The adopted daughter of an artist and his high-born wife, Winifred Cunningham has made peace with her childhood as an abandoned orphan and found contentment with her chosen family in Regency England. She is hoping that she can soon start another one with her friend Owen Ware, a younger brother of the Earl of Stratton. But when she meets another of his brothers, Nicholas, a colonel in the cavalry, her reaction to him makes her reevaluate what her heart truly desires. Nicholas knows it’s past time he marries and Grace Haviland, his commanding officer’s daughter, seems like the right choice—a woman of beauty and refinement who understands the military life. But his encounters with Win, who loves children and has no artifice, call forth a buried longing for the kind of passionate spousal affection he sees between many of his relatives. Despite their age difference of 13 years, both realize that their connection is special. Except for some minor tension while ensuring that the previous objects of Win and Nicholas’ affection are not harmed, there is no conflict in the plot. Much of the story takes place at a lengthy house party where Win and Nicholas end up conversing and understanding each other beyond their initial impressions—hers of him as a trained killer and his of her being plain and plainspoken. The novel’s events are preceded by a note from the author explaining the various characters from both their families whose courtships appeared in the Ravenswood and Westcott series, and the last fifth of the book feels like a list of the same people as they assemble for Win and Nicholas’ wedding. While some readers might find the low stakes and off-page sex make for an undemanding comfort read, others might be turned off by the leisurely pacing and scenes of rural socializing.

As part of a four-book series, this volume recounts the production side of both types of Japanese storytelling media, beginning with a short section on the origin of film and moving on to animation technologies with a specific focus on Japan. Next, readers learn about the typical career paths of mangaka (manga authors and illustrators), the major publishing houses, and the production cycle of anime, including how it’s adapted for international audiences. Bolte covers the common artistic styles, which include features like big eyes and range from cutesy (chibi and kawaii) to more realistic. Finally, the author closes by looking at other related formats—feature films, light novels (which are originally released in serialized form), and video games. The sidebars and photo captions highlight pertinent case studies and explore topics such as overworked artists, how the racial identity of characters is interpreted by some non-Japanese audiences, and the career of Osamu Tezuka, creator of Astro Boy. Written in an approachable style, the book includes seminal examples that serve as reading and viewing suggestions for new fans or greatest-hits montages for those in the know. Both types of readers will glean some insider knowledge in this work that’s aimed at Western audiences and assumes some previous knowledge of anime and manga.

When Diana, a wealthy sugar magnate in her mid-70s, is abruptly forced into retirement by her own daughter, she relocates to the Ocean’s Edge, “a fifty-five plus community beautifully nestled along Florida’s Treasure Coast.” What begins as a quiet chapter in her life quickly turns into an unexpected adventure. Diana soon befriends a quirky group of retirees whose idea of fun goes far beyond shuffleboard—they spend their days sipping coffee-based cocktails and solving cold cases. Her new circle includes Dennis, a retired detective with a sharp eye for detail; Bill, who’s a bit sleazy but incredibly tech-savvy; Estelle and Filomena, eccentric twin sisters (one a gifted medium, the other a tarot card reader); and Carol, the community’s nurse, who possesses an unusual ability to communicate with animals. Diana, with her wealth and political connections, proves to be an invaluable asset to the team, almost immediately helping them solve several cases. Diana finds her new vocation incredibly satisfying, but Ocean’s Edge isn’t as idyllic as it seems: A self-styled vigilante serial killer is on the loose, targeting those he deems deserving of death based on crimes they’ve committed. Adding to the intrigue is Mr. Anderson, the community’s clever cat, who sees what the humans miss (and indulges his love of Key lime pie along the way). As Diana navigates her new life, she finds romance in an unexpected place; when a crime strikes close to home, the stakes rise dramatically. The mystery element, while present, feels underdeveloped and could benefit from sharper twists or deeper intrigue to truly captivate fans of the genre. Additionally, the narrative can sometimes feel confusing, especially when jumping to the perspective and journal entries of the killer. But for readers seeking a breezy, entertaining escape rather than a tightly constructed puzzle, this story offers a delightful blend of levity and mild thrills.

