Over many years, Archie and Caroline Norris built one of the finest avocado farms in Fallbrook, Calif., but drought and a devastating wildfire put them on the edge of bankruptcy. Their oldest son, Ted, is partially lame and mentally unstable. When their youngest son, Patrick, returns home a local hero after his deployment in Afghanistan with an acclaimed Marine battalion, Archie hopes the can-do Pat will help salvage the trees and take over the farm. Unfortunately, Pat's tour in the Sangin District has broken his optimism and hardened his heart.

Full Measure is a hard look at the effects of war, the bonds of both brothers and brothers-in-arms, the fate of the family farm in modern society, and the economic stress on small American towns after 9/11 and the Great Recession. If that sounds like a lot of weight for one novel to carry, T. Jefferson Parker's 30 years of crime writing equip him to pack the load. When it turns out that the wildfire is the result of arson, the pace quickens: Ted begins to crumble, Archie and Caroline sell their retirement funds to save the farm, and Pat must put aside his own plans for the future to save his family. A reluctant hero, uncertain what to do, he instinctively follows his Marine training "to just put one foot in front of the other and get the mission done."

Though this isn't the kind of crime novel we've come to expect from Edgar Award winner Parker (California Girl), there's plenty of crime (arson, vehicular homicide, prostitution, robbery, assault) and it's a damn fine novel. --Bruce Jacobs, founding partner, Watermark Books & Cafe, Wichita, Kan.

Life for the metal band Perkeros begins to change when Aksel's bandmates decide they want a new singer so he can focus on just playing the guitar. Hoping to dominate the Finnish metal scene, they think a shift in the lineup will bring the success they crave. Aksel, worried about losing his place as frontman, begins spending more time with Lily, the keyboardist. His wife is resentful of his relationship with the beautiful musician, so Aksel ends up moving in with the drummer (an actual brown bear who lives in Perkeros's rehearsal space).

Though Aksel's singing sounds like a "bloody, violent barfing," his guitar playing is transcendent. Kervinen, the bearded old bassist, knows that the true, raw power of music is within Aksel's grasp, but cautions him against connecting with the demonic forces his songs can unleash. Once their charming new lead singer is in place, Aksel can focus on learning to control the mystical energy of his music and rearranging his life into something more consistent with his aspirations. When a rival metal band full of actual demons threatens Lily, Aksel must choose between the wife from whom he's growing apart and the keyboard player who seems to be a kindred spirit.

Finnish artists JP Ahonen and KP Alare, who met in metal bands when they were younger, wrote and illustrated this graphic novel in English. The authenticity of their voice is impressively matched with the solid, realistic style of the artwork. The warm earth tones of every panel help ground the more fantastic passages depicting supernatural connection through the power of the vibration of music. --Rob LeFebvre, freelance writer and editor

Owner and executive chef at two high-end eateries in New York City (Recette and the Gander), Jesse Schenker has accumulated quite a few awards in the industry, landing a spot on top-young-chef lists in both Forbes and Details magazines in 2011. He won a battle on the hit TV show Iron Chef America and continues to astonish foodies and fellow chefs alike with his approach to fine dining and comfort food.

His autobiography tells the harrowing story behind the success. Schenker has been anxious and uncomfortable in his own skin since he was a young teen living with his well-off family. At first, he turned to marijuana and alcohol to help manage these feelings, but then followed the classic addict's path to rock-bottom homelessness, using cocaine, heroin and other drugs on his way down.

He gained a passion for the culinary arts from his grandmother, taking refuge in the kitchen from the stress and worry of his regular life. Each time he found some respite from the horrifying downward spiral of his addiction, he was able to secure jobs in high-end restaurants in Florida and New York, where he honed his skills and ultimately became motivated to start his own haute-cuisine empire.

From the depths of despair, Schenker rose above his dependency to become a well-respected young chef, successful business owner, doting father and loving husband. His tale of woe may not be unusual, but his eventual victory over his demons is told with authentic warmth and honesty. --Rob LeFebvre, freelance writer and editor

In his introduction to Seven Bad Ideas, Jeff Madrick (Age of Greed) says that economists could benefit from advice Henry James once gave his students: "Any point of view is interesting that is a direct impression of life. You should consider life directly and closely." Madrick's stance is that mainstream economists rely too heavily on theory that doesn't hold up in practice. To illustrate and support his position, he explains seven economic principles that have driven policy since the 1970s and offers evidence of how they have failed not only the American people but the entire world. If politicians continue to follow these damaging ideas, he warns, they could hold the United States back for decades.

