The author became engaged to a man named Sam at 17 years old with her “mother’s full support” she recalls. When she tried to cut ties Sam’s first manipulative suicide attempt convinced her that she was “responsible for him for his life.” By the age of 19 she married him solidifying Sam’s hold upon her. “Instead of listening to my gut I forced myself into the church—knowing that I was sacrificing myself. That moment that choice lodged in my psyche as trauma.” O’Malley fell into a cycle of coercive control sexual violence and abuse. The marriage at first characterized by unpredictable insecurities and subtle sabotage devolved into incidents of horrific violence leading her to leave and seek a temporary protection order. In clear matter-of-fact prose the author emphasizes recognizable patterns of intimate partner violence and the need to support women who are attempting similar transformative changes. After her own successful recovery process O’Malley realized that social services rarely address the gap between the initial rescue from domestic abuse and the therapeutic intervention needed to thrive post-abuse; this reality eventually informed her own nonprofit work with survivors. The author’s relatable narrative voice intersperses key educational moments with recollections of personal experiences making convincing connections to wider societal problems (she writes that “29% of women will experience physical or sexual violence at the hands of an intimate partner in their lifetime”). O’Malley helpfully explains why so much abuse goes unreported and laments the difficulty of securing personal safety and divorce in a judicial system that rarely addresses psychological trauma. “My entire adult life had been built around Sam—not just financially but psychologically. I didn’t know who I was without him” she writes. “Coercive control is an insidious devastating form of abuse—prevalent yet largely unaddressed in U.S. law and policy.” This well-sourced work offers important facts useful bibliographic resources and penetrating psychological insights.

Set in New York City poet Bush’s novella follows Courtney a teacher at a private preschool over the course of one workday. Fresh off a “light nervous breakdown” Courtney is contending with the ghosts of her past—a divorce; fraught family relationships; the death of her childhood best friend—while attempting to be fully engaged with her tiny students; her fellow teacher Whitney; and Luke a musician with whom she’s beginning a new relationship. Her classroom known as the Blue Room becomes the north star of Courtney’s life with caretaking becoming a way to simultaneously sink into the present and become too wrung out to think about the past. Imbued with a sense of magic the Blue Room attracts both admiration and jealousy from others at the school. As this day goes on Courtney’s relationships with fellow teachers her students and even herself come into sharper focus. The stream-of-consciousness narrative offers insights both mundane and profound. Bush writes about child care with affection and thoughtfulness as well as an exhausting authenticity that lays bare the demands of this kind of relationship. Courtney doesn’t shy away from her feelings of love for the children in her care. About her class she says: “I am struck by how I will remember them but they will not remember me and it doesn’t feel like a bad thing.” With a mixture of awe and sorrow she explores memory love grief and the gulf between childhood and adulthood. Courtney remarks that there is something beautiful and innate that is lost in translation as we age: “A child doesn’t know it’s a child. An adult knows it is an adult and knows it used to be a child.”

Ben has been obsessed with megastar Jack Whitlock far longer than he’s worked as a paparazzo: As a teenager in Las Vegas he went to the drive-thru theater to watch the actor and later he got a job bussing tables at the diner where Whitlock shot scenes for his Vegas-set film Double or Nothing. Since the movie came out Ben reflects “Jack Whitlock has been a presence in my life.” But Jack’s image has been rocked by leaked photos of him having sex with a college student. Ben who’s long dreamed of photographing Jack becomes obsessed with finding the star in the wake of these revelations stalking connections to Jack and his wife on social media through informants and elsewhere always one step behind the elusive man. Flashback sections of the book meanwhile chart the course of Ben’s relationship with Ellory a Vegas showgirl who reluctantly follows him to LA. As Ben becomes a more and more accomplished paparazzo his moral compass grows increasingly skewed leading to the collapse of his relationship with Ellory. In both timelines the distant first-person narration ably demonstrates how disconnected Ben is not only from any sense of morality but also from his own emotions. He chooses work over Ellory time and again skipping Thanksgiving and ignoring her calls; in the present timeline he goes on dates only with women he thinks might have tips for him. His most meaningful relationship is with his idea of Jack Whitlock a phantom ideal of masculinity with whom Ben is also ambiguously sexually fixated: “All of these images of him” Ben thinks “like the images of a father a best friend a lover a god.”

