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Cuban literature, from the island and from its diaspora, has always been precise and powerful, taking a clear yet dreamy-eyed look at humanity. Jennine Capo Crucet’s new novel, Say Hello to My Little Friend, follows in this lineage, limning the catastrophic life of Ismael “Izzy” Reyes as he tries and fails to find his way in a sinking Miami. At the beginning of the novel, Izzy receives a cease and desist from Pitbull (aka Mr. 305) for doing unauthorized impressions of him around town, leaving Izzy at a loss of job and identity. He finds inspiration in Al Pacino’s Tony Montana from the movie Scarface (which he doesn’t actually watch until a few chapters later). With new wind in his sails, and a sidekick like Tony Montana’s Manolo found in his old high school buddy Rudy, Izzy tries to mold life into what he wants it to be: wealth, power and big booty women. Meanwhile, on the other side of Miami in a too-small Seaquarium tank, Lolita the orca senses the water level rising. She and Izzy are linked by their tragic orphan origin stories, and when the two meet, they share a telepathic message that transforms both of their fates.

Like many immigrant stories, Say Hello to My Little Friend is centered on transformation. Not only does Izzy transform into someone else for a living, but his entire life has been a process of transforming. Though he was raised in Miami, he never feels Floridian, much less American, and after having to take ESL (English as a second language) classes in school, his identity-formation has been constantly frustrated. There is something quixotic in watching Izzy spin himself and those around him into remakes of culture, but this, too, is true about the immigrant experience, which Capo Crucet details with breathtaking precision.

Capo Crucet’s writing strikes a balance between contemporary Spanglish (specifically Miamian), slang and achingly poetic descriptions. But Capo Crucet’s powers do not stop at this alchemy; she also has a rare knack for metanarrative, a skill that allows readers to think about Izzy’s story as a story without ruining its intimacy. Take one of the narrator’s interjections, asking readers to recall Melville’s Moby Dick. It not only grounds the antics of the novel in a classic tale of hubris but also emphasizes the delusional and naive nature of Izzy, allowing us to see him as a victim of fate. As Izzy creates himself again and again, readers are made aware of what stories make up a life.

Say Hello to My Little Friend limns the catastrophic life of Ismael “Izzy” Reyes, a Pitbull impersonator turned wannabe Tony Montana, as he tries and fails to find his way in a sinking Miami.

Careful listening and watchful waiting are essential to every investigator’s toolkit, and the characters in award-winning Dublin Murder Squad author Tana French’s suspenseful, slow-burning thriller The Hunter elevate those skills to an art form—not just former Chicago detective Cal Hooper but also his neighbors in Ardnakelty, a tiny village on Ireland’s west coast.

Since readers met Cal in 2020’s The Searcher, he and 15-year-old villager Trey Reddy have established a close rapport and started a carpentry business. Cal is also dating Lena, who’s conflicted about remaining in her hometown: Ardnakelty is lovely, but the shadow of the mountain often feels foreboding, and its residents revel in gossip and grudges. 

The village can be a bit of a pressure cooker, and is especially so this summer: It’s exceptionally hot and dry, and the locals are edgy about the prospect of crop failure and financial hardship. The farmers are getting bored, and as Cal’s amusingly insouciant yet vaguely menacing neighbor Mart tells him, “Boredom makes a man’s mind restless, and then he tries to cure the restlessness by doing foolish shite.”

That’s when Trey’s father, Johnny, reappears after four years away doing who-knows-what. He’s quite charming, wholly unreliable and has a proposition for the farmers: There’s gold in the mountain, and some has washed down to the land—perhaps their land. Would they like to invest in a plan to extract that gold, as led by Johnny and his business partner, a Londoner named Cillian Rushborough? The farmers are intrigued, while Cal, Lena and Trey are skeptical. Their trepidation intensifies as the planning process stirs up hostility among the townspeople, and rises to a fever pitch when a man is found murdered. Who among them did it? And who might be next? 

The Hunter’s finely crafted internal monologues and nerve-wracking dialogues ably convey the unique tensions of living in a remote small town, especially when one is uncertain which neighbor (or neighbors) might’ve committed a crime. It’s an immersive, thought-provoking tale that revels in the quiet moments—whether that of conversational gaps more revealing than spoken words, or a place of natural beauty that offers respite but never promises peace.

