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Stephen Ellcock has been described as an “image alchemist,” which is a term that may sound vague or even nonsensical until you thumb through his tightly focused treasuries of esoteric imagery. Then, the term makes perfect sense. Following The Cosmic Dance and Underworlds, Elements: Chaos, Order and the Five Elemental Forces is the third title in Ellcock’s trilogy of books that explore the natural world. Using the ancient Greek categorization of the five natural elements—air, fire, earth, water and celestial aether—as a springboard, Ellcock has compiled a cabinet of curiosities out of images from across the globe, from ancient to contemporary times. It’s a vast assortment that maintains a singular vision: that elemental forces are the cornerstone of all existence. As Ellcock writes in the book’s introduction, “the five classical elements remain universal symbols, omnipresent archetypes embedded deep within the collective unconscious and the popular imagination.” A photograph of the sea by artist Wolfgang Tillmans makes a new kind of sense when viewed in proximity to Eugene Delacroix’s 1853 painting Christ Asleep During the Tempest. Illustrations from a 17th-century Japanese fireworks catalog take on a different meaning when paired with an 18th-century Indian painting of women lighting fireworks during Diwali, and offer another kind of insight when positioned next to an 1887 photograph of a building on fire. Elements truly is visual alchemy, and will be a treat for anyone who is interested in the intersection of art, science, religion and culture.

Stephen Ellcock returns with his signature visual alchemy in a compendium of images related to the elements of the natural world.
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One abandoned schoolhouse, decades old, stands on the coast of Ireland. Shunned by neighbors, the focus of many a ghost story, and home base for a commune called “the Screamers,” it has also housed three generations of Dooley women, each of whose lives have been knowingly and unknowingly defined by the choices of the others.

The family saga opens with Cora, a 16-year-old left orphaned in New York City after her father is killed at the twin towers on 9/11. In her disorienting grief, with little left tethering her to the city, a letter from her mysterious aunt Róisín in Ireland comes as a surprising relief. Cora leaves all she’s ever known and hops on a plane to join her aunt in County Donegal. From here, author Catherine Airey jumps into Cora’s late mother Máire’s history, and the novel thereafter opens up into an expanse of alternating narratives that stretch back to Ro and Máire’s early childhood.

Airey’s technical ability in Confessions is thoroughly impressive. She writes one section completely in the second person and another solely in letters; she exquisitely captures the attitudes, atmospheres and language of communities spanning five decades and two coasts of the Atlantic; and she tackles mental health, rape, exploitation, abortion rights and political imprisonment with serious and heartfelt tact that never edges into preachiness. The range of what Airey takes on in Confessions is astonishing, and every element is carefully woven together.

Confessions recalls the structural uniqueness of Gabrielle Zevin’s Tomorrow, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, the generational intertwining of Tara Stringfellow’s Memphis, and the emotional complexity of Sally Rooney’s Normal People; it feels in some way reminiscent of each. This is a firecracker of a debut novel that never gives up any slack.

Catherine Airey excavates the intertwining stories of three generations of Irish American women in Confessions, a firecracker of a debut novel that never gives up any slack.

New Yorker Emma is 26 years old and has been sober for a year. With her sponsor’s restrictions on dating lifted, she might be ready to meet someone, and Ben, the sweet guy in her IT department, seems too good to be true. Though Emma believes her life is definitely better now, some things remain unchanged, like the way she hides her personality at work, and her mother’s relentless matchmaking. Emma is also hesitant to open up to those in her life about her sobriety, and continues to wrestle with lingering guilt and shame. This makes her workplace even harder to navigate leading up to the annual holiday party, especially because Emma’s been tapped for the planning team—and so has Ben. 

Emma’s quietly resilient and mostly optimistic response to her internal struggles make her a relatable and likable character. Author Ava Robinson astutely captures Emma’s growing awareness of how her alcoholism has affected not only her life but also her relationships with those around her, particularly in her interactions with her meddlesome mother and somewhat distant father, both of whom have been waiting to disclose their own news. 

