John Irving's 13th novel, In One Person, has an epigraph from Shakespeare's Richard II: "Thus play I in one person many people,/ And none contented." And throughout the novel, Shakespeare--plays, characters, lines--abounds. Irving also returns to a first-person narrator for the first time since A Prayer for Owen Meany; this time it's Billy, a young boy, then man, in search of who and what, sexually, he is.

It's the 1950s. We meet young Billy Francis Dean, Jr., from a small town in Vermont, lusting after Miss Frost, the town's librarian, and her girlish breasts. She gives him Great Expectations to read and then re-read because Billy, even from this early age, wants to be a writer, one who likes to digress, something he does often in his own books and in the one we are reading. These opening pages are lovely. Like Stephen King, Irving does small-town New England really well.

Billy goes on to attend Favorite River Academy, where his stepdad teaches drama. There he has a new crush, on a "striking-looking boy" who's on the wrestling team. Billy welcomes his homosexual tendencies, just as he welcomes his sexual friendship with Elaine Hadley. Back and forth go Billy's memories: a junior year in Germany and his relationship with Donna, a transsexual, and the poet Larry.

There's humor here, along with sadness and tragedy, especially in Billy's recounting of his New York City years and the HIV epidemic. There's also love, understanding--as well as misunderstanding--and even contentment, as we last hear from Billy in old age, teaching drama at his beloved Favorite River Academy. Billy has come home and Irving has, too. --Tom Lavoie, former publisher

With The Master's Muse, Varley O'Connor has crafted a compelling novel based on the life of prima ballerina Tanaquil Le Clerq--a complicated love story set amid the world of international ballet.

In 1956, "Tanny" Le Clerq was on the way to becoming one of the most famous ballerinas of all time. Married to George Balanchine, the genius choreographer who revitalized American ballet, Tanny danced across Europe that summer to rave reviews--until she collapsed in Copenhagen, and never walked again.

Polio transformed both Tanny's life and her already difficult marriage. Only 26 when the disease struck, she was Balanchine's fifth wife, more than 20 years younger than he. Tanny and Balanchine were passionate about each other, but they each had tempers to match their artistic gifts.

O'Connor follows the remaining years of their marriage, through the high points--such as when Balanchine designs physical therapy regimens for Tanny--and the low--including his affairs with ever younger ballerinas. O'Connor also depicts Tanny's desperate struggle to adapt to life in a wheelchair while still surrounded by the culture of dancing that she loves.

Through Tanny and Balanchine's story, O'Connor gives the inside scoop on more than 30 years of New York City Ballet history, and offers a true-to-life glimpse of a world full of music, love and art. Like an elegant ballet, The Master's Muse takes the reader on an artistic journey of love--an undeniably beautiful journey, despite its bittersweet ending. --Jessica Howard, blogger at Quirky Bookworm

Christopher Buckley (Thank You for Smoking) holds the franchise on political satire. In They Eat Puppies, Don't They?, he takes on U.S.-Chinese relations, and leaves no wonton untouched.

Washington lobbyist "Bird" McIntyre joins forces with Angel Templeton, a sexy, in-your-face neocon, to work on gaining congressional approval for a top-secret weapons system that will cost bazillions of dollars. The idea is to strike fear in the American public so they will importune their congressmen into voting "yes" on the system.

Bird and Angel are having trouble finding a legitimate reason to slander China at the moment--when a boon comes their way in the person of the Dalai Lama, who fell ill while visiting the Pope. Bird proposes that they start a rumor that Beijing tried to kill the Dalai Lama on his way into a meeting in Rome. When asked about evidence, Bird replied: "Who needs evidence when you've got the Internet?" They feed the Washington media the sound bite, and the con is on.

Meanwhile, peaceful and harmonious Chinese President Fa has problems of his own and, in a perfect subplot, Bird's equestrienne wife, Myndi, has just earned a place on the Olympics team and the competition will take place in--wait for it--China. Competing agendas, persiflage, Angel and Bird circling each other and the whole Washington gambit combine to create yet another concoction that makes the reader laugh out loud--often. --Valerie Ryan, Cannon Beach Book Company, Ore.

The ivy and iron, the antique traditions, those gloomy, insular New England towns--there's something a little sinister about literary prep schools, especially one with a shady past and a secret society that terrorizes the school's elite. But while The Year of the Gadfly has enough drama and betrayal to rival The Secret History, Jennifer Miller's debut novel is more heartfelt than troubling and more funny than scary.

