I Wished is a tightly wound yet nakedly inquisitive novel about a man seeking to understand how he came to understand his past in a way that has tended to motivate him his entire life. Dennis Cooper (The Marbled Swarm) is the author of numerous unsettling transgressive novels, including a series of five interconnected books about a man named George Miles. Here, he steps back to formulate a brooding metafictional analysis of how George became the fulcrum for Dennis's early work.

The question that hangs over I Wished is whether George in fact loved Dennis the way he remembers, or if it was all an elaborate wish, the type Dennis began obsessively composing after an ax blade split his skull at age 10. "If George didn't love Dennis, and there's no evidence he did, then I guess I never loved him. I loved something else that this is torn from." Cooper bends boundaries of fiction and nonfiction throughout, but ultimately gives this work firm footing in realms of fiction, calling upon Santa Claus to write a couple of pointed e-mails and conjuring a talking crater to interview George.

Bizarre as it sounds, I Wished is a poignant and haunting elegy to a figure that has loomed large in Cooper's imagination since dying by suicide at age 30. The phantasmagorical qualities make every page a thrilling revelation, even for readers unfamiliar with the George Miles cycle of books. It is a beautiful, maddening riddle about love and what is set adrift in its wake. --Dave Wheeler, associate editor, Shelf Awareness

In Brom's riveting gothic fantasy Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery, set in 1666, a puritanical community in Sutton Village, Conn., accuses a young bride of witchcraft and tries to strip away her land following the death of her husband.

Before Edward and Abitha Williams make the final crop payment on their farm to Wallace, Edward's older brother, Wallace tells the couple he has transferred ownership of the farm to rich land baron Lord Mansfield to cover a bad investment. But the village council decides Edward and Abitha can keep their original arrangement as long as the couple makes the final payment on time to Wallace. Then Edward dies in a mysterious accident, and 19-year-old Abitha must harvest an entire crop by herself or lose everything. No one thinks Abitha can succeed, and when she does, she's accused of consorting with the devil after a malevolent creature is seen roaming the forests of Sutton Village.

Tales of religious zealots killing people they suspect of being in league with the devil are sprinkled throughout history; in Slewfoot, Brom (Lost Gods) puts his own spin on these stories. His protagonist does consort with a demon, but one that isn't after Abitha's soul--Slewfoot is only helping Abitha stand against her persecutors. The author posits that perhaps archaic thinking and a misunderstanding of scripture might be the real evil. Whether readers are swayed or not, Slewfoot remains easily devoured. --Paul Dinh-McCrillis, freelance reviewer

In this second novel in the Two Rivers series from British author Ann Cleeves (The Long Call), Detective Matthew Venn and his formidable team of investigators are called in when a well-liked local doctor is murdered in a shocking, stylistic manner. It's high summer in North Devon, and the holiday atmosphere in the coastal community is in full swing. Matthew and his two primary assistants, Jen and Ross, question witnesses, but they're frustrated when it seems the victim had many friends but no enemies. His employment as a public servant, however, is problematic, and Matthew and his team push forward, casting a wide net as they question the doctor's circle of friends and associates.

Then a second body is discovered, having been killed in the same unusual method. As Matthew, Jen and Ross race to identify the murderer before he strikes again, they are each confronted with concerns in their personal lives. While intently focusing on the case, are they giving short shrift to their families? Will this puzzling, complicated case cause irreparable harm to their private lives?

The vivid setting in The Heron's Cry casts the terrifying specter of violent death against the backdrop of carefree summer sunshine with maximum effect. The multi-dimensional lead characters have edges and scars--they're not always likable but are ultimately intriguing. A powerful cast of secondary characters are treated with the same compassionate insight. Fans of the author's beloved Vera and Shetland dramas will not be disappointed in Detective Venn's sleuthing skills. --Lois Faye Dyer, writer and reviewer

Journalist/artist/activist Ari Honarvar's promising debut, A Girl Called Rumi, memorializes the lifesaving power of storytelling through the darkest terrors. In 1981, the Iran-Iraq War was still new and a semblance of normalcy seemed possible for nine-year-old Kimia, who claims "Rumi" as parttime moniker. She's missing her father who's away working. Her mother, Roya, should be kinder; so could her older brother, Arman. Maybe best friend Reza is all she needs. But restrictions are growing. The itchy hijab is mandatory. Arman's joined a militant youth group. Roya's punishments are turning vicious. Yet somehow, Kimia and Reza find temporary sanctuary through a hidden trap door where a mysterious storyteller and his loquacious myna bird await.

