Many readers will never have heard of Michael Hardwick, but his is a story that all should know. In 1982, an Atlanta police officer intending to serve a warrant on an out gay bartender for drinking in public found the man in flagrante with another man, which “violated Georgia’s centuries-old sodomy law and carried a potential twenty-year prison sentence.” Arrested, Hardwick spent the next four years fighting for his freedom, until, in 1986, the Supreme Court ruled that the state of Georgia indeed “had the right to patrol its citizens’ sex lives.” Pressing his fight, Hardwick, who died of complications from AIDS in 1991, was far from alone. As historian and journalist Padgett notes, police in cities such as Miami “surveilled gay hot spots in the hopes of catching queer people in the act,” complete with hidden cameras. Against precedents such as a 1967 Supreme Court ruling that asserted the right to privacy of interracial couples and another that barred states from interfering with the distribution of contraceptives to unmarried people, the Reagan-era Supreme Court accepted the prosecution’s argument that “sodomy had never been included in the ‘zone of privacy’ normally accorded inside the home.” Despite a brilliant defense mounted by the noted constitutional lawyer Laurence Tribe, in a 5-4 ruling, the court effectively declared gay people to be second-class citizens with limited civil rights. Fortunately for Hardwick, the statute of limitations ran out, but he was dead well before the Bowers v. Hardwick decision was overturned in a 6-3 ruling (opposed by William Rehnquist, Antonin Scalia, and Clarence Thomas). Padgett closes this detailed account of the Hardwick case by noting that the rights of gay Americans are again imperiled by a strongly conservative court.

Industrialization has ravaged Earth, and the Concerns (i.e., corporations) that govern the planet are desperate for resources and locations to colonize. Everyone or everything must be of use to the Concerns, or they’ll be discarded. So the scientific team in orbit around Shroud, a moon with an extraordinary amount of electromagnetic radiation and what actually seems to be some form of life, is under a great deal of pressure from its bosses to produce profitable results that will allow the planetary system to be more efficiently mined for raw materials and made ready for colonization. Then an accident in space leads to part of the team crashing onto the surface of Shroud inside an explorer pod. Their desperate attempt to find a way to call for help that will get through the considerable electromagnetic interference sparks many fraught encounters with what appears to be roving crowds of eyeless monsters, but are actually aspects of a sophisticated, multibodied hive mind trying to figure out what exactly the pod is. The humans and the alien collective on Shroud have very different ideas about what a life form is, how communication and information retrieval should be conducted, and how to recognize sentience. These misunderstandings verge on the deadly and ultimately prove transformative to both parties. The plot of this novel, driven by a disaster that strands humans among dangerous aliens, concerns a repressive government whose strong resistance to an equitable first contact is met by potentially stronger resistance from the alien contactee(s). As such, it is more than a little reminiscent of the author’s Hugo-nominated Alien Clay (2024), even if the government and the alien are quite different. While it reads like a meditation on the same theme, especially in the relevance of its socioeconomic and political milieu to contemporary circumstances, it is also well crafted and full of tense moments, building up to an emotional gut punch.

Perhaps not since Nathan Hill’s The Nix (2016) have we seen a debut as hugely ambitious as this one, pulling out all the stops to tell a unique version of the American story. Though there are more characters, more subplots, and just plain more than can be outlined here, the novel revolves around a miserable 16-year-old nudnik named Nathaniel Rothstein of Newton, Massachusetts, who’s sent to live with his Uncle Bob in Austin for the summer of 1998. Bob gets him a volunteer job at a rehab center with a friend of his from Terry Tucker’s Boxing Gym, a charismatic Haitian immigrant named David Dalice. David becomes a mentor to the boy, intent on furthering his worldly education with lectures on matters such as “Have you ever licked the sweetness?” Nathaniel channels this inspiration into an obsession with “Sasha,” the voice on the other end of a 1-900 phone sex hotline of which he becomes a daily devotee. But one day in August, Nathaniel goes out and doesn’t come back. In the course of finding out what happened to him, we will meet many, many people: a rookie female cop; a Playboy-model-turned-beautician and her unhappily gendered teenage son (who has just changed from Charles Rex to “X”); various denizens of the boxing gym, including an unhoused man who’s allowed to bunk there and his twin, literally an evil clown; and a depressed woman in the rehab who is rediscovering her Italian American identity. Identity: There’s a good place to stop, as it is the unifying theme of the entire 500-pound gorilla. Schaefer, who’s white, is bold in his approach to issues of Blackness and whiteness, and has invented a truly wild plot in service of exploring them. He is equally fearless in writing about gender and sex. And the solution to the mystery is a trip and a half.

Subtlety isn’t the name of the game in Parks-Ramage’s eco-thriller, in which the world is terrorized by climate disaster, totalitarian government, and the surveillance state. The novel begins with gay partners Mason and Yunho preparing for the baby shower of the child they’re having via surrogate, a party overshadowed by a rather prescient fire that consumes much of Los Angeles and comes with a poisonous pink gas bringing sometimes-fatal side effects. The show must go on, however, in this takedown of wealth inequality and consumption in the age of environmental destruction. Gucci gas masks, Apple Wallet brain implants, and MegaDust Bowls all make their way into the book’s first section, though the postmodernist tricks are not always effective. Many of the bits are clumsily introduced, explained via unsubtle exposition. The story moves from a stratified Los Angeles to a communal ranch in isolated Montana, where Yunho decamps with his surrogate, Astrid; Astrid’s partner, Claudia, who uses a wheelchair; and other close friends to build a resistance based on a simple saying: “We’ve got love for everyone.” But things go south when the U.S. government brands the anarchist community’s values antifamily, and the group faces risks from the outside world and members alike. A third section dives even further into the future, as Mason moves with a new partner, Peter Thiel (yes, really), to Mars following the dissolution of the community on the Ranch. Parks-Ramage bites off more than he can chew while failing to imbue his satire with clarity. The book spans more than 100 years and takes aim at a future many fear is on its way without providing his characters, who fight for a better world, with enough dimensionality to bring it to life.

Rune Sarasin seems to be getting sloppy in her old age. Not that she’s really old: a witness describes the Thai American expatriate as being between 25 and 35. But the last four months she’s spent under the thumb of Charles Lemaire, an international trafficker in stolen gems, has taken its toll, wearing her out both physically and mentally. How else could you explain how the talented Rune, wildly successful at pilfering jewelry and disappearing silently into the night, could snatch Margot Steiner’s Bonaparte necklace from around her neck in the middle of the Louvre in broad daylight, forgetting the surveillance cameras trained on everyone, everywhere, all at once? After one more heist in Deauville, which also fails to go as planned, she flies to Mallorca, where she learns that her picture is on every newsfeed on the internet. A city girl at heart, Rune flees to Marseille, then Amsterdam, and finally Berlin. She falls in love, falls out of love, and plays havoc with the hospitality industry. At each stop, Doquang flirts with the local color, but Rune’s gotta-go, gotta-run personality works against allowing readers to engage in much vicarious tourism. Adrenaline junkies may enjoy the constant edge-of-the-cliff pacing as Rune stays one step ahead of the police while always plotting that one final caper that will get her out of Lemaire’s grasp. But the frantic pace of her adventure keeps her from developing much steam as an identification figure. You root for her but not really with her.