After Crawford Cope hits his father with a baseball bat, he’s sentenced to 300 hours of community service—working to revamp a baseball diamond that will be named Cope Field after his famous pops, a hometown hero who played in the major leagues. Craw, who’s white, is paired with Hannah Flores, a brown-skinned, bisexual punk rocker with bright blue, pink-tipped hair. They go to the same school, but he doesn’t know her; Craw’s reputation as the son of a wealthy local legend precedes him. Hannah has no interest in baseball, and Craw is initially annoyed by her constant talking, but as they learn more about each other and their respective difficult home lives, Craw falls for Hannah. His understandable anger toward his mercurial father fills him with shame, even when it’s provoked by his protective feelings toward his funny, precocious younger brother, Sutton, who doesn’t even remember their momma. Though he’s also tempted to play the hero for Hannah, who faces bullying at school and at home, Craw’s developing understanding that his well-intentioned barging in isn’t helping her, plus his willingness to listen to what she really wants from him, are refreshing. This heartbreaking, finely drawn story will keep readers engaged.

This timely book delves into a host of issues connected to nuclear weapons, with conclusions that are, to say the least, disturbing. Panda, who has extensive experience as a writer and government adviser specializing in military geopolitics, brings a great deal of research material to the task, combining historical information with novel insights. He notes that strategic deterrence kept the peace during the Cold War between the U.S. and the Soviet Union, backed up with an underpinning structure of treaties and agreements. Most of these have become redundant, while China has vastly increased its nuclear arsenal. Panda believes that this could push the U.S. into upgrading its own stockpile, sparking a three-cornered arms race. He also devotes important attention to the potential for conflict between India and Pakistan, which is often overlooked in the West. Then there are wild cards, notably Iran and North Korea. They show scant regard for international nonproliferation rules and are pouring resources into nukes and missiles to carry them. Along the way, Panda examines new delivery systems such as hypersonic glide vehicles and long-range cruise missiles, which add another layer of volatility. Several countries have lower-yield nuclear weapons for battlefield operations, but their use could easily escalate into strategic strikes. Panda is concerned that deterrence might be no longer sufficient to ensure peace, although he does not see any real alternatives. He suggests that the big powers could establish avenues to defuse incidents that might spin out of control, but these would need to be overseen outside the public spotlight. Most of all, some fresh thinking and awareness among policymakers are required. Panda’s book is a good place to start.

As soon as Daniel Brooker turns 18 years old, he heads to the Department of Designated Dates to find out when he will die of natural causes; in this peculiar alternate reality provocatively conjured by the author, anyone can procure this information (a technological instrument called a “gizmotron” makes this possible) if they so choose. To his astonishment and despair, Daniel finds out that he will die when he is only 27 years old and commences a life of endless dissipation—a “slow descent into fuckuppery.” Like most “shorters,” he forms friends with his own kind: Naomi is a hippie doomed to die at 25 and Brian is a drug dealer whose life will end at 34. Daniel becomes, in the opinion of his father, a “dumbass with no direction,” an addict lost in the haze of drug abuse, though still heroically clinging to some semblance of moral dignity. The author perspicaciously imagines the kind of world that would arise from this grim knowledge, one split between Gnostics—those who believe one should choose not to know, to avoid the terrible psychic cost of such information—and Watersons, religious zealots who believe an early death is a sure sign of moral turpitude and an expression of God’s disfavor. Daniel descends from a family of Gnostics but feels compelled to know his lifespan nevertheless, and that information proves crushing to him, an invitation to see his existence as essentially pointless (a moral predicament intelligently conveyed by Fletcher).  

