“Hank takes this stuff seriously” hunter Randy Newberg stresses in Buck Buck Moose’s 10th anniversary foreword. Over nearly 300 pages of hunting stories butchery guides and recipes readers will surely come to agree—Hank does take this stuff seriously. Shaw a former restaurant cook has made a career out of welcoming curious readers to the “wild food revolution” starting with his 2007-founded blog Hunter Angler Gardener Cook. Ten years ago his publication of the original Buck Buck Moose “changed [his] life”; now he’s back with 30 new recipes as well as updated guidance on contemporary cooking methods and evolving food science. His mission is the same: to address the cliche of venison cooking as a wasteful afterthought to the actual hunt and to champion hunt-to-table cooking. The cookbook is divided into two parts: “Deer Basics” and “Deer to Table.” In the former Shaw breaks down everything he believes a hunter-cook needs to know: the minutiae of deer anatomy food safety and proper cooling of the carcass including why you should have a syringe at the ready in case you have to deal with “a really full bladder.” The heart of the book—the “Deer to Table” recipes—is subdivided into eight further parts starting with meat marinades stocks and bone broths and extending to meals made with deer organs (“wobbly bits”) and the complex process of making homemade sausage. Shaw makes room for the classics here with recipes for Steak Diane and liver and onions but inspired by the fact that people all over the world eat some form of venison the author also delivers an impressive array of global dishes: Vietnamese shaking venison Ghanaian palava Sichuan heart stir-fry and a Thai Massaman curry. Meat of course is the star of the show but the author is equally focused on the delights of a good pan sauce or a pierogi dough. Stray tidbits of culinary history and cultural context work their way into Shaw’s thoughtful recipe introductions and he repeatedly credits fellow hunters and chefs.

This is a book of great ideological passion. Shaw’s tone is pragmatic grounded and accessible but he doesn’t let that temper his singular focus on the near-spiritual act of approaching venison as a hunter-cook. He’s adamant about the sustainability and humanity of wild game hunting and the sheer breadth of practically applicable knowledge is dizzying. Despite the author’s best efforts the book isn’t completely exhaustive; no single book can be as he acknowledges in the list of selected recommended reading near the book’s appendix. Novice hunters and butchers may struggle to follow Shaw’s written instructions which often lack diagrams. Random quotes with deer themes distract slightly from the subject matter: It doesn’t help Shaw’s excellent material for instance to know that Rainer Maria Rilke once wrote: “You run like a herd of luminous deer and I am dark; I am forest.” Full-color photographs by Holly A. Heyser Shaw’s former partner are at times instructive (one series of images shows how to wrap homemade deer meatballs with the animal’s own caul fat) but they primarily serve to tempt the reader: Shaw’s sumptuous descriptions of grilled heart with peppers glisten enticingly on the plate.

On the eve of his Full Horn Ceremony young faun Panmiel is playing in the forest when he meets Hobkin a satyr. They spend the day together learning about their differences but also their similarities. Despite being told all his life that satyrs are evil Pan can’t help but see Hobkin as a friend who seems a little lonely. But their games can’t last forever and Pan eventually leaves his new pal to return home and prepare for the next day’s ceremony when he will become a full grown adult and member of the herd. The ceremony is everything Pan could have wished for but later during his first shift on guard duty Hobkin’s pet bird Ruddy alerts Pan that Hobkin is in trouble. Pan leaves his guard station and soon the herd’s lute which grants them protection and safety is stolen. Eager to fix the mess he’s made Pan sets out with his sister Omelia to track the thief down and retrieve the lute. But the mission won’t be easy since the young fauns must face creatures they’ve only heard about in scary stories as well as evil satyrs amid haunting warnings of “the four horned one.” In this novel Wooley ably shows how a kind nervous young faun can manage to grow into a courageous and brave Full Horn. The goodhearted Pan is an easy protagonist to like and his fun relationship with his sibling fills the story with playful amusing banter. Although the book was clearly written for a middle-grade audience older teens and adults will find much to enjoy in the narrative’s solid worldbuilding and well-developed characters. This debut novel is sure to delight young readers with its tale of adventure as the main character steps out of his comfort zone to make things right.