Nuanced, hopeful and insightful, Robinson’s debut may especially resonate with readers who enjoy titles like Iona Iverson’s Rules for Commuting by Clare Pooley or Big Girl, Small Town by Michelle Gallen. Definitely Better Now strikes a delicate balance between humor and gravity. The dynamics of Emma’s support group, with its rules, unspoken signals and understanding, feel authentic. Equally credible and effective is Emma’s adjustment to her newfound clarity, and how she navigates returning to the world of romance, amid gossip and miscommunication. Definitely Better Now is an endearing portrayal of a young woman redefining herself. 

Nuanced, hopeful and insightful, Ava Robinson’s Definitely Better Now is an endearing portrayal of a young woman redefining herself after one year of sobriety.
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When Abby Lai was young, she wished for a sibling to play with. Her parents granted her wish . . . four times over. Now the oldest of five, 12-year-old Abby tries to spend as much time outside her house as possible. After all, as she says in the epigraph of Chickenpox, “Younger siblings are like viruses. They’re tiny, and they can make you sick.” 

But then Abby is the one to accidentally bring a virus into her home, by having one of her best friends come over to play and unknowingly infect the household with chickenpox. Soon enough, all five siblings have caught it. The only thing that makes Abby’s skin crawl more than her inevitable rash is the thought of being in quarantine with her siblings for the next 10 days. 

Chickenpox is award-winning author and illustrator Remy Lai’s first semi-autobiographical work, following several acclaimed graphic novels such as Pawcasso and Ghost Book. Lai made the unique decision to write from her big sister’s point of view, acknowledging in an author’s note, “I could only write this book as an adult because it took me growing up to understand, empathize, and appreciate the things my sisters did and felt.” Her portrayal of her sister as a funny, anxious, sweet and headstrong main character carries a love for Abby that readers are sure to catch, leaving them hoping that Lai will tell more stories about her siblings.

Lai’s illustrations shine as always, with many hilarious metaphors drawn in, and vibrant backgrounds and expressive characters to emphasize the intense emotions that come with being a kid approaching adolescence. Lai clues present-day young people in to what life was like in Indonesia in 1994 through historically accurate details accompanied by occasional parenthetical additions that provide crucial information, such as how a home’s telephones all run on the same line.

This graphic novel is the perfect blend of the friend drama of The Tryout by Christina Soontornvat and the family drama in Twins by Varian Johnson. Laughter about the Lai siblings’ antics will be as contagious as chickenpox was in the ’90s! 

 

Laughter about the Lai siblings' antics in Remy Lai’s semi-autobiographical novel Chickenpox will be as contagious as chickenpox was in the '90s.

“The kitchen is a portal to a hundred different places, people, times and experiences,” Caroline Eden writes in Cold Kitchen: A Year of Culinary Travels. Over the course of many trips organized by the year’s four seasons, she showcases the power of memoir to transport readers to another person’s life. Eden creates a sense of place in each chapter, taking the reader on a journey—whether to Istanbul or Riga, Latvia, or Warsaw, Poland—before returning home. In her subterranean kitchen in Edinburgh, Scotland, Eden recreates the flavors of her travels, reconnecting to these far-flung destinations with the comfort of her dog at her side.

A love of cooking isn’t necessary to enjoy this thoughtful collection of essays. But for those who do, Eden concludes each chapter with a recipe representative of the place and time of year she has just described. (Vegetarians may be pleased to discover that only one of the 12 recipes includes meat!) She ponders why we fawn over cuisine from and travel to some places and not others. That’s an apt question, and this book is full of stories from places less traveled (except maybe by your friend with the most passport stamps). Eden has a particular affinity for Central Asia, and items from her travels serve as talismans when she’s at home. She invites readers into the journey not only by sharing her experiences, but by recounting history, too. Her experience reporting on former Soviet countries and current events is clear in how she roots her story in greater context.

Cold Kitchen is a quiet book with little dialogue, but it’s full of illuminating and sensual details. When Eden writes about Armenia, for example, she recalls fluttering flags announcing recently buried soldiers, the sound of folk music playing in a guide’s car and the aroma of a ripe apricot. Her travels and her adventures in her own kitchen boast flavor after flavor.

