Helms’ compendium of high-profile miscalculations—from the Beanie Baby bubble to a sunken Soviet submarine—is dotted with wry observations and outright groaners. An offshoot of the comedian-author’s popular podcast, this book reflects his hunt for “retroactive comedy,” which left him “optimistic” in unstable times: “We’ve been here before, and we’ll get through this, too.” The same can’t be said of Acoustic Kitty. Under a secret 1960s project by that name, the CIA implanted a microphone in a cat’s ear, vainly hoping to eavesdrop on adversaries. According to one agency staffer, the multimillion-dollar project was scrapped when a car hit the first A.K. Cold War technological folly provides Helms with tons more material. A toymaker put uranium in a children’s science kit. The U.S. military inadvertently dropped a bomb on South Carolina, fortunately killing no one. “Rich weirdo” Howard Hughes helped the CIA build a huge mechanical claw in a failed effort to scoop a disabled Russian sub off the ocean floor. Expensive mishaps are firmly within Helms’ wheelhouse. His look at the “crash” of the Beanie Baby market—relative scarcity ballooned prices for the 1990s toy—features a soap-opera actor who spent $100,000 on “an ill-planned attempt to pay for” college tuition. Another recent mess-up—a failure to convert English measurement units to metric—caused NASA’s Mars Climate Orbiter to blow up. “That is so dumb,” observed one space expert. Helms’ observations are gentler. He quips that a scientist lost the Mars satellite because he’d “forgotten to upgrade his PC to Windows 98.” For its part, the Army, he kids, was probably jealous of the Air Force’s missiles: “Come onnnnnn. They get all the cool toys.” Fortunately, his factual narratives are better than his jokes.

Even though they lived in the same small town across the Hudson River from New York, Pamela Paterson, associate editor of Fiber Craft magazine, had never met well-known fiber artist Ingrid Barrick. But after the mail carrier finds Ingrid dead in her home on Serpentine Way, Ingrid’s next-door neighbor Coco Dalrymple calls Pamela’s across-the-street neighbor Bettina Fraser, a reporter for the Arborville Advocate, to express her suspicion that Ingrid was murdered. Best friends Pamela and Bettina, deciding to poke around, end up meeting many of Ingrid’s other neighbors on Serpentine Way, including beekeeper Honey Hurley, who loves Ingrid’s unkempt wild garden, and Ingrid’s other next-door neighbor, Dorcas Sprain, who hates it. During one visit, Ingrid’s daughter, Mari, gives Pamela a diary in which Ingrid chronicled the entire year of 1985 with a tiny, detailed picture for each day. Butterflies feature as prominently in these illustrations as they do in Ingrid’s wild garden. Erhart’s narrative works like a butterfly itself as it flits from subplot to subplot, culminating in a four-page extravaganza detailing every step Pamela takes in creating a strawberry banana pudding for the latest meeting of her knitting circle. Ingrid’s murder does get solved, but almost as an afterthought. The real action here is the interplay between neighbors, old friends, and new acquaintances.

Anna Byrne is fighting to make her dream come true. She’s studying for a graduate degree in literature at Queen Mary in London, a city she’s longed for since she was a child. But making ends meet is hard; Anna grew up poor, lost her mother a few years ago, and no longer speaks to her father. Without a safety net, she bartends and tutors to make rent. But when the wealthy Wilders invite her to Saint-Tropez over the December holidays to give private lessons to their teenage daughter, Pippa, Anna is introduced to a high-end way of life and a glamorous group of people her own age through Pippa’s older sister, Faye. When Anna returns to London, the Wilders’ kindness grows, and they offer her the chance to housesit for their home in Highgate. As Anna meets more people in the Wilder orbit and assumptions about who she is spiral, so do the deceptions Anna must maintain if she’s going to stay in this dream where she’s found herself. But the precarity of her situation extends beyond convincing everyone that she belongs—her student visa means she must keep her grades up so after graduation she’ll be able to get a two-year post-study extension. Populated by beautiful people with good wardrobes and big hearts, the novel is fun vicarious living for the reader, but Everett keeps the stakes in sight at all times. Readers can feel the nervous edge with which Anna moves through the world, making this a gripping read from start to finish.

Lord Jonathan Leighton, third son of the Duke of Falconridge, was on a grand tour when he and thousands of other British civilians were forced into detainee camps in France. Jon attempted escape alongside his two best friends and his mentor, Dr. Isaac Morris, but they were captured and sent to prison, where Morris died before they were released. When, after 11 years away, Jon returns to England with plans to make good on his promise to find a husband for his mentor’s daughter, Victoria, he learns that his father and two brothers are dead and he’s inherited the dukedom; Tory now works as his sister’s governess. When he (falsely) tells Tory that her father left her a sizable dowry—providing the money himself seems like the best way to help her—she surprises him by responding that she does not wish to marry but would rather open a school for women artists like herself. They come to an agreement that Tory will be presented in Society and look for a husband until the end of the Season if Jon will attend sculpting lessons, but they soon find themselves unable to resist their mutual attraction. Both are hiding secrets, though, which become more complicated to maintain as their feelings grow. This new series kickoff hits all the notes of an old-school romance, with historical richness, delicious pining, and a lack of communication and trust keeping the pair apart. Secondary characters function as plot devices, but the leads are appealing. There are short references to atrocities Jon and others faced while in France, but the story never goes too deep, maintaining a light tone instead. One mystery thread is left open for future books.

In 2017, several years after her first suicide attempt, Rebolini became so tormented by a desire to die that she checked herself into a psychiatric ward. In the years since that stay, she has performed sweeping literary, sociological, historical, and psychological research on the topic of suicidality, in an “effort to stake a claim in a conversation dominated by fear and disgust.” Rebolini has been depressed or suicidal most of her life and comes from a “family replete with mental illness”; her own extreme lows mix with those of her brother, Jordan, and other close friends to grant personal shape to a broader inquiry into not only what prompts individuals to engage the extremity of suicide, but also what constitutes recovery from a suicide attempt. Even as the author advances professionally, and achieves other lifelong dreams like marriage and motherhood, the possibility of suicide never disappears, and even the highs of career and family successes necessitate a certain contemplative navigation. She extrapolates from her own financial stress and career ambitions to critique modern stressors like expectations of productivity and barriers to mental health care, and literary figures like Sylvia Plath and David Foster Wallace offer both general lessons and notches against which to measure the severity of her own experience. Rebolini admits that suicide is “tough to talk about because so much of it doesn’t make sense” and that normalizing suicidal thoughts and acts carries a risk. She insists, however, on trying to walk this careful line, and her effort counters the shame of those trying to dodge a persistent desire to not exist, while extending compassionate understanding of and gentle guidance to all those who care for and worry about loved ones struggling with depression and suicidal thoughts.