Jane Leigh—whose late husband, John Lo, was acquitted of killing a colleague at the law firm where he was a partner—is dying of cancer. When her children, Hunter, a reporter, and Brennan, an attorney, re-engage with each other during Jane’s final days, brother and sister realize they disagree on their father’s guilt. Their decision to try to solve this stone-cold case soon disrupts their schedules and psyches, and readers will find their sleuthing sound, if a little serendipitous, such as when an old family friend gives them access to confidential files. However, the best and most haunting writing in lawyer Suthammanont’s debut concerns John Lo himself, a first-generation Chinese American whose parents came from the region of Teochew culture. John recalls that his father expressed satisfaction (“pride was an overstatement”) with him only twice, when he graduated from college and when he got into law school: “John knew that was because it meant that his life would be better than his father’s.” His father gave John a springboard for success, but also the titular hollow spaces in his makeup—areas of dissatisfaction and longing that John unfortunately fills with alcohol, then with an affair with gorgeous associate Jessica DeSalvo, whose murder shatters his life. Chapters alternate between Then (before and after the murder) and Now (when Hunter and Brennan join forces), and while this is surely meant to destabilize readers, it also puts into stark relief how separate the experiences of an outsider parent can be from those of their multiracial children. While John Lo dealt with macro- and microaggressions from people in most areas of his life, Hunter and Brennan move through the same New York City world without friction, yet saddened and confused by their father’s deeds. It’s an intriguing, if ultimately slightly muddy, combination of sleuthing and character study from a talented writer.

“They were not normal, those girls”: This is the sentiment held by a majority of townsfolk in the riverside Oxfordshire village of Little Nettlebed not too long after the English Civil War. Sisters Anne, Elizabeth, Hester, Grace, and Mary Mansfield are “the fierce one, the pretty one, the tomboy, the nervous one, the youngest.” They range in age from 19 down to 6, have lost both their parents and, newly, their grandmother, leaving them to care for their farmer grandfather, who is losing his sight. No one can quite pinpoint what it is about them—their insular nature, their closeness, their standoffishness toward other villagers—but most of the townspeople keep their distance. When the town ferryman, the misogynistic alcoholic Pete Darling, claims to have seen the girls changing into dogs under cover of night, the rumor spreads through Little Nettlebed with lightning speed. Soon, the girls are being blamed for misfortunes: dead hens, falling levels of water in the river. As word spreads about the girls’ strange affliction and authority figures from the vicar to the doctor get involved, the town’s hysteria escalates until a catastrophic act of violence changes everything. Purvis shifts narration across multiple villagers, including Darling and the girls’ grandfather, to show the corrosive power of group mentality and social conformity—and to illuminate the simple bravery of being true to who you are. The novel is a master class in paranoia and strategic ambiguity. Like Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery,” it shows that the horrors lurking beneath small-town life are timelessly unsettling.

Olive interviews writers for a living, getting them to open up about their artistic processes. An audiophile since childhood, 33-year-old Olive has the unsettling habit of surreptitiously recording all her conversations. She stockpiles these snippets of life, a form of intimacy and control. When she meets Theo, a hunky surgeon, the recorder is on, giving her a perpetual loop of their meet-cute. When Theo finds out about the weeks of recordings of runs, dinners, sex, and more, he’s initially outraged. But he’s a little quirky, too—he has a collection of hair ties and notes found on the subway, some tissue from a patient—and soon recording becomes a kind of foreplay. But this is not enough for Olive, who watches Theo’s building on nights they’re not together, and is resentful of anything that occupies his attention. One night while hunching over his sleeping body, she pulls his teeth apart and splits his body down the middle, steps inside (shrinking to appropriate size), and snuggles between his beating, slushing organs, becoming covered in fatty ooze. Finally satisfied with this level of closeness, she becomes addicted to “climbing” into sleeping Theo and eventually brings her recording equipment. Things get weirder from there. Raising interesting questions about boundaries within relationships (Olive suspects her own clingy mother used to climb into her), the novel literalizes the romantic trope of becoming one with your partner, while ingeniously satirizing female neediness. There is a predatory nature to Olive’s possessiveness—or is that love?

In the Paw & Order offices of private detectives Marlowe and Purrlock, the latter is hungry and the fridge is empty. The cat P.I. insists that he went to the grocery store just the day before, so he’s certain that someone must have stolen all the food. Purrlock is positive it must be the dastardly Meowiearty. In search of something to eat, the pair end up at the Grilled Cheese Festival, only to find out from Rabbit that all the grilled cheese sandwiches had been stolen. Purrlock is again sure that it’s Meowiearty’s doing, but Marlowe isn’t so sure. Police Sgt. Bear is on the scene, gathering clues, but he asks the detectives to work the case; from there, the pair interview two suspects: Jinny Giraffe and Allan Alligator. Both had motive and opportunity, but Purrlock continues to believe that Meowiearty is the real culprit. After their investigation concludes, Marlowe and Purrlock gather the suspects together, review the clues, motives, and opportunities, and reveal the identity of the dastardly villain that ruined the festival for everyone. At the end of a busy, productive day, the two detectives wind down with a nice grilled cheese sandwich. In this fast and fun graphic novel for young readers, Platt lays out the various pieces of the puzzle in a logical order, and Marlowe even breaks the fourth wall to advise readers to go back and examine details for themselves to see if they can figure out the solution on their own The full-color cartoon art is bright and colorful, and the animal characters feel distinct with clear personalities. The detective partners play off each other well, with Marlowe the more serious detective and Purrlock making outrageous accusations or jumping to conclusions. Young mystery lovers are sure to get a kick out of this book.

The story features an ensemble cast of compelling characters but centers on three in particular. First, there’s David Erdogan, a tech firm CEO who’s content to go along with the whims of his AI boss, Big Al, even if it means putting up with blackmail and any other number of dehumanizing attacks on his agency. Then there’s Katie, the morally gray hacker who steals bots’ memories and sells them on the black market; her latest victim is connected to an enormous conspiracy surrounding a major terrorist attack on Silicon Valley, some years before the start of the narrative. This victim is Livingstone1813, an AI academic researcher who studies humans and the dynamics of their relationship to artificial-intelligence technology. His missing memory, which was stolen by Katie, will prove vital to unpacking what’s behind a violent movement to push a constitutional amendment for AI personhood—although there’s clear pushback, as well: “Don’t cede to those who can’t bleed. Vote ‘NO’ to Personhood!” reads some acid-etched graffiti. Donoghue unfolds the narrative via the perspectives of these characters (along with a smattering of others), weaving a complex yet deeply intimate vision of a quickly emerging future in which capitalism and artificial intelligence conspire to rob both humans and bots of any remaining control over their own lives. The SF conceits merge with worldbuilding that’s revealed slowly but inexorably, resulting in what emerges as a memorable entry in the growing genre of AI thrillers. The clearly drawn characters, complex sociopolitical discourse, and, especially, Donoghue’s deep empathetic imagination for both humans and AIs makes the work feel like far more than the sum of its parts. Other novels have played in this high-tech sandbox, to be sure, but few have done so in a way that makes a reader think and care for both people and artificial entities in such strong and equal measure.