lawlessness. (Don’t worry: You still find out whodunit.)

The assassinated journalist’s life is both inspiring and perplexing, as her understated career in niche local tabloids blossoms into martyrdom and legend upon her death. Lankesh was fearless—some argued reckless—in her opposition to government corruption, creeping religious fervor and the subjugation of women and minority groups. She fought with her dear friends in the pages of her newspaper, and her antagonism of powerful forces had those same friends and family worrying for her safety. And for good reason. It’s a story of complex family relationships, both within the Lankesh family specifically and Indian civil society more generally.

As the story of Lankesh’s life and death unfolds, Rollo Romig, an American journalist with marital ties to Bangalore, sends the reader on several tangential journeys of varying levels of relevance: the story of Christian apostle “doubting” Thomas’ maybe-apocryphal mission to India, the history of the restaurant industry in India, a dazzling description of Bangalore’s astonishing book district. But the author’s reporting about the case has clearly been relentless; he traveled multiple times to the region and interviewed countless figures with connections to Lankesh, modern Indian politics and the case itself.

The complex ethnopolitics of the region and the country offer a disturbing but vivid backdrop for the murder. India’s retreat from pluralism and growing embrace of bigotry and oppression mean that Lankesh’s story is just one of untold many of murder, political violence and religious strife in a desperate country.

 

I Am on the Hit List pairs relentless reporting and historical context in a vivid exploration of a fearless Indian journalist’s assassination.
Review by

Tara didn’t expect that her academic success would cause her to skip eighth grade and hurl her away unexpectedly from middle school and into the labyrinthian hallways of high school. At 13, she doesn’t feel ready for any of it: not the raucous boys, the way her interests suddenly seem juvenile, or the seemingly constant changes exploding around her.

Tara’s imagination serves her well when playing with her little brother, but it also causes her anxiety to run rampant—until she meets Libby, a girl in her English class. Libby is smart and funny and makes the classroom full of wrestling-obsessed boys tolerable. But how can Tara impress Libby enough to convince her to become her friend? It’s not enough for Tara to just be herself, right?

Eisner Award-nominated cartoonist Emma Hunsinger makes her graphic novel debut with the candid and comical How It All Ends. This book simply gets the weirdness tweens and teens can feel when shoved into a new situation; the strange and hilarious mundanity of high school; and the inner strength it takes to be who you are in the face of all that chaos.

Hunsinger’s unique illustrations truly shine: Rarely do text and images work in as perfect harmony to tell a story. Color tracks and heightens emotions: red as Tara’s imagination runs wild, a muted and friendly blue for lower intensity moments, and yellow when Tara is overwhelmed by feelings. The simple line work of Hunsinger’s facial expressions captures characters’ feelings perfectly and hilariously.

How It All Ends is a sensational debut, one to put Hunsinger on the must-read list of every kid who picks up the book. Hand this to fans of Raina Telgemeier and Alice Oseman: They will devour it and ask for more.

 

How It All Ends simply gets the weirdness tweens and teens can feel when shoved into a new situation; the strange and hilarious mundanity of high school; and the inner strength it takes to be who you are in the face of all that chaos.
Review by

Nathan Newman’s first novel, How to Leave the House, tracks a young man named Natwest in his quest to reclaim a missing package. Inside the package: a large sex toy. Along the way, various players in Natwest’s small town step forward to share apparent wisdom with the young man, in scenes that range from ludicrous to genuinely philosophical. Through these loosely connected narratives, readers encounter a bawdy tale of the unseriousness of existence and the impossibility of knowing our neighbors.

Some chapters relate Natwest’s interior narrative (often obnoxiously laden with literary and artistic references), while others inhabit the minds of other characters, including his dentist (obsessed with painting mouths), his former English teacher (recovered from cancer and looking for sex) and his mother (proud of her son and desperate to show it). There are comedic and entertaining stories, especially one involving an egg fight and one in which a woman dances on her brother’s grave. Others are upsetting and cruel, like the chapter narrated by Natwest’s self-loathing ex-boyfriend, and another about the provocative internet activities of a girl named Lily.

In one storyline, an imam named Mishaal struggles with his love for classic cinema. He is enraptured by closeups of Ingrid Bergman, tortured by them as if he were having an illicit affair. When the imam encounters Natwest, he lectures the young man on binaries: “If it’s not Chaplin or Keaton, it’s Spielberg or Scorsese. If it’s not Spielberg or Scorsese, it’s Truffaut or Godard.” He insists that Natwest embrace his inner Keaton and stop trying to be a Chaplin.

Natwest’s story, along with everyone else’s, is bisected, torn between conflicting desires. The characters’ fates are ambivalent, not only in that we don’t know how things will work out for them, but also because none of them know how they’d like their stories to turn out. “I believe that a happy ending is at least as realistic as an unhappy one,” the imam says. Natwest is horrified by that idea, as the young man insists that unhappiness is “real shit.”

How to Leave the House is fiction as friction, designed for discomfort. This is a novel of dichotomies that beg to be challenged, with psychological spaces that desperately need transparency but are inherently, tragically closed off to each other.