Tana French’s immersive, thought-provoking The Hunter revels in the quiet moments, but knows true peace is elusive.
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In Three Kinds of Lucky by Kim Harrison, author of the bestselling Hollows series, magic has its own specialized sanitation service: Sweepers, who pick up a byproduct of magic called dross. If left unattended, dross can attract shadow, a dangerous, somewhat intelligent life-form that can easily kill mages, sweepers and normal humans alike.

Harrison wastes little time getting down to business; the story kicks off in St. Unoc, a fictional city set east of Tucson, Arizona, where mages congregate to learn, research and test their skills at St. Unoc University. While tackling a messy dross cleanup, our narrator and protagonist, sweeper Petra Grady, discovers she has the rare ability to manipulate shadow itself. Petra is soon drafted into a research project on dross that could upend everything she thought she knew about St. Unoc. 

Three Kinds of Lucky revolves around its distinct class system: The magical equivalent of janitors, sweepers cannot use magic, and most mages ignore or sneer at them. However, unlike mages, the sweepers can directly handle dross with no ill effects. Harrison uses Grady to personify this complicated interplay. Her struggle to balance her pride in her work with the fact that some people would rather spit on her than acknowledge her is a key pillar of the story. What’s more, jealousy over the mages’ ability to craft and manipulate magic has always burned in Grady’s heart, despite her sense of duty as a sweeper. As her role in St. Unoc evolves, she learns more about the origin of the two separate classes, discovering sins so old that the mages don’t remember their existence.

Three Kinds of Lucky will immediately pull readers in with its fast pace and efficient storytelling; the entirety of its nearly city-shattering events all happen within a few days. Sometimes, however, the character development fails to keep time with the speed of the plot, resulting in frustrating moments where one wishes that Grady and her companions would adapt more quickly to what’s happening around them. However, the mechanically intricate magic system and complex world Harrison has created makes this series opener well worth the read.

Kim Harrison’s Three Kinds of Lucky is an immediately compelling urban fantasy with an intricate magic system and complex world.
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Ian Moore’s culinary cozy mystery Death and Fromage brings readers back to the picturesque Vallée de Follet in France, where murder is on the menu.

British expat Richard Ainsworth enjoys a quiet life running a bed-and-breakfast in Vallée de Follet, Moore’s peaceful stand-in for the Loire Valley. A middle-aged film scholar, Richard prefers the slow pace of the French countryside and the company of his beloved hens. But his tranquil life is challenged when a culinary scandal explodes involving feuding Michelin-starred chefs, cheese sabotage, nasty reviews and a possible murder. Valérie d’Orçay, a beautiful and mysterious return guest at the B&B, decides to investigate and asks for Richard’s help, bringing perhaps too much excitement to the expat’s life. As the bodies pile up, Valérie and Richard uncover a decades-old betrayal that’s about much more than cheese.

In the second installment of his Follet Valley series, Moore captures the beauty and drama of life in a small town. Richard is an unconventional hero: He’s unassuming and quick to deploy self-deprecating humor. Valérie, his lodger and investigation partner, fits the sleuth bill much better. She’s beautiful, brave and an exceedingly competent bounty hunter. They’re an unlikely pair, but they work well together while unraveling the many mysteries that surround them. 

Moore’s wry humor is a highpoint of Death and Fromage, as Richard’s self-deprecating British wit is often at odds with his French neighbors to great comedic effect. Secondary characters like the dogged commissaire Henri LaPierre and Richard’s estranged wife, Clare, provide both tension and laughs as they circle Richard and the investigation. Clare is a hilarious force of nature, often steamrolling Richard to get what she wants. 

The series would benefit, however, from deepening the characters of Valérie and Richard. It would be nice to see Richard come into his own, rather than following the lead of others, and while Valérie is an entertaining femme fatale, she has potential to be so much more. Hopefully, both characters will grow in future installments of this charming series.

In his second Follet Valley cozy mystery, author Ian Moore captures the beauty and drama of life in the French countryside.

Until the publication of his raw 2011 memoir, Townie, Andre Dubus III was known exclusively for bestselling novels like House of Sand and Fog. The 18 emotionally generous and beautifully crafted essays in Ghost Dogs: On Killers and Kin are certain to please the fans of this empathetic writer’s fiction and nonfiction.

