Seventeen-year-old Hazel Perez, who’s Puerto Rican and Polish American, is trying to keep her head down and blend in, which is easy until her former best friend, Becca Mercer, invites her to be part of their U.S. history class’s group project about a local historical landmark. White-presenting Becca’s family owns the land where Oakwell Farms, a school for “delinquent girls”—established in the 19th century and closed only in recent decades—was located. After a prank goes wrong, and Hazel suffers a serious fall, strange things begin happening: She experiences hallucinations and violent urges. Determined to get to the bottom of everything, she starts digging into The Farm’s history, only to uncover dark secrets going back decades. Wallach explores the gritty, abhorrent reality of the “troubled teen” industry, using The Farm as a stand-in for a number of actual reform schools with disturbing legacies and intensifying the horrific nature of the story. Rooted more in plot and atmosphere than deep characterization, this novel will leave readers wondering what the teens who lived through these nightmares would say if they could tell their stories. The compelling storytelling will keep fans of reality-based horror turning the pages.

Beautifully designed, stylized images depict all the usual elements of fall: pumpkins, bare branches, changing leaves, tombstones, and a full moon. Large, contrast-colored, serif-font typeface announces autumn’s arrival with a “crackle” and a “cackle.” A pale-skinned, curly-haired witch in striped stockings laughs as she crosses the moon on her broom, and a big owl calls “Who, who.” But instead of the anticipated rhyme, it’s a shock: “Ghost says Meow!” Small, egg-shaped Ghost sports a succession of varied accessories. Initially, pointed ears and a striped tail whisper “Kitty,” but then glasses and a mustache, cowboy boots and a hat, and other mini-disguises suggest mutable identities. The “meow!” poses a perplexing puzzle: Is that a cat under a sheet? To later prompts, Ghost responds, “Ribbit” and “Mooo.” The skeleton, owl, black cat, bat, pumpkin, and witch cat object: On this night, anything but “boo” is “wrong.” Ghost accepts “boo” but pleads for the unconventional: “Why not try out something new?” That’s persuasive: The holiday crew decides to comply, with unpredictable expressions of other identities: “Beep,” “woof,” “howls” “growls,” and “clanks,” as Ghost concludes “Happy Halloween!” Black and orange are enlivened by unexpected touches of blue in this surprising take on pushing acceptable boundaries.

Amina’s new home is a snowy landscape where other kids play while she “daydream[s] of the sun-filled days she spent climbing coconut and mango trees.” What she misses most is “planting yams, callaloo, onions, tomatoes, peas, herbal bushes for her tea, and especially her sweet potatoes.” She mourns: “There’s a brown girl in the snow, / Tra la la la la, / where none of her plants will grow.” Her dad takes her to the library, where she finds comfort in a book about gardens. At school, her empathic teacher notices Amina’s horticultural interests and plans a field trip to a greenhouse. Other students express their excitement, and new friendships slowly begin to blossom. At the nursery, kind Mr. Lokon nourishes Amina’s sweet potato dreams. Marshall cleverly alters Amina’s song to gauge how the girl is adapting, turning “none…will grow” into “some of her / plants might grow” to “ALL of her plants will grow.” In a touching author’s note, Marshall discusses her own childhood emigration from Guyana to Toronto. Venezuelan-born Canadian artist Ferrer uses a rich, earthy palette for her inviting spreads saturated with greens and browns, reserving a lush purple for the beloved potatoes. She bestows Amina’s dad with an especially flashy, fabulous wardrobe. Characters are all depicted in varying shades of brown.

Born in 1934 during the Great Depression, the author remembers the first time he saw a television set. The thrill he had always enjoyed in movie theaters “was now available in people’s living rooms.” From that moment in the 1940s onward, Jankowski was hooked on TV. After graduating from Canisius College as an English major and serving a stint in the Navy, the author took a job with CBS Radio in New York City, where he moved up the corporate ranks until he was named president and chairman of the CBS Broadcast Group in 1977. Pulling back the curtain on his corporate experience, the author delves into the “glamor and glitz” of the television industry and his dealings with a myriad of special interest groups that ranged from advertising agencies on Madison Avenue to politicians in Washington, D.C. During his 12 years as CEO, he remained dedicated to protecting the “image and the quality” of CBS News, which included such bedrocks of American television journalism as CBS Sunday Morning and 48 Hours, while he renegotiated contracts with the National Football League and turned down a real estate proposal from Donald Trump to relocate their broadcast center. Readers are given an insider’s account that includes anecdotes of Jankowski’s interactions with CBS’s biggest stars, from Diane Sawyer, Martha Stewart, and Angela Lansbury to CJ the orangutan, a “surprise TV star” of the 1980s who made appearances on TJ Hooker and other CBS shows. What stands out most, though, is the author’s pure love of television and movies (he current serves as chairman emeritus of the board of directors of the American Film Institute), which still reflects his childhood awe. His Catholic faith, the humble origins of his parents, and even his grade schoolteachers are also discussed alongside the Hollywood celebrities in the book’s accessible, personal narrative. The text is supplemented by an ample assortment of photographs.

Joseph, co-founder of the Games for Change festival, is perfectly suited to explore Stephen Sondheim’s little-known lifelong interest in all sorts of games, mostly word driven. The composer believed that his parents’ divorce pushed him toward games and music to seek order out of chaos. He collected all kinds of board games and put them up on his apartment’s walls. Sadly, many were lost in a fire. Parlor games were also a Sondheim favorite, attended by many of his friends. His Murder Game inspired the song “Finishing the Hat.” In the 1960s he’d occasionally appear on TV game shows like The Match Game and Password, always anxious to win. He was also New York magazine’s puzzle editor. Joseph goes into great detail outlining the musician’s treasure hunts. “Tackling one of Sondheim’s puzzles can feel like being lost in the face of an unknown language,” the author writes, but the 2013 City Center Treasure Hunt offers insights, as it was “thoroughly documented” by Maria Seremetis, whom Sondheim hired as an assistant. Joseph even gathers together a group of friends over Zoom to reenact the hunt so that they could all experience the fun of matching minds with Sondheim. Joseph discusses the composer’s movie board game, Stardom, designed when he was in his early 20s. The Great Conductor Hunt was designed for his friend Leonard Bernstein. Sondheim was also a word puzzle designer, especially crosswords and challenging cryptics. Stephen Sondheim’s Crossword Puzzles was published in 1980. He was even passionate about elaborate jigsaw puzzles, giving them as gifts to performers in his musicals. Late in life, he got into escape rooms. Joseph estimates that nearly 2,000 of the composer’s possessions, which were auctioned off, were related to puzzles and games.