Read our Q&A with Nathan Newman about How to Leave the House.

Nathan Newman’s debut is a bawdy tale of the unseriousness of existence and the impossibility of knowing our neighbors, set in a small town over the course of 24 hours.

Young children courageously face their fears in Dare to Be Daring, a funny and reassuring tale told in upbeat, singsongy rhyme that provides an excellent mantra for situations when a little extra motivation is needed: “Today, I will dare to be daring.”

As author Chelsea Lin Wallace acknowledges in straightforward, witty prose, trying something for the first time is daunting, indeed. But what if taking risks can lead to wonderful things, like a little boy’s feelings of elation and relief after conquering his fear of the dentist? He happily discovers, “That paste tastes like candy! / This suck tool is handy! / A trip to the toy bin, woo-hoo!”

In a variety of scenarios depicting a relatable mix of physical, social and emotional challenges, children throw caution to the wind in gym class, try a new food, ask to join a group of others playing a game and more. Their initial trepidation and ultimate exuberance is expertly depicted by illustrator Lian Cho, who conjures up expressive characters that are a delight to behold, including the comically huge grimace and widened eyes of a skeptical girl bracing herself for a meal of pea and beef stew (“It’s GREEN and it’s GRIMY”).

Cho’s gouache and colored pencil art is rendered in a cheery mix of patterns and textures. There’s a splattery Pollock-esque painting, a furry Bernese mountain dog and the gaping dark maw of the unlit basement—the latter of which will have readers cringing and giggling as a little girl tries, again and again, to take that first step down the stairs.

Dare to Be Daring makes a sweetly supportive case for mustering up the courage to try new things—and remembering you don’t have to do it alone, perfectly or all at once. After all, as Wallace shows us, “It’s our light that we shine that is daring. / It glows when we set our fears free.”

Dare to Be Daring makes a sweetly supportive case for mustering up the courage to try new things—and remembering you don’t have to do it alone, perfectly or all at once.
Review by

In her decades as a courtroom artist, Jane Rosenberg has used her trusty pastels to sketch some of the most infamous moments in American legal history.

She was there when Susan Smith apologized to her estranged husband for drowning their two young sons in a South Carolina lake, and when Dzhokhar Tsarnaev was found guilty of the carnage at the Boston Marathon bombing. When Donald Trump appeared in a Manhattan courtroom to be arraigned on charges of falsifying business records, Rosenberg was there to capture his “Day-Glo complexion: base layers of red, purple, even green and blue, that were softened and smoothed over with lighter pinks and whites, accented with strokes of burnt sienna.”

Drawn Testimony: My Four Decades as a Courtroom Sketch Artist takes a mesmerizing look at this rarest of professions. In a time of Court TV and paparazzi, the idea of artists capturing legal drama through drawing is almost quaint. Yet Rosenberg’s images continue to be broadcast by news outlets around the world: Woody Allen and Mia Farrow sitting stone-faced during their custody battle, Harvey Weinstein crumpled in a wheelchair listening to victim impact statements, John Gotti with his shock of silver hair. Ghislaine Maxwell, Bill Cosby, Tom Brady: She has sketched them all. (And in the case of Brady, had her artwork go viral for all the wrong reasons when she struggled to capture the particular angles of his face. She calls the ensuing media attention “a storm which struck with hurricane force.”)

As talented as Rosenberg is at drawing, she is an equally gifted writer. She describes the technique she has honed over so many years and cases, how she quickly builds sketches that capture singular moments in court, even as the action continues in front of her. She writes in visceral detail about being one of the few in-person witnesses during the most vulnerable moments of so many famous and powerful people. An utterly absorbing read, Drawn Testimony captures “the rhythms of a criminal trial and the layers of humanity they could contain—stunning tales of ambition, betrayal, family, and bloodshed.”

 

For four decades, courtroom sketch artist Jane Rosenberg has portrayed the famous and infamous at high-profile trials. She tells all in Drawn Testimony.
Review by

A spooky celebration conjures real frights in Chaos at the Lazy Bones Bookshop, a new cozy mystery series set in a small town with a big reputation for Halloween.

Bailey Briggs loves all things Halloween—which is good, because she lives in the year-round Halloween-themed town of Elyan Hollow, Oregon. This fall, in addition to managing Lazy Bones Books, which she just took over from her grandfather, Bailey is also running the inaugural Spooky Season Literary Festival. She’s secured help from other local shop owners; brought in several authors, including a hometown hero; and even planned extra events like a murder mystery game and an arts and crafts session. What Bailey didn’t plan on, though, was the disrespectful crew of Gone Ghouls, a ghost-hunting TV show that’s filming around Elyan Hollow. After Bailey gets into an altercation with the crew, things go from bad to worse when she discovers a body in the middle of the town’s hay bale maze. To clear her name and save her festival, Bailey decides to investigate the murder. She uncovers decades-old grievances, family secrets and rivalries that are a lot scarier—and deadlier—than some of the stories in her bookshop.

