It’s springtime in Umbria and innkeeper Emma is hard at work preparing the Three Coins Inn for its latest guests. Lisa the head of business development for her hometown is on vacation after attending the wedding of her former fiancé Matt. The trip is the culmination of a longtime dream; while she was in college she planned to spend a semester abroad in Italy but Matt convinced her to remain in their hometown with him instead. Antonio Bardo is an acclaimed Italian artist seeking inspiration for his paintings and a reconciliation with his past. New York socialite Sharon Asher struggles to connect with her 9-year-old son Josh a sensitive and artistically gifted child who is unlike her athletic and outgoing older son Chet. And there’s Margherita Molinaro a novelist whose debut was an instant bestseller— unfortunately the manuscript of her second novel lacks the same spark. Her agent wants her to refine the characters by spending a few weeks at the inn and interacting with new people. Over the course of two weeks of exploring the beauty of Umbria and enjoying cooking classes and spa visits the guests find their lives changing in profound ways. The third entry in Sullivan’s charming Three Coins series is bolstered by well-developed characters and witty evocative prose. While the cast is expansive Sullivan deftly balances the multitude of characters and storylines in chapters that alternate between different characters’ perspectives and deepen the connections that develop between the guests. (One of the novel’s most poignant moments occurs when Antonio recognizes Josh Asher’s talent and offers to serve as a mentor to the eager young artist.) Sullivan’s writing is lyrical with occasional flourishes of humor (“Surely if Dante were writing in the twenty-first century he would banish men who publicly shamed their fiancées mere months from their wedding day to the lowest circles of Hell”).

Cassidy’s Japanese paternal grandfather has never fully accepted his son’s marriage to a Black American woman. Her parents plan a visit with the elder Aokis who immigrated to the U.S. in the 1980s in hopes of healing the rift. Cassidy finds solace in their garden—and discovers an uncanny ability to speak with plants (and her grandparents’ dog). Dower a magical creature that’s part dog and part flower (“Dog and flower equals Dower”)—unmistakably symbolic of Cassidy’s mixed-race identity—emerges from the soil. Things heat up when the garden is threatened by a proposed corporate development. A courtroom battle and student protest bring everyone together for a dramatic finale. The uneven match between the young protagonist and stilted academic prose creates a persistent disconnect. The childlike nature of the fantasy elements clashes with the advanced vocabulary while the lessons are stated outright (one chapter is entitled “The Moral to the Story”) rather than emerging organically. This lack of subtlety combined with lengthy explanatory passages make this a taxing read. Despite the message of racial inclusion a Black girl named LaTrice is described in ways that evoke harmful stereotypes: She’s “the biggest girl” in class and the “tight clothes” she wears make her “seem even bigger.” Additionally she’s “bossy” and “no one could quite understand the cause of her displaced anger.”

Fifteen-year-old Clayton Wheeler knows he’s different from most other guys. He prefers comic books to sports and likes Wonder Woman which according to his despicable stepfather James makes him a “sissy.” He’s a regular target for bullies—specifically jocks who bombard him with homophobic slurs. Clayton isn’t openly gay; he knows what and whom he likes but he seems to be the only boy who feels this way in his California town. He’s reunited with Derek Barlow an old friend whose family after moving to New York several years earlier has returned. Derek isn’t quite the same boy Clayton once knew. He’s the one who got Clayton into comic books but now he’s on the football team hobnobbing with the same guys who bully Clayton. Nonetheless the closeness the two shared hasn’t entirely dissipated and Derek and Clayton start hanging out again. This unfortunately cuts into Clayton’s time with his loyal friends and fellow nerds the fashion-obsessed Ronee Jones and aspiring comic-book artist Alister McNamara. While Clayton hopes that his relationship with Derek can become something much more he also worries about coming out to the people he loves. Will his mother be happy for him or is she too busy with his toddler half brother? Will he find the right words to tell Ronee and Alister and if so how will they react when they learn he’s gay?