In 2009, Kimia is living in San Diego where she's now a spiritual counselor, or so her clients call her. She's divorced, untethered, finds relief from her inner turmoil by regularly cutting herself with an antique dagger. Arman is a new club manager after multiple abandoned careers. And suddenly, Roya announces she's ready to return home to Shiraz--to die. The family's homegoing becomes a dangerous journey of labyrinthine secrets.  

Honarvar reveals in her afterword how details of her own emigration from Iran became imbedded in her fiction. Her multiple narrators here create a mosaic of Iran's brutal history; their survival becomes bearable through sharing ancient myths, legends, poetry. Persian cultural icon Rumi--as lasting legacy, guide, comfort--especially inspires Honarvar's characters throughout. Honarvar's escape might be decades past, but a life on the run remains all too familiar to many: "This book is a love letter to all the displaced souls who yearn to become their own alchemists." --Terry Hong, Smithsonian BookDragon

Pulitzer Prize-winning memoirist Rick Bragg (The Best Cook in the World; My Southern Journey) grew out of rural Southern poverty, but the spirit of his storytelling has made him--and legions of readers--rich beyond measure. In The Speckled Beauty, he recalls how an aggressive, one-eyed stray dog, a wayward Australian shepherd, bolted into Bragg's life when he was down and out.

Bragg--then 60 years old--had retreated to Calhoun County, Ala., to live and work in his elderly mother's basement. He was there to assist during the pandemic, and he was also recovering from serious complications after battling non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. The unruly dog with speckled markings bounded into Bragg's life and stuck around. Bragg's older brother, Sam, found him to be a pitiful stray with "the attention span of a tick on a hot rock," implying, "A dog like this, wild for so long, would only bring woe." But Bragg, who had always admired the breed, takes up training "Speck" as a cause. The exasperating, fearless dog chronically tests his patience ("The dog would not back down from a rattlesnake"), but he ultimately charms Bragg, his mother and even his skeptical brother with laughable antics: "How could you not love a dog with a toilet-seat halo around his head?" And, Bragg claims, "My dog would battle me to death over the last cold tater tot."

Amid dark days, bright Speck shows up at just the right time. How fortunate for readers that the joy of his presence--enhanced by the wit and wisdom of Bragg's inimitable prose--will resonate far beyond the Bragg homestead. --Kathleen Gerard, blogger at Reading Between the Lines

Mokhtar Mokhtefi engagingly portrays a young man's coming of age in French-colonial Algeria and his fight for nationhood in I Was a French Muslim: Memories of an Algerian Freedom Fighter. Born in Algeria in 1935, Mokhtefi, the youngest of six children, was the first to finish grammar school and continue his education at a French lycée. Living under colonial rule, Mokhtefi recognized the hypocrisy of the French principles of liberté, egalité and fraternité taught in Algerian schools, while Algerians were treated as second-class citizens. The term "French Muslim" was stamped on every Algerian's identity card to differentiate them from the "French" (i.e., European) inhabitants of Algeria.

Inspired by his love of country and equipped with a "strong moral sense," Mokhtefi joined the National Liberation Army in 1957 at the age of 22 and became a radio operator. Mokhtefi resurrects this time in his life through novelistic episodes of extensive dialogue and colorful descriptions of his soldiering days. Written in present tense, Mokhtefi's memoir pulls readers along through dangerous desert treks and encounters with venomous snakes, red-light districts, romances and run-ins with picaresque comrades he often must put in their place. A passionate introduction by Elaine Mokhtefi, his wife and translator, fills in gaps for those new to the topic of Algeria's fight for independence. Ultimately, Mokhtefi's charming, guileless voice is the winning element of this fervent and personal account of an Algerian patriot. --Peggy Kurkowski, book reviewer and copywriter in Denver, Colo.

With straightforward prose and plenty of examples, disability advocate Emily Ladau gives readers a primer in Demystifying Disability: What to Know, What to Say, and How to Be an Ally. Short and even fun chapters cover subjects including disability in history and media, ableism (systemic and interpersonal) and etiquette, but the most powerful chapter is "Understanding Disability as Part of a Whole Person," a topic woven into all sections of the book. For example, Ladau explains how using oversimplified versions of personal stories as "inspiration porn," or for condescending and dehumanizing pity or charity, can perpetuate stereotyping of disabled people and useless allyship.

Readers will want to pick up Demystifying Disability to answer a question Ladau poses: "How can we unlearn and disentangle ourselves from the mess of stigma and prejudice toward disabled people--especially disabled people of multiple marginalized identities--and begin to move toward a more inclusive, accepting world?"

