Our young narrator is beloved by his doting auntie. According to her, he’s “the most perfect nephew to ever be born,” and as we see him maturing from chubby-cheeked newborn to diapered and crawling toddler to sparkly-eyed little kid, their mutual affection just increases. Durr’s artwork deploys pastel negative space, bright contrasting neons, and zoomed-in shots of tender embraces to great effect, illustrating well the dramatic moment that reveals to readers and narrator alike that Auntie will soon be a mommy, too! A newborn baby girl flips the script as our protagonist’s mother remarks that she is the “most perfect and most beautiful niece to ever be born.” But it doesn’t take long for the momentarily grumpy big boy cousin to make eye contact with his swaddled baby girl cousin, which reminds him promptly of the room he has “for all this love.” Mommy and Auntie—siblings themselves—demonstrate how to make everyone feel included, just as the next generation grows together with love. McDaniel’s dialogue and narration are both chock-full of sweetness and verve. Characters present Black and vary in skin tone.

Seventeen-year-old Naya Tambor was never a shoo-in for a spot in the Neo-Settlers Developers & Engineers: During her austere childhood, which was filled with military training, she struggled with combat. Because the aloof General was her mother, she also faced bullying and extra scrutiny. In the indoor city of Emas, the maze of corridors might suddenly “glitch” and change shape with lethal consequences. For her final test, Naya must infiltrate a nest of Spiravits, the creatures responsible for the glitches, who “shift and morph between human and monster” and threaten Emas’ very existence. But as Naya, who has light skin and curly hair, departs for an unfamiliar outside world with a Spiravit named Zayn, she learns surprising things. The Spiravits grow and eat delicious food—a contrast to the chemical-tasting, lab-grown food she had back home. And in overcrowded Emas, people avoid touch, “a primary carrier of disease,” unlike the Spiravits. Wondering if they’re more humane than the residents of her violent, unfeeling city, Naya must decide which side she’s on. After some clunky early exposition, debut author Gales’ plot lifts off. The dichotomies are a bit too neat, the characters’ feelings and motivations are baldly stated, and observant readers may guess the big reveals, but this is an otherwise gripping narrative set in an inventive world.

No one notices Joe! Though his buddy Tiago—whose many talents include soccer prowess and a gift for language—is reassuring, Joe wants to start middle school “as a new person.” A YouTube video centered on an outdoor adventurer known as Wildman Mike convinces him to follow suit, and the report of a mysterious creature in nearby Bentley Woods sends the pair off on a quest for Bigfoot. When Joe actually meets Wildman Mike, his image of his hero is shattered, and various challenges briefly strain the friendship between the boys to the breaking point, necessitating a change of plans and requiring some leafy toilet paper. When they do eventually meet a real “wild man” in the woods, he is both scary and enlightening, and though Joe’s escapades don’t go as planned, he emerges feeling ready at last for middle school. Tiago, portrayed with shaded skin and black hair, and Joe, with skin and hair the color of the page, make a lively contrast: Tiago’s calm rationality plays comically against Joe’s excitability and overconfidence. The pace of this U.K. import is fast, and the action funny and suspenseful enough to keep readers turning pages (an especially hilarious scene sees the boys comparing their “pee arcs”). Deft prose and well-crafted characters are reinforced by amusing cartoon line illustrations.

Irene Sartori sells foreclosed houses—from a palazzo in smoldering Rome to an expensive property in sinking Venice—to wealthy foreigners impervious to the dystopian climate catastrophe befalling Europe. Renowned in her field, Irene gets a mysterious call beckoning her to help sell an “unsellable” property in her hometown of Milan. The enchanting yet haunting spot, known as Via Saterna, is defined by its central staircase, giving the building a circular interior that defies its ordinary square-shaped exterior: “The Via Saterna project is based on that deception, on the assurance of a certain presumption in the eye of an onlooker and the subsequent unmasking of preconception, the crumbling of logical deduction.” Most intriguing, however, is Via Saterna’s unlikely inhabitant, Lidia, whose mysterious relationship to the house quickly takes over Irene’s life. As Irene tries to piece together the intertwined history of Lidia and Via Saterna, another narrative unfolds: one that begins decades prior when, according to the narrator, Lidia had a fatal fall down the house’s stairwell. The two concentric narratives—one moving forward in time and the other moving backward—create a gripping yet dizzying story that forces the reader to question its every detail. Both narratives oscillate between themes of birth and death, balancing the puzzle of Lidia’s alleged death with Irene’s personal journey into motherhood, which emphasizes the circularity of the novel’s timeline. The plot, like the house, is dotted with circular and geometric imagery: “I had waited forty years for the circle to close,” says the house’s owner as the novel ends.

Some days Mom soars on the wind like a kite, and “no matter how hard I pull the string, I can’t bring her back down.” Other days, Mom’s boat takes on water and begins to sink. The child tries to help bail it out from her own buoyant vessel, but it’s not enough, and Mom spends those days in bed, while the child’s boat feels “cramped and heavy.” Mom takes the child to meet Grace, a therapist who tells her it’s not her responsibility to monitor her mother’s moods. On another “sinking day,” the child picks up crayons instead and draws. Later, Mom joins her and asks for a picture to hang where she can see it from her bed. The child wonders if she’ll encounter similar troubles when she’s an adult. No one knows, but nevertheless, the young protagonist feels ready to face whatever happens. Detlefsen has crafted a heartfelt meditation on the effects of mental illness on family members. Metaphors are woven in with more concrete events; both reinforce the story’s positive message. Importantly, Mom’s struggles are realistically depicted, but so is the loving parent-child relationship. Dion’s illustrations use negative space to great effect, and the gouache-style brushstrokes create a lovely, textured softness. Mother and child are tan-skinned; Grace is paler.