Peeples’ multilayered characters give this earnest story real depth. Ronee for example is a delightfully “bossy” girl who takes guff from no one but there’s no doubt she’s hurt when bullies mock her for her vitiligo. Similarly while Clayton’s mom seems oblivious to things her son is going through she has troubles of her own thanks in large part to James. The romance between Clayton and Derek unfolds organically; they’ve known each other for years so it’s understandable that they would reconnect quickly but there’s still the question of whether Derek feels the same way Clayton does or if he’s willing to act on it. This often-gloomy narrative puts Clayton through the emotional wringer—he often dreads being at home (with his mother and stepfather constantly arguing) and at other times home is his only refuge. There’s a welcome reprieve in the form of Betty Hernandez who works at the local 7-Eleven where Clayton buys his comic books. She’s someone he can always confide in a tenderhearted woman who only grows more engaging as the story rolls along. Clayton gradually comes to terms with the cards he’s been dealt and his confidence surges. The author drops ’80s pop-culture nods and healthy servings of nostalgia throughout the story as in this description of Ronee’s bedroom: “There’s not an inch of bare wall—or ceiling—left anywhere in her room. Fashion magazine spreads comic book covers movie posters and other images of every shape and size overlap in all directions…one big continually evolving colossal collage.”

With a full picnic basket and a packed car a family with a baby and a young child (who narrates) gets ready for a birthday party of sorts—it’s July 4. At a bustling park the protagonist finds a playmate eats watermelon and a cupcake then settles in for the fireworks display. Returning home the child learns why America has a birthday and drifts off to sleep reflecting on a most memorable day. Dad’s explanation (“Today we remember our history and celebrate freedom”) goes over the youngster’s head. The focus here is on concrete sensory details: the crowded park the crying little sibling and the fireworks. Troup explores their sounds and even how they smell a useful introduction for young children new to the experience. Doehring’s illustrations provide all the expected hallmarks of the Fourth. The fireworks are incredibly well drawn from a solo standout explosion to the sky filled with light. The family at the center of the tale is beige-skinned; their community is diverse. A “Timeline of Freedom” appears at the end highlighting key pieces of U.S. history like the addition of the Bill of Rights women achieving the right to vote the Civil Rights Movement and the passing of the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act—though these descriptions are above the level of the narrator and young readers.

Bigsby met the playwright in the 1960s founded the Arthur Miller Centre for American Studies at the University of East Anglia in 1989 and has written extensively about his life and work so his questions throughout the book are knowledgeable though there’s little new here. The devastating impact of the Great Depression is a constant refrain and its influence on Miller’s work is evident: “It meant that nothing man-made existed which could not be sharply changed overthrown and turned into rubble at a moment’s notice.” This sense of existential uncertainty characterizes his plays from All My Sons and Death of a Salesman through After the Fall and The Price to such later works (better received in Britain than in America) as The American Clock and The Ride Down Mt. Morgan. Miller’s progressive politics are also evident in sharp comments about the House Un-American Activities Committee trying “to force people to renounce the whole era of the thirties and forties in which certain social ideals were dominant.” Miller remained true to those ideals throughout his career though his commitment to equality and social justice was tempered by an unsparing view of human frailties and cruelties that often makes him sound like a crochety old man. Bigsby isn’t afraid to press Miller on touchy subjects like his support of the Soviet Union well into the 1940s or his marriage to Marilyn Monroe. Responding to a comment about “how baffling” many people found that marriage Miller replies “There is something baffling about all my relationships. I cannot say I understand more than a fraction of them quite frankly.” It’s both an honest statement and a means of shutting off further discussion and Bigby generally lets Miller point the conversation where he wishes.

A lifelong East Ender who fought in gangs as a boy and whose mother was killed when a German bomb dropped on their house 45-year-old Harryboy Boas resides in a small room in a scruffy boardinghouse sleeps with prostitutes and prides himself on his reading acumen (“This Zola is a terrific writer. He can be tougher than Mickey Spillane and when he gets on to sex he’s red hot”). He sometimes works in a laundry but mostly gets by on his winnings at the dog track—despite his hopeless tendency to gamble them away. When a quarreling couple moves in downstairs with their demanding 4-year-old son Gregory it’s only a matter of time before the father Vic Deaner impressed with Harry’s cool detachment accompanies him to the track. A bookkeeper he hopes he can win enough to soothe his wife Evelyn who flays him for not being able to afford better circumstances—ones that don’t include living near Black immigrants. But those hopes are quickly dashed leaving Vic in debt from which a guilty Harry must save him—at his own peril. It’s also left for Harry to save Gregory who latches onto him for attention from neglect. Soon after a scary incident involving the unattended boy that Harry might have prevented Harry finds himself thinking of the son or daughter he himself might have had he not on the eve of the Nazi occupation abandoned his pregnant Jewish girlfriend in Paris. Coming from a writer as relaxed and lightly satirical as Baron Harry’s reckoning with memories he has spent his life avoiding couldn’t be more powerful.

