The city of Lunaris is isolated from the pain of the past. Indeed, that’s the price its residents pay for asylum there: Their personal histories are erased from their memories, which allows them to live free from trauma. However, this apparent blessing may hide its own curse; as protagonist Ada Temperance Acevedo learns, “safety is an illusion.” When she and her brother, Jordi, arrived in Lunaris as orphaned children 20 years ago, they were given no choice but to abandon their memories and live within Lunaris’ boundaries. Jordi became obsessed with this crime against their agency, convinced that a larger conspiracy was at play. His tendency to stick his nose where it isn’t welcome displeases Ada, who wants nothing more than to keep him safe. A disturbance in the dark magical Shroud surrounding Lunaris—the result of a long-ago curse—results in Jordi being fatally wounded, and Ada bargains with the goddess Mortiana to save him. Later, Mortiana sends her warrior Malachi to collect the debt Ada owes, which involves a magical bond; as a result, Ada learns new things about Lunaris, and about herself. Although the complex worldbuilding and large cast in Contreras’ novel can be overwhelming, the story is grounded by the strength of its protagonist, her relationships, and her determination to uncover the truth. Despite the romantic focus, the emotional weight of the narrative isn’t carried solely by the love story between Ada and Malachi. Ada’s relationship with her sibling is the plot’s driving force, which results in nuanced and well-rounded characterization. Still, Contreras also skillfully develops the slow-burn connection between Ada and Malachi during their forced proximity; their bickering gradually transforms into an intense loyalty that’s sure to satisfy romance fans. A high-octane, cliffhanger ending will hook readers in for the second installment.

Having observed, and often participated in, presidential campaigns for more than half a century, Sloan offered readers weekly commentary via Substack throughout the summer and fall of 2024 on the presidential race between Donald Trump and Kamala Harris. Even as a vocal minority within the Democratic Party questioned Harris’ leadership and viability, the author believed “she had the potential to be an amazing presidential candidate” with “genuine possibilities.” In this collection, he provides reprinted versions of his 2024 articles supplemented here by post-election analysis. Written “in the heat of battle,” the articles are arranged chronologically and offer a vivid look at the 2024 campaign from the perspective of a progressive who lays bare his fears of a second Trump administration, his hope regarding Harris’ political savvy, and his frustrations with some of the Democratic Party’s strategic choices. Writing about Trump, Sloan refuses to pull his punches, describing the Republican nominee as “illiterate when it comes to national policy” and thus susceptible to the extremist ideas propagated by his sycophants, such as the Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 proposal to dismantle America’s socioeconomic safety net. While the author is generally favorable toward Harris, he is critical of the Democratic Party’s prioritization of baby boomers (both in terms of representation in positions of power and in policy proposals) at the expense of Asian, Black, and Latino constituencies and younger voters; this approach proved costly, Sloan convincingly argues, in the electoral results in key swing states. While not downplaying his concern about the dangers posed by Trump, the author remains optimistic in his belief that America’s democratic traditions can withstand his authoritarian tendencies and in the possibility of a Democratic victory in 2028. While his polemical writing style is unlikely to win many converts from the other side, Sloan backs up his arguments with scholarly endnotes. Political junkies will appreciate the author’s occasional reflections on his work with previous presidential and congressional campaigns.

Each spread delivers a concise declaration: “Beautiful Black Boy, / You are imaginative. / Believe in the impossible. Dream big.” The text is simple but purposeful, presenting qualities such as strength, hope, and resilience with clarity and pride. Robinson’s rhythmic phrasing reads like a mantra, encouraging readers to internalize the message. Daley’s vibrant illustrations amplify the book’s joyful spirit. Each spread features a different boy; the children depicted vary in complexion, body type, hair texture, and personal style, highlighting the rich diversity of Black childhood. Saturated colors, expressive brushstrokes, and energetic shapes create a sense of motion and celebration. Words swirl through the backgrounds, embedded into the artwork. The boys’ faces radiate wonder and confidence, their upward gazes suggesting imagination and limitless possibility. Robinson’s message will resonate. Each affirmation feels like a spoken blessing meant to be read aloud and repeated. The result is both tender and empowering, a book that shows young readers they are seen, valued, and loved.

As the holiday approaches, Ms. Tam announces a classwide party-planning contest; students will vote on their favorite idea. Excitement grows, but not all students are thrilled about the holiday. Bee, who has two fathers, was conceived via egg donor and carried by a surrogate, and she isn’t sure if her dads will even be invited. When classroom bully Penny says it will surely be a “mothers-only party,” Bee’s “squiggly squirmy” feelings get even worse. Bee’s besties Sarah and Tiam—the three of them call themselves the Winged Wonders due to their passion for bugs—swoop in to support her, and they mull a nature-inspired pitch that will win everyone over without leaving anyone out. Their party idea gets better and better, but is it good enough to win? Neville’s debut is a promising kickoff to an affirming, inclusive early chapter book series. Bee is an endearing, sensitive narrator; even as she grapples with her own insecurities, she frets when she inadvertently makes a classmate feel self-conscious about his family. A bee motif—Bee’s nickname stems from her love of the insects; when the classmates work together, Bee compares them to a buzzing hive—adds a layer of whimsy. Spot and full-page cartoon illustrations depict a racially diverse classroom; Bee is pale-skinned.

Seventeen-year-old Indigo “Indie” Watson is a star soccer player at her school in Meadow Creek, Pennsylvania, and she’s also the emotional cornerstone of her family. At a Saturday night party, Indie drinks too much with her friend and crush, “Boy X”; the next morning, she doesn’t remember what happened, but she suspects that he raped her. She doesn’t go to school and takes refuge in bed, too ashamed even to confide in concerned friends and family members. She feels that telling them would be too much of a burden on them, as they already have troubles of their own. Her older brother, Dylan, for instance, nearly failed out of school, and her father has self-medicated with alcohol ever since the death of Indie’s beloved Gramps several years ago. Before long, the information spreads through the school. Later, Indie flees a soccer game, seeking refuge at Muddy Rivers Café and hiding there after closing; there, she converses with strangers, some more benign than others. The Harry Potter references throughout the story feel obtrusive and dated. However, the narrative does efficiently examine ingrained misogyny in society and how it feeds into rape culture. Indie’s narrative voice also rings true, as expressed in simple but evocative prose: “We look up, together. ­/ The birds / in the tree above / sing of spring / and what is / to come. // And I believe them.” The narrative favors a clearcut message of female solidarity (“An invisible army of women stands with me”) and doesn’t address male or nonbinary rape survivors. Overall, though, this work offers a solid primer on the topic of sexual assault for a YA audience.