Gino is one of those troubled young men who might be called wayward but that implies he’s strayed from a path he can see when it would be more accurate to say he’s way-free adrift rudderless. In his early 20s he returns home to the Abruzzo region of Italy. At loose ends and spurred on by the laconic accomplished father he resents and can’t impress Gino seeks out a childhood friend Franca who as a little girl new to the town announced to Gino that someday they would be married. It’s as though she’s been waiting for him. Immediately in a way that seems simultaneously improbable and inevitable they fall in love and marry. Franca gets pregnant. They move into a remote lovely house. But Gino—fragile self-doubting distrustful of anything that feels like good fortune since how could he deserve it—begins to deteriorate when their son is born. The baby Elio is extraordinarily beautiful; everyone remarks on it and as his legend grows people start showing up at the house—eventually by the busload—to catch a glimpse of him. What could be the source of this beauty Gino wonders. Surely not himself. He fixates on the married lover Franca had before Gino’s return an unpleasant and possibly Mafia-connected concrete contractor begins stalking him and the family idyll ends soon and badly. The prolific and versatile Thomson here offers a low-key somber sometimes lyrical novel about ordinary people. It’s not densely plotted not filled with large-scale twists; the novelist relies instead on meticulous detail on compelling portraiture. The result is a slow-motion psychological train wreck of a book. We watch things unravel in just the way that’s been foretold and we feel surprised despite ourselves.

Jonas Salk developed the first effective polio vaccine but Albert Sabin (1906-1993) developed the only vaccine that can eradicate polio from the planet. Speaking Yiddish when he arrived to the U.S. in 1921 Sabin was a brilliant student accumulating honors scholarships and positions at the prestigious Rockefeller Institute and University of Cincinnati where he made his mark. Epidemiologist and historian Torghele delivers an insightful biography plus vivid accounts of Salk and other major figures as well as a lucid explanation of how to make a vaccine. Salk’s vaccine—which required injection—used dead viruses. This was a challenge since every virus had to be killed to avoid the vaccine actually causing disease. Sabin chose to use weakened live viruses that wouldn’t cause disease but would stimulate an immune response like the measles and mumps vaccines. It’s harder and the obsessively careful Sabin was far from finished in 1955 when Salk’s was tested successfully making him a national hero. His worked although it was not fully effective. In 1959 when Sabin pronounced his oral vaccine safe 6000 Americans caught polio. Sabin maintained—correctly—that his vaccine was cheaper more effective and easier to administer. Even better those given live virus excreted it infecting others immunizing them. It’s the only way to eradicate polio completely. Soon after U.S. approval of the Sabin Oral Polio Vaccine in 1962 it became the standard worldwide. Nothing is perfect and rarely—perhaps one in a million doses—Sabin’s virus mutates and causes polio. In 1999 with polio officially eradicated in the U.S. his vaccine was discontinued and Salk’s revived. Some wealthy nations did the same. Poor nations still use the cheaper oral version which in a U.N. program to eradicate polio worldwide is nearing its goal. Torghele’s warts-and-all account turns up plenty. Yet if one were to list history’s greatest humanitarians—those who had saved the most lives and relieved the most suffering—Sabin is a shoo-in.

