Keira is attending a prestigious museum summer program at Camp 43 in the small Canadian town of Westonville. Her winning project and the focus of her summer involves solving the murder of Erich Stein, a German POW from World War II who was held at the camp. When Keira meets her fellow participants, she feels like she doesn’t belong. Asha, who’s South Asian, and Ephram, who’s Black, seem to come from rich families, and Keira feels snubbed by them. Ruth, who’s white like Keira, is pushy but “magnetic,” and Keira falls in with her. When Ruth is found dead, Keira wonders if it really was an accident, as everyone believes—or whether her death might have something to do with the camp’s history. This double murder mystery takes place in timelines that unfold in Westonville during the 1940s and the present day. The narrative attempts to address the complicated question of what actually makes someone culpable as a Nazi. The original premise is marred by the large cast of characters, both past and present, many of whom are involved in their own dramatic subplots, which makes them difficult to track. While the circumstances surrounding Erich’s and Ruth’s deaths are resolved, Kiera’s own story feels unfinished.
In the realm of Telluth, a young woman named Annalyn “Anna” Hale loses all hope after the tragic death of her beloved father. With her mother forced into debt after his passing, Anna sells herself out to the government’s troops. Despite her inexperience and limited fighting ability, Anna is soon specially requested by those in charge to embark on a secret reconnaissance mission: The savage Vasbrute have recently violated the land’s peace treaty, and she—alongside her fellow soldier and newfound friend, Pyran, and a handful of other recruits—must secretly follow their trail into the forest to determine if official military intervention will be necessary. What seems like a dangerous but straightforward mission soon devolves into a tangled web of hidden political machinations, unexpected alliances, and the unveiling of a sinister plot that could change everything. The only thing that can save the group is Anna’s newfound ability to unleash the power of the Son of Death himself—a power she must learn to wield herself. Taylor has crafted a vivid and imaginative world crammed full of favorite fantasy beings, from elves, dwarves, and mages to necromancers and monstrous beasts that roam the forest: “His dark eyes flashed red in the sunlight…He crossed his arms and angrily bared his teeth, exposing pointed white teeth that fit together like a dog’s.” It is also LGBTQ+ friendly, with Taylor subtly working in a same-sex relationship and a character who is referred to with they/them pronouns with no fanfare. While the pacing can drag a bit toward the midway point of the 500-plus-page story, this is but a small blip in an otherwise mesmerizing novel that manages to balance plenty of action with deep and thoughtful character-building.
On a family holiday in Kent, England, the meticulously organized August and her husband, Andrew, visit Shepherd Neame, Britain’s oldest brewery, for a tasting tour. August is suddenly transported to an alternate timeline when the historic beer, called Five Bees, was first brewed. Waking up naked and confused, August stumbles to a doorstep, guided by a black cat named Hazel. Margaret, a local healer and wise woman, welcomes the strange traveler to the community. Mental to-do lists and a desire to get back to her daughter, Ripley, rage in August’s mind as she slowly learns Margaret’s way of living by the lunar cycle and the healing powers of natural ingredients. But all is not well in the village: The fields of “cosmos” mushrooms that provide sporelock—a turf mixed from “the pulp of the fungi with hay and manure” used for building—are being destroyed at “the hands of the Divine Sphere,” a patriarchal religious organization that threatens Margaret’s way of life and destroys the surrounding ecosystem. A vast mycelium network called the Mother, which women who are in tune with the natural world have connected to for generations, warns, “we must keep the balance.” Margaret and her small group must find a way to resist the Divine Sphere and continue their practice undetected while August searches for a way back home. Youens crafts compelling inner voices for August and Margaret, and the pages radiate with the warmth the author brings to their world. The extended metaphor of weaving effectively emphasizes the connection between the past and present timelines, which is maintained by individuals who work with the natural world to create the contemporary beer. Margaret’s emotional history is delivered with care. At times, the narrative dips into a “telling” rather than “showing” mode, but the magical elements of the story are consistently captivating.
Curtis, a young Black child, would like to be closer to his dad. Curtis’ father spent little time with his own dad; as a result, he vowed to be there for his own son. Curtis’s father is physically present when not at work, but he’s emotionally distant and unable to express his feelings. As Curtis grows into a teenager, he learns from other men in his life (coaches, counselors, uncles) how to listen and relate. When Curtis marries and has a child of his own, he’s able to be both present and emotionally receptive. For Curtis’s son, a well-adjusted father-son dynamic becomes the norm. Davis tells this family story through matter-of-fact, sincere prose. Each page is quite text-heavy, and the life lesson seems aimed more at adults and adolescents than younger children. Nonetheless, the earnest delivery and striking presentation—featuring plain backdrops and foregrounded, emotional characters—will make the book accessible to a wide range of readers. Seif’s full-color illustrations evoke vintage children’s books and make clever use of light and shade to suggest mood and possibility. The positive change that Curtis’ family achieves over generations makes for a sober yet inspiring takeaway.
She’s Cricket Abernathy, owner of the run-down Camp Abernathy by gorgeous Lake Willa in the Poconos; he’s Charlie Thorpe, a Philadelphia lawyer tasked with convincing her to sell the camp to his real-estate developer client—with a promotion to partner riding on his success. When Cricket rejects the offer, Charlie decides to look for secrets that could force her to sell by signing up for the two-week-long Comic-Camp for adult nerds who are into everything from Star Wars to Lord of the Rings. Cricket knows about his subterfuge, but lets him in anyway because of his granite jaw, muscular chest, and adorable dimples. Other campers include Adam, who plays a Sith Lord; Stefan, who dresses as a Viking; Hunter, who portrays a zombie from an apocalypse-set game; 11-year-old Olivia, who’s a dead shot with foam-tipped arrows; Angela, a cougar on the hunt for a fourth husband; and Esther, an old lady who crochets plushie penises as gag bridal gifts. Charlie, who is basically a nice guy and a good sport, bonds with these oddballs and, smitten by her toned physique and infectious humor, falls in love with Cricket. Cricket reciprocates Charlie’s ardor, and their relationship escalates from flirty banter to Cricket inspecting Charlie’s genitals for ticks, thence to skinny-dipping and…nature taking its course. Complications arise when Cricket’s old flame, Patrick, shows up. The situation worsens when Charlie discovers a lien on Camp Abernathy, giving his client leverage to take the land—and threatening Cricket’s home and livelihood.
Chase’s yarn follows a classic screwball-comedy formula, pairing a nervy heroine with a manly but menschy hero amid a constellation of loveable eccentrics in a narrative that’s full of blithe, energetic contrivances. It’s also a valentine to nerdishness and the pop-culture icons it feeds upon, spoofing them but also acknowledging their moral seriousness and relevance. (“Peter becomes a hero when he develops a genuine connection with others,” Adam explains to Charlie in a rather pointed interpretation of Guardians of the Galaxy.) The romantic leads are complicated and unfinished, with Charlie needing to release the emotions that his judgmental parents forced him to suppress and Cricket unable to break free from the safe but isolating cocoon of Camp Abernathy. Chase writes vigorous, evocative prose that crackles with smart and salacious repartee (“Your hand is on my ass, Charles Xavier Thorpe….[e]ither that or this lake has a small octopus”) and makes her characters, unlike many of the bland protagonists who populate romances, feel quirky, colorful, and alive. (“The memory of Cricket’s laughter rings in my head. It was a wicked, bawdy laugh that ought to belong to a gangster’s moll and not the bespectacled woman in the Tree of Mordor or Gondor or one of the ’dors T-shirt”). Readers will heartily root for Cricket and Charlie to get together and save their geeky paradise.