Editor and annotator Dunner prefaces this work with an account of its author’s spectacular life. At a young age, George Nagel, previously known as Rabbi Yechezkel Taub (born in 1895), was one of the youngest Hasidic leaders in Europe after the death of his father in 1920. The young man began to promote the immigration of religious Jews to Palestine, even paying for a sizable amount of land and bringing his followers there. However, while on a trip to the United States to secure funding, Nagel became stranded as a refugee at the start of World War II. After the war, Nagel found his followers gone, his land abandoned, and his faith all but lost. He changed his name and ultimately earned a degree in psychology at the age of 80. In lieu of pursuing a traditional graduate degree, he chose to volunteer at the Paradise Cove halfway house in California and record “day-to-day accounts of the psychiatric residents, their behavior, and interactions.” This text consists of his field notes, which are largely unedited (Dunner aims to “help Nagel’s words shine, just as he wrote them”). Nagel’s writing is genuine, raw, and frequently humorous. He celebrates both Hanukkah and Christmas; delights, in an ironic way, at being called a “good Christian”; and finds his way back to meaning, love, and faith through his work at Paradise Cove. The manuscript is easy to follow, entertaining, and, at its heart, a “bridge between…two worlds. It’s the record of a former rebbe who, though he may have lost his faith, never lost his sense of mission.” Readers will relate to this story of a man searching for “meaning, healing, and holiness in unexpected places” and marvel at the author’s extraordinary past. Nagel’s honesty and sense of light, combined with Dunner’s expert analysis, makes for an inspiring and captivating work of nonfiction.

Across 15 stories, questions of identity, deception, and artistic expression intertwine, revealing characters who blur the line between perception and reality. In the titular story, a man and woman seemingly meet for the first time and agree to lie to each other, although the depth of their deceptions runs much deeper than it first appears. “A Day at the National People’s Museum” follows Mr. Rubens as he’s summoned for compulsory “Museum Service” in a Kafkaesque nightmare world where the people have decided to live with “no opera, no theatre, no art.” In “Waste Disposal,” a man disposes of a biscuit tin containing the ashes of his wife’s stepmother. A professor of art history attempts to combine academia and eroticism in “Pleasure Pain.” In “Patient Zero,” a painter, suddenly obsessed with what it means to be dead, goes to see a doctor. A screenwriter who has purported himself as a loner now wishes to extricate himself from this fabricated identity by acting in his latest project in “The Right Part,” although his costar faces backlash and violent threats. “Dylan” finds a frequent traveler who discovers his wife is having an affair, and in “The Scream,” a writer finds a poem he doesn’t remember creating and wonders if perhaps his wife is its true author. The final tale, “Rooms,” follows an underperforming writer with “a thing about Kafka,” traveling with his actor boyfriend to Berlin.

These stories, ranging from just three pages in length to more than 40, vary in scope and impact, with some, such as “Waste Disposal” and “An Incident,” presenting intriguing premises that ultimately feel underdeveloped. A notable thread throughout the collection is the prevalence of artists whose creative impulses shape both the narratives and their explorations of beauty and ugliness—a theme that’s pointedly tied to their relationships with others. As one character reflects, “Beauty…has little to do with appearance, or rhythm, or sound. It has little to do with external reality. It is a psychic state; a form of melancholia. And when two people converse in it, it becomes transcendental.” In “A Bowl of Fruit” and “A Clear Conscience,” the juxtaposition is especially striking as acts of cruelty or betrayal coexist with moments of profound insight or aesthetic clarity. The first and longest story, “Imagining More,” features many plot twists and repeated scenes from different perspectives, which can make it difficult to follow, yet this complexity mirrors the fractured, multilayered perception of reality that the collection often evokes. Cacoyannis’ repeated references to Franz Kafka reinforce this sense of surrealism, situating readers in worlds where the familiar is incrementally distorted. The prose throughout is often lyrical and philosophical, reinforcing the thematic preoccupation with capturing fleeting, almost ineffable aspects of existence. The focus on art and perception ties together disparate stories, suggesting that the act of creation mirrors the human effort to find meaning and beauty in the nuances and entanglements of life.