The novel begins with the two connected worlds of Phalanx and Tristulle, visible to each other through impenetrable windows on each planet. Pandara and Koravo are two lovers on Tristulle, and their story makes up the main plot. The two live in Ksevia, a seemingly idyllic city where citizens are deeply connected to the Yuit, a collective spirit that allows them to live in hive-like tranquility. Shanti, the leader of Ksevia, is overthrown in a coup, causing chaos, and Pandara and Koravo set off on a quest to end all suffering. The book is episodic and jumps around in time, introduces many characters along the way in the form of parable-like stories: Rover, who jumps from planet to planet and ends up on Earth in New York City, a long way from her original home of Ytieo; Annie Levine, a ghostly apparition who silently follows Pandara and Koravo on their journey; and Viratus, a black dragon who provides guidance to the lovers. The pair experience various timelines, and their own deaths and rebirths, as they pursue a journey to reach the peak of a mountain where they may find a way toward their ultimate goal. Trautman’s novel is complex, even taking a Kurt Vonnegut-esque turn when Trautman himself appears as a character in one universe. Throughout, the narrator’s voice takes on an anthropological quality, describing the many facets of its expansive fantasy world. One wishes there was a glossary or index to define all the invented terms that are casually thrown around and identify the many characters that take on dual identities. It’s easy to get lost in the chronology and confuse past and future events, although the world does feel vast and lived in. Some chapters feel less relevant to the overall plot, and the novel’s ambitions outpace its charm at times. Overall, Trautman’s novel is well-crafted, but it eventually grows so complex that it becomes less accessible.

“My baby, it’s time that you know something true: / There’s someone who loves you much more than I do!” So begins this address from mother to child, delivered in well-composed couplets. What follows, across a series of bright and joyous, two-page-spread digital illustrations from Salem-Vargas, is a repeated emphasis on just how much love a mother feels (“My love for you grows with each day that goes by. / I love you beyond all the stars in the sky”) interspersed with the comforting primacy of the divine: “My sweet baby, know this: it’s you I adore. / It’s true, my love’s vast, / But still God loves you more.” Each couplet comes with one or more numerical scripture references that point the reader toward passages expressing similar sentiments. The girl and mother are depicted as white-skinned and brown-haired. A blonde/grey-haired father and dark-haired baby brother are also shown, while a more racially diverse, wider culture is hinted at with the depiction of a school nativity play. God is represented by Jesus, rendered in accord with his popular Western conception as a long-haired, bearded white man with sandals, tunic, and vest. Those for whom the faith message resonates should very much approve.

In this memoir, the author—a professional photographer, filmmaker, and writer—plays with the familiar trope of a physical journey catalyzing an interior one: “As my depression deepened, my boyfriend, Rohan, and his best friend from middle school, Samir, put forth a proposal: Venezuela for Christmas,” she recalls. What began as an escape from a life of “applying for jobs, entering contests, waiting for replies, and between those tasks, writing” in Los Angeles appears, in hindsight, to have been an opportunity for renewal. Recounting that pilgrimage years later gives the author an opportunity to reflect on how she’s grown from the person she was in her 20s to who she is now at 39. Saraiya’s self-awareness is one of the book’s strengths; for example, she recognizes that her younger self “moved through [Venezuela’s] landscapes with the eyes of a tourist, mistaking proximity for connection.” Her willingness to admit past errors is an appealing sign of humility in these pages. Even her interest in “explor[ing] indigenous lifeways and wisdom” is qualified with the caveat that her account may have factual inaccuracies because she did not consult community members directly. Her openness to discovery, though, is evident in the lush descriptions that evoke all the senses. She revels in the sight of a beach shimmering “with crushed rose quartz” and partakes of the sweet and salty taste of the ripe moriche fruit. She draws attention to “the sweet fragrance of wildflowers,” the roaring sound of a waterfall that “became a muffled hum,” and the sting of the cold on her skin. The narrative also sheds light on the practical realities of travel, especially dietary challenges for vegetarians and safety concerns for women. Overall, readers will find it inspiring to witness how she took challenges in stride, believing that they’d make her stronger. What emerges is less a portrait of Venezuela than it one of a person learning about herself, shedding her old ways, and celebrating who she is today.

The story follows a predictable pattern: the narrator sees a cow, who says “MOO!”; the cow sees a ghost, who says “BOO!”; and so on. Other characters include an owl and a cat who, upon slinking into a house, sees a baby in a highchair. The cat greets the baby, and the baby says “GOO!” to follow the pattern. Having just finished a meal and a bottle, the baby soils its diaper and creates an alarming smell—the house erupts in chaos, attracting the baby’s older sibling and mother (who is light-skinned). Finally, the baby’s father (who is dark-skinned) saves the day with a diaper change, eliciting the final word of the book: “PHEW!” This simple picture book excels as a tool for early speech and literacy development. The consistent rhyming pattern helps children learn to interpret a sound with a variety of spellings. The dialogue follows suit, continuing the pattern without seeming forced or slipping into more internal rhymes, and the silly story adds to reader enjoyment. The addition of a little green stink bug on every page makes for a fun engagement tool. Borkun’s full-color, original illustrations are approachable and appealing to young readers. Additional activities help guide parents on how to best use this book to support language development.

Every scenario seems implausible until it actually happens, as any military planner knows. When newspaper reporter Carmela Jean “CJ” Martino and her new husband, Lt. Joe Delano of the U.S. Marine Corps, get married in Waikiki on December 5, 1941, the pace of Japanese aggression feels distant, at best. CJ is more concerned about what types of food they’ll order for their wedding celebration, and Joe professes greater worry about local spies than a Japanese air attack. When someone mentions rumors of a military operation, he replies, “That’s ridiculous. How the hell are they going to fly in? Where are they going to fly from?” He comes to regret such overconfidence; soon, Joe, CJ, and their friends go from laid-back dinner outings to a world of martial law, military censorship, and the temporary use of restaurant freezers to store the dead. At first, CJ finds an outlet through her reporting job at the Honolulu Advertiser, but soon feels the pull of a higher calling with the Women’s Air Raid Defense, a civilian unit. Buckingham’s wartime novel fits snugly beside such genre benchmarks as James Jones’ From Here to Eternity (1951) and Herman Wouk’s The Winds of War (1971), which are also both set in Hawaii, before and after Pearl Harbor. What makes this novel compelling is the author’s exploration of women’s perspectives on these events, which is often lost amid textbook images of WACs and WAVEs. CJ and her friends, Eve Russell (whose family owns the Advertiser) and Ruth Elliott, the wife of a Navy commander, must convince an entrenched, male-dominated establishment that they can endure the physical and mental challenges that accompany military secrecy, endless working hours, and grinding sequestration, and such narratives are not often seen in fiction. The novel impressively and artfully realizes its themes of duty and self-sacrifice during wartime, as well.