“I must have forgotten how to sleep. No matter how hard I try I’m still awake.” But red-haired pink-skinned Lucy isn’t going to just lie there and take it. The young narrator decides to repeat the nighttime wind-down routine—“Maybe I skipped a step when I was getting ready for bed?” Lucy sheds pajamas (re?)brushes teeth puts the jammies back on and (again?) says good night to Dad (who seems to be a single parent) but it’s no use: Lucy just isn’t sleepy. The child decides to take a walk to “clear my head” and indirectly finds a solution. (A bear and a book are involved.) This is an original and dryly witty take on the can’t-get-to-sleep tale and Zocca’s art which has cartoon-clean lines and a punchy green-and-purple–heavy palette does some of the storytelling. A wordless gag involves the family dog who makes off with a pillow but doesn’t even need it to fall asleep in an armchair; meanwhile poor wide-awake Lucy who’s lying on the back of the chair in perfect purposeful imitation of the pooch can’t catch a break. Part of Lucy’s charm is the youngster’s less-than-cute look: Zocca tops Lucy’s head with a scraggly bun and gives the child a noticeably weak chin that hardly hinders Lucy’s determination.

The story begins just after 12-year-old Sofia’s mother leaves her “baba” moving Sofia and her brother into their car. As her mother drives around looking for a spot to park each night Sofia’s mind wanders from memories of her “abuelo stirring a large pot of champurrado” to the girl with the “belly bulging out of her shirt” who now inhabits Sofia’s old house. The story unfolds in brief diarylike snippets from Sofia’s point of view tracing her attempts to regain normalcy amid a destabilizing reality. Rizkalla is skilled in taking on the voice of a young narrator fluent in the worries that plague Sofia whether they come from her school crush her teachers’ racism or the responsibility she feels for her family’s well-being. Rizkalla is able to succinctly conjure the shame that stems from Sofia’s class consciousness while not losing the innocence of her youth: “The way Chloe looks down at my hands after we pull away I can tell she expects me to give her a present that she thinks I must have been hiding one this whole time to surprise her.” What makes this a memorable debut is Rizkalla’s ability to artfully detail the gut-wrenching powerlessness Sofia often feels as she treads through a world rife with inequality. “I mouth the word to myself ‘Please’ imagining what it would be like to show up to the car with a gift card in hand how proud mama would be and maybe she would even tear up holding it she would be that proud” Sofia thinks hoping to get the gift card awarded to the highest scorer on a class oceanography quiz. Rizkalla offers a well-written and haunting look into a childhood marked by instability.

Raised by a brutal mother who forces him to carry out her cruelties alongside a constantly shifting cast of shadowy “uncles” the Boy dreams of finding a home and a place to belong. After a particularly harrowing experience at his mother’s hands he flees into the woods where he encounters a mysterious orb that contains a traveling carnival. The Boy begins to feel at home among the ragtag carnival family which includes the berobed leader Terminus; a pair of conjoined sisters Morningside and Eveningside; a menagerie of exotic animals including jaguarundi and Siberian tigers; and especially the magician Sullivan who takes the Boy under his wing as an apprentice. As the Boy becomes the Young Man he learns at Sullivan’s side and as his powers grow he begins developing ambitions of his own—but then his ideas about how to make the show bigger and more powerful ignite a rivalry between him and his mentor. After a betrayal what the Young Man believes will be his crowning achievement yields catastrophic results and he’s cast out from his found family to wander alone. He drifts haunted by his past until he encounters a woman: Her whose lightness promises to chase away his darkness. Just as he begins to feel he has finally escaped his violent past he is forced to reckon with it once and for all. The writing is lush and sumptuous and at its best it conjures the Magician’s world with haunting vividness. Occasionally however the prose tips into an overwrought style that dulls rather than deepens the novel’s enchantment: “His body...lies in scant writhe” for example.

Stars shine outside a pale blue room; through a flower-framed door a darting swallow leads the way to the titular path. A child (seen only from behind) at the foot of a sweeping set of steps is urged to set down a burdensome load as an unseen narrator assures youngsters that “you are not alone.” References to a higher power throughout (“the Spirit” “God’s love”) reinforce that message. Far below the child sees a labyrinth and enters it; though things grow dark we’re reassured that “this is a labyrinth not a maze. You cannot get lost.” Mindfulness techniques—an emphasis on deep breathing active listening taking in sensations all around—set a tranquil tone. On several pages readers are asked to trace the path with their fingers adding an engaging interactive element. The art is rife with hidden details. Animal and botanical forms are more or less realistic though washed in luminous colors: rose emerald sapphire. The soothing text should lull many overstimulated readers into a sense of calm though some might see the enticing imagery as an excuse to extend reading time and defer dozing off.

