With a plethora of controversial accounts of Columbus on offer, it’s easy to feel discouraged when picking up a new title about the era in which he lived. However, in this work of historical fiction, Rowen brings a fresh, inviting viewpoint on “the last years of Columbus’s governance and the initial rule of crown-appointed successors, from 1498 to 1502.” This narrative has the same scholarly weight as his previous two works—Encounters Unforeseen: 1492 Retold and Columbus and Caonabó: 1493-1498 Retold—but can just as easily be read as a stand-alone. Immediately upon its opening, the author situated readers in the history of Columbus and the Taíno people with a sizable maps and notes section. The story is told through the perspectives of Anacaona, the perceptive, widowed sister and adviser of the Taíno leader, Behecchio, who must negotiate with Spanish colonizers; Spanish Queen Isabel of Castile; Adm. Cristóbal Colón (aka Christopher Columbus); and other leaders, enslavers, and enslaved people on both sides of the Atlantic. The book lays out the political intrigue and terrible violence that various characters encountered around the time of the brutal subjugation of Española (later known as Haiti). Throughout, quick bibliographic notations mark actual events, and the narrative frequently pauses to insert engaging historical clarifications, and an extensive source list is included at the end. Over the course of the novel, Rowen’s writing is clear and easy to read, despite the dense material, and can be enjoyed by laypeople looking for an engaging up-to-date perspective on this time period, or by scholars, who may appreciate the surface-level fictionalized narrative or a deep dive into the bibliographical contents. Despite all the exposition, the dialogue consistently flows well, which makes for an enjoyable, educational read; illustrations from multiple sources add substance and familiarity to lesser-known aspects of the past.

Although he hasn’t seen his spacefaring military father (who may or may not be dead) in years, Kael Vallen wants to follow in his footsteps—and does just that when he turns 18.As a recruit in the God Ruler’s forces, Kael dreams of sharing the transcendent light of the Starlit Covenant with what he sees as the ignorant masses. Unbeknownst to Vallen, his underage brother, Auctor, secretly enlists, as well, and follows his sibling into space. After traveling to the planet Xalthryn to “provide support” to the God Ruler’s forces already on the surface, Kael and his overzealous brother are shocked to find themselves thrown into a full-fledged war, where their forces may be the fanatical aggressors. Ostrom’s novel is powered by palpable emotional intensity, and its deep development of its central characters and unapologetically graphic depiction of war pack an undeniable punch: “Kael peeked out from behind his barrier to see trees torn and men running. A projectile caught a man in the torso, and his body seemed to explode. Legs flew one way, head and shoulders the other.” However, the book’s overall lack of description and overly simple plotting work against it. The populace on Xalthryn, for example, could’ve—and should’ve—been noticeably different than their military oppressors in terms of their physiology and culture, but, as it is, their depiction feels superficial at best. The terms “heretics” and “savages” fittingly describe the bigotry but not the people, who ultimately seem two-dimensional. Readers will also be able to predict the story’s general conclusion without much difficulty.

Jensen writes in her mother Helen’s voice as she recaps Helen’s life story, starting with her childhood in Detroit in the 1920s and ’30s, where her father, Ho Sin, and mother, Bo-Ling, both Chinese immigrants, ran a laundry that barely provided for them and their six children. In 1936, after Bo-Ling’s death, Ho Sin returned to China with the children, remarried, and then returned to America, leaving them in the Tai Ting Pong village in the care of their new stepmother, Seam. Jensen paints a detailed portrait of the traditional village lives they led, which were culturally vibrant but materially austere, a problem exacerbated by their uncle Ho Huang, who gambled away the family’s farmland and brutalized his wife. In 1940, Ho Sin brought 17-year-old Helen to the San Francisco Bay Area, where she re-Americanized herself and waitressed at swanky eateries—her recollections of Chinatown are colorful and bustling. Later chapters describe her version of the American dream, with nice suburban houses and the resources to put her daughters through college. Jensen’s absorbing narrative spotlights the clash between old country and new—Ho Sin almost disowned Helen for waiting tables, a disreputable occupation for a woman from China, he believed—and the discrimination Chinese immigrants faced in America. It’s also a story of family values under the pressure of a poverty that forces agonizing trade-offs between love and material sustenance, as when Seam stirs her stepchildren’s resentment by giving her own daughter extra rice and sausage. Jensen relates all of this in richly evocative writing that sometimes achieves a plangent poetry. (“A man’s wife was his property….After each beating, Auntie would cry great sobs. Then she would be quiet for a while, and then she would gather herself to continue the day’s business.”) The result is an engrossing read that brings to life both the strength and adaptability of its subject and the wrenching changes she endured.

