When her daughter Noelle’s principal reports that April Soto’s brilliant 10-year old “bludgeoned” a schoolmate, comparing her to a “runaway freight train” and mandating anger management for both mother and child, fiery rage breaks through April’s years of effortful containment. That night, she runs. Though it ignited her ire to admit it, April’s violence and her need to flee were generations in the making. She “loathed having a cause and effect, being a single-source tragedy,” but the “white hot” rage of the title—her “escape hatch” and her “battery pack”—was triggered at age 5. After that, April’s memories had been rife with “skin I yanked, bone I smashed, hair I ripped in stripy bouquets.” That incandescent veil shredded her peers’ gendered expectations: “Young buls thinking they had a monopoly on rage till they saw me buy Boardwalk and put up a hotel.” Forming the bulk of the novel, April relates these events in a book-length letter from mother to daughter to be read on Noelle’s 18th birthday. By then April had been gone for eight years. When she left, April had been a 26-year-old former teen mother, a golden child turned dropout raising a gifted young girl in a house she shared with her mother and abuela. Chronicling where April went next and why, the letter is an emotionally raw explanation, not an excuse. April is ruthlessly honest, divulging family secrets and breaking a cycle of shame and sweeping things under the carpet. In blunt yet vibrantly lyrical prose, Hudes reveals the good, the bad, and the profane from April’s brutally candid perspective—including how April left Noelle without notice or plan with her abuela and great-grandmother first for 10 disastrous days and then returned briefly only to leave her for good in the care of a father and stepmother she had never known to save them both. It’s a profound journey of the soul.

Off the grid, in the jungles of Koh Samui, the author runs Happy Doggo Land, a sanctuary that delivers nutritious meals to street dogs, sterilizes as many dogs as possible, and finds homes for rehabilitated dogs. With humor, heart, and delightful photos, Harbison shares their stories. There’s Buster, a neglected pitbull described by the owner he was rescued from as “extremely aggressive”; with loving care he’s revealed to be a caring goofball who lets puppies steal food from his bowl. Abandoned puppy Buttons strolls out of the jungle and is adopted by Oasis lead singer Liam Gallagher. And there’s Tina, the golden retriever who, after being rescued from squalor, greets each day with gratitude, joy, and a tennis ball in her mouth. Inspired by her resilience, Harbison builds an animal hospital for Thailand’s sick and injured street dogs, taking readers through the ups, downs, and detours in his journey. The descriptions of animal abuse and care are candid, although readers will find themselves shedding many happy tears too. With short chapters and accessible prose, this story is well-adapted for middle-grade readers from the adult edition. Harbison sensitively expresses the life-changing experience of a dog’s friendship and the honor of witnessing a beautiful canine life, lived to the fullest.

Matthews revisits themes from his earlier biography, Bobby Kennedy: Raging Spirit (2017), condensing them into 10 brief “lessons” meant to show why RFK’s character and ideals remain relevant in a fractured America. The narrative, barely 90 pages, padded with generous white space and followed by a lengthy appendix of Kennedy’s speeches, reads like a quick-to-market companion piece rather than a substantive reassessment. Still, Matthews’ admiration is heartfelt and sincere as he recounts Kennedy’s tenure as attorney general (1961-1964), his belated awakening to civil rights following the brutal attack on his aide, John Seigenthaler, while assisting the Freedom Riders, his pivotal role in the Cuban Missile Crisis, and his tragically brief but galvanizing run for the 1968 Democratic presidential nomination. Matthews frames these episodes within a polemic against today’s political dysfunction, and his outrage is unmistakable. He castigates Donald Trump’s authoritarian impulses and the Democrats’ weakness in response, drawing explicit parallels between RFK’s moral courage and today’s lack of leadership. Yet notably, Matthews avoids any mention of Kennedy’s son, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., now a prominent and highly controversial figure in the Trump administration—a telling omission in a book otherwise steeped in present-day commentary. Matthews’ reflections are organized around thematic chapters. “Heal the Divide,” “Admit Your Mistakes,” “Uphold Human Rights,” and others use anecdotes and quotations from RFK’s contemporaries—journalists, aides, and historians—that add color but seldom much depth; admiration repeatedly eclipses analysis. Still, his closing reflection captures something of the mystique that endures: “It is fascinating to me, as an American and as a historian, how Bobby Kennedy’s memory has survived these many years. We see him as a strong leader but also as a vulnerable human being.”

“The week I shot a man clean through the head began like any other.” With that opening sentence, Stonex plunges us into the mind and world of Bridget “Birdie” Keller, a wife and mother in the rural countryside of Wiltshire, England. But Birdie’s world is not quite so tranquil: 18 years earlier, a man was incarcerated for killing Birdie’s half sister, Providence, and this is the day of his release, a day that Birdie has prepared for. Just as Birdie’s voice settles in comfortably, a second narrator emerges. James Maguire is the man convicted of killing Providence, and his voice and story prove to be just as immersive as Birdie’s. Shaped by Stonex’s skillful hands, a compelling picture emerges spanning the decades from 1947 to 1989. In a small Devon village where everyone knows everyone else’s business, the lives of several kids are ineluctably entwined. Some of their interconnections are due to Birdie’s kind, caring grandmother. Gamma raised Birdie and Providence after their mother abandoned them, and she welcomed James into her home at a critical time. Though the makeshift family initially works well, miscommunication and outright lies quickly set in. Stonex’s success doesn’t lie solely in the creation of two riveting narrators. She weaves evocative imagery throughout the text, from a piece of knitting “messy as a jellyfish” to a carpet stain shaped like the Isle of Wight and the titular Sunshine Man, a wooden scarecrow doubling as an ad for Yellowfields Seed Oil.

Charlie Wags may appear to be an average golden-brown puppy, but he has a very special trick: with a wag of his tail, he can travel the world. In a departure from previous titles, the most recent of which is The Tales of Charlie Wags: London (2025), the Christmas season inspires Charlie to visit several international locations, instead of just one. His first stop is snowy, cozy Amsterdam: “Canals, once flowing freely, are now frozen paths that gleam. / As Charlie skates upon them, he twirls through a Christmas dream!” He then dashes to Brussels to enjoy waffles and walk the Grand-Place before a ski trip in the Swiss Alps. Charlie visits Munich and then Vienna, where he enjoys hot cocoa before heading home. This sweet tale is light on action, but heavy on atmosphere. Sjöström’s watercolors transport readers to a glowing wonderland of soft whites, reds, and greens. The protagonist makes for a charming companion for young readers who like just a touch of adventure. The magic is never explained, nor does it need to be. Charlie teaches that, although travel is fulfilling, the return home can be just as wonderful.