Though there’s no organizing scheme to Dubus’ book, the themes of money, family and the writing life predominate. He’s the son of esteemed short story writer and teacher Andre Dubus II, who abandoned 10-year-old Andre and his three siblings to the care of a devoted mother who struggled to provide for them throughout their childhood. His life was shadowed for decades by this impoverished past. This comes to bear on his essay “The Land of No,” in which he describes his challenging relationship with a girlfriend who was the beneficiary of a $2 million trust fund. In another essay, “High Life,” he reveals his ambivalence over a few days of profligate spending he indulged in as the organizer of a celebration for his aunt’s 70th birthday in New York City.

That essay also reflects the centrality of deep family relationships in Dubus’ life. He and his wife Fontaine, a dancer and choreographer, have been married since 1989, a union that’s produced three children. “Pappy” is a warmhearted tribute to his maternal grandfather, who introduced Dubus to the virtues of hard physical labor one steamy summer in Louisiana. In “Mary,” he offers an affectionate portrait of his relationship with his mother-in-law, who lived in an apartment at the Massachusetts home Dubus helped build until her death at 99.

Reflective of Dubus’ passion for writing is “Carver and Dubus.” It’s a touching story of the sole encounter between Dubus’ father and one of his literary idols, Raymond Carver, only a few months before Carver’s death in 1988, and at a time when the younger Dubus was emerging as a writer. As a whole, the essays plumb great emotional depths. Strictly speaking, Andre Dubus III’s estimable gift for words may not be in his DNA, but as this book reveals, it’s at the core of who he is as a human being.

Andre Dubus III plumbs emotional depths in his beautifully crafted memoir in essays, Ghost Dogs.

Sasha LaPointe’s 2022 memoir, Red Paint, offered readers a profoundly moving glimpse into trauma and healing through the Indigenous perspective of a Coast Salish punk. Now, in her powerful new collection of personal essays, Thunder Song, LaPointe expands her poetic lens to take in the collective healing needed in a world shaped by colonization, structural racism and a global pandemic. These vibrant essays are grounded in the personal but committed to the political, moving from grief to righteous anger and activism.

The essays in Thunder Song are shaped by the city of Seattle, built on top of the tidal lands that are the ancestral home of the Coast Salish people, and LaPointe’s beloved great-grandmother, a Coast Salish elder committed to preserving Indigenous languages. The central themes are entwined in the titular essay, in which Grandma Vi convinces a composer to write a symphony shaped by the orations of Chief Seattle, who witnessed the sale of Native lands to white settlers.

Like her grandmother, LaPointe believes in the healing power of music for a world in crisis, as seen in her work as a vocalist and lyricist in Seattle-area punk bands. In essays like “Reservation Riot Grrrl,” LaPointe offers a loving but necessary critique of the whiteness of the Seattle music scene. Her attentiveness to the erasure of Indigenous identity and landscape in the region acts as a corrective to colonialist histories of the Pacific Northwest; the essay “Tulips” is a particularly stunning revisionary reading of the flower as settler colonist.

“Swan Creek” and “Basket Woman” suggest that new growth may still emerge from the ruins of loss and violence. In the former, LaPointe’s sensitive meditation on miscarriage twines individual grief with creative expression, while her focus on the thousands of missing and murdered Indigenous women in the latter expresses a communal need for all Native women to believe themselves worthy of safety.

Thunder Song proves LaPointe is a dynamic emergent voice in Native arts and letters, arguing that collective art and activism, powered by love, among Indigenous peoples around the globe is the medicine this planet needs.

Read our interview with Sasha LaPointe on Thunder Song.
Thunder Song is an essay collection full of sensitive meditations and powerful observations from Coast Salish author Sasha LaPointe.
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I dare you to page through Force of Nature: A Celebration of Girls and Women Raising Their Voices and not feel moved. The triumphant (and so affordably priced!) book from Strong Is the New Pretty creator Kate T. Parker overflows with photographs of girls and women speaking and living their truths, cultivating their voices and using them to effect change, whether in one-on-one friendships, school settings, the corporate world or broader social contexts. An 8-year-old in fairy wings uses her voice “to be silly and make [people] laugh to try to cheer them up”; a 49-year-old heart attack survivor raises awareness about a type of heart disease common in women under 40. Athletes, activists, advocates and those who have overcome terrific obstacles are well accounted for in the compelling profiles. But equally arresting are the images, both in color and black-and-white, of ordinary girls and women. I can almost hear Tina Turner singing, “We don’t need another hero.” What we do need are girls and women who wholeheartedly believe in their own worth and power, however they decide to be in the world. 