The narrative focuses on the “brilliant eccentric unsettlingly precise” Gödel a figure whom the author in an introduction compares to Albert Einstein and Charles Darwin and describes as not only a mathematician but also a “philosopher of mystery” who found new puzzles in settled certainties. “In any system that’s powerful enough to talk about arithmetic” Navarro writes “there will always be true statements that the system can never prove.” As a way to pursue these questions further the author imagines Gödel journeying to a series of afterworld locations to have conversations with a wide variety of famous artists and thinkers from the past. Gödel talks with fellow philosophers of course but he also chats with such figures as painter Jackson Pollock (“‘Logic and paint’ Pollock mused ‘both dance around the unknown’”) and even Jesus whom he asks about the incompleteness at the heart of mathematics: “If I left no room for doubt then there would be no true faith” Jesus tells him. “Faith must be chosen.” In each encounter Gödel doggedly inquires about the nature of belief and certainty and looks into the possibility of quantifying morality and doubt. It’s a familiar but inspired storytelling device and Navarro uses it skillfully delicately navigating the dramatics of presenting each conversation and his indefatigable main character’s overarching philosophical quest. Socrates for instance asks the protagonist whether one can ever fully grasp truth and readers are told that Gödel “had always admired [mathematician Blaise] Pascal’s mind not only for his rigorous approach to mathematical truth but for his willingness to engage with the ineffable.” Philosophical discussion dominates the narrative; as a result some historical figures end up sounding more alike than they likely would have in real life. This slight shortcoming is a result of the book’s pedagogical nature but it never entirely blunts the fun.

A talented guitarist Melody Li arrives in Cassette City with her walls up and her headphones firmly on—but this analog town has other plans. A mushroom named Taki and a green raccoon called Snackwich will need help if they want to win the Battle of the Bands. Though Melody’s a loner she’s eager to bring down the insufferable ginger cat Styles who fronts Taki and Snackwich’s rival act and she agrees to lend a hand. The eventual addition of Atikus a robot provides the band its final missing piece. Sitter’s art is masterful. A palette of burnt orange teal and muted gold channels peak-era alternative comics while confident linework gives every character vivid distinct personality. Panel variation is deployed with skill and wit; a bravura double-page spread arranges failed auditions as a cascading collage of snapshots each musician dismissed with a deadpan speech bubble and on another spread a tape unspools across the page connecting the scattered bandmates in their separate worlds. Clever dialogue crackles throughout but beneath the laughs real emotional stakes thrum: Melody nursing the wound of a mother who walked out on the family; Snackwich paralyzed by the memory of dropping his drumsticks onstage and failing Taki; Atikus simply trying to be his true self. Melody is cued East Asian.

Laura is lucky—she’s recently received a Young Artists Grant to write her novel right on the edge of turning 30. No one she remembers from high school writing classes or graduate humanities classes is making a living by writing. Despite her grant Laura takes on odd jobs like teaching high school writing workshops. For 85 euros she accepts an assignment to write a 5000 character feature about a book. She lives with her mother and pinches pennies at a budget gym alongside her friends. Laura grew up in Lisbon a city that is rapidly changing becoming less livable for people like her. Laura’s life rhythms will be familiar to many creatives or underemployed people. Mosi sticks to rounded line drawings to reflect the monotonous nature of Laura’s life. She needs to write but she also needs creative fuel and the constant hum of social media isn’t helping. While Laura stares down an empty document and tries to start writing she’s constantly surrounded by social media panels daily Sagittarius horoscopes and internet searches. Between her trips to the gym and memories of her past phys ed classes Laura tries to determine what she thinks about the world. When she meets up with her married lover she opens up a little but still chooses to go off on her own instead of spending the night. Throughout Laura replicates a common pattern: doing anything but writing to inspire her writing.