This emotionally intricate novel follows three 20-something women who were strangers until an investigation revealed that all three share the same biological father: Raymond Corning of Sydney, Australia, who “runs a prestigious school and is a local leader.” Each woman lives in a different country, and none are aware of the others’ existence until the truth forces them to take a closer look at their personal histories and reevaluate what the concept of family truly means. The novel opens with Julia Corning, a passionate surfer in Sydney, whose volatile relationship with her controlling father sets the tone for several conflicts in the book. Miriam Worthington, a polished actress in London, is mourning the loss of her mother, and she becomes the reluctant catalyst for connection after she has a private investigator track down her past. Catrina McDavid is a grounded medical sales professional in Carlsbad, California, who would rather avoid the potential problems that the news of previously unknown siblings and an estranged father might bring into her life. As the sisters’ stories weave together, the novel examines themes of family dynamics, betrayal, and figuring out how to heal emotionally and spiritually after receiving life-altering news. Flatow manages to connect Julia’s, Miriam’s, and Catrina’s backstories with present-day developments, ably moving between time periods to show how their father’s absence has molded each woman’s voice; the author also effectively shows how their new familial connection brings comfort and complications into their lives. The plot tends to take melodramatic turns at various points, but the emotional stakes feel earned, and the characters’ arcs are ultimately satisfying. As the narrative jumps between continents, it focuses on what each woman is thinking and feeling as they wrestle with a messy legacy.

After 23 years of working to create a life-saving swimsuit, grieving-yet-determined inventor Claire is abruptly fired when a model is injured by her latest faulty prototype. Still mourning the death of her beloved sommelier husband, David (who died of a rare genetic disorder called Sitosterolemia), Claire now faces unemployment, financial uncertainty, and the fear of losing her home. While drowning her sorrows, she discovers a photo of a boy named Luca in her husband’s jacket pocket: The child bears a striking resemblance to him. Suspecting an affair and worried the child might have inherited David’s condition, Claire travels to a vineyard in France, hoping to find the boy’s mother, Sophie. Instead, she learns that Sophie had passed away the previous year. Although Claire learns of this tragedy through an innkeeper, the man who really explains this tragedy is Gilbert, Sophie’s steadfast and guarded brother who has been running the vineyard in her stead. Once he hears of David’s death, he softens and explains the truth to Claire. As Claire navigates this bittersweet revelation, she’s forced to confront long-buried lies she had been telling David and herself. Throughout her marriage, she resisted the idea of becoming a mother (shaped by her own neglectful mother) and doubts about her own capacity to parent. Meeting Luca—curious, bright, and full of life—challenges those fears and awakens a desire to become part of something lasting. Borchert’s novel gives us no clean-cut resolutions or instant transformations. This is a story about slow, sometimes painful personal growth, as Claire’s journey is filled with hesitation, regret, and sorrow. Gilbert is given a quiet strength that resonates with the reader, and Luca’s openness helps make the vineyard a place of potential healing and transformation for Claire. But in this poignant and redemptive personal journey, Claire must decide whether to remain an outsider or embrace the family she never expected to find.