Author Emmeline Duncan previously wrote the Ground Rules cozy series, which similarly overflowed with Pacific Northwestern charm. The town of Elyan Hollow feels like its own character—quirky, warm and inviting (despite the murders). It’s easy to root for Bailey, who loves her home and friends and is hoping that her literary festival is the start of something special for Elyan Hollow. While Bailey is working around the clock to make the festival a success, she’s also navigating several challenges in her personal life, like an absent mother, an overbearing uncle and the mystery of her birth father. Like real life, not all of these issues are resolved, but Bailey learns more about herself and where she came from, and grows more confident in her professional life, too.

At times, the mystery takes a back seat as Duncan explores Bailey’s personal struggles and establishes the residents and businesses of Elyan Hollow. However, as this is the first book in a planned series, future installments may not have this impediment. Fans looking for a lighthearted cozy to get them in the Halloween spirit won’t be disappointed with Chaos at the Lazy Bones Bookshop.

Emmeline Duncan’s cozy mystery Chaos at the Lazy Bones Bookshop is set in a Halloween-themed small town that overflows with seasonal charm.

According to numerous surveys, organized religion is on the decline in the United States, and thus, Pulitzer Prize-winner Eliza Griswold’s Circle of Hope: A Reckoning With Love, Power, and Justice in an American Church comes at a germane time. In it, the New Yorker reporter follows the fortunes of one radical evangelical church, illuminating both the strength of its powerful, inclusive teachings and the weakness revealed when it’s battered by internal strife.

Beginning in 2019, Griswold (Amity and Prosperity) immersed herself in Circle of Hope, a church composed of three congregations in Philadelphia and one in southern New Jersey, and spiritual home to more than 700 members. Circle of Hope was the creation of Rod and Gwen White, a pair of Southern California baby boomers and self-described “Jesus freaks,” who came east in 1996 to establish what Rod called “an outpost of his counter rebellion against all the coercion going on in the name of Jesus.” In their case, Griswold writes, it meant aspiring to “live out Jesus’s teachings on love and liberation, building the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth by rejecting capitalism, redistributing resources, and addressing social ills.”

But as 2020 unfolded, Circle of Hope found itself besieged by twin crises: the coronavirus pandemic and the murder of George Floyd. The latter tragedy launched the church, whose membership was 75% to 85% white, on a nobly intentioned but ultimately deeply divisive project of instilling anti-racism as one of its defining values. Through countless meetings, services and searching conversations, Griswold skillfully observes the church’s four thoughtful, earnest young pastors—Ben White (son of the founders), Julie Hoke, Rachel Sensenig and Jonny Rashid, its only leader of color—as they grapple with that painful issue and one another.

In portraying Circle of Hope’s struggles, Griswold manages to remain both sympathetic and objective, as she reveals how difficult it can be for well-intentioned people to actualize their exalted ideals. Circle of Hope is the intimate story of one small church, but it carries within it profoundly relevant lessons for all people of faith.

 

Eliza Griswold’s Circle of Hope is the intimate story of one small, progressive church, but it carries profoundly relevant lessons for all people of faith.
Review by

After their annual two-week hunting trip in northern Maine, lifelong friends Jess and Storey emerge from the wilderness to a bewildering new world. Bridges have been blown up, houses burned and villages abandoned—and there’s no internet connection to turn to for an explanation. Before their trip, there had been rumblings about militant groups that wanted Maine to secede, but the pair hadn’t been worried. Now, however, they find themselves “in the wake of a rolling catastrophe, moving behind some malign harvest whose shape and intention they could only guess.”

Peter Heller’s seventh novel, Burn, is one of his best: It’s full of heart and soul amid the bleak landscape (be forewarned, there are numerous bodies). In fact, even those who don’t normally turn to dystopian novels are likely to be completely captivated. Heller excels at writing about the wilderness, showcasing its might and beauty amid deadly situations, as he’s done before in books like The Last Ranger, The Guide and The River. Here, humans present the greatest danger as Jess and Storey attempt to make their way to safety, combining their intellects and survival skills in a way that brings to mind HBO’s The Last of Us, minus the fungus-infested zombies. Before long, these two men make a discovery that changes the calculus of their each and every move.

In addition to being a survival thriller and insurrectionist nightmare, this is also a story centered on friendship, how it is tested and how it perseveres. Burn interweaves the friends’ past and present lives with admirable flair, making each thread equally riveting. Some readers may find one surprising past relationship hard to buy, but even that doesn’t distract from the tight, authentic bond that forms the basis of this novel. “Love is attention,” Jess’s ex-wife once told him. “That is all you know on earth.” Over the course of the novel, Jess finally comes to understand what she means, making his emotional journey just as charged as the perilous landscape that he and Storey are forced to traverse. Burn is a propulsive tale that will keep readers on the edge of their seats from beginning to end.

Peter Heller’s seventh novel, Burn, is one of his best: It’s full of heart and soul amid the bleak landscape, and even those who don’t normally turn to dystopian novels are likely to be completely captivated.

Sign Up

Stay on top of new releases: Sign up for our newsletter to receive reading recommendations in your favorite genres.

Trending Features