Based on dozens of interviews and abundant archival sources, scholar and author Kaplan’s book offers a perceptive, sympathetic biography of activist, unabashed communist, and muckraker Jessica Mitford (1917-1996). Jessica, known as Decca, was defiant even as a child—unlike her sisters Nancy, who became a well-known novelist; Nazi sympathizers Diana and Unity; Deborah, who married a duke; and Pamela, who retreated to the countryside. Growing up, the Mitford girls formed a “savage little tribe,” overseen by nannies they exuberantly terrorized. Their parents “called everything outside of their home ‘Elsewhere’ and pronounced themselves against it.” Critical of privilege, Decca kept a “running-away” bank account, which she used to join her second cousin, Esmond Romilly, a nephew of Winston Churchill, to fight fascists in Spain. She was 21 when they married. Never having lived on her own, she did not know how to cook, clean, or even wash her underwear. Nevertheless, she took on challenges with charm, optimism, and a “stubborn embrace of difficulty, contradictions, and mess.” And there were many difficulties: Her first child died of measles; Esmond, a Royal Canadian Air Force pilot, was shot down during World War II; a son was hit by a truck and died. But Decca rallied. After Esmond’s death, she got a job in Washington, D.C., at the Office of Price Administration, where she showed a talent for “in-depth research, joy in exposing corruption, [and] delight in involving collaborators,” all of which she used to great effect in her first book, a bestselling exposé of the funeral business, The American Way of Death. Her second husband was a Jewish lawyer from the Bronx, as committed an activist as she was. Kaplan captures Decca’s energy and verve, her complicated relationship with her aristocratic family, and her unwavering devotion to fighting injustice, racism, and inequality.

Dovey Van Dalen is just an ordinary PI to most people who know her, but she’s actually a “mystic investigator,” retrieving magical objects that fall into non-magical hands. Some 180 years ago, as a young society girl in Copenhagen, Denmark, she met Elric, the jealous mystic who bound her to him as his lover and spell-casting pupil. Now 200 years old and the owner of an enchanted hedgehog who doubles as her personal stylist, Dovey has fallen in love with FBI agent Grant “Gib” Barlow, whom she met while investigating a spellcasting trinket from her world used to murder people in his. Her feelings for Gib are undeniably strong, yet she avoids him for fear of incurring Elric’s murderous wrath. When a matchmaking friend manipulates Dovey into a date with Gib, she learns from him that another FBI agent has had every bone crushed in his body. Immediately, Dovey suspects that Elric or another very powerful mystic is behind the crime and launches a private investigation at Elric’s company to find answers. Blending elements of romance, fantasy, and suspense, Laurie creates a fast-paced, ever-twisting narrative that moves between two parallel worlds bound in sometimes-dangerous ways through the interactions of mystics, mortals and magical creatures. The closer Dovey gets to the truth, the more she peels back layers of deception involving powerful stolen trinkets, secret love triangles, hidden identities and plots to disrupt the delicate balance of power between spellbound mystics and unbound humans.

It was supposed to be, in the words of Universal Pictures’ Scott Stuber, “a small kids and cars movie for spring break.” But in the hands of director Rob Cohen, and stars Paul Walker and Vin Diesel, the 2001 movie The Fast and the Furious became something else—a massive, iconic blockbuster that turned into an unstoppable franchise, one that is still going strong. In his book, film critic Hertz aims to take readers behind the scenes of the Fast & Furious franchise, which has stretched across 11 films and starred notable actors, including Dwayne Johnson, Tyrese Gibson, and, improbably, Helen Mirren. Based on more than 170 interviews, Hertz’s book takes readers behind the conception and shooting of all of the car-centric action films, which, he says, “serve as a rebuke to the kind of mushy modern blockbuster that values pixels over people, safety over sensation.” Hertz does a great job explaining the innovations that brought the films to life and exploring the various dramas that have plagued the franchise for years, particularly the long-running feud between Diesel and Johnson that reached a crescendo with Johnson’s Instagram post with the #ZeroToleranceforCandyAsses hashtag. The franchise was threatened by the death of Walker in a 2013 car crash, which Hertz handles sensitively: “No longer was the Fast team simply finishing a movie; they were honoring a life.” Hertz’s prose is muscular, matching the tone of the films, and he understands the movies’ appeal, which has extended beyond their initial planned audience of young men. Anyone interested in the history of modern popular film will get lost in Hertz’s well-told story.

As this Japanese import opens, the two companions argue over the butterfly book they’re admiring. As they tussle, a page tears, and the friend skis home. The boy worriedly repairs the book (one of his father’s treasured possessions), then skis off himself, seeking to quell his discomfort. Negotiating a steep downhill trail, the boy overlooks a gap and falls in. Within the shallow crevasse, he discovers a tiny theater and a dazzling musical, staged by snow people, about to begin. After he rescues a fallen performer, the troupe invites him to view their show. Whispering ballerinas, singing children, and a sudden transformation from a tiny to full-size production hint at the boy’s dream state. He joins the troupe onstage as they begin a “spinning top song.” A giant top appears, sparkling with snow crystals; a snow queen summons an enchanted blizzard. Arai’s charming illustrations dazzle. Intentionally naïve and expressionistic, they pair thick, impasto-like color with delicately rendered performers—singing, dancing, even snowboarding. Playing with perspective, the artist contrasts the village’s snowy expanses with the small figures of the boy and his father, who rescues him with a promise of cocoa and a suggestion to lend the butterfly book to his friend tomorrow. Human characters are tan-skinned.

Life in Shady Palms suits Lila Macapagal down to the Illinois ground. The tiny town is devoid of chain restaurants and megastores (there’s not even a Walmart), leaving plenty of room for Lila, Elena Torres, and Adeena Awan to offer residents treats like mocha chai latte and white chocolate flavored with pistachio, rose water, and cardamom at boutique shops like their Brew-ha Cafe. But the partners can’t help but notice that female-owned businesses seem to be disproportionately targets of smash-and-grab robberies. They’ve even discussed this trend at the Women of Color entrepreneur group. Still, it isn’t until burglars hit Choco Noir, owned by Blake Langrehr, that the break-ins extend to include casualties. Blake is killed, and Lila’s boyfriend Jae Park’s cousin Hana Lee, who worked there, is left in a coma. Lila vows to find out who hurt Hana—who’d come to Shady Palms to find peace and healing after her husband died—but her investigation proceeds slowly because of all the family dinners, karaoke nights, and WOC meetings that intervene, each with its own large cast of sisters and cousins and aunts. Even a visit to Hana in the intensive care unit involves half a dozen people. Readers who like their mysteries, like Brew-ha’s confections, crammed full of goodies, are likely to enjoy Manansala’s tale more than those who prefer a more trimmed-down approach to detection.