The author explains in his introduction that he wanted to create pieces that “hung there in midair suspended” without categorizing them as prose poetry flash fiction or micro-fiction. The very short entries presented here sometimes only spanning a few pages generally introduce a single character capture one consequential moment and culminate with an ironic reversal. In “Ray” a man watches his terminally ill best friend meet lung cancer with defiant humor. After Ray’s death the grieving narrator asks a stranger for a cigarette only to be warned “Those things will kill you.” (Similarly ironic and darkly comedic turns run throughout the collection.) The rebellious skateboarder in “Sims” is disparaged by his hometown until he dies serving in the Gulf War and is suddenly hailed as a patriot. In “Neighbors” two mismatched teenagers conceal a violent domestic incident after which a drunken father unexpectedly protects their secret. “Swimming” follows several boys whose challenge to a boastful friend ends in tragedy at a pond. Other entries are gentler: “Dog Days” portrays a widower tethered to a declining factory town by memories and an exceptional hot dog restaurant while “Origins” concerns a man realizing how little he knows about the lives his parents led before he could remember them. “Mr. Wilson” tackles homophobia while also neatly revealing a marital dynamic in which a father’s dissent consigns him to the sofa. (When he disagrees with his wife he automatically walks “glumly to the dresser to pull out the extra blankets” knowing exactly where he will spend the night.) Joseph demonstrates remarkable skill in establishing whole worlds with only a few pages. But despite his sharp observational acumen the author’s heavily staccato prose can feel flat. Many pieces conclude before their characters or conflicts fully register—they seem to land suddenly on the page and scurry away just as quickly. Still the strongest entries leave deep impressions.

Bentley explores the difficult reality of being a doctor during the Covid pandemic: “The health care system the people in it providing the care were stretched beyond capacity.” While the story follows Bentley’s treatment of an array of patients the larger tale is the author’s excessive self-criticism. Working herself to the bone Bentley relied on survival strategies to get her through tough days. Her dog Rockstar comforted her at home and Dragon her dictation device helped her make sense of her patients’ cases. Yet Bentley’s primary coping mechanism—the titular Air Fairy—caused her harm even as it temporarily allowed her to center her patients’ medical struggles. Coined by her psychologist Dr. Hardy the Air Fairy is a personification of self-reproach: a trauma-rooted survival tactic (albeit a maladaptive one) that routinely encouraged Bentley to suppress her own needs. Expectedly the Air Fairy grabbed the reins during the pandemic. Bentley relentlessly pursued possible resources for the afflicted while the Air Fairy refused to succumb to perceived weakness: “I was a wimp…Air Fairy ‘You should NOT be tired’…be tougher.” Bentley’s goal is noble yet her habitual self-flagellation for choices like sipping a Diet Coke is fundamentally misguided and led to repercussions on her own health like her rapid weight loss and resultant 1.8% body fat. Additionally Bentley underwent abdominal and brain surgeries though she categorized her pain as an unimportant weakness: “Air Fairy knew it. I had not paid attention to her had failed and clearly it was wrong.” Alongside detailing her medical work Bentley also guides readers through formative events of her earlier life like the gymnastics classes where her unwavering need for success was forged.

Bentley’s reflections are unflinchingly self-aware although somewhat scattered and frustrating to parse. In terms of plot she makes definite steps toward growth but the ending lacks clarity and may not wholly satisfy readers—has anything changed? Does she see her story’s conclusion told through the Air Fairy’s lens as a punishment? The verdict is unclear but Bentley does at least attempt to explore her trauma responses honestly. This forthrightness is underpinned by the memoir’s prose which aims for lyrical but ends up somewhere along the stream-of-consciousness spectrum. The prose’s conversational tone is also unfortunately the story’s detriment; the informal cadence—with frequent pauses indicated by a wealth of commas—culminates with awkward phrasing and a disruption of fluidity: “the musicians too seemed to shine until at the end all lights were extinguished the sound slowly fading. Then the full cathedral was pregnant with perfect silence that lasted. Almost eerily probably less than a minute and yet longer infinitely.” Similarly Bentley later reflects “Being small hidden away is not a way to avoid doing harm. To dare to think that my gift—that I have been given or can give something beautiful and healing that the harm is in keeping it boxed away stifled bound shadowed.” The book contains beautiful elements and important sentiments but it would strike readers more powerfully if the composition were less clunky.

