As Jon Courtenay Grimwood, Jonathan Grimwood is a well-known author of fantasy and science fiction. Set against the backdrop of Enlightenment France, his first mainstream novel, The Last Banquet, is shocking, at times verging on disgusting, but always compelling.

We meet Grimwood's picaresque hero, Jean-Marie d'Aumout, at the age of five, sitting on a dung heap eating beetles. His parents are dead of starvation, his home ravaged. He is rescued by a duke and sent to school.

At school, his friends are Emile, Jerome and Charlot. Jean-Marie saves Charlot's sister, Virginie, from being attacked by a wolf, earning her father's gratitude; when they wed, Jean-Marie receives land, a chateau and a title.

He is now free to pursue his obsession with knowing the taste of everything and becomes an expert cook--as evidenced by his recipes for cat, wolf head, snake, flamingo tongues, tiger, mouse and dog. His is the avidity of a scientist: he is more interested in taxonomy, in classifying and finding where each animal's taste belongs, than he is in the actual eating--except for Roquefort cheese, which he adores. His gustatory pursuits are equaled by his amatory adventures; lovemaking is essentially another tasting experience.

Jean-Marie carries on a correspondence with Voltaire, entertains Ben Franklin and his Creole mistress, writes to the Marquis de Sade, fights in the Corsican War of Independence and houses a menagerie of animals.

This eccentric, strange man remains elusive--a perfect example of the anything-goes-but-superstition Age of Reason. The last scene is a stunner, foreshadowed but still a surprise. --Valerie Ryan, Cannon Beach Book Company, Ore.

On a remote beach near a quiet town in a secluded corner of the Australian coast, Ruth Field lives out retirement in splendid, sandy solitude--except for the tiger that's begun prowling around her house at night. She won't tell her new government-issued caregiver, the stoic and forceful Frida, about the situation--at least not until she's sure the woman is reliable. But with her husband dead, one son in New Zealand and the other in Hong Kong, Ruth soon relies on Frida more than anyone.

With Jamesian deftness, Fiona McFarlane's The Night Guest leads readers into a domicile where one can't quite remember whether she can trust her own memories. How did Frida come to be Ruth's caregiver? Were there ever tigers in Fiji when Ruth lived there so very long ago? Did Richard, a man she'd known as a young woman in Fiji, ever really love her?

McFarlane's grand debut examines the mystifying creep of age into one widow's life, thrilling readers with the kind of magical wonder the world offers when everything appears fresh, revivified and unexpected. Each turn of phrase is splendid, and McFarlane's sense of tension and pacing lures the reader deeper into a dubious game of trickery, where one's own mind might be the one doing the fooling. The Night Guest is as gripping as it is gorgeous. --Dave Wheeler, bookseller, The Elliott Bay Book Co., Seattle

Tom Franklin is known for his Southern gothics (Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter), Beth Ann Fennelly for her poetry (Tender Hooks). Husband and wife, they're teamed up on The Tilted World, staying close to home with an outstanding historical novel set against the disastrous Mississippi Flood of 1927.

April 1, 1927: Dixie Clay Holliver returns home to find her husband, Jesse, tied up by two Treasury Department "revenuers." Only her sharpshooting skills save him and their profitable still. He takes the men to nearby Hobnob Crossing, but she fears the worst. Meanwhile, two other agents, Ham Johnson and Ted Ingersoll, hear from Secretary of the Treasury Herbert Hoover about the missing original pair. He wants them found, quickly.

On the way, they stop to get supplies and come upon a shootout scene: three people dead, a baby crying. Ted, an orphan himself, wants to protect "junior." In Hobnob, he asks if any family is willing to take the infant. Dixie is mentioned; her beloved Jacob died a year ago.

The lives of Ted, Ham, Jesse and Dixie intersect in unexpected ways under the looming shadow of an ever-weakening levee. Franklin and Fennelly tell their poignant tale of family and love, suffering and courage with a graceful pathos, using beautiful, poetic language. --Tom Lavoie, former publisher

Prolific horror writer Ramsey Campbell (Ancient Images, The Darkest Part of the Woods et al.) crafts a suffocating atmosphere of paranoia and frustration in Ghosts Know. Graham Wilde is the outspoken host of a radio call-in show in Manchester, England, attracting racists and gullible eccentrics alike. When the station is purchased by a giant corporation, Graham faces pressure to increase ratings by cultivating even more drama. Frank Jasper, a "psychic," is scheduled to perform a live reading on Graham's show, and he's determined to expose Jasper as a charlatan on air--but their clash leaves Graham with a public relations-savvy enemy. When the family of a missing girl hires Jasper, the psychic produces a trail of circumstantial evidence implicating Graham in the girl's disappearance.