Although Cold Kitchen recounts Eden’s travels, at heart it’s a meditation on home: “How fragile peace is. How perishable home is. All of it so easily lost. Home is many things; it is fixed for some, movable for others. . . . Either way, it is surely foolish to ever take it for granted.” Eden’s kitchen is the heart of her home. But as the world outside that kitchen reminds us daily, nothing but death is guaranteed. Cold Kitchen is an invitation to appreciate every morsel of the present moment.

In her thoughtful culinary memoir, Cold Kitchen, Caroline Eden visits far-flung destinations and returns home to cook their food.

Former competitive skier Wylie Potts is trying to find a new identity. Her mother and coach, World Cup and Olympic medalist skier Claudine Potts, put so much pressure on Wylie that she began to experience panic attacks and, eventually, walked away from the sport. She’s found a career she loves at an art museum and a boyfriend with athletic interests of his own, Dan.

Wylie and Dan have been training for the BodyFittest Duo competition in Berlin. She sees it as a chance at redemption after quitting skiing, a decision that fractured her relationship with her mom. But when an injury sidelines Dan from the two-person competition, Wylie turns to her mother in desperation.

As it happens, Claudine, whose bad knee ended her own ski career, is in Switzerland, trying to find closure for a secret shame of her own that she can’t allow Wylie to uncover. Wylie joins her on the way to the competition, and the two women are faced with their own insecurities, bad behavior and opportunities for redemption. Together, perhaps they can win and reclaim both Wylie’s pride and their relationship.

In Bluebird Day, journalist and author Megan Tady (Super Bloom) takes readers on an alternately hilarious and touching romp through Zermatt, Switzerland. Switching between Wylie’s and Claudine’s perspectives, Tady delves deeply into both their psyches, and with the patience of a gifted therapist, she uncovers the wounds that fractured their relationship. Their interactions are sometimes painful to read—just as a mother-daughter argument can be difficult to witness. But Tady knows when to pull back. She offers just enough pain for readers to understand the characters’ plight.

Throughout the Potts women’s adventure, Tady tosses in references to Swiss icons and ski history, introduces an entertaining supporting cast—a “motley crew that’s sworn off extravagance in the heart of a luxurious town”—and includes conversation about climate change. Bluebird Day is the ideal read for anyone looking for a fast-paced, lighthearted novel you could enjoy equally beside a crackling fire or at the beach. Tady delivers a cozy tale with layers as numerous as midseason snowpack.

In Bluebird Day, Megan Tady delivers a cozy tale with layers as numerous as midseason snowpack, delving into the psyches of mother and daughter competitive skiers Claudine and Wylie.

For people in the public eye, any visual signs of aging are amplified, scrutinized and criticized. In her latest book, actress, model and author of There Was a Little Girl and Down Came the Rain, Brooke Shields pens a manifesto on what it’s like to grow older in front of an audience. Shields’ life has been on display since she became the youngest Vogue cover girl in history at 14. Now at 59, she provides an honest perspective on getting over the myths that accompany aging as a woman. Brooke Shields Is Not Allowed to Get Old: Thoughts on Aging as a Woman, is refreshing, revealing and surprisingly relatable.

Backed by research studies, statistics and real-life stories, Shields’ memoir is introspective, insightful and confident. From her own life, she shares tales of surgeries gone awry, mothering college-age daughters and her decision to shift her focus to what she feels comfortable with rather than what she assumes will please others. Some of what she’s learned sounds simple but is in fact hard won: “One of the joys of getting older . . . is the ability to say ‘no’ to the things you don’t want to do. ”

Women in entertainment are speaking up about aging more than ever—see Julia Louis Dreyfus’ podcast Wiser Than Me, for example—and addressing a question many women reckon with as they grow older: Do I still have value? Shields explores this and its rippling effects in depth. “Why are we forever criticizing ourselves and our bodies while seeking ridiculous perfection?” she writes. “And why, when we finally take the pressure off or count our blessings or just enjoy who we are, is it practically too late?”

Combining a variety of genres such as memoir, self-help, parenting and health and wellness, Brooke Shields Is Not Allowed to Get Old offers tips on how to self-advocate, feel more grounded and embrace one’s maturity, wisdom and experience. This wide range of topics will appeal to anyone seeking a deeper understanding of the aging process and how to develop a sense of enlightenment and ownership of their present and future selves.