Why do we love sports? Well there’s the existential aspect: We need meaning in life and sports provides it at least for some. Then as scriptwriter Schur and sportswriter Posnanski put it “Life is lonely and sports provide community.” What’s more sports at least in the authors’ case allows them to go tearing off to see what other nuts are up to. They find them everywhere. Schur imagines Posnanski asking a random stranger how it is that he became a Bears fan receiving the reply “I live in a prismatic hell from which there is no escape.” On a happier note the two head to London for the World Darts Championship its besotted fans dressed as if it were Halloween “if Halloween had been designed from drunken adult Brits.” And if Halloween were about bananas instead of pumpkins one might add. As for Canada: Well as one Canadian succinctly puts it “Every fucking day in Canada is National Fucking Hockey Day.” There’s plenty of goofiness but there are also some serious reflections on various facets of sports. Darts may not seem like much of a sport as such but the televised championship is viewed by millions around the world as are chess matches. An especially thoughtful touch comes from Posnanski who ruminates on the “radio rhythm” of different sports with baseball the ideal pace just as it’s the ideal game while radio-broadcast football is “loud and chaotic and emotional and just a little bit nonsensical.” The writers diverge on some points—Schur hates violence so naturally Posnanski condemns him to watch pro wrestling in revenge for having been dispatched to a pickleball tourney. But they agree firmly and rightly on one essential point: “we both despise the Dallas Cowboys.”

Since its inception in 2015 says Peele a contributing editor at Vanity Fair British TV’s Love Island UK and its 2019 American spinoff Love Island USA have captured massive audience attention with tropical island luxury villa locations; attractive singles; and the contestant end-game goal of finding love. It’s an addictive combination and “interactive as a video game” Peele writes. The author dynamically breaks down the six-week summertime structure of the program (the taped British version as well as the American one which is filmed in real time six nights a week) then dissects the players the provocative group challenges the spicy melodrama the reunions and the critical viewer voting process as it unfolds season to season. From the unstable messiness of Season 1 to the franchise’s modernized glammy iterations of the past few years Peele doesn’t miss an evolutionary upgrade. And while it’s not technically necessary to have a rudimentary working knowledge of the show to enjoy her dogged research the narrative is decidedly fan-centric. Dedicated superfan communities will particularly savor the season-by-season highlight-reel recaps that Peele delivers in chapters capturing the pivotal climactic moments that kept viewers glued to their screens. The author culled pages of off-screen details and insider perspectives from hundreds of interviews with show producers crew members executives presenters and “Islanders” themselves. She also toured the villa in real time in 2025 and made actual control-room visits to observe how producers edit interactions to maximize the heft of dramatic arcs break-ups “crash-outs” and romantic shifts especially when one of the show’s “bombshells” arrived on set to replace a departing cast member who has been eliminated by viewers. Peele scrutinizes the moral sociological. and psychological impacts of the show in terms of its effects on viewers and participants alike but her focus is mainly kept on the episodes and the players which is exactly what readers will expect and appreciate.

A U.S. Air Force C-32A crashes near Bodrum Turkey killing all aboard including the secretary of commerce. American investigators suspect sabotage which elevates the issue up to the White House. Strangely only 15 passengers had been aboard while 16 were listed on the manifest. Gunther Klaus a Swiss moneyman for the Russians was supposed to be on that plane. Code-named Fulcrum he wants to get to the West to expose Russian chicanery. On the book’s dark side Andrei Malenkov has a “little squadron” of drones he plans to load with radioactive cesium chloride that would change the world and make him rich. Given his intended target in northern Africa the plan sounds plausible. Unfortunately for him he must face Americans like series regulars Ding Chavez John “I’m too old to die young” Clark and Lieutenant Commander Katie “What the hell are we getting into now?” Ryan. The story is rich in weapons technology and balanced by Americans to a one displaying courage and solid character. At the top President Jack Ryan tries to contain a simmering geopolitical mess by talking to an unfriendly President Nikita Yermilov. The tactical level is what readers live for—the gunfights the explosions the drones that hunt and kill—and always always another threat from a deadly adversary. The demise of the Cold War certainly didn’t end the supply of material for this Clancy-created series. In a world of constant turmoil the Clancy crew will always be busy. There’s a sameness to the novels—the U.S. with its noble leader (alas fictional) “trying to hold together a world that’s blowing apart” and its noble warriors like Katie who “seemed to find action like a moth found light.” With this novel thriller writer Larsen makes his first entry in the Clancy series. His style fits perfectly.