Ghosts Know revels in its uncertainty about Jasper's abilities and Graham's potential connection with the missing girl. It seems obvious at first that Graham is both innocent of all involvement and correct in his dismissal of Jasper. Campbell plants seeds of doubt, however, first in Graham's listening audience and then in the novel's readers. As the public and even his closest companions turn against Graham, Ghosts Know becomes an extraordinary example of what a skillful writer can accomplish with an unreliable narrator. Graham is either supremely unlucky or withholding a terrible secret--a mystery that will keep readers guessing right up to the eye-opening climax. --Tobias Mutter, freelance reviewer

The subtitle of Mud Season--How One Woman's Dream of Moving to Vermont, Raising Children, Chickens and Sheep and Running the Old Country Store Pretty Much Led to One Calamity After Another--gives you a fair idea of what to expect in Ellen Stimson's humorous memoir. Based on a single bucolic and romantic weekend in Vermont, Stimson and her family relocated from St. Louis to a small town in the Green Mountains. That decision turned Stimson's life upside down; her desire to run a "Quaint Country Store" became a financial and emotional nightmare. Being from "away," Stimson didn’t understand the conservative, stick-to-tradition mentality of her New England neighbors. From bringing in "foreign guys" to remodel their house--instead of hiring locals to do the work--to filling the local grocery store with gourmet food rather than what the locals wanted, which was "to buy their canned gravy, and their bread and milk and not have to fool with starstruck newbies who wanted to get their reactions to the new alpaca socks," life was one disaster after another.

With grit and a self-deprecating sense of humor, however, Stimson and her family learned to live a rural life. They raised chickens and sheep, bought produce from a local farmer, dealt with the spring mud and called 911 only four or five times. For anyone contemplating a move from the city to a small New England town, consider Mud Season a witty how-to guide on what not to do. --Lee E. Cart, freelance writer and book reviewer

When Earle Labor was a boy, he named his dog Buck, after the protagonist of Jack London's The Call of the Wild. Labor grew up to become the curator of the Jack London Museum in Louisiana and the editor of The Portable Jack London. His affectionate, meticulous and beautifully written Jack London: An American Life--the definitive biography of the iconic "American Kipling"--is based on a half-century of study.

After a hardscrabble youth, London (1876-1916) lived a hobo's life, worked on a schooner, then attended UC Berkeley briefly before heading off to the Klondike Gold Rush. These experiences laid the foundation for his fierce socialist outlook on life. He read voraciously and committed himself to writing 1,000 words a day, six days a week.

He started to get stories published in the Black Cat and Overland, then Harper's and McClure's. The novels followed; with his third, in 1903, he struck paydirt. The Call of the Wild manifested a "special genius," written in what London called "a sheet of flame."

London went on to write other fine novels, including The Sea Wolf, Martin Eden and The Iron Heel, as well as a hobo memoir, The Road, that influenced Hemingway, Steinbeck and Kerouac. He continued to travel and built his own house and boat--though he and his wife barely survived their trip through the South Pacific. A busy life of writing and public speaking took its toll. In 1914, he wrote, "I shall go down into the darkness standing by my opinions, and fighting" for them. London died two years later, a few weeks shy of his 41st birthday. --Tom Lavoie, former publisher

Although developed societies have relegated dogs to the status of pets, the instincts and loyalty of our four-footed friends have not diminished. In the 38 profiles collected in Devoted, Rebecca Ascher-Walsh delivers heartwarming evidence that despite all our advancements, we still need our dogs as much as they need us.

Accompanied by breed facts, informational sidebars and adorable portraits, each profile focuses on one incredible canine. The dogs in these true stories have watched over epileptic owners, helped nurse injured wildlife back to health, brought emotional healing to veterans and even surfed to raise money for a quadriplegic teen's physical therapy. Perhaps the most moving profiles, though, are those in which devotion runs both ways. Some of the dogs are included because of the loyalty of their owners, like the 72-year-old man who fought an alligator for the life of his terrier, the adventure junkie who had custom gear designed so his eager mixed breed could join him when diving in the ocean or from airplanes, and the firefighter who found a second calling as a clinical herbalist when traditional medicine couldn't control his rescued pit bull's cerebral palsy.