Whether it was losing his parents or the dissolution of his nearly 25-year marriage whenever the pain of loss became too great for him to bear Mirasole looked to the open road for escape. “I’d come home from those roads different in some way I couldn’t name—quieter maybe or more willing to be alone with whatever was inside me” he writes. Such was the case when the author’s troubled brother Dave passed at 61. This time however the pain looked like something only a 15000-mile round-trip journey to Deadhorse Alaska on the back of a BMW G310GS could remedy. His adult children Arielle and Jojo certainly didn’t want him to make the perilous trip alone. But the ghosts of Mirasole’s past just wouldn’t quit egging him on despite doubts about whether motion still heals “or does it just outrun the pain long enough to forget you’re carrying it?” Mirasole’s swiftly paced and economical writing puts readers on the road with him. When the wind bites you feel it. When the herd of massive Yellowstone bison blocking the road ahead threaten to trample him you’re there. And when Mirasole laments the inscrutability of an older brother who left this life without ever explaining himself that cuts deep too: “Cruelty and kindness from the same hands. I kept trying to square them. Couldn’t then. Can’t now.” Mirasole’s soul-searching is just as engrossing as any of the earthbound mishaps he encounters on the road to Alaska. But rather than slow down the journey the author’s deeper ruminations help propel it ever forward. The miles prove to be meditative and help the author reconnect to those he hasn’t lost: his children. It’s a powerful lesson—and one that just might save some readers from having to make their own 15000-mile journey on the back of a motorbike.

In a curious and visually unique combination of words by former New York Times reporter Black and page designs (“visualization”) by illustrator Lehrer this book portrays the author’s experiences dealing with grief after his mother’s unexpected death. The minimal text Black provides is scattered sparingly across the book’s pages often with just a single word on a page accompanied by both Lehrer’s simple illustrations and vast swaths of empty space. “I was looking for a new way to write a way for words to carry the full weight of their meaning” Black states in the book’s afterword. “Neither established forms of poetry nor prose but something different.” The author’s approach takes the form of single lines describing some aspect of grieving sometimes spread over multiple pages. The phrase “I am still picking up” ranges across two pages for instance followed by “the pieces one by one” over two more supplemented by various squiggles lines crescents dots and exclamation points provided by Lehrer. At various points Black draws on some of his history as a journalist as when he recounts his time reporting from the Middle East and remembers “a woman slain by a stray bullet while hanging laundry out to dry.” These memories are interspersed with moments as rock-bottom simple as a two-page spread bearing the legend “pain.” “The geometry of loss” Black writes “is a circle that’s never complete.” The intensely personal nature of the text is affecting throughout; when Black confesses bald truths like “I wish that I could rewrite these memories” many readers who’ve experienced life-altering grief will nod in understanding. The book’s final pages which include actual photos and reproductions of old letters and handwritten notes from the author’s mother deliver a strong emotional impact making the lost one feel very present.

It’s August 2005 in Hartless a small dusty town in the Texas Panhandle. Kindergarten teacher Helen McCabe in her mid-50s has just finished the first week of school hoping that her class will help her find her mooring again. Her husband Hal recently died in a car crash; he drove into an intersection just as a trailer truck was entering from the cross lane and Helen thinks it might have been suicide. She vows that she’ll “never miss the signs of someone in trouble again.” Jillie Simpson a 5-year-old girl in her class has captured her attention: “One tiny quiet girl with huge brown eyes equally bright and sad mirrored Helen’s grief.” But Helen’s pain is about more than the loss of her spouse; it’s also related to losing her baby daughter who died many years ago. Jillie’s 23-year-old mother Charlene Simpson lives with Jillie’s father Ray Hopper and Ray’s teenage son Mick in another part of town. They eke out a hardscrabble life with Charlene working at a secondhand shop. When Ray learns that Charlene is pregnant again he beats her and takes off leaving Mick and Jillie behind as well as months of unpaid bills. Helen who’s weighed down by her own troubles becomes preoccupied with anxiety about Jillie and she becomes determined to protect the child without fully understanding the danger that surrounds Charlene. Over the course of this novel Alexander’s prose convincingly captures the atmosphere and dialect of a small Panhandle town where everyone knows everyone else and gossip spreads with the speed of the dry wind with brutal judgment always quick to follow. She delivers a poignant tale of people dealing with grief guilt secrets and transformations as well as unexpected relationships. The sibling relationship between Jillie and her half brother Mick is the most tender and when tragedy strikes Charlene and Mick both face some of the hardest times of their lives.