Samson associate professor of anthropology University of Toronto and author of Our Tribal Future (2023) explains that sleep alternates between stages of rapid eye movement (REM) and non-REM (NREM). NREM repairs tissues while the body itself (heart rate breathing brain activity muscle tone) slows down. During REM sleep dreams occur while the body consolidates memory and learning but muscles are temporarily paralyzed perhaps to prevent the animal from acting out the dream. Many modern humans sleep alone but sleep has been a communal affair throughout history he astutely observes. “In the nineteenth century bed-sharing began to fall out of fashion” Samson writes. “Social commentaries argued that sharing a bed polluted the air and undermined social respect making it not only unhygienic but also immoral.” Doctors warn against sleeping with an infant but all traditional cultures do it. The author draws on fieldwork in Tanzania where he learns from the Hazda “one of the last remaining hunter-gatherer tribes on earth.” Could an answer lie Samson writes in “a deep restorative ‘paleo-sleep’—similar to the health benefits touted by the paleo-diet?” After all inadequate sleep is wildly unhealthy leading to disorders from diabetes to obesity Alzheimer’s heart disease cancer and infertility. It turns out that Homo sapiens became the shortest-sleeping primate to walk the earth. Humans sleep an average of six hours and 47 minutes; all primates stay awake less with the owl monkey getting a “whopping seventeen hours” of shut-eye. As evolution reduced our sleep time REM sleep actually gained a little; we’re sleeping less and dreaming more. Is this a mark of the creativity that led to civilization?

Anisa is a high school senior and aspiring artist from Long Island caught between her creative ambitions and her immigrant parents’ expectation that she follow her older sister Reem into medicine. After a discouraging first semester at college Anisa accompanies Reem who’s completing a medical rotation to Egypt where she spends time with extended family and gains space to reflect and recalibrate. Immersed in a new environment she deepens her relationship with Islam experiments with wearing hijab and begins to take her artistic ambitions more seriously. When a family health crisis draws her back to the U.S. Anisa must reconcile the growth she experienced abroad with the realities she left behind. Hamdy’s storytelling centers on interior conflict using Anisa’s perspective to examine themes of diasporic identity religious self-definition and intergenerational tension. El Mir’s black-and-white art conveys fluid motion and her inventive layouts keep the narrative visually engaging alternating between structured panels and looser sketchlike sequences that reflect Anisa’s point of view. A diverse supporting cast grounds the story in contemporary New York and Egypt and Arabic text appears throughout the dialogue contextualized through visuals narration and in the backmatter reinforcing cultural specificity while remaining widely accessible. The result is a measured thoughtful and complex coming-of-age story.

The text opens with celestial imagery as words seem to emanate from the sky paired with an illustration of a silhouetted pregnant figure stretched across the page belly cradled presenting birth as divine: “Black child / you were birthed from a / dark jeweled / expanse / infinite and vast / but holy as the womb.”The narrative reveres the familiar rituals of Black caregiving (“buttered your skin / and oiled your tender head”) recognizing care as a sacred inheritance. Sun imagery conveys blessing and protection harkening back to ancestral gestures that embrace hope and divine favor. Juneteenth isn’t explicitly named in the main text; the holiday functions less as a history lesson than as a metaphor: “Yet freedom delayed / cannot forever be / withheld / we need not wait / for the good news / to reach us / from afar.” Denmon’s illustrations created in gouache watercolor and colored pencil and refined digitally incorporate some recognizable yet unnamed popular Black figures such as Colin Kaepernick and Serena Williams alongside everyday community heroes. An author’s note tracing Elliott’s evolving relationship to Juneteenth adds grounding context for young readers. Though the book is addressed to Black children its message of love action and collective liberation extends beyond its intended audience.