While the information and recommendations here are written to be easy to understand and apply, Ladau is quick to note that her voice is just one of many, not a definitive account of all experiences and perspectives. To balance this, she quotes many other disability advocates and includes a list of resources for further reading.

Demystifying Disability is a great starting point for anyone looking better to understand the diversity of human experiences, but will be especially useful to those who wish to build inclusive spaces or make their own work more accessible. --Suzanne Krohn, editor, Love in Panels

How to Educate a Citizen: The Power of Shared Knowledge to Unify a Nation by E.D. Hirsch, Jr., confronts the precipitous decline in academic performance of U.S. students compared to their international peers. Hirsch illustrates that the country's child-centered elementary schooling model is failing its children, especially the most disadvantaged ones.

A lifelong educator, Hirsch (Why Knowledge Matters; The Making of Americans; Cultural Literacy) established the Core Knowledge Foundation to promote educational equity in schools. While other developed countries teach standardized curricula rich in civics, history and tradition, most U.S. schools emphasize general skills such as critical thinking without imparting the essential shared knowledge, including civics and history, that is the mark of an educated citizen. Students grow up untethered to their American identity, resulting in what Hirsch refers to as "a knowledge gap, a communications gap and an allegiance gap."

Addressing parents, Hirsch points to the latest scientific research to demonstrate that young brains are primed for absorbing content and capable of inhabiting more than one identity. He shares examples of successful core knowledge-focused schools around the country, recommending that all elementary schools adopt content-specific curricula to unite the multiethnic nation's children under a shared U.S. nationality and improve their academic performance.

Readers cautious about a nationalistic, uniform approach to educating youth will discover in Hirsch's manifesto several compelling reasons for doing so, including the indisputable fact that a unified nation is better equipped to cooperate on international matters than one as polarized as the U.S. in the 21st century. --Shahina Piyarali, writer and reviewer

Composer and middle-school teacher Jay Coles (Tyler Johnson Was Here) returns with his sublime sophomore novel, Things We Couldn't Say. Written for, but not limited to, high school students or those who identify as Black, male and queer, Coles tells the story of 17-year-old Giovanni, who struggles with understanding the many meanings of love.

Gio has lived with a hole in his heart for almost half of his life. The hole was made eight years ago when his birth mother abandoned Gio, his younger brother, Theo, and their father. Still, Gio has managed the hole even though he lives in a particularly rough part of West Haven, Ind.; his father is an alcoholic preacher; and Gio--a star basketball player--is hiding his bisexuality from everyone except his immediate family and his two best friends. But just when Gio feels like he's beginning to get a grip on his life, that hole threatens to rip his heart in two: he receives an e-mail from his ghost of a mother.

Coles's beautifully written bildungsroman encompasses topics such as identity, grief, love, alcoholism, socioeconomics, depression, sexuality, family, race and racial injustices. It allows queer Black boys to see themselves as they aren't always portrayed. As readers are invited into Gio's life, they watch him maneuver his age, race, sexuality in all their realms and learn how important it is for young adults to find an understanding of the self as well as a definition of what family and love really means. --Natasha Harris, freelance reviewer

Sheila Modir and Jeffrey Kashou's debut picture book, The Proudest Color, addresses the reality of racial identity for a child audience. The authors effectively use positive association and expression to show one girl overcoming colorism, a negative bias many children of color encounter when they begin elementary school.

Licensed mental health practitioners Modir and Kashou's expertise is evident in their realistic portrayal of a girl being affected by colorism. When the narrative begins, Zahra explains the colors she associates with different emotions. She proceeds jubilantly to profess why brown is her most favorite color of all. "When I am PROUD, I feel a beautiful brown in my heart. But, for me, brown is more than feeling proud. It's the color I see when I see ME." However, Zahra's self-esteem is affected by being the only child in her class with brown skin. The resulting swell of negative feelings leads to a frank conversation with her family about role models--Zahra's abuela, Malala Yousafzai, Kamala Harris--who also have different shades of brown skin.

Monica Mikai renders Zahra's demonstrative facial expressions in soft strokes and rich umber tones. Each scene draws readers into the narrative through the welcoming warmth of Mikai's palette: deep hues of orange, purple, gold, pink and, of course, many different browns. Educators and parents may find Zahra's story and the professional tips in the back matter helpful, while young readers of any race should be delighted by optimistic Zahra and her colorful world. --Rachel Werner, Hugo House and the Loft Literary Center teaching artist