This motivational book opens by discussing how women often face “You should say something” moments but don’t end up speaking out because of fear. The author emphasizes that the goal is not to have the loudest voice but the clearest. A woman’s voice she insists can create a “ripple” that extends to fellow teammates or members of an organization and beyond. Sickels insists that speaking up isn’t only about “big moments” but rather “infinite” opportunities to share an idea express appreciation or invite someone else into the conversation. The book breaks down seven “silencers” or reasons women don’t speak up from job-loss anxiety to male-dominated conversations. The book’s VOICE framework focuses on how values outcome identity consistency and energy influence effective speaking. “Feeling Action Transformation” is an action plan for identifying how you want people to feel what you want them to do and what transformation would look like after you have spoken. The author recommends sharing stories “thoughtfully and intentionally” to build rapport with colleagues. The book explains how leaders’ “ABCs” (or Assumptions Body Language and Choices) influence the energy they bring into a room. The book concludes with the reminder that “when you know your values you know what to say. Say it today.” Sickels builds a compelling case throughout the book for why it’s so important for women to make their voices heard. The book reassures women that “speaking effectively is a skill” that can be learned with practice. A comprehensive “Cost Versus Benefit of Speaking Up” matrix provides guidance on when to step into the “Courage Zone” or the “Strategic Zone.” The book also offers examples of the “Silenced” and “Unsilenced” mentalities like shifting from “Hearing no is so embarrassing and awkward” to “After sharing I’ll invite my colleagues to chime in with their questions concerns and suggestions.” However the inclusion of too many anecdotes fails to further the author’s argument; they seem to unnecessarily pad the page count.

“Every movie romance needs an Obstacle a reason the characters don’t naturally fall into each other.” In the off-screen romance between actors Juniper Castillo and Kai Laramie the obstacle is a moving target. Juniper notices early on that as flirty and forward as Kai is he seems “closed off to a romantic connection”; that turns out to be the tip of a very problematic iceberg. The two meet in the lobby of a Pittsburgh hotel where they will be spending the evening with Matthew Malone the megastar playing Andy Warhol in a movie they’re about to begin shooting Andy Warhol Never Gets Old. Kai has been cast as Andy’s intern Juniper as a journalist who gets in over her head. This is Juniper’s first adult role after a long run as a Nickelodeon child star and newcomer Kai’s first role of any kind. Green evokes in compelling detail all the phases and aspects of the film project from the table read to the screening of the rough cut from the social media fanfare to the public premiere and the press junket moving back and forth between Juniper’s and Kai’s first-person perspectives. In a meeting with one of the ubiquitous publicists Kai learns that somehow “the high school stuff” he never talks about—despite their growing inseparability and seemingly profound connection he hasn’t even brought himself to share it with Juniper—has surfaced. Details emerge slowly then blow up in the media; the book’s third act focuses on the destructive potential of celebrity culture in a climate that makes Warhol’s milieu look innocent by comparison. After a long break from writing fiction—his last two books were Everything Is Tuberculosis (2025) and The Anthropocene Reviewed (2021)—Green fills this novel with carefully observed details of Hollywood culture and characters including running jokes about vegan cuisine media training and the way Kai’s agent constantly and boorishly consults his young female assistant on points of political correctness. Can he talk about “hot girls”? Can he quote T.S. Eliot? OK to say “dog vomit”?

“Mags MacDonald had a farm E-I-E-I-O. / And on that farm she had a…WHOLE LOTTA WORK TO DO!” With Old MacDonald taking a much-needed vacation Mags decides to bring the farm into the 21st century. She begins ordering contraptions: a turbo jetpack with hose attachment to help water the crops (“with a SPRINKLE-SPRINKLE here / and a SPLOOSH-SPLOOSH there”) a voice-activated giant robotic octopus to pick apples (“with a SQUEEZE-SQUEEZE here / and a SQUEEZE-SQUEEZE there”) and more. Everything goes haywire. An exhausted Mags wishes for help and a gaggle of friends arrive to put the tech to good use. MacGregor riffs cleverly on the nursery rhyme; her verse scans (and sings!) well while Ogawa’s illustrations carry the story with details that aren’t included in the text. Mags loses control of the jetpack and sprays water everywhere as a flock of frightened fowl squawk; unruly drones send the animals fleeing; the mechanical octopus pauses to eat pizza. Readers will enjoy spotting funny details like the cow flying around with the jetpack. Those familiar with the source material will be particularly charmed. Mags and Old MacDonald are pale-skinned; Mags’ friends are diverse.