The triumphant Force of Nature overflows with photos and profiles of girls and women who wholeheartedly believe in their own worth and power.
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Why do so many men over 50 trumpet their desire to climb mountains—and do so—while fewer women over 50 act similarly? Caroline Paul, author of The Gutsy Girl, isn’t having it. In Tough Broad: From Boogie Boarding to Wing Walking—How Outdoor Adventure Improves Our Lives as We Age, she profiles numerous women who scuba dive, surf, race BMX bikes and more in defiance of what our culture might not-so-subtly suggest about age-appropriate outdoor activities for women. She begins with herself: 57 years old, riding an electric skateboard into Yosemite, en route to meet a 52-year-old grandmother and adventure trainer who also happens to be a BASE jumper. As Paul details, science confirms that having a positive attitude on aging can do a body good; refusing to bend to fear or stereotypes is as solid advice as “use it or lose it.” Her storytelling here goes deep, exploring the nuances of each woman’s quest to understand her own pull to outdoor adventure. Tough Broad is as engrossing as it is inspiring.

Caroline Paul profiles women over 50 who buck stereotypes and embrace outdoor adventure in the engrossing, inspiring Tough Broad.
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Contrarian at heart that I am, Unbecoming a Lady: The Forgotten Sluts and Shrews Who Shaped America is very on-brand for me. Stories of turn-of-the-century gals who were anything but well-behaved—unashamed, unvirtuous, flagrant, selfish, transgressive, weird—and are mostly unsung today? Sign me up. Therese Oneill’s zippy narratives of drama queens, business broads, big mouths and brilliant harpies begin with Celesta Geyer, aka Dolly Dimples, “The World’s Most Beautiful Fat Lady,” who turned shame into game. Many of the dames here did the same, while others quietly (or loudly) pursued their schemes, passions and hijinks in real estate, entertainment, vice, fashion and much more. They are not always role models, but they are fascinating figures, and O’Neill has a blast telling their stories. “ ‘Resting Bitchface’ isn’t an insult if you do it so well men literally fold under the strength of it,” she writes of Poker Alice, a card shark and brothel keeper of the Wild West. Give this one to all your lady friends who give no Fs.

Unbecoming a Lady is a raucous ode to turn-of-the-century drama queens, business broads and bigmouths who were anything but well-behaved.
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It is difficult to categorize Anna Shechtman’s The Riddles of the Sphinx: Inheriting the Feminist History of the Crossword Puzzle. In the book, Shechtman, a celebrated feminist and crossword constructor for The New Yorker, recounts her years with anorexia and her recovery. She details the history of the crossword puzzle, in particular the role women played not only in popularizing crossword puzzles, but also in developing them. Shechtman explains and explores how academic feminists create a new vocabulary for women that is free of gender stereotypes. Finally, she argues eloquently that the definition of “crossword-worthy clues” should be more diverse, allowing for a broader range of clues that a general audience stands a chance at solving. But it’s not purely a memoir, history, scholarly tract or manifesto.

Instead, The Riddles of the Sphinx resembles the best themed crosswords: paradoxical puzzles that are simultaneously rigid and relational, entertaining and educational. Themed crosswords explore the relationship between highlighted clues, and can reveal surprising links between them.

Shechtman’s book is similarly well-crafted and tightly structured. There are four themes, much like the traditional crossword has four quadrants: the links between the strict rules of crosswords and anorexia; the role of wordplay in developing a feminist language; the outsize role of white men in puzzle construction; and, finally, the crossword as the emblem of Shechtman’s development as a patient, an intellectual and a social being. The last of these gives the work its power and humanity. When her anorexia was at its worst, Shechtman constructed puzzles. Their rules reflected and affirmed the rigidity imposed on her by her illness, but also isolated her from others and herself. Shechtman’s healing only began when she was able to form relationships with other women in treatment. It is these relationships that bring healing, meaning and relevance—not only to the puzzle, but to our lives.

Celebrated feminist crossword creator Anna Shechtman explores the cultural history of the crossword puzzle in relation to her own life.
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Jonna Mendez sums up her extraordinary 25 years at the CIA thusly: “It was a career I loved. I was doing work that mattered, work that made a difference—making history in some small way. It wasn’t a path I’d ever imagined for myself. I was, after all, just a girl from Wichita, Kansas, seeking adventure, never dreaming that would translate into a life that was both covert and trailblazing.”