At the heart of this fascinating novel is the moral meaning of one’s mortality. Everyone in this strange world will perish, but those who expect long lives can postpone a wrenching reflection on their finitude. Shorters like Daniel are not afforded such luxury; unable to cope at so young an age with such weighty issues, he devotes himself to chasing oblivion. The allure of knowing, the author makes clear, is overwhelming, but the consequences can be existentially devastating. Fletcher poignantly captures Daniel’s unenviable plight; here, he succumbs to sadness when Naomi dies on schedule: “I felt so insignificant. I am so tired of being alive. The fucking rat race. We’re just a bunch of worthless fucks scraping for meaning in a cold remorseless world. Holding onto each other as we disparate. Searching for meaning where there is none.” This literarily plain, even cliched writing style is maintained throughout the entire novel—the absence of any poetic spark is the principal failing of this otherwise stirring work. The tale is told from Daniel’s perspective, in the first person, and so this ends up working—he sounds just like any wounded young man would, if more intelligent than most. In place of stylized prose, a verisimilitude is impressively achieved. A thoughtful rumination on human mortality is achieved as well, one that cannily investigates the wages of too much knowledge.

From the New Yorker’s iconic headline font to what certainly seem to be the real processes of the magazine’s operation, Kelley’s mostly charming debut is steeped in the lore of his former employer. As it opens, the unnamed narrator has received an assignment to fact-check a story known as “Mandeville/Green”—the name of the article’s author plus a one-word “slug” to indicate the topic, in this case the Union Square Greenmarket in Manhattan: “That’s Greenmarket, one word, capitalized. It’s a trade name used by the Council on the Environment of New York City, a nonprofit that founded the city’s farmers markets in 1976. That’s the kind of thing I check first.” Kelley gets often hilarious mileage out of this type of minutiae; in one memorable scene, the entire office falls silent to listen to a very senior member of the department fact-check a piece on 50 Cent. “‘F-u-c-k-a?’ we heard him say. ‘Is that correct? Motherfucka?’ He pronounced the end ‘aah’ like a child is supposed to when the doctor is looking down his throat.” Our hero gets in over his head while trying to verify a reference to “nefarious practices” at the farmer’s market, during which he meets an intriguing tomato grower named Sylvia, who becomes an obscure object of desire in and of herself. Most of this novel is wonderful, but there are a few serious caveats. One, there’s an early giveaway of the outcome of one of the narrator’s central quests, which dilutes its interest for the reader. Two, there is a disgusting and totally uncalled-for scene of gore, sure to turn off readers of the vegetarian persuasion. Somehow, after that nightmarish interlude, nothing seems as funny, and the close is a bit of a fizzle.

In 1944, fierce aerial fighting rages over London as the bombs and rockets continue killing and maiming English civilians. A 13-year-old “East End bloke” navigates the rubble and looks for things to steal. He always wishes for inclement weather so the Jerries won’t bomb them. In the few pieces of clothing he owns, his gran has sewn a label: “The Honorable Charles Elias Matters,” with his address. His parents and grandfather have been killed, and Gran thinks Charlie is going to school every day. Instead, he’s decided to get his education on the street. The well-to-do 15-year-old Molly Wakefield returns from the safety of the countryside to her parents’ London house, but the parents are nowhere to be found, and she meets Charlie as he hides in her yard. Ignatius Oliver runs The Book Keep in Covent Garden, a shop started by his late wife, Imogen. Charlie sneaks in and nicks some money and a book filled with blank pages, imagining he can sell it for the paper, but when he realizes that Ignatius knows where he lives, he tries to return everything. Ignatius catches him, but lets him keep the book, which plays a fateful role when it changes hands again. Before long the three become friends, all sharing common bonds of danger, humanity, and heartbreaking loss. All have their complex stories: Despite her youth, Molly wants to treat the wounded, and she’s good at it; Ignatius is a part-time air warden who’s burdened by a dark secret about himself; and Charlie is party to a foot chase in which one of his mates and a police officer are accidentally killed. Charlie frets that he might hang. Meanwhile, the buzz of the V-1 rocket gives way to the silence of the V-2, and life or death are the devil’s toss of a coin. Baldacci weaves the trio’s lives together seamlessly, even though each comes from a different stratum of society.