As Lucy Cooper delivers the eulogy at her father’s funeral on Winthrop Island a Northeast vacation spot where her dad lived year-round she can’t believe he’s gone. It’s been years since she’s seen him both because of her relocation to Europe and her dad’s embarrassing obsession with chasing pirate treasure. Lucy is surprised to discover that her long-ago crush Ben Ressler has returned to the island to nurse his own wounds. A disgraced NFL player Ben recently made a tackle that caused another player’s death; the fallout ended both his career and his marriage. While Lucy and Ben try to grieve their losses they find themselves drawn to each other again. Meanwhile someone is targeting Lucy breaking into her father’s house and intentionally unsettling her for reasons she can’t glean. As she searches for answers the narrative shifts to two other timelines: First flashbacks to Lucy and Ben’s high school courtship in 2012; and 1717 when a young woman named Hephzibah met the pirate Ramsay. As the stories progress in tandem it becomes clear that Lucy’s father’s treasure hunt may not have been so crazy after all and that Lucy and Ben might still find happiness together. The chapters alternate among characters portraying Lucy in first person with Ben and Hephzibah’s chapters in a more distant third. The portions focused on Lucy and Ben are instantly engaging while Hephzibah’s story gets off to a much slower start the temporal and tonal shifts feeling abrupt and out of sync with the tenor of the more modern tale. Readers may be tempted to skim in order to get back to Lucy or Ben but the plotlines gradually interconnect rendering the 1717 tale more absorbing as it progresses. A particular strength of the book is the setting of Winthrop Island atmospheric in its isolation with uncontrolled natural elements and community elements enriching the story. Similarly as Lucy and Hephzibah each battle villains the author eventually brings the suspense to a breathtaking crescendo that makes the entire book worthwhile.

Jane Trevally is at a crossroads of sorts. After a traumatic childhood she sought safety and solace in marriages with wealthy men. Now twice divorced and living with her four dogs in the crumbling English country mansion that is her birthright she’s feeling the need to do something to take a job when one day a runaway dog turns up on her doorstep. The dog is chipped and with the help of a local vet and her loyal stepson Dexter Lombardi Jane traces the dog’s home to the edge of Hampstead Heath in London—a place that brings back the memory of a terrifying night from her youth when a handsome man picked her up and took her back to this very house. Everything there felt wrong; she just managed to escape certain that if she had stayed she would have died that night. Now soon after knocking on the door and returning the dog she discovers that he had run away from an Airbnb near her house where he had been staying with a young woman who seems to have disappeared. With the help of Dexter; his father Tony her second ex-husband; Tony’s former security enforcer Tobias Wilson; and her own gift for connecting with people Jane sets out to find the woman taking her first steps on the path to becoming a private investigator. While Jane serves as the heart of the novel Jewell also narrates chapters from several other characters’ points of view all of which chip away at the horror that is the house on the Heath. By slowly revealing past and present simultaneously Jewell keeps the mystery fresh as she plays with Gothic tropes and the timeless imagery of “a house of horrors” embodying human sin. She doesn’t flinch from exploring the depths of depravity in this house—and its humans.

Sisilla the narrator of Kraus’ first foray into SF is a Niffakoq one in a line of golden children selected for special missions their brains enhanced with six “niks” small implants that bestow deeper reserves of intelligence and empathy. These are effectively suicide missions—Niffakoqs traditionally die before their teens. But of course Sisilla isn’t traditional starting with her deliberate (and gory) removal of one nik from her eye socket to quell a headache. Whether she’s strengthened or weakened by one fewer nik is the open question this brash if overlong novel strives to answer. Sisilla is tasked with heading to the planet Fém on behalf of a “trigov” to learn why it’s gone incommunicado. Assisting her is a literal motley crew that hews to space-opera type: A security guard named Murder 005 a buxom engineer named Jayne Mae Marilyn Bardot and a captain who may be Sisilla’s father. But Kraus who’s cut his teeth on horror novels lets the ickiness abound: Their ship The Sickness is made of a squishily organic material deaths tend to arrive in spectacularly bloody fashion and the internet is so troll-infested that even a moment’s search means exposure to violent traumatizing imagery. Kraus seems to have borrowed heavily from both Ender’s Game and the Alien franchise for worldbuilding purposes though he adds a few of his own peculiarities—his vision of Fém a “metal planet” where the waters resemble oceans of chains is inspired. Still much of the (convoluted) story alternates between the gross-out and the whiz-bang obscuring the deeper themes of parentage womanhood and mythology that Kraus explores. Le Guin covered similar territory more smoothly with less need for stomach-churning digressions.