In her refreshing new memoir, Brooke Shields shares how she learned to embrace the maturity, wisdom and experience that comes with age.
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The 1960s may have been swinging for London’s Carnaby Street crowd, but elsewhere in the city, change of a very different sort took place: Caribbean immigrants came to Britain to fill job vacancies in hope of a better life. One such immigrant is Victor Johnson, the central figure in Caryl Phillips’ Another Man in the Street. The novel traverses half a century, and, like much of Phillips’ work, is a thought-provoking examination of colonialism and its repercussions.

Like Phillips, Victor left the Leeward Island of Saint Kitts to move to England. In Victor’s case, he leaves his parents, two older sisters and his wife, Lorna, when he’s 26 to endure two weeks packed onto a rumbling banana boat. Not content to be a cane cutter like his father, Victor has dreams of becoming a journalist and craves “a chance to start over without people judging me.”

That plan doesn’t go as Victor had hoped. When journalism jobs prove hard to find, he takes a gig as a handyman at a Notting Hill pub where he suffers racist comments from a white waitress, while living in a run-down hostel whose owner hates Black people.

Things appear to improve when Victor gets a job as a rent collector for a property owner named Peter Feldman, work Victor describes as “bullying people.” In the spare, formal prose typical of his style (“She closed her eyes, for she could see it all too clearly now.”), Phillips charts Victor’s dealings with Peter. Victor also begins a relationship with Peter’s secretary, Ruth, a woman desperate to figure out “what on earth she might do to make life more tolerable.”

Victor eventually finds his way into the world of England’s broadsheets, but life’s challenges prove as rough as that banana boat ride. Among them are health issues; a son in Saint Kitts who is often in trouble; Ruth’s adult daughter, Lucy, with whom she has an “uneasy relationship”; and the fallout from Ruth’s discovery of Lorna and Victor’s life back home.

Transitions aren’t always clear, primarily at the beginning, but Another Man in the Street builds quiet power with its deep exploration of Phillips’ characters. Like The Lost Child, his excellent take on Wuthering Heights, this book is absorbing in its investigation of the impact of the strictures of colonial rule in the Caribbean.

Caryl Phillips once again explores the impact of the strictures of colonial rule in the Caribbean in the absorbing Another Man in the Street.
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Costanza Casati, author of Clytemnestra, draws on a myth inspired by the real Assyrian queen Semiramis in her mesmerizingly intricate second novel, spinning together fact and legend about the first female ruler of one of the most influential kingdoms in world history.

Babylonia begins in 823 B.C.E. in the small village of Mari, where Semiramis lives under the close watch of her adoptive father, Simmas. He is the village’s head shepherd, as well as a drunk and brute. Simmas has always ignored her courage and curiosity, and adopted her with the sole purpose of marrying her off in a gainful exchange. His abuse of Semiramis draws the attention of their new governor, Onnes, who eventually falls for Semiramis’ beauty and decides to marry her. Off she goes to the capital of Kalhu, where her welcome, as a commoner among royals, is unsurprisingly cool. But this is exactly what sets Semiramis apart and gives her the edge she needs to command attention with her wit and intelligence. Her undeniable influence eventually reaches King Ninus, then leads her to the throne.

Casati’s command of historical details and cultural norms is thorough, and her rich cast of characters, representing a range of social classes, gives a comprehensive understanding of what ancient life was like. For instance, there’s Ribat, a slave in the palace who aspires to be a scribe; Sasi, the castrated royal spymaster; and Nisat, the king’s overbearing mother, who rules from behind the scenes. The story leans in to drama, with many unexpected twists and romantic predicaments. Casati doesn’t hold back on violence, either: Scenes of war and its aftermath are brutal, as is the intense pressure on those in power to expand their reign through force. 

Captivating and historically insightful, Casati’s Babylonia is a resonant page turner.

Costanza Casati’s captivating and historically insightful second novel, inspired by a real Assyrian queen, is a resonant page turner.
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As with so much of writer and world traveler Pico Iyer’s body of work, Aflame: Learning From Silence takes readers on a different sort of journey—not to some far-flung global destination, but deep into the interior terrain of self-reflection, stillness and solitude.