In the context of Black cultural life writes English professor Freeburg “soul is the one-word answer to this question: How did enslaved Africans turn America’s infamous failure into the greatest moral occasion of modern Western life?” Soul involves the formation of community self-care and self-help; delivering aid to others; and finding meaning in life—all enabling “survival in hostile environments that enslaved Africans and that later second-class citizens were forced to call home.” Freeburg identifies four pillars of soul: resonance revelation resilience and transcendence. The first “underscores how Black people connect to each other inside their homes and institutions” while the second concerns finding and creating community and extended family. Resilience is self-explanatory though it has an element of self-effacement; one of Freeburg’s exemplars is the great singer Nina Simone who “believed that her voice was so significant to the mourning and struggle during the 1960s and 1970s that she sacrificed her own health and family relationships.” Another exemplar is the poet Gwendolyn Brooks who was encouraged in her art by Langston Hughes and other writers and editors and who also returned the favor by nurturing other aspirants. Finally transcendence involves overcoming difficult even seemingly impossible obstacles to individual and social progress. Here Freeburg holds up the example of Jewel Thais-Williams a model of intersectionality—gay feminist Black—who owned a popular Los Angeles nightclub that provided a home for LGBTQ+ people: “It was a Black club and it was queer but Jewel made sure that above all everyone felt invited and welcome.” Freeburg deftly joins historical figures such as Frederick Douglass and Phyllis Wheatley to contemporary ones such as Barack Obama to illustrate his welcoming assertion that “affirmations of self in a chosen community or a community chosen for you define soul.”

When we last left mouseling Titch she had just escaped a crew of grabbers—greedy forest scavengers—with the help of an eaglebear a massive creature the Grabbers also held captive. As this story begins Titch her homebody rodent pal Huckleberry and pocket-size puffling Dollop are lost in Rotwood Mire. A gruesome creature arises from the mud—a Bogbungler! Titch tries to subdue it with her magical staff but fails. A brave warrior arrives—a self-assured sword-sporting squirrel who introduces herself as Briar Nettlebrush. Briar insists she’s a loner but before long she reveals that she needs Titch’s help. The squirrels of her village are under the mind control of a turtle wizard Lord Muskeg who wears a dark green gem around his neck. Having previously introduced the Bravepaw prophecy that Titch must strive to fulfill (“When the sky fills with shadow / And all is turned to gray / Bravepaw will come…”) Wilkinson adds an important wrinkle. The squirrels know an extra verse: “When gems unite in harmony / …Bravepaw will come.” In this fanciful absorbing tale of teamwork it certainly seems that Titch will not be fulfilling her destiny alone. Naidu’s illustrations of forest creatures remain insistently adorable with the brilliant exceptions of the gloopy gross Bogbungler and “mucky scoundrel” Muskeg.

Werth whose books include The Billion-Dollar Molecule (1994) opens with the 1918 Spanish flu pandemic which did not spare the U.S. whose doctors wrote millions of prescriptions that cured no one. He then delivers an eye-opening history of the American pharmaceutical industry featuring little-known geniuses (James Conant Max Tishler Selman Waksman) as well as commercial labs—“like wildcatters in the vicinity of an oil strike”—that include Merck Squibb and Eli Lilly. World War I produced a bonanza as the U.S. seized American branches of Germany’s chemical industry—then the world’s best. Until the 1930s profit leaders were newly discovered vitamins. Penicillin changed everything. Although discovered in Britain it required a vast American industrial program to produce commercial quantities. Penicillin was not patented so any company could make it and profits were minimal. In any case making money from prescription medicines was considered disreputable at the time. This changed after World War II. Government funding had given companies a massive infrastructure—mostly huge vats of bacteria already producing antibiotics besides penicillin a “miracle drug” that enraptured the general public no less than the medical profession. This cured pharmaceutical companies of their objection to profits. They established research departments hired chemists patented discoveries and recruited sales personnel to promote products to doctors. The result was more miracle drugs and profits. Werth ends with 1962 Senate hearings that revealed a great deal of shady behavior and overcharging and resulted in a strong reform bill that after vigorous lobbying was gutted—and then rescued by the thalidomide disaster; a morning-sickness pill popular in Europe thalidomide produced thousands of babies with birth defects. An engrossing read the book is occasionally interrupted by digressions such as a long account of the spread of nuclear weapons and a chapter recounting one patient’s unusual psychiatric side effect to cortisone.