Middle school hasn’t been easy for Izzy. Her twin Ari chose to attend a prestigious performing arts academy leaving Izzy to navigate Kagan Middle School on her own. Ari has countless after-school commitments practices her violin constantly and in a move that breaks Izzy’s heart decides she wants her own room. Izzy stinging from the separation seeks something to do with her sister-free time. When she hears an announcement for cheerleading auditions her friends Jojo Leah and Ryan the self-appointed Team Awkward convince her to try out. Her improvised routine proves a bit goofy for the main squad but the coach offers her a spot on mascot duty. Soon Izzy finds herself sporting a cardinal costume and delighting her classmates with her comedic dance moves. Though Izzy enjoys making people happy she still feels less-than when considering her sister’s accomplishments and goes to dramatic lengths to remain anonymous under her costume. Izzy’s interior emotional struggle is compelling: When your sibling’s success seems prodigious how much do your own achievements matter? Secondary characters are well developed too: Izzy has Team Awkward empathetic parents and ultimately her sister who is experiencing problems of her own to help her celebrate her worth. Izzy presents white and comes from a two-dad family with Jewish and Catholic backgrounds.

As the rooster crows pink-skinned young Sophie awakens and begins feeding her loquacious menagerie each of whom contributes to farm life in a different way (the cow provides fresh milk the hens lay eggs and so forth). Her chores complete Sophie lies down on a blanket with a book ready to relax amid the upbeat sounds of her animal pals. But the croaking of the frog irritates her; frustrated she screams “YOU’RE NOT NEEDED HERE!” Dejected the frog hops away and soon the farm falls into disarray. Mosquitoes—usually kept in check by the frog—bother the chickens who refuse to lay eggs. The dog won’t herd the sheep who eat all the veggies. And with no vegetables the cow won’t give milk. Realizing her mistake Sophie apologizes to the frog and soon order is restored. Gently introducing readers to the subject of natural ecosystems—and the idea that even those who seem unimportant have much to contribute—Ścibek’s text scans well featuring an abundance of onomatopoeia while her digitally colored pen-and-ink illustrations rely on hyperexpressive faces and dramatic layouts to humorous effect; the tranquil scenes before the frog’s departure feature plenty of white space while later spreads are cramped and chaotic.

An oblique lyrical prologue introduces a woman luxuriating in a river while a violent man hovers close by. Elsewhere former London detective Jake Jackson is in a used bookshop in Meryton near Little Sky the farm he unexpectedly inherited from his uncle. He’s contemplating his good fortune when he gets the news that a woman’s accessories were found near the river and that the woman seems to have gone missing. As an ex-cop Jake is the natural go-to so he joins the search with his girlfriend Livia a veterinarian and much of the community. The missing woman is nurse Claire Davidson. Jake’s fourth case is both a tangled mystery and a love letter to a British pastoral ideal. The book’s deliberate pace makes room for many colorful portraits of village characters. Cutting through the lightness a bit for both Jake and the reader is tough distant advisor Martha a mystery writer who often spars sardonically with Jake online about crime novels and his investigations. The discovery of a body in the river brings a kind of relief until it becomes clear that it’s not Claire Davidson. Could it be the victim of a serial killer? The novel’s pastoral strain is underscored by the inclusion of bits of rustic literature a hand-drawn map of the village and many references to the halcyon nature of the title river.

The author an executive adviser delves into familiar terrain in this book which brings lessons from the playing field to the corporate boardroom. Simkins tells of once training for a bodybuilding competition and she brings insights from athletic activities into her notions on leading a company. The juxtaposition of athletic team building and business management is a common trope but what makes Simkins’ analysis of the subject notable is in how she backs it up with recent cited research on neuroscience and performance psychology. She presents a vast spectrum of data related to these fields although the material does result in some familiar conclusions. Commonplace discussions of industry disruption and workplace culture figure prominently and mentions of artificial intelligence are sprinkled in as well—particularly addressing the need for companies to change to take advantage of evolving technological developments. The “Athleadership” model of management is built around four pillars all of which rely on athletic terminology. The first called the “MVP Foundation” focuses on one’s mission vision and purpose in the cultivation of a distinct corporate identity. The second pillar presents the “Core 4” traits of resilience agility alignment and well-being which help business leaders persevere in the face of challenges and uncertainty per the author. The third pillar is the “Conditioning Process”—essentially learning through repetition in keeping with new findings on brain functionality cited by the author. Fourth is the “90-Day Way” a quarterly assessment of the corporate game plan. Rather than focusing on hours Simkins recommends that corporate leaders prioritize task-oriented work (or “purpose-aligned performance” in her words) instead of increasing work hours. She cites this approach as a way to combat workplace burnout which according to cited research two-thirds of American workers experienced in 2025.

