Duncan Graham tries to avoid living an extraordinary life. His mother, McKenna, and his absentee father, Ethan, were star-crossed lovers from feuding Scottish clans. The unwed couple separated, with Ethan sending McKenna and Duncan to America to avoid scandal. Duncan enjoys a normal life growing up with a single mother until he is 11 years old—that’s when he magically cures his best friend Timmy’s polio (“The room filled with light”) and discovers that he is a healer. Duncan does his best to keep his gift a secret, using it sparingly as he grows into adulthood, but he’s thrust into the public eye when he’s forced to save a young woman struck by a car. Duncan is uncomfortable in the spotlight, but he holds meetings at a former church to heal people, eventually moving to a bigger facility. Thanks to negative publicity generated by those he couldn’t cure, Duncan’s “ministry” flounders, and he also suffers serious personal reversals. It isn’t until Duncan accompanies McKenna’s body home to Scotland that he truly begins to understand his power. He begins roaming the world and helping others, leading to a fateful reunion. In Duncan, Stone has created a totally believable character; he reacts as anyone would if they received a life-saving power with no owner’s manual. (Actually, he likely does better than most, as Duncan leads with his heart and uses his gift to benefit others.) The narrative is affecting as friends slip in and out of his life, and even his mother, who knows more than she lets on, frustratingly leaves him alone to navigate his own path. The author makes it annoyingly difficult to keep track of time—while it is clear that the novel covers Duncan’s life, it’s less evident how many decades this entails. Still, Stone triumphs in building an admirable character who succeeds despite his gift.

Published in the U.K. earlier this year, now shortlisted for the Booker Prize, Markovits’ 12th novel establishes the unstudied and confiding voice that carries it so compellingly forward in the first sentence: “When our son was twelve years old, my wife had an affair with a guy called Zach Zirsky, whom she knew from synagogue.” As the story unfolds, this voice often addresses the reader directly, saying things like, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound about it the way I probably sound,” and “I should probably say a word about our friendship,” and so forth, increasing the intimate effect. For the sake of his kids—there’s also a daughter, then 6—Tom Layward made a deal with himself that he’d stay in the marriage until they left home. The book opens at that point, 12 years later. “What we obviously had, even when things smoothed over, was a C-minus marriage, which makes it pretty hard to score much higher than a B overall on the rest of your life.” Other things are also going poorly: Tom, a law professor on leave from his university after counseling the owner of a basketball team accused of racism and sexism, has also refused to add his pronouns to his email signature. Markovits, who was born in Texas, played pro basketball in Germany, and now lives in London, develops this tricky aspect of the situation in a notably nuanced way, as part of the complexity of Tom’s character rather than as a dive into the breach of the culture wars. Tom is also suffering from undiagnosed but serious-seeming health symptoms, which he vaguely ascribes to long Covid. When an argument between his wife, Amy, and daughter, Miri, erupts on the day they are to take her to campus, Amy stays home in suburban New York. And without ever actually deciding to, Tom ends up on a cross-country road trip, visiting an old basketball teammate, an ex-lover, his brother, and ultimately his son on the West Coast. Though Markovits has never been big on plot, the reader’s sense that this is all leading up to something is not wrong.

Ten-year-old Madelyn Delios prefers the woods behind her single dad’s farmhouse to school. She explores there on her own—even though she’s not supposed to leave the backyard by herself—and befriends blond, violet-eyed Calle, who, oddly, recognizes Madelyn’s name. Later, seeking Calle down a trail her father has expressly forbidden her to take, Madelyn discovers Asterwood, an endangered, magical forest. The Tree Eaters are killing the rare Violet Aspens and harvesting their magic. A group of wilderness-dwelling children with violet eyes and diverse skin tones are trying to heal the trees and evade forest-dwelling cannibals. Madelyn, who previously knew nothing about her mother, learns shocking information about her parents—and her own potential powers. Stolos’ young readers’ debut is an environmentalist cautionary tale that features creative worldbuilding, evocative descriptions, and memorable characters. Details about the cannibals—a crown made of human bones, their roasting of human meat on a spit (“charred and glistening, a fatty cut, like pork but not quite”)—add touches of horror. Most compellingly, the story explores conflicting emotions: Madelyn and the Asterwood children yearn for their parents, despite some of the adults’ appalling choices. Less compelling is Madelyn’s confusing chosen one status and the unanswered questions about the logistics of Homesprawl, the greedy Tree Eaters’ city. Madelyn’s family is cued white, and Calle uses they/them pronouns.

After ringing in the new year, Abby is eager to finish up fifth grade—and elementary school. She’s got plenty on her plate: Menstruation is a hot topic among her peers, and opportunities for embarrassment lurk everywhere, especially in health and wellness class. Tensions flair at home; Dad’s new job schedule makes him largely unavailable, and Mom resents carrying the domestic load. Worried about climate change after her teacher brings it up in class, Abby lashes out at her family for not doing enough to protect the environment. Arguments with little brother Max and clashes with Mom add further conflict, especially as Mom puts the kibosh on Abby’s plans of adopting a kitten. The class Eco Campout provides an eventful climax before graduation shows the path forward. Abby veers between a desire for independence and a need for reassurance as she deals with interpersonal conflict and endures a complex relationship with her “best frenemy,” Savannah, a charismatic classmate with a mean streak. Bryant once more clearly and convincingly conveys Abby’s emotions as she navigates typical tween challenges. Lively language, peppered with expressions of edgy attitude, bring Abby’s experiences to life. Bryant adeptly balances action, description, and Abby’s thoughts, worries, and perceptions, keeping readers fully engaged. As in the first installment, physical descriptors are minimal.

Even though Cassie Linden’s home in New York City isn’t that far from her childhood house in Connecticut, she hasn’t been back to see her father in a while. Between her job as a lawyer and the disintegration of her marriage, Cassie’s been too preoccupied to realize that her dad’s been slipping mentally. As soon as she walks back into his house, though, “the nagging fear of dementia trailed her from room to room.” Since Cassie’s mother died of Alzheimer’s, even the slightest sign of forgetfulness sends her into a panic, so she’s quick to move back in temporarily, start organizing his house, and tend to his beloved bee hives. Enter professional beekeeper Glenn Marsden, whose impressive knowledge of the fuzzy insects and fit physique immediately stir Cassie’s admiration. It’s been eight years since Glenn’s wife walked out on him and their little girl, leaving the beekeeper to navigate life as a single father. Cassie is the first person in a long time to set his heart buzzing, but the timing couldn’t be worse; his ex has suddenly reappeared in town. Meanwhile, in addition to worries about her elderly father, Cassie has her own roadblocks to romance. Her son was suspended from college, and an unrelenting real estate developer is plotting to turn Cassie’s family home into a soulless housing tract. Avellar’s novel can start to feel like Cassie and Glenn are simply checking things off a laundry list of obstacles to their inevitable relationship (with very abrupt tonal shifts; some are deadly serious and others rather lighthearted). Still, while the storyline is a little diffuse, it’s hard not to fall for both Cassie and Glenn. Avellar excels at making her two leads both charming and relatable—thanks, in part, to her well-crafted dialogue that conveys both their bumbling beginnings and simmering passion. (The various family dynamics are also smartly observed.) Avellar’s subtle story of bees, illness, and suburban real estate may not continually sizzle, but her keen characterizations may just sweep readers off their feet anyway.