The story opens with a young girl with light skin and dark hair observing her father training “to climb a big mountain called Denali.” He explains that he’ll spend three weeks with a team in Alaska, hauling food and gear across the Kahiltna Glacier. Including her in the experience, he draws his daughter into his preparation, doing push-ups with her on his back and running while pushing her in a stroller. The narrative also explores the father’s motivation of raising money for charity while also testing his own limits—he encourages his daughter to follow such ambitions, telling her she might try someday when she’s older. When the climb ends short of the summit, there’s no sadness; the emotional payoff isn’t about reaching the peak, but in the familial bond reinforced by the father’s thoughtful decision to choose safety. The sentences flow smoothly and convey emotional depth. Miller’s painted illustrations are warm and textured, though the frequent use of surrounding blank space can feel awkward, leaving text and image slightly disconnected rather than in rhythm. Still, the portrayal of a parent balancing ambition with care will surely resonate with readers and caregivers alike.

In 1986, Natalie Chester lands her dream assignment for the American News Agency bureau in Moscow. Her first few months are marked by problems: Her boss, Max, doesn’t seem to support her, and the Soviet government’s tight restrictions lead her into trouble more than once. Early on, Natalie receives news of a seemingly minor accident at a nuclear reactor. While writing a perfunctory newswire item on the story, she fails to recognize the vast significance of the event, and Max is furious when more circumstances of the Chernobyl tragedy come to light. Natalie soon focuses her attention on human-interest stories of Russian Jews attempting to immigrate to Israel, Soviet tourists in Crimea, and the return of an exiled political dissident to Moscow. After accidentally trespassing at a military installation, Natalie evades prison time with the help of Anatoly “Tolya” Vladimirovich, a new deputy foreign minister. Natalie and Tolya are immediately drawn to each other and begin a secret romance. As she builds her career as a foreign correspondent and Tolya attempts to make changes in the government, their relationship faces continual challenges. Williams draws on her own experiences as a foreign correspondent for this novel, writing from a place of authenticity in a setting of historic upheaval. Natalie is a likable if somewhat naïve protagonist; her unshakable idealism is appealing but also makes her prone to misunderstandings and arrests. The love story between Natalie and Tolya is sweet but often feels rushed. Williams glides along the surface of Tolya’s character, never giving readers enough information about him to make him truly engaging. Still, this setting feels timely, and the inclusion of secret listening devices, codes, and spies enlivens the story.

Rockefeller Center archivist Roussel is well situated to explore the famous photograph “Lunch on a Beam” as a work of art, a work of commerce, and as strategic, impassioned propaganda. On September 20, 1932, a photo was taken of 11 ironworkers on an I-beam smoking, talking, and eating 850 feet above Rockefeller Center, with New York City spread out below. Also known as Lunch Atop a Skyscraper, the photo first ran in the New York Herald Tribune. Roussel feels it is “among the most famous photographs ever made.” The center was designed by a committee of architects and financed by John D. Rockefeller Jr. at 30 Rockefeller Plaza on Sixth Avenue. In the spring of 1930, during the Depression, buildings were purchased and torn down, providing work for thousands. In January 1932 construction of the RCA Building began. When the building had a topping-out ceremony in September 1932, many photos were taken, including the famous choreographed beam photo by, Roussel conjectures, photographer Charlie Ebbets. Rockefeller liked the idea of art and decoration in the center, especially sculptures and murals done by outstanding artists. It would reflect his own social and spiritual values. An exception was a mural by Diego Rivera, featuring Lenin, which was destroyed. The author describes dangerous jobs undertaken by workers, especially the ironworkers who molded 75,000 tons of structural steel. Some fell to their deaths. Roussell reveals that another photo was taken with the 11 men holding out their hats. She details her extensive research trying to identify the men, including insightful profiles of a number of mostly immigrant, Mohawk, and Kahnawake ironworkers and interviews with relatives who provide enticing information. Sadly, she notes, Black workers are missing from the story because unions did not admit them.

A man facing divorce in the American South suffers a tragedy when his son dies by suicide. Rocked by the death and the dissolution of his marriage, he decides to travel to exotic locales around the globe. It’s unclear what his name is, but some details suggest his character, especially memories of an old friend named Berry. The story grows weirder (possibly involving shape-shifters) as the protagonist travels further, both inwardly and outwardly. The man has a relative’s trunk containing a journal or some sort of travel writing describing the relative’s time in Istanbul (when it was still called Constantinople); in this relative’s story, the narrator finds some kind of solace. (A sample of the syntax: “When I begin to decipher what I found in the relation’s trunk, what slowly began to replace the child.”) It’s clear the man likes being a southerner (“What Southerner won’t dream of warm sun in December?”), and the text does include some brief moments of lucidity, but the overwhelming majority of the writing is inscrutable: “We no longer wore masks and our visitation relaxed, I glad the company, the weather making ME think of global ice-cream visita a porch what was a porch I knew she wanted to ask vista visits mister?” There may be something of a story somewhere in the book, but Singletary has cloaked it in so much incoherent blather that it is impossible to find. There’s certainly a great deal of energy in the writing, the frenzied and experimental formatting is unique, and there’s definitely no other book around quite like this one. Even so, reading this requires too much effort and offers little reward, and it is unkind to ask readers to attempt it.

In a small mountain town in Georgia, Harold Jeffers—best known among the drunks and delinquents as “Moogie the Shark”—makes a living loaning money to “deadbeat borrowers” who “wouldn’t be let in the back door of a bank.” Being the brains behind the operation, Moogie employs carefully selected muscle: young men with no past or future, willing to force borrowers to pay up by any means necessary. Moogie and his team abide by some simple rules (“If you follow them, you’ll be fine. If you don’t, well, I’m sure your parents will miss you, especially since they’ll never know where you went and why you didn’t say goodbye”): look out for one another and stay silent about what goes on, now and forever. When Bud Boyer, Moogie’s newest protégé, falls hard and fast for the police chief’s daughter, those rules are tested beyond any limit the team is prepared for. Rothman writes with bracing intention and conviction. His knowledge of the subject matter—the novel is half crime thriller, half legal drama—is thorough, and it is clear from the way each chapter seamlessly blends into the next that he knows exactly where each character, plot point, and storyline will eventually end up. The characters are both objectionable and lovable; with names like Moogie, Malone, Bud, and Biggers, they may initially sound like types from any generic mob drama, but they prove to be complex and captivating, and readers will likely find themselves rooting for them every step of the way as they pursue their questionable goals. The author has crafted a swift and seductive tale that will delight any fan of mobster stories.