The author presents her approach as a new way of running an entrepreneurial firm but the book offers a lot of old-fashioned but solid leadership advice. By getting back to some basic business-building concepts Simkins makes good use of her own experiences and uses contemporary research to argue on behalf of such concepts as clarity of concept pluck and personal reflection. Nothing in this book is groundbreaking but Simkins does offer plenty of tangible advice in her examples which business leaders are likely to find useful. The accessible sporting framework that Simkins adopts also makes this book a good general introduction to the genre of business leadership books for newcomers. It may not be a defining work but it’s sure to serve as a fine starting point for entrepreneurs looking to build a clear vision for their businesses. At times the book is a bit repetitive but that’s forgivable in books of this nature which often focus on hammering concepts home. Simkins includes a concise glossary to further reinforce the four pillars and other ideas in these pages which will be particularly helpful for novices.

Lady Ruby Ballimore hasn’t actually done anything wrong—just embarrassed a friend of her father’s—but she’s desperate to flee the judgment of London society. An opportunity presents itself in Cornwall in the form of Pomeroy House a country estate that ostensibly belongs to Princess Serafina of Monfalcone but has never been occupied by her. Ruby’s two best friends agree to pretend they are all the princess’ ladies-in-waiting and set out on a summer adventure—but when they arrive at Pomeroy they discover the house is occupied by a very odd staff whose housekeeping is chaotic at best. This motley crew is led by the handsome Malcolm Archer and the unkempt house reflects the fact that they are actually sailors-turned-smugglers who use it as a base for trading illegal ostrich feathers cigars and whatever else they can bring across the English Channel. So though none of them should be there both groups uneasily coexist and attempt to preserve their false identities. Despite the many lies that both keep telling Malcolm and Ruby can’t resist their growing attraction. But just as the pair (and both groups) start to get more comfortable with each other Princess Serafina’s majordomo arrives and then things truly go around the bend. Vasti’s newest series gets off to a rollicking start with a story enlivened not only by Malcolm and Ruby but also the found families that surround them. Ruby’s bluestocking tendencies and Malcolm’s dubious creativity as a pirate make for two strong characters and it’s a pleasure to see an attraction slowly develop between them described with Vasti’s signature blend of steam and silliness. At times the zany plot and the extended almost theatrical cast distract from the central love story but this may be fine with readers who want to start predicting which characters will feature in future volumes.

Despite graduating as valedictorian and having the steady support of her father and her best friend Jaliya concludes her senior year with the feeling that she’s not quite enough. When an unsigned letter arrives expressing love concern and apology she reasonably assumes that it’s from her estranged mother. Jaliya abruptly decides to visit Jamaica her mom’s last known whereabouts before heading off to the University of Miami. Jaliya who hasn’t been back to the island in seven years hides her true goal from her father. Together with her cousin Shevaughn; childhood crush Andre; and new friend India Jaliya has decidedly messy adventures and digs into questions of identity sexuality and who she wants to be. Jaliya’s thoughtful narrative voice which conveys her persistent feelings of insecurity over being “too American for the people here but too Jamaican for the people at home” makes each step of this coming-of-age story compellingly relatable even though attentive readers may see the twists coming long before she does. Award winner Davis’ sophomore novel explores themes of homophobia particularly in Jamaican culture as well as the shadow cast by parental abandonment making for difficult discoveries a complicated twist and a refreshing take on coming out not just as queer but as your true self.

