This an exploration of why the “crackin’ breakin’ shakin’ sounds,” as the Minnesota bard once termed them, are as important to his persona as the lyrics that most critics—and fans—focus on. Making well-argued points that sometimes get lost in academic prose, Rings, an associate music professor at the University of Chicago, breaks down the various components—vocals, guitar, harmonica—that enhance the picture. He quotes Richard Manuel of the Band dismissing Dylan’s guitar work—“he’s a strummer”—and notes blues purists copping an attitude about his singular harmonica styles. The author occasionally references French postmodern structuralists, though his New Criticism forebears seem equally applicable to his approach, which often includes note-by-note analyses of the changes in different performances and recordings. (He also references Quora posts and other Dylan fanboy message boards in the course of these obsessive travels.) Luckily, he includes links to the snatches of songs he writes about, which should make it easier for the lay reader to follow along at home. To demonstrate the inseparability of sound and sense, Rings quotes the original notation, “Words-Music,” that Dylan used as he typed out “A Hard Rain’s a-Gonna Fall” in a borrowed Greenwich Village apartment, refuting the urban legend that the original draft was intended to be a poem. Liner notes are not Nobel-worthy. “Dylan’s idiosyncratic sounds are not incidental to his art, a troublesome husk we can discard once we have extracted his celebrated words,” the author writes. “Rather, his art lives in the noisy encounter between words and music.”

As the story opens, famed political philosopher Karl Marx is aboard a ship on his way to the New World. He’s fleeing a crowd of creditors, and he’s hoping for more in America than just an escape: “If the reports about the gold in California are only half true,” he writes in a letter to his wife, “I am confident I will be coming home to you and the girls as a new man, able to pay our debts and erase the shame of poverty.” Marx’s landfall is less pleasant than he had hoped; he gets mocked, tossed overboard, and stuck in deep river mud, and he’s being followed by Prussian agents of King Frederick William IV who are intent upon rifling through his papers in search of his notorious Manifesto and amusingly relay the great man’s misadventures (“We have seen nearly every day,” they breathlessly report, “how Marx drinks the local rotgut whiskey to the point of extreme gesloshment”). Marx is befriended by a teenager named Sixto, another renegade running from his past, and the two commence a series of escapades against the backdrop of 1849 California and the madness of the Gold Rush. “It seemed like half the human race was hellbent on striking it rich,” thinks Sixto, not yet aware of the crushing irony of this observation in the company of the author of The Communist Manifesto. As Carlson expertly guides his narrative to the possibility of a socialist republic in Gold Rush California, he misses no opportunities for sly humor or surprisingly touching scenes between Marx and young Sixto. The book’s irresistible comedy is reinforced by all of the letters Carlson includes from the people who are disappointed in poor, harried Marx, including his partner, Engels, and his wife, Jenny (“Don’t bother to defend the indefensible,” she writes to him. “Our marriage is, as you might put it, a dialectical wreck”).

The author opens her rabble-rousing new book at full throttle, describing the current world as “a hell-hole, slaughterhouse, and never-ending Auschwitz from the perspective of nonhumans” filled with “millions of little Hitlers, wantonly splattering blood, asserting unfettered dominance, desperately clinging to the theory that ‘might makes right,’ and deluding themselves into believing humans are the anointed ones.” This is strong stuff—necessarily so, since Laws is here proposing an entirely new set of governing principles deeply rooted in the ethos of the animal rights movement and dedicated to addressing the practical issues of free will, agency, and collective good. She points out that the world’s natural resources are dwindling due to human activities such as deforestation, grazing, and urban sprawl, with the obvious observation that this is a concern to all living beings on the planet, whether they are aware of it or not. The author describes the role of animal “advocates” who act as decision-makers in the “omniocracy” she proposes, humans who “become collectors of interest, seekers, investigators, and scouts, always open to further inquiry and passionate about evidence.” Laws is tremendously passionate and convincing about all of this; she lays out a program that certainly seems workable—in the likely impossible event that the international community would ever adopt it. “All oppression is woven together like a patchwork quilt,” she writes, making an argument that will fall on deaf ears, even though she’s entirely right; the system Laws envisions would benefit humans every bit as much as it would all of humanity’s countless victims. She movingly asks her readers to take down the artificial barriers they’ve erected to this kind of thinking and allow all other living things to “join the human on the elite side of the divide”; one can only pray she changes some minds.

Keira is attending a prestigious museum summer program at Camp 43 in the small Canadian town of Westonville. Her winning project and the focus of her summer involves solving the murder of Erich Stein, a German POW from World War II who was held at the camp. When Keira meets her fellow participants, she feels like she doesn’t belong. Asha, who’s South Asian, and Ephram, who’s Black, seem to come from rich families, and Keira feels snubbed by them. Ruth, who’s white like Keira, is pushy but “magnetic,” and Keira falls in with her. When Ruth is found dead, Keira wonders if it really was an accident, as everyone believes—or whether her death might have something to do with the camp’s history. This double murder mystery takes place in timelines that unfold in Westonville during the 1940s and the present day. The narrative attempts to address the complicated question of what actually makes someone culpable as a Nazi. The original premise is marred by the large cast of characters, both past and present, many of whom are involved in their own dramatic subplots, which makes them difficult to track. While the circumstances surrounding Erich’s and Ruth’s deaths are resolved, Kiera’s own story feels unfinished.

In the realm of Telluth, a young woman named Annalyn “Anna” Hale loses all hope after the tragic death of her beloved father. With her mother forced into debt after his passing, Anna sells herself out to the government’s troops. Despite her inexperience and limited fighting ability, Anna is soon specially requested by those in charge to embark on a secret reconnaissance mission: The savage Vasbrute have recently violated the land’s peace treaty, and she—alongside her fellow soldier and newfound friend, Pyran, and a handful of other recruits—must secretly follow their trail into the forest to determine if official military intervention will be necessary. What seems like a dangerous but straightforward mission soon devolves into a tangled web of hidden political machinations, unexpected alliances, and the unveiling of a sinister plot that could change everything. The only thing that can save the group is Anna’s newfound ability to unleash the power of the Son of Death himself—a power she must learn to wield herself. Taylor has crafted a vivid and imaginative world crammed full of favorite fantasy beings, from elves, dwarves, and mages to necromancers and monstrous beasts that roam the forest: “His dark eyes flashed red in the sunlight…He crossed his arms and angrily bared his teeth, exposing pointed white teeth that fit together like a dog’s.” It is also LGBTQ+ friendly, with Taylor subtly working in a same-sex relationship and a character who is referred to with they/them pronouns with no fanfare. While the pacing can drag a bit toward the midway point of the 500-plus-page story, this is but a small blip in an otherwise mesmerizing novel that manages to balance plenty of action with deep and thoughtful character-building.