Set in 2045, the story follows firefighter Miro Jackson, a member of Australia’s elite Predict, Prevent, and Control Unit, which uses a technology called MindLink to anticipate and prevent disasters before they occur. When the Delroy family dies in a suspicious house fire, Miro, informed by his former career in the New South Wales Police Force and a series of personal tragedies, begins to suspect that advanced AI systems may have influenced the outcome. The narrative then shifts to FBI agent Catalina Herrera, who’s investigating a series of unusual deaths in the American Midwest. Victims using Agentic’s augmented reality systems appear to ignore life-threatening storm warnings, raising concerns that AI-driven interfaces may be manipulating human perceptions and behavior. (“My theory, to be tested, is that our killer uses some device or psychological trick to persuade our victims to remain in a situation of almost certain death.”) As the investigations in Australia and the United States begin to overlap, the story expands into a broader conspiracy involving corporate power and environmental collapse. Miro’s deployment to the United States brings him into a collaboration, and personal connection, with Cat, even as attacks on global energy infrastructure escalate and conspiracies deepen within government and industry. Additional perspectives, including those of a mysterious observer known as the Watcher, a narrative commentary on the environmental cost of large-scale AI systems, and Agentic CEO Roger Saxton, who struggles with power issues to keep his AI running, broaden the scope of the novel. Edwards has constructed a fast-paced, high-concept narrative grounded in a timely premise about AI and its societal influence, but while the plot is consistently engaging and ambitious in scope, the frequent shifts in perspective and limited character development limit its emotional depth and blunt the novel’s overall impact.

Fourteen-year-old Levi Anderson is an observer. At home at his family’s Indiana farm, he writes a few lines each day about light and shadows, the movements and sounds of the animals, or his father’s face in an emotional moment. Despite being surrounded by family members, Levi feels lonely, and after his oldest siblings leave to enlist in the Union army, he faces the brunt of his remaining brother’s frustrations and abuse. So, in 1861, Levi enlists as well, heading out to find himself and his place in the world. He turns his talent for observation to watching the men with whom he marches—and, much later, he applies his eye to his experiences in the notorious Andersonville prisoner-of-war camp. McDonald’s descriptions transport readers into each beautiful, peaceful, shocking, or heart-wrenching moment: “He had fired into smoke and the smoke had swallowed the bullets, and what the bullets had done on the other side was something he would never know and did not want to know.” After being injured in battle, Levi is found by Confederate soldiers, who deliver him to Richmond, Virginia. Later, in Danville, Virginia, he finds a friend in Jim Dearborn, a young man who doesn’t mind Levi’s quiet, deliberate nature and who helps Levi come out of his shell and start to discover who he can be. The slow-paced, repetitive writing reflects the slow, repetitive nature of Levi’s life, marching with the infantry and in prison camps later on, and allows for introspection that will draw readers in. Later, Levi begins to heal from his traumatic experiences by writing a letter and starting to tell the story of what he’s been through.

In 60 C.E., Nero Claudius Caesar still wants to be a noble Roman. But as emperor, his absolute power will be his ruin. At first, the senate does his bidding and tolerates his licentious spending on monuments to himself. He’s already had his mother, Agrippina, murdered. Now he divorces his first wife, Octavia, then has her killed, too. Then he “accidentally” kills his next wife, Poppaea, when she’s nearly ready to give birth. After his friend and mentor Seneca causes mild offense, he instructs the older man to go home, write his last will and testament, and then slit his own wrists while soldiers witness the deed. This is a more merciful death than the crucifixions meted out to Christ’s followers. Christian gatherings are punishable by death perhaps because Nero intuits the deep threat to Roman authority posed by the nascent faith. Meanwhile, Nero fancies himself a man of the arts whose poetry, acting, and music touch the souls of his audiences. They must applaud, of course. He recalls Seneca’s admonition that “it would be vulgar for an emperor to declaim on the stage, or play my lyre, or act out scenes in mime,” but says, “I have a gift, Seneca.” It’s unclear from the story how much talent Nero really had, but in one dramatic scene he plays his lyre onstage even as Rome is devoured by flames. Meanwhile, he depletes the treasury on projects of self-adulation while ordinary Romans can’t buy bread. He corrupts silver coins with lead, but the trick doesn’t work for long. Then, bored by Rome, he takes an extended trip to the Greek province to indulge his artistic side. He’s so happy with his reception there that he does something his senators will not forgive. To the west, an army gathers to overthrow him. His world closes in ever more tightly—and he’s only 30 years old. “What a loss I shall be to the arts,” he says. This series is rich in gritty details of daily life and in vivid portrayals of Nero and more sympathetic characters such as Seneca and Poppaea.

Someone who taught ancient Greek and Roman culture at Cambridge for 50 years isn’t going to say there is no point, but Beard is quick to assure readers, in the breezy tone familiar from her television work, that she will make her case “without resorting to the tired clichés often used.” She doesn’t necessarily think the classics are “good for you” or impart “timeless truths.” What first sparked her interest was a 4,000-year-old piece of Egyptian bread at the British Museum that a kind curator took out of its case and held at eye level, so that 5-year-old Mary could see it up close; she still recalls the thrill of “an ordinary fragment of everyday life made by, and for, people who were unimaginably distant from me.” That sense of both nearness and distance is a through line in Beard’s short text, based on lectures she gave at the universities of Chicago and Edinburgh. Yes, classical literature still speaks to us of common, human emotions, but the world limned in, for example, the Iliad and the Aeneid is one in which slavery is a given, women have minimal rights, and violence is glorified, she reminds us; those pristine, marble statues praised by 19th-century classicists were originally painted in bright colors, and ancient Greeks and Romans weren’t monolithically white either. The ancients lived in a multicultural world and grappled with issues of free speech, good government, and many others still debated today. As is often the case in academic texts, there’s a lot of “on the one hand, on the other hand” here, but that’s Beard’s point. “Classics teaches you to discuss constructively questions to which there are no right answers,” she argues. “Part of the unashamed mission of humanities education is to celebrate and face up to complexity.”

Connor Castaway and Drummer Washington are two talented wrestlers and friends who are seniors at First Landing High School in Virginia Beach. They struggle with various challenges off the mat, as well as the stress of wrestling for a highly competitive coach, known to all as “Coach Wild,” who also happens to be Drummer’s father. Both boys live in one-parent homes: Connor’s father died the previous summer, and Drummer’s mother left the family home some time ago.As they train, the teens must also negotiate the social pressures of high school life. The toll of injuries on their bodies is significant, and they use opiates for pain management; they also have troubled relationships with girls, adding to their problems. One of the story’s most intriguing secondary players is the loathsome and privileged Jorby, who threatens Isla, Connor’s love interest.Cunningham effectively assembles a cast of flawed characters doing their best (or their worst) in an engaging story of people striving for different kinds of success. The adults in the boys’ lives are dealing with problems of their own, including addiction, career difficulties, loneliness, and infidelity. Assistant Coach Scarr is shown to be reeling from a demotion from his head coach position, while his wife is frustrated by his obsession with the sport and his inability to appreciate her own goals. “Coach Wild” is driven by a frenetic need to win at all costs, while Connor’s mother is lonely and just trying to cope. The work also stresses how the boys’ dads had both enjoyed success as young wrestlers, and how the weight of expectation rests heavily on their sons.