Following an award-winning memoir fiction for adults and children a two-volume history of Canada and 12 Canadian National Magazine Awards Gillmor shows he has yet another trick up his sleeve. His first crime novel is narrated by police detective Jamieson Abel a white law school dropout who gets along with exactly nobody on the corrupt Toronto force and is constantly in danger of getting canned before he can make it to retirement. He’s recently been partnered with Davis a smart well-spoken Black woman who’s the department’s only claim to diversity and its frequent media representative. As the novel opens two high school track stars have been brutally murdered in St. James Town a decaying high-rise community at the heart of multicultural Toronto: "The languages spoken in St. James Town in descending order of percentage are: English Tagalog Tamil Unspecified Chinese Mandarin Korean Spanish Russian Serbian Bengali Urdu French and Other." Under tremendous pressure from the mayor and media to solve this crime Abel and Davis embark on a wild goose chase to locate the single rather shaky suspect a boyfriend of one of the girls. Meanwhile mayhem in the area is on the rise: a sex worker is killed one of the towers is burned to the ground a local thug is the target of a jailhouse hit large-scale new graffiti is going up nightly. Abel’s instincts tell him that somehow everything is connected—and real estate values have something to do with it. As he obsessively tracks down leads he sustains himself with martinis espresso and delicious meals for one. Food-loving readers may find themselves trying to replicate his sheet-pan salmon and a salad for which he “tossed together black beans Kalamata olives a sharp cheddar that had been aged for eight years red pepper and arugula then made a dressing with olive oil lime jalapeños and cumin.” Gillmor really knows his stuff—in a dazzling range of areas.

Webster was once an average lab monkey confined to a cage but his life changes when a radioactive spider bites a teen on a science field trip to the laboratory (presumably the boy heads out the door to become Spider-Man). Webster gobbles down the altered arachnid and superpowers ensue. That night an explosion destroys the lab. Webster escapes while other lab animals are transformed into ominous sharp-toothed mutants: A mild-mannered rhino becomes an otherworldly menace a shark and a lizard merge into the Shizzlerd and a pink octopus a dopey platypus and the doctor who ran the lab are fused into Doctor Octoplatypus! Webster battles the lot in a series of comic book–style capers scaling tall buildings slinging spiderwebs and occasionally accepting help from other animal allies. The lightly sketched plot allows readers plenty of room to enjoy Baltazar’s gleefully goofy artwork and happy-go-lucky hero whose antics remain steadily slapstick throughout. The author/illustrator initially created Webster as a send-up of superhero tropes; this committed creative exercise happily offers kids a gateway into the genre even as it revels in its winking homage.

As the sun rises little critters do their thing. “Hen’s chicks / did magic tricks.” “Horse’s foal / scored a goal.” “Goat’s kid / tried out a skid.” But Platypus’ youngster (known as a puggle) remains curled up asleep in a clump of grass. Puppies play soccer and a giraffe calf balances an ice cream cone on its long prehensile tongue to the amusement of onlookers. Cat’s kitten knits and Bear’s cub Alpaca’s cria and Sheep’s lamb are all active but the puggle snoozes. Suddenly the day comes to a close and under a full moon the puggle joins other nighttime critters: Aardvark’s pup Nightingale’s chicks Chinchilla’s kits Hedgehog’s hoglet Wolf’s whelp Owl’s owlet Porcupine’s porcupettes Koala’s joey and Leopard’s cub. The animals dance sing and make merry until the moon sinks the sun rises and the puggle again calmly cuddles. The rhyming text is cute if sometimes strained and filled with energy sure to induce youngsters to join the nighttime fun crew. Adults may wonder why the mother platypus remains awake given that these creatures are nocturnal but it’s a small point. The cartoon-style illustrations heavily anthropomorphize the animals; all are adorable especially the puggle with its broad bill dense fur and claws.

Hannah “Cookie” Cooke is a New England–based interior designer whose two specialties are constructing painstaking scale models of crime scenes like the Lizzie Borden house which doesn’t pay much and restoring upscale houses which pays a lot more. Her business the Ministry of the Interior gets a commission from neurosurgeon Chuck Halsey and his wife Lana founder of Lana Pura home textiles which is challenging from the get-go. Lana’s determination to enlarge the house’s kitchen is thwarted by the placement of its chimney which can’t be touched because it’s integral to the whole structure. Together with mason Harry Deluca who has a complicated history with her Cookie devises a workaround but it doesn’t work well enough to prevent the kitchen from filling with smoke. None of this bothers Chuck whose affair with Cookie ends when he’s found stuffed into the chimney and burned to death after his housewarming party. Will Cookie ever get another job? Absolutely: hospital Communications Director Wendy Teller insists she update the office of her husband psychiatrist Simon Teller. Simon himself has no interest in the project but he’s definitely interested in Cookie. As Cookie’s unsettlingly adulterous pattern solidifies the ensuing complications extend from a second death to an international drug smuggling scheme to a reopening of the Lizzie Borden case. Some readers will feel exalted and uplifted by these wide horizons; others will merely feel baffled.