A former member of Robert Mueller’s team of legal investigators Weissmann enjoys the distinction of having been singled out by Tulsi Gabbard director of national intelligence for revocation of his security clearance (“Having been out of government since 2019…the entire exercise was a performative show of retribution”) and President Trump himself who called him a “bad guy”—a step up from Stephen Miller’s “degenerate.” All that’s water off a duck’s back but what truly bothers Weissmann is the fact that “there is no criminal law that makes Trump’s election fraud lie illegal.” There’s plenty of precedent for legally punishing lying of other kinds: There are perjury laws and laws interdicting lying to Congress and falsehoods told to various financial investigative bodies (some of which figured in Trump’s 34 felony counts). A case of signal importance testing the edges of the First Amendment is the Stolen Valor Act punishing anyone who for personal gain lies about having won say the Medal of Honor. And then there are the examples of other countries to say nothing of most individual American states: Germany’s law that punishes Holocaust denial Brazil’s imprisonment of Trump ally Jair Bolsonaro for having not just lied about his electoral loss but also attempting to mount a coup with Brazilian law holding that “the right to truthful information in elections supersedes an unfettered right to free speech when deliberate falsehoods are made that threaten the democratic order.” In that spirit Weissmann proposes amending the Constitution as a safeguard and disqualifying those who perpetrate intentional election denial from running for elected office for some set term of years. And he backs up his case with a strong conviction: “When lies about election integrity go unchecked and become party orthodoxy we are no longer voting in a democracy.”

“The quantum world was the first place where I knew queerness” Padavic-Callaghan writes. “Meeting its not-wave-not-particle denizens was the first time I ever saw something like a possibility of myself.” Born in 1991 in what had been Yugoslavia in the midst of war Padavic-Callaghan moved to the U.S. at 16 and eventually became a physicist then a science journalist. Feminine and masculine Croatian and American scientist and reporter—for every binary they were somehow neither and both. So it makes sense that their book—a work of memoir and science writing—should be the same. As Padavic-Callaghan moves between science and story the physics becomes a metaphor for the personal and vice versa. One minute we’re learning about the fragility of quantum memory the next we’re watching Padavic-Callaghan as a kid headbanging to hard rock in the car with their father. The “many worlds” interpretation of quantum theory inspires us to take all the possible versions of ourselves that might exist in parallel universe and live them fully and fiercely in this one. “Unlike Schödinger’s cat” they write “which stays in a single state once you have collapsed its wavefunction I could never stay collapsed for very long.” Because the book is organized thematically we end up revisiting the same time periods and in places the story gets redundant. Some personal sections—the chapter on makeup and fashion for one—drag on past the point of the emotional punch. Still there’s fresh talent here. Padavic-Callaghan’s prose is vulnerable and sharp. They describe crying as grief “transmuted into water and salt” and a toothache as a “scream…trapped in the bone.” In their hands the mathematics of knot theory becomes moving. They push the boundaries of what a science book can be. They leave us with the sense that if quantum physicists can build “tolerance for complexity and in-between-ness” maybe the rest of us can too.

The head of the Music Cognition Lab at Princeton University and author of The Psychology of Music (2018) here examines the nuances of an experience nearly everyone shares that of letting one’s mind wander into memories or visions of the future or even unrelated fictional stories while listening to music. As a classically trained pianist Margulis grew up thinking that daydreaming while hearing music was taboo but while studying it grew to recognize it as both a communal and a creative act and full of surprising revelations. One of the most unusual aspects of this experience she notes is that “during a musical daydream your attention is suspended between the outer and the inner worlds” so that what you are imagining is steered by what you are hearing and suggests that “there’s perhaps no ordinary experience that is more psychedelic than the mere act of listening to music.” Her research indicates that the content of these daydreams is strikingly similar among members of a culture—but not across cultures—and that it has much more to do with the music itself than with lyrics. Using experiences from her life as well as those from participants in various studies Margulis writes in an easy conversational style never solemnly scholarly and raises as many enticing questions as she answers. Moving deftly between the subjective experience of those listening to music and the brain activity of those same subjects she considers how the mind makes metaphors and how various senses influence each other. While she questions the efficacy of music therapy as it is currently practiced she does see potential in music being used to treat conditions like dementia depression Parkinson’s disease and PTSD among others. The book is sure to make readers ponder their own encounters with music.