Madeira’s novel a bestseller in her native Brazil opens without any preamble: “Whore. There’s no other name for Lucy.” Lucy “worked in a whorehouse lived in a whorehouse” our helpful narrator explains. “But that’s not the only reason she was a whore.” If it were she’d be afforded “more respectful names such as sex worker or prostitute.” But she isn’t. Lucy is the most vulgar whore in town. Worse than all her provocations though is the fact that she enjoys her work. And while “an upstanding citizen will tolerate a whore so long as they can feel sorry for them” Madeira writes “…Lucy was too self-possessed depriving respectable women of the chance to exercise compassion.” Madeira translated into English by Entrekin is at her best along these ostentatious but wry lines. Lucy is soon captivated by the one man who turns her down—Venâncio husband to Dalva. The young couple had a storied courtship but a single irrevocable action has destroyed both their lives. If Madeira had stopped here her story might have approached perfection: In its early pages it achieves a kind of forceful lampoonishness that inspires both laughter and sobs. The witty prose rushes the reader through pages and pages about desire—what it means to desire to be desired to be driven helpless by desire (or as Madeira has it as a young Lucy observes a man’s “impotence in the face of his own hard-on”). But Madeira strays too far from the heated center of her own story including more backstories than the slender novel will support—backstories for parents and relatives and friends of minor characters that don’t do much to further the plot. She’d have done better with some minor pruning.

Logan Cardot a boy with a keen interest in languages and literature is raised in secret in the city-state of Hallsburg by parents who were not licensed to reproduce. They educate him at home and hide his existence from the chancellor-run authoritarian government. When their home is raided Logan’s books are seized and his parents are sent to Shalecrest a work and reeducation camp where many others have died. Logan is moved to Childers Coast Home a school for children born to unlicensed parents that houses nearly 4000 boys; there he develops an instant camaraderie with the charismatic and headstrong Jace Evans. They and their circle of friends—Squints Bails and three boys named Ben—play rugby and engage in typical boarding school shenanigans such as breaking into a chemistry lab. Logan resists his growing attraction to Jace until the object of his affection unexpectedly reveals that the attraction is mutual. Obliged to keep their relationship a secret they find an unlikely ally in Ms. Lowell the dean of Eagle Hold dormitory who reveals that she too has a secret partner. As the two boys’ relationship becomes more physical their feelings for each other deepen. However when agents of the regime known as Black Lapels visit the school seeking recruits Logan must make difficult choices. McPherson’s detailed characterization and a distinct lack of melodrama enhance this story of two boys learning what it means to be human in inhuman conditions. Jace is a wonderfully nuanced character; like Steerforth in Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield his brashness casual disregard for rules and devotion make him ambiguous unpredictable and compelling. McPherson wisely foregrounds the central relationship revealing enough about the dystopian regime and its history to underscore its danger to the boys but refusing to let it eclipse the romantic drama. The author’s meticulous attention to character development is rewarded in the poignant final chapters.

Simon sports a pale blue hat and an appealing grin but is otherwise completely accurate. The opening illustration includes labels for various body parts: tentacles tail mouth foot and pneumostome. Slime helps him slither and stick but it also turns out to be his secret—and secreted—weapon: It tastes revolting to birds and other predators. While Simon is busy shredding leaves with his “tiny scratchy tongue. Like a cheese grater” a shrew spots him. “OH NO!” But Simon quickly manufactures “extra gross” slime and after one lick the shrew backs off. Soon Simon meets Susan. “Or maybe Steve. It doesn’t really matter. Slugs don’t care.” They take a mysterious midair spin on a slime thread and “no one is quite sure what just happened” (even scientists as the backmatter confirms). Then Simon starts to dry out (potentially dangerous for a slug) so he burrows into the mud where another threat awaits. Has he been eaten by a mole? “Simon’s head is gone. Silence. Simon is dead.” Oh no. “Just kidding!” Turns out a slug’s head can retract! And that’s enough for one day. A final page presents unexpectedly fascinating slug facts including their habit of pooping from their heads and their hermaphroditic nature. The text is informative but casual infused with a dash of wit and the spare watercolorlike art is both beautiful and droll.