But it was not easy. She tells her engaging and enlightening story of service, primarily during the Cold War years, in In True Face: A Woman’s Life in the CIA, Unmasked. The challenges of the work itself were great. And although against official policy, misogyny was the way of life in the agency, and Mendez’s experience with gender discrimination provides a look into that environment. CIA historian and journalist Tim Weiner wrote that “apart from the Marines, there is no branch of service in the United States government as hostile to women as the clandestine services of the CIA.” Despite the efforts of some men who went out of their way to undermine Mendez, she showed courage and fortitude, and, in time, she found male allies who were helpful and supportive.

Beginning as a secretary for her CIA agent husband, Mendez rose through the ranks of the organization. Her skills with photography and disguise eventually led to extremely important roles, including Chief of Disguise, in operations around the world. In True Face includes fascinating accounts of the wide range of her activities. She trained couples, usually married, for work as agents in Moscow; disguised a prime minister; and “match[ed] wits” with Russia’s KGB, East Germany’s Stasi, and Chinese and Cuban intelligence. Mendez, in disguise, even visited the White House to meet with President George H.W. Bush.

This consistently absorbing book is a wonderful memoir that offers more than simply a compelling life story. Mendez says discussions with other women in the early stages of the project convinced her that her experiences should be understood “in the larger context of women in the CIA and indeed, women in the American workplace.” So we have “two stories—one in the world of espionage, the other in the world of women.” And both of them are very well told.

In True Face recounts Jonna Mendez’s experience rising through the ranks of the CIA, from disguising spies and planning special operations to grappling with gender discrimination.

A case of mistaken identity blossoms into a beautiful friendship in Ann Kim Ha’s clever and heartwarming picture book A Friend for Eddy

Eddy, an adorable orange goldfish, lives in a clear bowl with only decorative rocks and a plant for company. He swims and blows bubbles to his heart’s content, but while “his favorite game, / chase-your-tail” is highly entertaining, he longs for someone else to play with. 

One delightful day, a small yellow fish outside taps on the glass of the bowl and joins Eddy in a game of tag. The next day, the fish returns for more hijinks, with another friend in tow! Not only does this new buddy look exactly like the first yellow fish, he’s just as much fun.

It’s an idyllic new state of affairs. Now that he’s experienced the joys of camaraderie, Eddy wants to join his two pals outside, so he takes a big risk by swimming in fast circles, resulting in a whirlpool that propels him out of his bowl. Soaring through the air is glorious (“He felt weightless and free!”) but alas, short-lived, as Eddy plummets to the table his bowl rests upon.

The book transforms into a bit of a thriller as Eddy realizes what readers discovered a few pages ago: Those two yellow fish are not fish at all. They’re a cat’s eyes! Young readers will gasp as the cat rises up—mouth wide open, pointy teeth on display—and draws Eddy into its gaping maw. What will happen to Eddy now? 

Those who connected with Ha’s Walter Finds His Voice will be similarly inspired by the intrepid Eddy, and appreciate his and his feline friend’s ability to buck conventional wisdom and forge a close bond. A Friend for Eddy’s richly hued, evocative visuals convey an exciting range of emotions while drawing readers into Eddy’s watery world. Its upbeat text and surprising storyline highlight the upsides of trying new things—and being open to the idea that friends can be found in the most unlikely places.

A Friend for Eddy’s upbeat text and surprising storyline highlight the upsides of trying new things—and being open to the idea that friends can be found in the most unlikely places.
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Each of the stories in Louise Kennedy’s The End of the World is a Cul de Sac (7.5 hours) is rooted in the traumas faced by women in modern Ireland. With sharp and lucid prose, Kennedy explores the rippling effects of the “troubles,” the corrosive impact of Ireland’s old abortion laws and the consequences of increased crime and drug use. Lives are often blighted, but there is also beauty in Kennedy’s Ireland.

While the collection is set in a definite time and place, Brid Brennan’s excellent performance underscores just how universal these stories are. Brennan, a Tony award-winning actor from Belfast, gives each story the intimacy and intensity of a dark fairy tale. Her reading enhances the profundity and beauty of Kennedy’s work, and affirms how easily someone can teeter into disaster—or into redemption.

Read our review of the print edition of The End of the World Is a Cul de Sac.

Brid Brennan’s reading enhances the profundity and beauty of Louise Kennedy’s stories, and affirms how easily someone can teeter into disaster—or into redemption.

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