This look at the dominant mid-2000s USC football program succeeds on multiple fronts, coupling multifaceted character studies with memorable tales of excess, dysfunction, and controversy. Center stage is Pete Carroll, who coached the Trojans to consecutive national championships. His players call him a “psychological ninja” and “a big-ass kid.” Per the author’s diligent reporting, both characterizations fit. Burke depicts a football lifer who rejects the industry-standard “authoritarian” model. Carroll’s approach, informed by applied psychology ideas that emerged in the 1960s, foregrounds fun. More than once, we see him try to keep practice loose by staging “morbid” pranks simulating untimely deaths. After mediocre coaching stints in the NFL, Carroll’s USC winning percentage topped 83%. The staff’s “good cop,” he employs full-throttle assistants. One strips naked during a pep talk; another tackles a curfew-breaking player in a hotel. Burke presents a rounded portrait of Carroll, who has since returned to pro ball. A prominent former player describes the coach as “sneaky,” and some of Burke’s other sources say Carroll’s oversight was too lax. Burke’s reporting includes an ex-USC athlete’s claim that he supplied steroids to players and glimpses of hard-partying Trojan stars. Burke wrings an impressive amount of drama from accounts of old ballgames, including one considered among the best-ever college tilts. He has an occasional tin ear, however, casually describing rape allegations against L.A. Lakers legend Kobe Bryant as “an icky scandal.” The Trojans’ accomplishments were tarnished when the NCAA levied stiff penalties after finding that a star player accepted cash and other prohibited compensation. Since-adopted rules permit college athletes to earn money, and to the delight of its many critics, the NCAA’s commitment to “false amateurism” backfired, Burke correctly notes, rendering it largely “powerless.”

After a childhood marked by abuse, addiction, and neglect, the 18-year-old Baker was ready to go out into the world and do some good. The young Australian graphic artist volunteered for a mission trip to the Southern Highlands of Papua New Guinea, where she worked in a print shop and assisted locals. “I want my life to have significance and meaning,” she remembers thinking as her plane landed at a remote jungle airstrip, “and I want to live as if these were my last days on Earth, to offer hope to the hopeless and be a voice to the voiceless.” The author’s three months in the village of Tari were unexpectedly healing, and she returned to Sydney prepared to ask forgiveness from the people she had wronged in her youth—and to offer forgiveness to those people, including her father and her old boss, who had abused her in the past. Baker decided to pursue a degree in theology and dedicate her life to providing aid and doing development work in places like Bangladesh, Zambia, Kenya, and Indonesia, though it was not always easy to keep past traumas from flaring up, particularly during her time at home. “Away from Sydney, I found my voice and felt alive,” she writes; “back in Sydney, I felt stifled.” Baker’s memoir examines the limitations of trying to outrun the past, even when doing good things in far corners of the world. The author is a skilled travel writer, and the missionary sections are often striking. The portions in which Baker explores her own feelings are often harder to follow, as she has a tendency to offer little context and to discuss her emotional states in abstract language: “The fragmented pieces of my once shattered self, lost amid ruins that had left only fragility, had merged into a bridge bathed in the light of shared purpose, built from the raw material of vulnerability and healing.” Greater clarity and organization would improve this often-compelling work.

These 11 stories are meditations on themes that are both timeless—women looking for love, longing for more from life, fighting for their dreams—and modern, filled with influencers and celebrity-driven culture and people living on the periphery of both. Through engaging and occasionally shocking stories, Rende deftly shows the balancing act between the online and performative world in which we increasingly live and the rich, complicated interior lives of her characters. These impressive stories lay bare the hidden worlds of both the very online and those living adjacent to the spotlight or yearning for it, for better or worse. Consider Jane, a bored receptionist who takes center stage in the opening story, “Nothing Special.” Jane spends her time DMing former child stars and befriending influencers like Ramona, who isn’t at all the beautiful-inside-and-out person she pretends to be online. What follows is a darkly funny cautionary tale about falling for illusions. In “Lopsided,” a possibly ripped-from-reality story, the young narrator grapples with the fact that she wants to leave the boyfriend who just donated a kidney to her. Is she bound to stay with him forever, or can she dump him to see what else is out there? In “High School Junkie Girlfriend,” a struggling actress and temporary hot-tub saleswoman decides to go all in while preparing for her role as the titular junkie girlfriend. She is determined to break out of her rut and reach the next stage of her career no matter what, the result is a Raymond Carver–esque vignette of life on the sidelines.

Gilberg writes that he’s always sought to treat his patients holistically. Positive mental health requires being in touch with one’s physical well-being, and as a practicing psychiatrist for more than 50 years, the author is well placed to serve as a guide to that well-being. Specifically, his book serves as an attempt to allow readers to achieve the same quality of life that he helps his patients enjoy. The book focuses on practical advice, listed as a series of “prescriptions” for self-improvement and distributed among seven themes, including physical and mental fitness, coping with trauma, and romantic relationships. He tells those coping with loneliness to consider volunteer opportunities, warns older adults to be wary of antidepressants, and reminds all readers to respect others’ methods of grief over losing loved ones. Each part also includes anonymous patient anecdotes, such as a story of a parent coping with the death of their son, caused by an intoxicated driver. Gilberg didn’t tell the parent to deny or attempt to immediately “cure” any of his feelings; rather, he acknowledged that the pain that he was experiencing was what he needed to feel in that moment. At other points, Gilberg’s advice serves to shift the perspective of his imagined readers, for example by telling the parents and grandparents of LGBTQ+ children: “I understand how you feel. Now tell me how they feel.” The books’ prescriptions are well-reasoned, accessibly written, and don’t shy away from topics that some might find taboo, such as age-gap relationships. The cost of this breadth is that the book covers many of its 43 subjects too generally to offer acute or unexpected insights. It’s undeniable that finding community, taking care of one’s physical health, and considering others’ feelings are crucial components of general well-being, but such advice lacks enough nuance to have significant impact. Gilberg’s expertise is seen best in the anecdotes, and they should find a place at the core of his writing.

Apapachos (or hugs) brighten celebrations, soften disappointments, and chase away nighttime fears. But now that Mami’s working away from home for the first time, how will Luna manage without their daily embraces? A gentle apapacho from Abue after a small mishap while gardening makes Luna feel braver. Daddy’s bedtime hugs make Luna feel safe, and the youngster offers him one in return, knowing he misses Mami, too. Even Benito the poodle starts the morning with a slobbery snuggle that lifts Luna’s spirits. Over the next few days, family, friends, and teachers find other ways to make Luna feel appreciated, like encouraging words from Ms. Garcia at school and time spent on the playground with a best friend. And when Mami finally returns, Luna realizes an important truth: “Whether Mami’s near or far, our apapacho love can hold up the moon, the stars, and ALL of me.” Highlighting the many forms love can take, Harmony’s warm, reassuring story makes clear that distance can never diminish love. Depicting a diverse, sweet-faced cast, Meza’s mixed-media illustrations blend bright washes of color and squiggly action lines; they radiate emotion and make the meaning of apapachos tangible. An author’s note further discusses the title word, a Spanish word for a hug that derives from the Náhuatl term papachoa.