For years they’ve cared for each other Lyla with her stories and Ilsette with her songs. When Ilsette’s voice accidentally attracts Cato’s attention and he recognizes her half-human parentage—putting her at risk of execution for trespassing—Lyla sacrifices herself to protect her sister. With Lyla now pale-skinned Cato’s bride Ilsette’s only chance of saving her sister is to recover an ancient talisman from a faraway realm. As Ilsette ventures through different lands armed only with stories and songs she encounters interesting characters some familiar to fans of the series opener Nettle (2025). Meanwhile Lyla must rely on her powerful tales of anger love heartbreak and betrayal—each of which is complemented by a beautiful black-and-white avian illustration from Shutterstock—to distract the Owl King and delay his theft of her magic. But as Cato returns to her night after night seeking new stories she finds she may stand to gain and lose more than she ever imagined. The sisters must decide where they belong and how much they’re willing to sacrifice for love. This enthralling narrative features robust worldbuilding although the story moves so quickly that the romantic relationships feel underdeveloped. Brown-winged Ilsette and black-winged Lyla are racially indeterminate.

Soon after their meet-cute collision high school juniors Sam and Franny who live in the mill town of Chestnut Woods Pennsylvania become inseparable. With one another they can confide their worries and troubles as well as their dreams and hopes. Theirs is an all-consuming love—some may even call it too intense. When an unimaginable tragedy strikes Sam and Franny can’t help but try to hold on to their love forever. But can they defy death? Will they succeed where Orpheus and Eurydice failed? Through lucid dreaming white-presenting Sam and Franny who appears Asian can be together—but the astral world is only meant to be a stopgap between life and death. The story coalesces into a sensitive and visceral exploration of loss and selfless love even as their dreams become horrific nightmares when their reluctance to let go comes to a head. Recurring elements like Greek mythology and Sam’s search for chestnut trees that survived the blight echo the protagonists’ arcs. The expressive artwork powerfully conveys the emotional intensity of these teenagers in love and crisis. Those who reread the story armed with foreknowledge of a major twist will enjoy an especially rich experience of Lee’s narrative and appreciate Pham’s clever choices in the illustrations.

Before Princess Roselyn the Reticent can articulate what she needs her parents (the king and queen) and the people of her kingdom anticipate it for her. “Was that a speck of dirt? ‘Run a bath for the princess!’” And when they think she wants a treat? Time for “ALL THE ICE CREAM IN THE LAND.” Preparations of epic proportions ensue: a larger-than-life bowl and spoon a massive cabinet to hold them and oodles of cows to provide the ice cream’s primary ingredient. But how will Roselyn consume such a gargantuan treat? Wizards are summoned to cast a spell making Roselyn larger. At last when everything is prepared Roselyn speaks—and reveals that all she wanted was a slice of pizza. Brimming with over-the-top absurdity the story will delight young readers with each outlandish new step. Relying heavily on repetition Kastner’s storytelling calls back to classic fairy tales with pleasing results; her charmingly cartoonish illustrations include thoughtful details and evoke a medieval setting. Roselyn is tan-skinned and red-haired while her mother is pale-skinned and red-haired and her father is brown-skinned with a white moustache. The townspeople vary in skin tone.

Trip’s baseball roots run deep: His dad’s team won the Little League championship when he was 12 and Grandpa was a minor-league ballplayer. Trip is well aware of the family legacy of baseball but he feels the heavy expectation to achieve and struggles to carve out a legacy of his own. After his father who’s a Marine is deployed overseas Trip shoulders responsibilities on the field as captain and at home where Dad tells him to “Take care of your mom and your sisters.” He assumes these roles with great seriousness but troubling news about his father adds stress and his team leadership is tested when Samantha “Sam” Callahan joins them and teammate Dylan makes derisive remarks. Trip questions whether he can give his all to both baseball and family. The authentic first-person narration shows him facing pressures and reassessing the importance of family. His relationship with Sam is nuanced: Dad Coach and Trip are supportive of girls’ inclusion and believe in girls’ equality but Trip’s admiration for Sam’s talent stirs up feelings of jealousy and self-doubt. As the season unfolds Trip confronts uncomfortable realities and learns to be guided by his conscience shaping a legacy that extends far beyond the baseball diamond. Main characters are cued white.