Throughout the country, most colleges teach the same conservative economic notions, passing these problematic theories along to the future economists; very few include a course on the development of these theories. Madrick says, "history is rarely a cherished discipline among economists, and case studies are too often neglected." Here, he uses historical examples and data to show government's leading role in innovation, the results of deregulation, flaws in low inflation and austerity economics, and the need for community-mindedness in a successful economy.

Readers don't need to be finance specialists to understand Seven Bad Ideas. Industry jargon, when used, is clearly explained and Madrick often provides vivid analogies to make the concepts even more accessible. Dishing up more than just blunt criticism, Madrick offers alternate approaches. If there were an eighth bad idea, it would be ignoring this book. --Jen Forbus of Jen's Book Thoughts

In several of his eight previous books, Steven Johnson (Future Perfect; The Ghost Map) has applied his fertile mind to exploring various aspects of creativity and invention. His ninth, How We Got to Now, the profusely illustrated companion to an upcoming PBS series, offers a fascinating glimpse at how a handful of basic inventions--such as the measurement of time, reliable methods of sanitation, the benefits of competent refrigeration, glassmaking and the faithful reproduction of sound--have evolved, often in surprising ways.

Johnson's treatment of each of his chosen innovations follows a similar pattern: he introduces the subject with an anecdote (as with the discovery of whale oil) or a brief sketch of a character--some obscure (Ellis Chesbrough, who solved Chicago's sanitation problem in the 1850s), others well-known (Galileo, Edison)--and then traces how "an innovation, or cluster of innovations, in one field ends up triggering changes that seem to belong to a different domain altogether." Though in part this is a history of ideas, it's much more the story of the collaborative process, one that's often unintentional and diffuse.

Though Johnson describes himself as "resolutely agnostic" on whether all the changes wrought by these chains of innovation ultimately have been for the better, this is a fundamentally optimistic book, if only in the way it pays tribute to our creativity as a species. And when you put on your eyeglasses to read it with a glass of clean, icy drinking water in your hand, you'll be less likely to view these and other features of modern life as commonplace instead of the marvels they are. --Harvey Freedenberg, attorney and freelance reviewer

Transoceanic rowing is an extreme endurance sport as dangerous and demanding as climbing Mount Everest. Athletes spend months in tiny boats on the open water, battling currents and storms with sheer physical fortitude. In pairs, teams or alone, rowers test themselves against the power of the world's largest bodies of water and the strength of one another in racing competitions. London-based financial worker Adam Rackley partook in one such race across the Atlantic in 2010. Salt, Sweat, Tears, his first book, chronicles his transformative experience at sea and the fascinating history of ocean rowing.

The first transatlantic rowers were an unlikely duo with little chance of success. In 1896, two Norwegian fishermen set out from New York in a wooden fishing boat, seeking fame and fortune by making a human-powered voyage across the north Atlantic. Despite capsizing in a hurricane, they persevered for 55 days across 2,500 miles, landing on the Isles of Scilly southwest of Great Britain. Their feat remained unmatched for many decades (and their record time unbeaten for 114 years), until a wave of adventurers in the 1960s established the modern sport of ocean rowing. These early competitors were colorful characters, such as a freewheeling smuggler/shark hunter and a stern British paratrooper.

Rackley alternates between this historical narrative and his personal journey. His own ordeal is equal parts adventure and introspection, charting a satisfying arc of preparation, execution and spiritual growth through adversity. The monotony of months at sea is peppered with struggles both physical and philosophical, giving Rackley's already thrilling journey surprising depth. Salt, Sweat, Tears should find broad appeal among nonfiction readers. --Tobias Mutter, freelance reviewer

The Star Wars franchise is no small thing, with an estimated 1.3 billion tickets sold to the six theatrically released movies worldwide, $6 billion in VHS/DVD sales and $20 billion in merchandise sales. But how did it grow from the impossible dream of a young filmmaker to a multibillion-dollar franchise? Journalist Chris Taylor answers that question in How Star Wars Conquered the Universe, which covers not only the "past, present and future" of what might be the world's most ubiquitous franchise, but also how it has made an impact on--and been influenced by--its ever-growing fan base.

Taylor weaves George Lucas's biography with a history of science fiction and space fantasy in print and on screen, which he then fits into an exploration of Lucas's creative approach to each of the six films and the timely political undertones in each story. He then turns to the Expanded Universe (the body of Star Wars books, games, TV shows and other sanctioned stories) and how it interacts with Lucas's big-screen creations.