For anyone whose life has been changed by the love of a good dog, these beautiful snapshots of the human/canine partnership will confirm what you've always known: dogs and humans make each other whole. --Jaclyn Fulwood, youth services manager at Latah County Library District and blogger at Infinite Reads

There's nothing funny about cancer--or is there? When diagnosed with breast cancer, Micki Meyers decided not to let the "C" word crush her. She used her sense of humor to get through the ordeal; It's Probably Nothing is a heartwarming volume of poems that offers an unusual and witty perspective on an otherwise terrifying experience.

From the initial lump in her breast to the surgery, through chemo and its myriad of nausea-producing drugs, to trying to decide where to have the nipples installed on her silicone-filled implants, Meyers's poetry is honest, refreshing and highly accessible. There's nothing to obstruct a person's understanding of a short poem like "Falsies":

"If you thought applying eyelashes was hard
when you had real ones to guide you,
try doing it without." 

The poems confront each stage of Meyers's cancer, the emotional and physical ups and downs of her treatment plan, the reactions of her husband, friends and children ("Mummy, I love your bald head!") and reflections on what life is like now with no breasts to warm her chest. "To find joy in life when life seems so precarious a proposition is to win, no matter what," she writes. "I don't think having cancer is funny. But I do find the absurdities it throws your way something to smile at. The smile says 'I've been there, get that.' " Readers with cancer and those who have been cured or know of someone facing a similar struggle will appreciate the drollness of Meyer's poetry--she definitely "gets" the big picture. --Lee E. Cart, freelance writer and book reviewer

In their first joint effort, niece-and-aunt team Lisa Martin and Valerie Martin construct an enchanting bildungsroman with cats and follow their unintentional but adventurous travels across the sea.

The feline brothers lead different lives on Nova Scotia's coast. Cecil actively seeks travel as a ratter on schooners, living by the motto "Don't be a chicken, be a cat! Be adventurous!" Anton, however, prefers to stay in town, reticent to wander too close to the ships for fear of impressment. The town brims with tales of those who were conscripted into service and never seen again: "Anton felt a little ill thinking of how it might happen to any cat, at any time." When homebody Anton disappears one day, their mother implores Cecil to take to the seas on a rescue mission. Cecil pursues his quest, guided by a cryptic sea legend, "It is where lost things are found. You must go where the eye sees the eye." In the brothers' separate narratives, they encounter a wealth of new creatures on land and sea.

In her first children's title, Martin (Orange Prize winner for Property) continues her tradition of historic scholarship. She and her co-author effortlessly submerge readers into the setting through well-chosen dialogue and prose. The extensive ship and seafaring terminology will educate and enlighten, accompanied by Kelly Murphy's charming illustrations. --Jessica Bushore, former public librarian and freelance writer

Hades, the cheeky narrator of the Myth-O-Mania series, returns to set the record straight about the face that launched a thousand ships. Who is responsible for dividing the Greeks, the Trojans and the gods themselves? Not Helen of Troy, but rather "a four-letter word that starts with Z and ends with S," hints the god of the Underworld, back for his first original tale in a decade.

Former teacher McMullan (I Stink!) provides plenty of context for the fun and games that reign among the immortals. Maps, family lineage and a glossary guide kids through this retelling of Zeus dallying with Leda as a swan, resulting in Helen as progeny. The author handles the situation with discretion, setting the scene ("I'm going to marry her," Zeus proclaims), then pointing out the resemblance between Leda's offspring and Zeus. McMullan skillfully weaves in other tales--the courtship of Odysseus and Penelope, the tale of the golden apple and the legend of Achilles' heel--as Hades cautions, "Stick with me here. You'll see.... it all leads back to Helen." (As well as, of course, that "four-letter word that starts with Z....") And indeed it does, just as promised.

All the while, Hades interjects his irreverent asides (he's named his steeds Harley and Davidson, and admits "Even down in the Underworld, I couldn't escape the fighting"). Some of the best moments transpire between Hades and his bride, Persephone. --Jennifer M. Brown, children's editor, Shelf Awareness