High above the Pacific, in California’s Big Sur, is a Catholic monastery inhabited by monks of the most contemplative Camaldolese Benedictine order. For more than three decades, Iyer has come here to retreat from the rush and distractions of the so-called real world, to sit in silence with kind, welcoming monks who “don’t ask anything of visitors other than a ‘spirit of quiet and recollection.’ ”

In Aflame, Iyer’s intimate, memoiristic essays steadily chronicle his accumulated observations and journey into the self during these quiet moments within the monastic community, and show how these hours of “nonaction” come to inform his daily life, replete with its responsibilities, cherished relationships, joys, mysteries and tragedies. What especially shines throughout Iyer’s clear, luminous prose are gentle, compassionate wisdoms derived from Catholic and Buddhist traditions. These are also illuminated through Iyer’s ongoing relationships in the “outer” world, including conversations with his holiness the Dalai Lama and Zen monk and singer-songwriter Leonard Cohen, as well as Iyer’s perusals of the writings of Trappist monk Thomas Merton.

As Iyer’s self-knowledge expands, his growing closeness to the Camaldolese community and fellow retreatants bolsters him. The powerful, centering silence of reflection and contemplation helps him meet various life challenges: missing a spouse who is living far across the world, a daughter’s cancer diagnosis, a parent’s death and the losses that California’s ever-looming fires impose, both on the Camaldolese monastery, lodged in the coastal fire zone, and his family home. In reflecting on these flames without and the flame within, Iyer cites wisdom from Merton: “Sooner or later the world must burn.” Yet, Iyer notes, Merton “also knows that the monk’s first duty is to keep the fires within alight.”

Amid the clear skies, radiant ocean sparkle and wild nature that surround the Camaldolese retreat, Iyer wonders: “I’m not a monk, and never will be, so what exactly am I playing at in my borrowed cell? . . . These days of sunlight can only be a means to gather a candle to carry back into the unlit corners of my, or any, life.” Perhaps it’s a small flame to better explore the human mysteries of living and dying.

 

With luminous prose and gentle, compassionate wisdoms, Pico Iyer contemplates life’s challenges from a Benedictine monastery.
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We all come from Africa. Anyone who believes in science knows this to be true. It makes sense, then, that the award-winning Sudanese British broadcaster, filmmaker and journalist Zeinab Badawi begins her exhaustive An African History of Africa: From the Dawn of Humanity to Independence with Dinkenesh, a hominin female whose remains were discovered in 1974 in Ethiopia. Called Lucy in the West after the popular Beatles song, she lived more than 3 million years ago and is a definitive link to our common beginnings. Dinkenesh draws the reader in from the start. Then, Badawi leads us on an epic march through time.

Badawi is an expert guide, visiting ancient, overlooked ruins and telling the stories, often carried on through oral traditions of long-ago kingdoms. She describes the mosques, tombs and monuments with a sense of awe that is palpable and contagious. Badawi was especially struck by the Koutoubia Mosque’s “vast scale” and the “elegant simplicity of its arched interior” in Marrakesh, Morocco. The mosque was built in the 12th century by the Almohad people, who dedicated their wealth to the pursuit of science, medicine and mathematics; their work later influenced European intellectuals. Kings, queens, warriors and mystics come back to life, like Mansa Musa, a 14th-century king of the Mali Empire, whose wealth is still legendary. These stories are invigorated by the passionate voices of the many people Badawi interviews, including archaeologists, anthropologists, historians and local storytellers. At the same time, she shows the devastating impact of colonialism, the transatlantic slave trade and the political unrest that have ruptured the continent for centuries.

Badawi makes her immense wealth of knowledge absorbing. There’s the tragic story of the women of Nder, a village that is now part of Senegal. In November 1819, Arab enslavers tried to capture the village women and enslave them for sex. The women sent their children into the fields and fought off the soldiers. When the enemy regrouped, the women gathered in a hut and set it ablaze, “so, it will be ash that meets the enemy,” their leader proclaimed. One pregnant woman fled and later told their story of resistance. The village’s annual festival of Talata Nder commemorates these valiant ancestors.

