Jones is an officer in the Canadian Navy deployed to Kandahar, Afghanistan, as one of the small number of Canadians there taking part in the American-led Operation Enduring Freedom. He is a drone operator, charged with eliminating enemy combatants from afar, guided less by moral restraint than a diligent regard for the rules of engagement. His superior Bell is less cautious and pines to let the bombs fly, almost killing a young boy they nickname Sahar (they nickname most of their targets) for the crime of suspiciously filling a sack with potatoes. Everywhere, Jones sees the ravages of war and violence (he witnesses a woman savagely stoned for her alleged adultery) and wrestles with the toll all of this exacts on his soul. (“I have forgotten how to human.”) He becomes the caretaker of a bizarre man he meets on base—he is not a soldier and resembles some sort of “tremendous gorilla-bear.” Jones nicknames him Bigfoot, though his actual name is Noah. Keeping Noah safe and hidden from the authorities is foolishly imprudent, but it’s an act of moral compassion that feels redemptive to Jones. The author artfully juxtaposes the ugly and the beautiful in war—his protagonist falls in love with Jen, his major, but military rules prevent him from even hugging her; real romance is replaced by discreet “chess games.” Meanwhile, a rapist targets the men on base, tasing the soldiers into submission before he violates them. The author’s prose sometimes falters, trying too hard for some creative amalgam of clever and moving—when Jones encounters a terrible scene, he thinks to himself, “No—not like this. No. No NO NO NO. Rewind, damnit—rewind!” However, the strength of the novel is its unflinching look at the absurdity of modern war, which reduces the destruction of human beings to a video game; the chilling senselessness of this is intelligently captured. This is a disturbing work of fiction, but a worthwhile one.

At the turn of the 21st century, three United States Navy nuclear submarines vanished, and only two were recovered by Naval Intelligence. The third, a massive Ohio-class sub, finally turned up in Barranquilla, Colombia, stashed inside a grotto in the Magdalena River. It appeared that some Navy admirals, possibly with Russian collusion, planned to sell the subs to cartels, facilitating the movement of tons of illegal drugs. CI5 agent Pat Coonan (also known as Agent Delta) is given orders to “discreetly eliminate” the traitors. His boss, Col. Marlon Berkowitz, presents the job as simple: Dispense with the treasonous Admiral Fullerton, as well as the Russian mercenaries guarding the sub. But Pat’s old nemesis is involved, the guards might be undercover agents of the Russian intelligence agency GRU, and even Putin himself may be embroiled. Pat’s further distracted by his new partner; Karina Reyes, head of the Triple K group, is contracted to send a message of deterrence by blowing up the sub, but Pat can’t keep his eyes off of her legs. Once onboard, a shocking discovery is made—the sub is loaded with ICBMs. Ortiz’s book works best in the context of its series; events from other installments are alluded to but not explained, such as a “waggish incident between the blonde-haired Jessica and the Triple K group’s gay operator back in Aruba.” (Asterisks also repeatedly direct readers to Ortiz’ different works.) This story doesn’t have a high quotient of suspense or action as Pat encounters surprisingly few obstacles. Ruthless killer Nina Tetriak merely hands him a note, and only a U.S. government agent points a gun at Pat—in error. Pat’s narrative musings are the main focus, so readers’ engagement with his persona (jaded, computer-illiterate, “phallocratic”) will likely determine their overall enjoyment. Ortiz does provide intriguing information on many subjects, including the “one hundred and seventy meters long by thirteen meters wide” Ohio-class submarines, pencil detonators “color-coded to indicate their delay time,” and even algae (“more than thirty thousand known species”).

