Going all in on reader appeal, Vermond profiles a representative sampling of carpenter bees, sweat bees, diggers, and other “gentle little fuzz-buckets” classed as “wild solitary bees,” which never swarm, rarely sting, and actually constitute 90% of all the bees on Earth. As she writes, they are the main pollinators for many common foodstuffs from blueberries to potatoes and tomatoes. Some collect flower oils rather than pollen, produce a cellophane-like protective coating for their nests, and exhibit other unexpected behaviors; vulture bees even eat carrion and regurgitate it later to feed their offspring. “What’s the only real difference between this stuff and the honey of a honeybee? It’s made of rotten flesh, not plants,” writes Vermond. Steube’s close-up, detailed portraits of a representative dozen or so types of wild bees hovering over a variety of flowers offer a good sense of the industrious clan’s broad range of both common and distinctive features. Bee predators and parasites, like the “adorable” bee flies that bomb nests with their own eggs, also earn nods, and closing projects and practices invite concerned young activists to “BEE part of the solution” to declining insect populations.

After the RV they’ve been using for their natural hair dye salon breaks down, friends Everly, Zoe, and Mariana start the True Colors Style Club at school. The school’s club fair provides an excellent opportunity to recruit members—but it also reminds Zoe of how much she used to enjoy playing soccer. When she tries out for and makes the team, fellow player Gabby pressures Zoe to focus on sports and “take a break from the hair stuff.” Now that Zoe has more responsibilities to juggle, she has to find a way to be there for her old friends, her new teammates, and herself. This sequel delivers with its relatability: The characters, this time with Zoe in the forefront, navigate peer pressure, over-committing, burnout, and trying to please others. Vargas clearly and empathetically explores the unexpected fallout of well-intentioned actions, realistically presenting the nuances of everyday middle school issues like navigating shifting relationships and interests. Yovaniniz’s inviting artwork adds charm through its softly curved lines and buoyant pops of color. Readers will enjoy reuniting with the appealing and diverse cast: Zoe presents white, Gabby reads Black, the first volume established Mariana as Peruvian American, and Gabby has brown skin and wavy black hair.

Their fading psychic powers signal to the three point-of-view characters, who trade off quick chapters, that the magical gateway—through which a flood of the blitz, gargoyles, and other mythological creatures has appeared—might be closing. Zora seeks to escape the ruthless militia who have captured her. Cassie resolutely sets out on the back of a (more or less) tamed blitz to rescue a young friend with extraordinary animal-communication powers who has been kidnapped. And Thomas negotiates with a demonic, corpse-eating ghoul for access to the godlike elders of the magical world. The frequent shifts in perspective and locale lead to choppy pacing rather than growing suspense, and an eventual, indecisive battle between the blitz and ghouls comes off more as a contrived climax than a necessary development. Still, there’s plenty of action, some of it involving dragon riding, and the author does tuck in a few nifty ideas, like a ghoul-given grave-sight that tells Thomas how soon people will die by how fast their faces seem to rot, and a talking mushroom that dispenses healing (but ominously infectious) spores. The human cast largely presents white.

This is an impressive exposé of an industry that aims to connect “toxic” overseas clients with lawmakers from both parties. Some readers would happily forget this book’s infamous figures, but Vogel delivers an important message: The foreign influence business is “more rapacious than ever.” Though the New York Times reporter is perhaps too permissive in letting his subjects spin suspect anecdotes, his book is full of small scoops backed by “previously unreported” memos, letters, and emails. Headed by Paul Manafort, Hunter Biden, Rudy Giuliani, and relative newcomer Robert Stryk—“rhymes with ‘trick,’” Vogel slyly writes—the cast of rogues gets help from erstwhile U.S. officials who wield their résumés for ethically hazy profit. Government documents show that authoritarian governments spent $150 million on “disclosed lobbying” in two recent years. Such efforts “can shape the treaties, tariffs, and trade policies” that affect consumer prices and jobs. Vogel’s subjects are unembarrassed, openly repping warlords, kleptocrats, and dictators. “I helped fix an election in a very important African country based upon U.S. interests,” says Stryk. Hunter Biden alluded to his father’s power when negotiating with a Chinese businessman and “work[ed] against stated U.S. foreign policy interests” in Romania. Ex-FBI boss Louis Freeh has made money authoring “nominally independent reports” boosting the reputations of foreign leaders facing charges, the author writes. This isn’t a new phenomenon. Vogel helpfully notes that Jimmy Carter’s son and brother lobbied for overseas strongmen. The industry “didn’t slow during Obama’s administration or Biden’s,” and President Trump’s attorney general Pam Bondi—herself a former lobbyist for Qatar—has axed some of the FBI’s anti–foreign influence tools. As this smart, brisk book shows, there’s “never been a moment like this” for what one lobbyist calls their “shitbag world.”

Chief Inspector Yiannis Patronas embodies the contradictions of modern Greece. He mourns his country’s culturally vibrant and racially homogeneous past while rejecting the racist, anti-immigrant sentiments of his community. When a Syrian woman is discovered with her throat slit, Patronas’ investigation penetrates a dark network of human traffickers operating around Chios’ large refugee camp. Despite pressure from his superiors, who consider the deaths of immigrants insignificant, Patronas is dogged in his pursuit of justice. His investigation leads him through the island’s stark contrasts and into increasingly dangerous territory as he uncovers the systematic exploitation of desperate refugees. The setting serves as both character and backdrop. The island’s idyllic beauty—its “miraculous light and endless sea”—is skillfully juxtaposed against the appalling poverty and degradation of the camp. Serafim’s protagonist, Patronas, emerges as a compelling figure whose internal contradictions feel authentic and whose noble but begrudging determination makes him an effective noir hero. His cynicism is balanced with a romantic side that reveals his ambivalent attitude toward Greece’s complex social and political landscape. His investigation unfolds at a brisk, engaging pace that propels readers forward, though seasoned mystery readers will likely anticipate several plot developments before they occur. (The twists and turns of the story include extremely violent and disturbing episodes, which are justified by the narrative but may upset some readers.) Supporting characters—namely, a gluttonous priest and an alcoholic but courageous officer—enrich the narrative, providing both comic relief and emotional depth. There are some structural weaknesses: The relationship between Patronas’ gritty investigative work and the more sentimental aspects of his family life creates tonal inconsistencies that occasionally dilute the story’s noirish atmosphere. Nonetheless, the book remains an engaging and thought-provoking read.