Badawi further illuminates how African countries have gained their hard-won independence, surviving genocides, apartheid and epidemics; she also shows how some governments continue to struggle with nation-building. As Badawi adroitly proves, Africa’s story is far richer than the West chooses to believe, and historians and activists alike are working to reconstruct these many histories. An African History of Africa is a long overdue corrective that should be studied in every school and available in every library across the West.

Zeinab Badawi’s incredible An African History of Africa should be studied in every school across the West.

American ideology stresses the value of hard work, tying it not just to wealth but to character. But we know hard work doesn’t always pay: Today, income inequality is worse than ever and wages have stagnated. But the pernicious idea that one’s value is tied to their employment status persists, influencing policies around welfare, housing, education and more. The COVID-19 pandemic changed many people’s views on work and government aid, but also inspired employers to rail against workers who sought employment elsewhere. It is against the pandemic backdrop that Adam Chandler begins 99% Perspiration: A New Working History of the American Way of Life, which seeks to break down the myth of the American work ethic and offer new ways to think about our relationship with our jobs. 

Chandler, a journalist who traced the history of modern America through fast food in 2019’s Drive-Thru Dreams, uses the first half of his book to track how the U.S. came to place so much emphasis on the value of “hard work.” That’s not just the somber toil of farmsteading Pilgrims, but also the individualist hustle associated with Thomas Edison. Chandler dives into history, picking apart the folklore that became the basis for our modern attitude towards work, from Benjamin Franklin’s musings to the glitz of the Chicago World’s Fair. 

There’s an element of travel journalism at play, as he visits areas like Plymouth Rock and an Osage Nation reservation in Oklahoma. Sometimes these excursions feel more like detours from the subject at hand, as Chandler sets up a stronger second half, which slices through modern Americans’ unhealthy relationship to work. Technology keeps office workers tethered to their desks regardless of time or location, low-wage workers struggle with erratic schedules, and politicians decry the neediest as leeches. While Chandler explores possible solutions, like a universal basic income, he also calls for a realignment of this country’s values, touting the benefits of a society more invested in the health of the community than the potential for individuals to strike it rich.

Chandler’s breezy writing style makes the book an easy read with plenty of eye-popping statistics and gut-wrenching anecdotes. More importantly, 99% Perspiration will make readers question their own relationship to work, what their jobs mean to them, and why employment is so integral to our identity.

Adam Chandler’s history of labor can make readers question their own relationship to work, what their jobs mean to them, and why employment is so integral to our identity.

“A cat that strolls from door to door. A cat that takes time to explore.” Haven’t we all seen a cat like that? Follow a neighborhood cat as it wakes from a nap at a fire station and sets out on an adventure. First, she gets treats at the bookstore, and pets at the park. Then she strolls along the boardwalk before fishing with friends. But where are we going now? Where has our cat been walking toward all along? Climb the fence and we’re almost there: Yellow buses and a big red door! Who is our cat waiting for?

With sparse, rhyming text, Lester L. Laminack perfectly captures a day in the life of a typical neighborhood cat in A Cat Like That. As she wanders through town without a care, she could belong to anyone. But “she stretches and yawns but does not stay,” reminding those she meets that there is someone special she is looking for. Laminack’s repetition of the question “have you seen a cat like that?” emphasizes the common experience of seeing a familiar cat on a daily stroll. 

Nicole Wong’s whimsical illustrations bring this cat and her entire neighborhood to life, with clever details such as the cat’s napping spot on the title page, hidden characters recurring throughout each spread, and the cat’s collar being the same red as many details of the town, showing that she is right where she belongs. Wong’s use of scale and perspective brings a sense of mischief that matches the cat’s playful nature, with illustrations zooming in and out of the cat’s adventure through the town. 

A fun read-aloud with engaging illustrations, children will ask to read A Cat Like That many times over, finding new details in the pictures with every read. Whether one has pets at home or not, A Cat Like That is sure to please!

With sparse, rhyming text, Lester L. Laminack perfectly captures a day in the life of a typical neighborhood cat in A Cat Like That, a fun read-aloud with engaging illustrations by Nicole Wong.

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