In 1978, 16-year-olds Elliana (Ellie), Bellamona (Mona) and Gabriella (Gabby) Banfear are the world’s only documented conjoined triplets. Their mother abandoned them as babies, so they live with their father Benson—a polyglot who works long hours as a translator—and their Great Pyrenees dog BeeGee. The triplets are talented seamstresses, singers, and instrumentalists, and achieve top grades at Hollywood High. They are relentlessly bullied, however, by classmate Twyla-Violet Higgins, who achieved brief fame as an 8-year-old actor and now fronts a band called Empress that has made it to the finals of the teen edition of the TV talent show Your Shooting Star. While Benson often addresses his daughters by the collective hypocorism “Papilio” (Latin for butterfly), Twyla-Violet has popularized the pejorative “Caterpillar,” inspired by the shuffling movement the sisters make to pass through doorways. Her enmity appears relentless…and only goes up a notch when one of Empress’ rivals, the Bee Gees tribute band Boogie Children, has to replace its lead singer and invites Papilio to join them for the finals. The Banfear triplets are huge Bee Gees fans, and they are thrilled to make friends with 15-year-old lead guitarist Michael Thompson and his younger brothers Robbie, Jason, and Brian. They also see appearing on Your Shooting Star as a chance to track down their absent mother, either through a direct appeal on national television or, if by some miracle they win the contest, by using their share of the prize money to hire a private investigator. Only three things stand in their way: their own self-doubt, Twyla-Violet (backed by her overbearing father/manager Edward), and the fact that Benson won’t let them perform on the show. Ellie forges Benson’s signature; Gabby impersonates him on the phone; and the sisters even stand up to Twyla-Violet. But will their deceptions come back to haunt them?

Workman writes in the third person, narrating mostly from Papilio’s perspective with straightforward, effective prose. The writing’s only real flaw is a weakness for stilted expository monologues: “I’m struggling to meet this tough deadline, but I’m enjoying translating this Spanish novel into English. It’s an exciting spy story set during the Spanish-American War but a very long book that also needs editing. It’s a tough dual job.” Off-key verbalizations aside, the triplets emerge as an inspiring collective protagonist, distinct in their individual personalities but united in shared virtues such as positivity, thoughtfulness, determination, compassion, and willingness to forgive. To the author’s credit, the sisters also exhibit less salubrious tendencies (mendacity, rash imprudence) and are called out for these, such as when Michael berates Mona for Papilio involving Twyla-Violet’s mother and little sister in their retaliation scheme. The result is a nuance of characterization that extends to Benson, whose love for his children has led him to lie to them and act most reprehensibly. The realistic balancing of character traits elevates the triplets’ tale from a simple feel-good triumph to something more long-lasting and affecting. While Twyla-Violet’s bullying has the potential to be triggering, the plot is more than just a repudiation. The story is well paced and, though it follows a predictable line, unfolds with enough surprises to keep YA readers on their toes and rooting for a favorable outcome.

Hijabs are as different as the women who wear them, and the young people in this story praise their mothers for what makes them remarkable. As one mama prepares a nourishing meal, her child notes that her headscarf is a symbol of her devotion and care for her family. Another mother’s hijab represents her deep faith in Islam. The women differ in skin tone, cultural setting, and clothing style and wear various types of hijab: a turban that fits closely like a cap, a niqab that reveals only the eyes, a loosely wrapped shayla, and a full-body burqa. The story features figurative language and rhymes that generally flow well. While some metaphors are more literal and easy to follow (“a sleek and glassy onyx, / a gorgeous gleaming gem” to describe an all-black hijab look), others are more abstract and difficult to connect to the Muslim women being celebrated (“a juicy tasty mango, / growing ripe and plump” appears to be an awkward nod to a mother’s pregnancy). Abu’s simple illustrations feature bold colors and striking patterns in the background. A downloadable educator’s guide is available to support young learners.

“We had never seen such a strange being.” A creature who’s 90% neck attached to a spherelike orange body tells the story of Astro—an orange-suited astronaut whose face is never visible—who lands one day on the narrator’s planet. Illustrations that feel like a mashup of Peter Max’s psychedelic work and the cacophony of Bruegel (though quite a bit sweeter) depict spectacular landscapes and denizens, alien and wonderful. The narrator is eager to play with Astro, and the two strike up a deep friendship. After musing that “you should make the most of the good times. Because they don’t always last,” the narrator dies one day in an accident, leaving Astro bewildered and bereft. The creature continues to narrate as the spaceman ponders beginnings and endings and, in an act of acceptance, finally leaves the planet. A postscript shows Astro and the narrator together, Astro finding a tiny object that he holds in gloved hands that seem to contain universes. This translated tale perfectly taps into feelings of gentle wonder. “Maybe beings and worlds disappear but questions stay floating forever.” The results are not merely otherworldly—they will also challenge children’s very perceptions of what it means to be alive. Quotes from writers such as J.M. Barrie and Carl Sagan close out the work.