Taylor doesn's shy away from criticisms of Lucasfilm or the movies themselves, such as flaws in the plotlines or tensions on the film sets. But at its heart, How Star Wars Conquered the Universe is a love letter to a franchise that has become entrenched in contemporary culture in more ways than we could possibly count (just think how difficult it would be to find someone, anyone, who does not know the identity of Luke's father), and a testament to the power of space fantasy to capture our imaginations. --Kerry McHugh, blogger at Entomology of a Bookworm

Thomas Dooley's first book of poetry, Trespass, was one of five to be selected for publication in the National Poetry Series' open competition; Dooley's was chosen by poet Charlie Smith.

"Separation," the second of the three sections into which the book is divided, is a sequence of 15 untitled poems. Very confessional and often painful, they explore a relationship between the narrator and his male lover: "Our first time back together,/ magnets, my body/ pushed into you and your eyes/ rolled back." The love is deep, but the relationship fails, bitterly: "I keep you/ alive even though I try/ to kill you every day."

The other two sections, also apparently quite personal, address a home, parents and family. These are poems of place and memory. "Ingalls Avenue" deals with a family's house: "the house lit of blue television of snow/ the house where my father got tall/ house of sturdy pipes house a home/ for his sisters." The poem's last lines, which refer to the house, could just as easily describe this collection: "this/ is a closet for tall and small things."

Dooley also records the stuff of childhood--"Cedar Closet," "Warinanco Park," "Aunt Peggy," "Guest Room"--and the selling of a beloved family home: "I look out curtainless/ windows, in a house with rooms/ and closets that never knew to be/ unlived in." Herewith, poems written in sharp-edged, flowing, mostly unpunctuated lines demand to be reflected upon and savored. --Tom Lavoie, former publisher

Esther Ehrlich makes a debut with an impressive novel. Her evocative prose shines in the descriptions of Cape Cod's flora and fauna that make up the natural world in which her heroine is most at home.

in 1970s Cape Cod, Mass., 11-year-old narrator Naomi Orenstein is nicknamed "Chirp" for her love of nature. She lugs around a birding guide and binoculars everywhere, and is known to camp out in the brush at all hours. Encouraged by her artistic mother, a dancer, and her psychiatrist father, Chirp is happy--until her family is struck by tragedy. Chirp's mother is diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis and loses her ability to dance and to care for herself or her family. Her illness affects each family member in different ways. Chirp's father becomes distant, her mother descends into depression, and her older sister spends more and more time with friends. Chirp's secure household "nest" falls apart. Yet she finds support in the unexpected camaraderie and friendship of classmate and neighbor, Joey, who allows her to see beyond his tough-guy exterior. Chirp discovers in Joey a kindred spirit: "Someday I'm going to kiss you,' I say, before I even realize it. 'Someday I'm going to let you,' Joey says."

This complex literary saga chronicling the Orenstein family's journey through tragedy to acceptance will appeal to all age groups. Due to the mature themes of death and suicide, the novel may not be appropriate for younger readers. --Jessica Bushore, former public librarian and freelance writer

In Matt Phelan's (Bluffton) winning antidote to rainy-day doldrums, Penelope does not let the weather confine her. At her father's invitation, her imagination takes flight, leading them into a series of shared adventures.

The gray of stormy skies dominates the opening trio of images, as a girl and her bunny stare out at the relentless rain. "I'm bored," says Penelope, slouching against the doorjamb of the room where her father reads a book. "If you had your druthers, what would you do?" he asks, seated on the floor facing her. Their golden-tinged clothing and matching red hair visually seal their connection. In answer to his daughter's question, "What are druthers?" he answers, "Druthers are what you would rather do if you could do anything at all." Penelope thinks about this, then offers a world of possibilities: a trip to the zoo (Dad uses the columns in the banister like a cage and acts like a gorilla) and an outing as a cowgirl (Dad doffs a ten-gallon hat and says "Howdy-do!"). The toys on the floor double as props for each imagined scenario. As the girl's ideas become more rapid-fire and far-fetched, Dad looks worn out, and the once-orderly living room falls into chaos.

Still, her father knows he's met with success when his daughter tells him what she'd want "if I really had my druthers" (another rainy day tomorrow). Matt Phelan's message that there's no need for boredom when you can tap into your imagination is a welcome alternative to electronic placation. --Jennifer M. Brown, children's editor, Shelf Awareness