As Icelandic author Helgadóttir’s novel opens the “strongest woman in the world” is attempting an impossible feat: breaking out of a prison cell while shackled. The novel then moves sharply back in time to show that woman Gunnhildur as a baby breaking free of her mother’s body. When she’s brought home to a place of emotional extremes her older brother Eiður attempts to soothe her. She grabs his fingers with an unfathomable strength and the siblings immediately “became powerless comrades in a place where nothing could ever be changed.” Then their mother dies and their father separates the siblings. Living with their father Eiður searches for connection and community through the world of activism protests and the desire for social change. Meanwhile Gunnhildur is sent to live with her uncle and cousin on a farm—and learns to harness a quiet inner strength in addition to her physical prowess. Eiður struggles with his public persona as a human rights activist chef and environmentalist—and his interior truth that he may not have the passion to continue trying to change the world. While Gunnhildur’s life seems more aimless than Eiður’s she finds purpose in both motherhood and her work as a sought-after mortuary cosmetologist. The novel alternates between chapters focused on Eiður Gunnhildur and the lives of Gunnhildur’s clients. Though they initially feel out of place the cosmetology chapters offer lovely glimpses into humankind more generally and reveal the immense care Gunnhildur puts into the world. As the novel brings itself back to where it opened the juxtaposition of Eiður’s flashier energy and Gunnhildur’s understated fortitude brings each sibling—and their relationship with each other—into sharper focus. Helgadóttir’s novel quietly reveals the power that comes from finding your place even if it’s not where you expected.

This trilogy closer sends Keeper sidekick Toby Boggs and distracted (if ever resourceful) associate Y into a series of misadventures after they agree to help recover an important but fragmented message. Though returning fans of the series might find the joke has worn a bit thin they’ll still enjoy seeing what offbeat powers the author can concoct for the members of her rival but not very different organizations: H.E.R.O. and E.V.I.L. (for example Y’s mom turns out to be Vogue a superhero with fashion powers). Readers also see supposed villain Keeper whose developing skill is perfectly evident to everyone except him save the day again and again. Meanwhile narrow escapes high-speed chases and other potentially hazardous situations lead to a violent if nonfatal fracas with some ominous new players—one with a chilling ability to authoritatively spout incorrect facts (“the capital of Vermont is Burlington”). Y’s laudably persistent efforts to corner Keeper into a prom invite provide material for soul searching personal sacrifice real suspense and at last an upbeat epilogue. The cast largely presents white.

After German bombs level Eilidh Flett’s neighborhood on the outskirts of Glasgow mum sends her to stay with her Aunt Rhona and cousin Magnus on tiny rocky Mirk Skerry. Eilidh misses her dad who’s been lost at sea resents her grumpy cousin and doesn’t know how to fill her days. Why does Aunt Rhona spend so much time alone in the tower of the island’s defunct lighthouse which Eilidh isn’t allowed to enter? And why do Magnus and his mum speak a mysterious language called Norn? One night a ship is torpedoed near the island and Eilidh accidentally discovers that she comes from a long line of Nightkeepers who help usher on the souls of the drowned. The cousins set out on an increasingly dangerous and frantic search for the lost seaglass horn of the mystical aquatic Finfolk which has the power to recall the souls of everyone who’s ever drowned at sea including their own fathers and Cam the ghost of a boy from the sunken ship who’s been left stranded on Mirk Skerry. Together they face down stormy seas German bombers sheer cliffs underwater caves loss grief and even the Finfolk themselves in a briskly told adventure that delightfully interweaves Scottish and Norse mythical and linguistic elements.