Seventeen-year-old Calico Brown’s 14-year-old sister Asha was being treated for cancer when she died. Calico made a hasty deal with an opportunistic man named Lucas Fates and persuades her mum to agree: The sisters will be cryogenically frozen in the hope that Asha can be reanimated when a cure has been found. Calico’s own freezing—assisting with their research as payment for Asha’s treatment—is supposed to be brief and followed by two years at the research facility in the U.S. Grim chapters alternate between Calico’s frantic fearful first-person perspective and Asha’s short lyrical poems tracing a story of unethical medical practices. Calico’s voice prickles with dread with each discovery she makes. Clark’s debut includes a diverse cast of teens who also live at the facility including Jem an English boy who constantly talks to his dead brother; Taylor who got the gender affirmation surgery his family couldn’t afford at the facility; and Veda who’s from India and has had a leg amputated due to an error in her freezing process. White-presenting Calico’s singular focus on finding Asha propels the story even as she falls for Jem and yearns to escape. The book explores provocative scenarios including forced reproduction but both the large cast and abundant ideas are too briefly developed.

Davis writes early in her book “America has a long and sordid history of mining the value of the art and inventions of Black people for its own benefit and erasing evidence of Black authorship to prop up the myth of white superiority.” It’s impossible to argue with that as she demonstrates in this well-researched look at how Black creators have been exploited and robbed by white people determined to enrich themselves unjustly. She contends that Black artists who were able to succeed financially did so by understanding intellectual property laws (although of course this was not an option in the days of slavery). She draws contrasts between creators like Bessie Smith the legendary blues singer who was exploited mercilessly by the music industry and Harry T. Burleigh the composer whose knowledge of copyright law enabled him “to build a foundation for a long comfortable life and multigenerational wealth.” The author makes a similar point about composer Thelonious Monk who was insistent on policing his own copyrights and Billie Holiday the singer who unknowingly signed one-sided contracts and later died nearly penniless. Davis also examines the film and television industry explaining how Spike Lee retained his creative independence by electing to shoot his debut film She’s Gotta Have It outside the studio system and Oprah Winfrey who took a financial risk by choosing to sign with a syndication company that allowed her to own her own show rather than signing with ABC. (The risk seems to have paid off.) Davis explains legal concepts with ease deftly translating lawyer-speak into plain English and her enthusiasm for the artists she writes about is palpable (and charming). She incorporates welcome moments of humor when appropriate (for example calling Kendrick Lamar “every Blerd’s favorite rapper”) and her prose is measured and elegant. There’s so much to admire in this perceptive book.

Shuika whose name means little thorn goes by Shay and lives in the city of Nezjar. She’s been raised by the midwife Ghita since her mother who was addicted to Snow died in childbirth. The drug temporarily activates Shawafa an affinity-based magic all women possess—which is illegal to wield. Through her mother’s addiction Shay inherited forbidden hizoura magic. Rumors that her mother may still be alive drive Shay to seek the truth and she finds her alive though still struggling with addiction and living in a slum. While trying to connect and help her reject Snow Shay becomes entangled in trouble thanks to a stolen talisman. Stranded in Ard Al-Ghul a realm of monsters she’s saved by unlikely allies and set on a path to free “women’s natural magic”—and herself. The novel’s strength lies in its exploration of fraught maternal bonds substance abuse abandonment and chosen family. Shay’s longing for affection and her tentative connection with a boy named Shadi offer emotional depth. The overall narrative arc at times loses focus some magical elements remain underexplored and modern-sounding dialogue occasionally disrupts the otherwise immersive fantasy setting. But cultural details and spiritual practices evocative of Islamic traditions ground the story and folkloric epigraphs prefacing most chapters help round out the worldbuilding.

Aouli whose name means “blue sky expanse” lives in a small house with little privacy from her controlling hot-tempered dad; devout conciliatory mom (who’s cued part Japanese); and high-achieving sister Kāia. Constantly scrutinized and critiqued Aouli often feels like she can’t do anything right. When her best friend deserts her for a rich popular girl from their Catholic church’s youth group and Aouli discovers that her dad is having an affair she feels even more isolated. The one unambiguously bright spot is Aunty Ehu: Her warmhearted great-aunt’s house is “a beacon for Hawaiians / … / some of them family by blood / others by the heart.” The arrival of handsome kind Nalu (“Like the big blue sea?”) whose family is also from Kona is a balm for her soul. The two fall hard for one another but their relationship is haunted by secrets and things left unsaid. Kānaka Maoli (Native Hawaiian) debut novelist Adams makes strong use of the verse format effectively utilizing layout to emphasize meaning in this culturally rich coming-of-age story. Aouli’s desperate yearning to be seen and valued for herself will resonate widely.