Terrible Timmy’s Terrific Wine Club attracts people from all over who appreciate small-batch wines enough to make the trek to the middle of nowhere. It also attracts Tucker Landau whom McKenzie and his friend Bobby Dunston head of Homicide and Robbery at the St. Paul Police Department spot with an AR-15 rifle and wrestle to the ground just as he’s about to open fire. Since he refuses to answer any questions and there’s no hard evidence that he targeted anyone in particular he’s convicted of a single misdemeanor and goes free. Burnett County Sheriff Jillian Caine unhappy with that result talks McKenzie into interviewing 17 of his fellow guests at Terrible Timmy’s including vintner Tim Knutson; his wife and partner Dorothy; and country singer Dave Umland but not including members of McKenzie’s own party: his wife Nina Truhler; Bobby Dunston’s wife Shelby; or his parents Gene and Patty who invited them in the first place. The quest to discover who Landau wanted to kill is refreshingly different from the usual whodunit especially since no one admits to knowing him. But there’s still room for plenty of recrimination among the survivors several of whom aren’t so grateful to McKenzie for having saved their lives that they’re actually willing to talk to him. Nor is the mystery resolved by Landau’s own murder whose main effect is to bring the rage of his sister Carly who already has grievances of her own to the boiling point.

It’s May 1974 in Rosetown Indiana and Flora’s nearly finished with fifth grade. She looks back on the year’s heartbreaks and joys: She and her friend Yury mourned the closure of the town bookstore but they distracted themselves by taking horseback riding lessons at Day Road Farm and discovered a new shared interest. Fifth grade presented challenges like oral reports; for an introverted kid like Flora success required personal bravery parental support and a dash of help from the local children’s librarian. Summer sprawls ahead now. A new tenant has moved into the bookstore’s old storefront; the Slightly Cracked Teacup an antique shop speaks to Flora’s predilections for all things old worn in and reliable. Flora learns that Yury a Ukrainian immigrant might be leaving town but her fear of his possible departure offers an opportunity for a generous reassuring gift from Yury’s parents. As in the series’ previous entries Rylant imbues her gently flowing story with almost reverent affection for its simpler-time small-town setting. She deftly captures her protagonist’s often-conflicting feelings. Flora worries about change and thinks back on what’s been lost even as new things provide fresh delights; her perspective will resonate deeply with readers who recognize Flora as kin—sensitive children and nostalgic adults alike. Characters present white.

Political science professor Williams (City of Ambition: FDR LaGuardia and the Making of Modern New York 2013) focuses this new exploration of New York City’s modern development on three key areas that “embody the tensions…at the heart of political life in a democratic capitalist city”: housing schools and policing. Williams’ analysis of these issues inarguably bears out his points that the “unequal geography of opportunity aligned closely with the geography of race” and that the city’s issues stemmed from “the existence of concentrated racialized deprivation.” The book begins with New York’s “interlocking crises of the 1970s.” Housing abandonment untenable rent increases and a dearth of new construction all contributed to the “destruction of the housing stock.” The issue of rent regulation especially “engendered remarkable political passion” from supporters and detractors alike. Citizens had dismal confidence in the NYPD’s ability to address street crime and many public schools lacked the resources to educate students adequately with a disparity in resources overwhelmingly falling along racial lines. The city’s recovery started near the end of the decade as it transformed into a “global city” marked by increased financialization but as the author rightly shows the benefits of this recovery overwhelmingly went to the middle and upper classes. The application of the “Broken Windows” theory under Mayor Rudy Giuliani transformed policing; New Yorkers of color were harassed and humiliated by aggressive stop-and-frisk policies in large numbers. The advent of charter schools in the city the first of which opened in the fall of 1999 and which expanded under the mayoralty of Mike Bloomberg added a new fraught dimension to the debate of school choice and inequality. Williams concludes with the early 2020s; even as New York remains an unparalleled city its continued struggles with affordability housing and quality of life exemplify the book’s relevance.