The first in Trinh’s fantasy series introduced readers to the Legendary Allies Team which consists of three tweens and their magical animal companions as they seek to defeat the bong toi the problems that linger from the Dark Times. This tale focuses on Cam and their ally the turtle Emerald (both of whom use they/them pronouns). Having known hunger firsthand Cam is determined to put things right but tensions between fellow teammates Mai the Healer and Lieu the Protector escalate echoed by their squabbling Legendary animal allies a phoenix and a lan. Vivid images frequently pop up in Cam’s mind helping the child make connections but this ability becomes overwhelmed as the rains worsen. Emerald offers guidance and cryptic clues as the children race to harness their powers. While the tale is richly grounded in Vietnamese cultural elements the fusion of mythology invented geography and modern touches such as social media high speed trains and airports can feel disorienting. At times magic is used almost as convenience resulting in moments that feel underdeveloped. Still the novel adeptly maintains its emotional stakes through a unique cultural lens sympathetic characters and the resonant theme of kids working to save the world. Nguyen’s manga-style illustrations brim with warmth and color.

“I have this little sister Lola. She is small and very funny” reports young narrator Charlie—and not for the first time. (Fans of this series—book and TV—will know that this is Charlie’s regular opener.) Although it’s only September Lola is eagerly awaiting Christmas. Charlie tries to instill patience in Lola but there’s no putting her off her mission: She writes her Christmas cards in October and decorates the house in November. The siblings (pale-skinned with as ever chicly floppy blond wisps of hair) have a rapport right out of a classic-comedy script with Charlie as straight man to adorably prone-to-misunderstandings Lola. (Charlie on Advent-calendar doors: “If you don’t open them ALL Christmas can’t come.” Lola: “So if I open all of the doors…AT ONCE will Christmas come then?”) Readers will likely share Charlie’s bemusement with his sister’s shtick and idiosyncratic reasoning (typical Lola logic: “Double 5 is 55”) which is key as the story doesn’t have much of an arc. As always Child’s unmistakable and innovative mixed-media art finds the book’s paper doll–esque human figures alongside paper- and photo-collage elements cartoonishly simple renderings of objects and a font that slants arches and loops making it another essential graphic feature.

The movies are literally in Hollywood screenwriter/producer Johnny Washington’s DNA as the grandson of Mazelle Washington a legendary Black actress from the 1920s to the ’40s who as with such comparably gifted peers as Hattie McDaniel was consigned to playing comedic servant roles during the studio system’s golden age which coincided with the beginning of the steep too-slow decline of racially segregated Jim Crow America. Johnny who’s been fighting his own uphill battles with racially blinkered studio mavens in today’s presumably more enlightened era has inherited the frayed but cozy remnants of Bear Creek Lodge a ski resort near Northern California’s Mount Shasta which Mazelle owned and operated as a 1950s getaway spot for Black celebrities like Lena Horne and Sammy Davis Jr. who despite their star power were shunned from similar establishments. Despite his fraught relationship with Mazy in her years of embittered semiretirement Johnny appreciates being able to head to the mountains for rest and relaxation with his university professor wife Tasha and their teen daughters Sharise and Imani. Both girls have to varying degrees inherited their grandmother’s energy and verve. Their mother unbeknownst to them or their dad is researching a book on Mazy’s tumultuous life. As they all settle in for what already seems a tense holiday amid the unrelenting Shasta snows something big strange and scary lurks just beyond their immediate sight leaving bizarre and alarmingly blood-soaked evidence of death and destruction. Through flashbacks masterfully woven throughout the novel by the redoubtable storyteller Due this enthralling hybrid of showbiz history supernatural mystery and nail-biting adventure in the wild spins a chilling enlightening and ultimately heartrending saga of generational trauma thwarted dreams and familial devotion.

Jax has faced some truly creepy creatures in previous episodes but none compares with the mysterious Wraith Queen—who has somehow escaped confinement through the otherworldly Doors of Gold and Bone. Wielding ropes of viciously thorny vines and other deadly flora she’s set out on a mad campaign of general destruction—all this just as his magic middle school’s version of SATs are coming up too. While sending his young hero from the City of Spirits to Ireland in search of uncanny allies of legend Mbalia barrages him with difficult tests from magical practice duels in class to troubling debates about who’s on which side in the larger conflict. As events rush toward a desperate climactic battle readers may wish for more scenes of Jax at school where the meat loaf surprise at lunch actually shouts “Surprise!” (thanks to a mischievous student’s prank). The unfolding horror of the Wraith Queen and her schemes come to the forefront crowding out subplots. But even as Jax emerges as a true hero in this world his dives into the realms of both Irish and West African folk mythology along with contacts with his own African American ancestors and heritage leave him firmly rooted in the spiritual one too.