Leaving her brother and her love in Cheyenne Wyoming Brigid arrives in Salt Lake City in 1881 seeking something better than a remote sod house on the cattle ranch where she solved an earlier murder. She applies for a position at the Deseret Bookstore which is owned by wealthy Mr. Cutter a mainstay of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He not only hires her but provides a small room in his house. Adjusting to living with his five wives takes some time but Brigid soon fits in. Cutter’s first wife is Eliza who has an 18-year-old son Brandon; next is Sarah whose daughter Amelia is from a prior marriage; his third and fourth wives Martha and Beth are sisters; and his youngest Karoline is 18 and pregnant. Brigid is Catholic and has no interest in becoming a member of the church. When Cutter pressures her she remains steadfast though she’s fascinated by the mores of his community. She enjoys her work and the opportunity to read from the bookstore’s large selection. As she develops closer relationships within the household Brigid notices more tensions with Eliza adamantly opposing Cutter taking another wife especially Amelia whom he’s raised as a daughter and who’s in love with Brandon. At the bookstore Brigid meets Dr. Kohler the coroner who shares her interest in detective stories. When Cutter is found in the sewing room with a fatal head wound Brigid suspects it’s not an accidental death. Kohler has his doubts too and they work together to solve the puzzle of his death.

Davey tackles feelings of being overwhelmed in the workplace in a new way arguing that the problem isn’t primarily a matter of having too much to do but of the cognitive and emotional burden that comes with doing something. The book opens with a leadership team that’s stuck “behind the power curve” working hard but gaining no traction. This scenario anchors the author’s argument: Professionals may well exert maximum effort but achieve minimal results because their “thoughtload” (those cognitive demands and emotional burdens along with available energy) is too high. Davey breaks the problem down into three drivers: distracted attention triggered emotions and depleted energy. The three factors all reinforce each other and create cycles of stress and inefficiency per the author. Davey urges readers to regain control of their own thoughtloads before extending those strategies to teams. In the section on attention the author emphasizes focusing on outcomes rather than activities or outputs. The emotional dimension is equally important and Davey explains that workplaces are increasingly emotionally charged. She distinguishes between emotions and feelings encouraging readers to respond deliberately rather than react impulsively. This advice is especially relevant for managers who absorb both their own stress and that of their teams. The book’s final section addresses energy and burnout. Poor sleep constant stimulation and ineffective habits according to the author drain the reserves necessary to manage work demands. In a sea of books focused on emotional wellness and other workplace issues this insightful guide to navigating job-based pressures stands out for its clarity and practicality. While some of the concepts may feel familiar Davey presents them in a useful actionable way. She backs up her research with relatable examples and offers tools that readers can apply immediately. The central message is clear. The problem isn’t just the amount of work but the mental and emotional load carried while doing it—and reducing that load is the key to better performance and well-being.

When last we met our hero the titular turtle made a skeptical new pal (“Be careful I’m a for-real bear.” “No way! I’m a for-real bear expert and you are NOT a for-real bear”). The friend has now returned hoping to engage Bearsuit Turtle in some sports. After shooting down suggestions (“We can’t play baseball without hot dogs and ample parking”) our protagonist counters with a different idea: Bearsketball. But the rules clearly hinge upon Bearsuit Turtle’s ability to bend them at a moment’s notice. After a dramatic floor-is-lava game a stick game and a rolling-down-a-hill game we learn about the toughest one of all: Guess what number Bearsuit Turtle is thinking of. Happily there’s one particular rule of Bearsketball that wasn’t explained at the start: “Everyone wins at Bearsketball.” The storyline perfectly replicates those friendships where one pal has all the ideas and insists on leading the way. Colors as bright and blatant as Bearsuit Turtle’s intentions coupled with the seeming simplicity of the character’s facial expressions give the book a feel that is simultaneously retro and magnificently contemporary.