Fourteen-year-old Iris Dupont is still smarting from the suicide of her best friend when she starts ninth grade at Mariana Academy, a tony prep school in Nye, Mass. Plucky, precocious--and certain to resent that description--Iris is an aspiring journalist who regularly confers with the chain-smoking apparition of Edward R. Murrow. "I'd imagine Murrow in the room with me, the two of us speaking frankly about school, or the despicable state of the broadcast media," Iris explains. But not even Murrow's smoky guidance can prepare Iris for Prisom's Party, an underground society bent on vilifying anyone who violates Mariana's storied Honor Code. While the Party's intentions appear just, its destructive schemes and humiliating spectacles go too far--and Iris's sleuthing leads her into a sad, twisted story involving Mariana's unspoken history, her favorite teacher, Mr. Kaplan, and Lily, the mysterious albino girl who once lived in Iris's bedroom.

With wry sensitivity and a keen understanding of the deadly social landmines any high school student has to navigate (even without the intrigue), Miller has created a laudable heroine in Iris--and a poignant story about friendship and loss. --Hannah Calkins, blogger at Unpunished Vice

"If you've never seen a cricket match," suggests Wijidasa ("Wije") Gamini Karunasena, "if you have and it has made you snore; if you can't understand why anyone would watch, let alone obsess over this dull game, then this is the book for you." After a lifetime of hard drinking, the aging Sri Lankan sportswriter wants to spend his last days paying tribute to his nation's greatest cricket players, in particular Pradeep Mathew, a fictional athlete whose prowess is comparable to Bernard Malamud's Roy Hobbs or George Plimpton's Sidd Finch--even though he remains a near-total cipher for the majority of Shehan Karunatilaka's debut novel.

The problem is almost nobody in Sri Lanka remembers Mathew, or wants to remember him. There are hints and allegations that he ran afoul of the nation's cricket authorities before fading into obscurity, but the story Wije eventually cobbles together is darker still.

There's a loopy, discursive quality to The Legend of Pradeep Mathew; it's not unusual for Wije to lead with the climactic moment of a story, then circle back several times, adding outlandish details with each go-around. Don't worry if the sports terminology goes over your head; the core of the novel is in Wije's obstinate--at times petulant--reluctance to let go of the emotional crutches that sustain his identity, even as he acknowledges the damage they've caused throughout his life.

Karunatilaka adds one last metafictional spin to the closing chapters, and though it breaks the connection readers will have made with Wije's voice, you'll be glad you got to tag along on Wije's quixotic search for a too-good-to-be-true sports legend. --Ron Hogan, founder of Beatrice.com

Walter Mosley is best known as a mystery writer, but he's made a go at science fiction on several occasions. With The Gift of Fire and On the Head of a Pin, Mosley continues to use SF as a platform for intense speculation about human nature and our capacity for transformative personal development.

The Gift of Fire tells the story of Prometheus's reappearance in contemporary Los Angeles, where the deity is immediately attacked by police officers and thrown into jail. Upon release, he makes his way through South Central, passing his divine spark on to a paralyzed adolescent who--now fully healed--begins to preach a gospel of spiritual revolution. In On the Head of a Pin, a videographer for a high-tech startup recounts the company's efforts to create a refined form of digital animation indistinguishable from real life that winds up tapping into the universe's memories--and causing him to form a bond with a post-human woman from the future.

Some readers may not be completely sold by Mosley's effort to infuse literary style into a "fiction of ideas," although the awkwardness of several bits of dialogue in The Gift of Fire is obviously deliberate, achieving a semi-archaic effect that works well with the mythological themes--and, by the end, it's equally clear the novella is intended more as parable than as imitation of life. In that sense, On the Head of a Pin is more "realistic," perhaps due to first-person narration that also gives the story a more psychological tone and a more subtle resolution. For those who know the genre well, Mosley's stories successfully re-create the spirit of 1960s and '70s science fiction and its willingness to tackle big questions without falling back on easy answers. --Ron Hogan, founder of Beatrice.com

Born into a family of Scots who had lived in Africa for several generations, Dame Daphne Sheldrick seems to have been perfectly suited to her Kenyan environment, even from an early age. Growing up during "days of discovery," she quickly became adept at observing the habits and patterns of wildlife; her childhood friends included an impala, a waterbuck, a zebra and a dwarf mongoose named Ricky-Ticky-Tavey. It was this unusual upbringing, combined with Sheldrick's inherent empathy for other living creatures, which fostered her lifelong interest in the welfare of animals.