As the book opens its primary narrator AWOL—named for his penchant for escape attempts—is 14 and the story follows him over the next few years. The structure is relatively episodic with the two main threads being AWOL’s own coming-of-age and the efforts of Watts an insightful staff member to improve the lives of his charges. “Watts had prided himself on knowing when there was still a kid on the inside” AWOL says—but Bond also includes allusions to Watts’ own struggles and flaws. Bond’s close attention to detail including his use of the word “peer” to describe the home’s residents gives a precise sense of the language and routines of the place such as residents being assigned chores in the kitchen and finding stories by Dickens in old issues of Reader’s Digest in the library. AWOL uses the word “peer” from the first page without explaining its context a device that helps the reader see life through the eyes of these young men. And every once in a while AWOL makes an observation that breaks your heart: “I’d see teenagers and wonder if I could still be one.” AWOL’s own skill at helping his fellow teens write letters suggests one path forward for him but his reckoning with what adult life might entail—including the realities of class and public hostility toward “juvenile delinquents”—helps explain his tendency to flee whenever he has the chance. And as the narration makes clear the realities of the teens’ lives feed their desire for escape: “We ran when our cousins were killed and Watts wouldn’t let us go to the funeral. We ran when peers made fun of our teeth.” This is a slow-burning but moving account of adolescence under duress.

After her husband Paul Auster died on April 30 2024 award-winning poet novelist essayist and scholar Hustvedt felt mired in loss and grief. Books about bereavement therapy and the consolations of family and friends hardly assuaged a state of mind she calls “cognitive splintering” where “the logic of time and space” seemed scrambled. As she navigates widowhood reflecting on a 43-year marriage to a man she adored she realizes that she “can’t crawl into the box labeled PAUL and live there.” Her memoir then is her attempt to “hunt for my lost partner by writing about him” and to pay homage to their life together. Emails to their friends and journal entries chronicle his life after being diagnosed with non-small cell lung cancer in January 2023. The diagnosis came after a terrifying year: In 2021 his 10-month-old granddaughter was found dead; his son was arrested for negligent homicide; and in 2022 the son overdosed while released on bail. Buffeted now by a devastating illness Auster faced harsh treatments and debilitating side effects. Although surgery had been his “best hope” that hope was dashed in May 2023 because immunotherapy had severely damaged his lungs. Besides recounting his final illness Hustvedt creates a palpable portrait of Auster as lover and husband father and grandfather through his own writings including seven letters to his infant grandson Miles to be read by “the future young man.” The warm letters share family history especially of Miles’ mother—Auster’s and Siri’s daughter Sophie—and the man she married. Auster could be stubborn and tactless Hustvedt admits but also kind and sentimental. Their bond was physical emotional and deeply intellectual. He told Hustvedt he wanted to return as a ghost; she honors that desire in this intimate memoir.

When Alex Murdaugh’s wife and youngest son were murdered on their thousand-acre property in South Carolina’s Low Country in 2021 Lasdun was working on a novel whose central character fails to recognize the evil in front of her. Covering the Murdaugh saga for the New Yorker became a way for him to wrestle with his own inability to accept the existence of evil at its most extreme in a “family annihilator”: a locally famed patriarch convicted of killing his own wife and child. Lasdun is lured into the entirety of Alex’s web from his deep community ties and intense familial loyalty to his sinister series of interconnected misdeeds: unexplained (or unsatisfactorily explained) deaths of community members extreme drug use and possible gang entanglement and extensive financial theft. The author’s desperate quest is to understand what could possibly drive a man to kill his own family and he pursues his mission with an obsessive dogged and sometimes speculative fullness unwinding every spool of the Murdaugh family’s persistently ascendant generational wealth and its insulating facade of invincibility in a place increasingly marked by destitution drugs and decay. Lasdun’s bewilderment and dissatisfaction with every element of the murders and the legal case seeps palpably to the page drawing readers into an investigator’s obsession though the text does miss an opportunity to address the twisted appeal of such deranged stories of true crime. There is a distinct regional flavor to the story with prayerful juries marshy landscapes and an abundance of guns and good ol’ boys but the picture of an “exceptionally crooked man with some alarming ways of handling pressure” that emerges not only exceeds southern stereotypes and wealthy villain caricatures but defies any understanding of limits to human depravity.