From these youthful memories, Love, Life, and Elephants continues through Sheldrick's first marriage to her teenage sweetheart, their work in creating a new national park in Tsavo, and the birth of a daughter. It is in Tsavo that Sheldrick's marriage eventually dissolves, and she meets the love of her life, David Sheldrick, warden of Tsavo National Park. With David, Sheldrick again becomes a wife and has another child. Under his guidance, she also begins to perfect a method of hand-rearing baby animals, most often elephants. Tragically, David's life is ended early by a heart attack, but Sheldrick continues his work through the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust and the Orphans' Nursery in Nairobi National Park.

Sheldrick's connection with the orphaned elephants is, at times, quite astounding, and her forgiveness for their role in a debilitating accident is admirable. Readers who enjoy such books as Isak Dinesen's Out of Africa or Elspeth Huxley's Flame Trees of Thika will want to experience this remarkable African story. --Roni K. Devlin, owner of Literary Life Bookstore & More

Dana Gioia excels at writing poetry that is accessible to general readers, in the colloquial tradition of Robert Frost, Richard Wilbur and Billy Collins. Pity the Beautiful, coming 10 years after the Poet's Prize-winning collection The Gods of Winter, speaks in a relevant voice of today within the formal verse structures of the past.

Gioia's poems tell of simple emotions and memories in the context of metaphorical observations. They are not ponderous reflections, but rather notes of slightly amused perplexity. The opening stanza of "The Road" is a good example:

He sometimes felt that he had missed his life
By being far too busy looking for it.
Searching in the distance, he often turned to find
That he had passed some milestone unaware,
And someone else was walking next to him,
First friends, then lovers, now children and a wife.
They were good company--generous, kind,
But equally bewildered to be there.

Gioia is best when he touches lightly on the heavy blows that life often strikes. "Special Treatments Ward" tells of a children's hospital wing

...where the children come to die,
hidden on the hospital's highest floor....
No one chooses to be here. We play the parts
that we are given--horrible as they are.
We try to play them well, whatever that means.

Arranged in five sections, the poems in Pity the Beautiful cover a broad sweep of subjects and forms. They include a few translations, four songs from a libretto and a longer poem, "The Haunted," of a love affair thwarted by ghosts.

To his credit, Gioia makes no attempt to plumb the depths of our modern angst or push the boundaries of contemporary verse. Instead, he lets his far-reaching interests pull us into poems of simple grace, gentle irony and comfortable form. --Bruce Jacobs, founding partner, Watermark Books & Cafe, Wichita, Kan.

An outstanding sophomore novel from author Jessi Kirby (Moonglass), In Honor combines a road trip with a personal journey.

A letter that Honor's brother, Finn, sent from overseas is long delayed, arriving just days after the military announces his death. Honor opens it hours after his funeral to find tickets to a concert, and a request from Finn to attend. Swallowed by grief, Honor immediately decides to fulfill his wish, even though the concert is only days away and she should be arriving at college instead. Finn's estranged best friend, Rusty, appears just as Honor is leaving, and after a brief conflict, they find themselves on their way to California together. "Yep. Finn wouldn'ta wanted you going off by yourself like this," Rusty says.

Kirby does an excellent job of developing Rusty and Honor, through both personal reflection and the interactions they have with each other. Their individual connections to Finn intertwine as they find a way to deal with their grief. References to Honor's home state invoke a Texas Forever feeling, and Rusty's attitude will charm most readers. What sets this book apart from other road trip stories are the descriptions Kirby uses in each of the places they visit: "Stars twinkled in the paling sky, sending light from the past all the way down to us." Honor paints a vivid picture in each scene, making it easy for readers to immerse themselves and connect with her as she tries to deal with her brother's death. --Shanyn Day, blogger at Chick Loves Lit

This whimsical novel is the first solo young adult project for Alethea Kontis, a student of Orson Scott Card. But don't go into it expecting Ender's Game.

Enchanted follows the story of Sunday, the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter (all named for days of the week), and a frog prince named Rumbold. Weaving folklore and fantasy together with her own original ideas, Kontis (the AlphaOops series) builds a fairytale world populated by familiar characters. The story reads like a Who's Who of once upon a time mashups, with playful references to Jack and the Beanstalk, the Princess and the Pea, Cinderella and many others.

At times, the narrative gets a bit bogged down by the enormous cast of characters. And while the prince was charming as a frog, his personality changes dramatically after he becomes human. The story takes a decidedly sinister turn once Rumbold is free of his enchantment. So although much of the novel would entertain younger readers, the dark magic near the end ages it up.

With a nod to current trends in YA literature, the beautiful cover will certainly attract many readers, and fans of fairy tale retellings will no doubt be enchanted by this dark fantasy. --Sherrie Petersen, children's book reviewer and blogger