Katie Chase's debut short story collection features no zombies, road warriors or other apocalyptic denizens, yet communicates a desperate, end-of-days mood in almost every story. "Refugees," set in an American refugee camp after a devastating economic collapse, hews closest to the rules of post-apocalyptic literature, especially with its meditations on religion and consumerist society. In general, however, Chase's stories occupy the mysterious, frighteningly plausible terrain between present-day reality and the dystopic future, subtly implying that our society is closer to the latter than we might care to admit.

The title story, "Man and Wife," conjures a world where women, including the nine-year-old protagonist, are married off at a very young age to adult men as part of dry business deals. Another, "Creation Story," seems to play off the devastating "Devil's Night" arsons that plagued Detroit well into the '90s, pushing the concept further to tell a story about the nihilism bred by urban decay. Even when Chase presents extreme situations, however, she always fastens them securely to grounded observations, such as one young protagonist's musings that "On sick days you could escape the movement of the world."

The same is true in "Every Good Marriage Begins in Tears," which demonstrates Chase's impressive range by setting the events in post-Soviet Kyrgyzstan. Ostensibly, the plot revolves around the still-common practice of bride kidnappings, but its themes of frustrated masculinity and economic fecklessness ring depressingly true across the cultural divide. Man and Wife is a disturbing, exceptional suite of stories from a promising new author. --Hank Stephenson, bookseller, Flyleaf Books

Kat Lind, an American expatriate leading an upscale life in London, is shocked when she arrives at an art gallery to discover the show is full of paintings of her. It turns out that artist Daniel Blake has been compulsively painting Kat for the last 20 years, ever since the end of their Parisian love affair during college.

Contrasting Kat and Daniel's youthful relationship with Kat's current hectic life as a mother and the wife of a high-powered businessman, The Blue Bath journeys with Kat into the what-might-have-beens of life. Beautifully written, bringing Paris and London both to life, this novel is a study of the nature of love and art, and what happens when the two collide.

Originally from New York, Mary Waters-Sayers lived in London for 12 years and shows her love for the city in this first novel. "It seemed as though it was a different possibility of what London could be.... How short a distance you had to go from the familiar to be lost." But unfortunately for Kat, London is not big enough to escape the awkward possibilities inherent in having your body showcased in large portraits. Soon her past relationship with Daniel catches up to her current marriage, and she has some very difficult choices to make.

Anyone who loves a romantic story with a twist, or who has wondered wistfully what happened to their first love, is sure to enjoy The Blue Bath. --Jessica Howard, blogger at Quirky Bookworm

In The Doll-Master and Other Tales of Terror, Joyce Carol Oates is in her comfort zone, applying her literary mastery to the horror genre. The first story is about a lonely boy--unloved by his father, neglected by his mother--who develops the habit of collecting dolls that he finds on the street. By the time readers find out what he's been doing with the dolls, it's too late to hate him. In another, a teenager is alone housesitting an isolated mansion when a familiar, but slightly altered, person from her past shows up. In the longest story of the collection, while a woman wonders if her husband has planned her murder on their vacation in the Galapagos Islands, her own sanity slips away.

When Oates refers to terror in the title, she's not just talking about the bump-in-the-night kind. Of course, that kind of fear is present in these chilling stories, but there's a much more visceral version of anxiety buried in each one. While this collection seems to be an experiment in all the types of horror storytelling--there's the story with a shocking twist, there's a monster in one, a murder in another--what ties them together is the skin-crawling psychological aspect of each. What remains unforgettable after reading is just how realistic even the most evil of her characters are. It is vintage Joyce Carol Oates to remind us that every one of us is capable of being both victim and perpetrator of some really dark stuff. --Josh Potter

" 'I killed a man,' I say to my new therapist."

With this opening line in City of the Lost, Kelley Armstrong introduces homicide detective Casey Duncan. Casey makes clear her declaration is neither a metaphor, such as for breaking a man's heart--"A bullet does break a heart"--nor a statement about a job-related incident. Nope. She killed a man while in college. And got away with it.

The only person who knows and has kept her secret is her friend Diana, and now Diana needs Casey's help to escape from an abusive ex. Diana convinces Casey to relocate with her to a remote community called Rockton in the wilds of Canada. The residents there are all hiding from something; with no modern technology available--even electricity is limited--they can stay off the grid. Casey soon realizes, however, that Rockton may be an even more dangerous place for her and Diana, because someone is murdering the inhabitants. Hired as the town's new detective, Casey's job is to hunt down the killer, but this time she might end up as prey.

Casey is a singular, riveting protagonist--tough but loyal, knowing the difference between taking risks and being irresponsible. There's tantalizing romantic tension between her and Rockton's sheriff and his deputy, though that element isn't the focus. The mystery is complex, takes unusual turns, and the setting of isolated territory surrounded by menacing woods is as breathtaking as it is unsettling. Readers looking for a captivating story should escape to City of the Lost. --Elyse Dinh-McCrillis, blogger at Pop Culture Nerd

Eddie Flynn, a New York City lawyer who hasn't practiced in almost a year due to fallout from a case, is forced to defend the head of the Russian mob in a murder case--and the trial begins the morning Eddie receives the "request." He can't refuse because the mob boss's goons have kidnapped Eddie's 10-year-old daughter, Amy, and Eddie has only 48 hours to gain a mistrial or Amy dies.

What the Russians don't know is that before Eddie became a lawyer, he was a con man, and he now calls upon skills from his grifter days to pull off the greatest con of his life--pretending to play along while plotting Amy's rescue, even as he's under constant surveillance. Helping him is his childhood friend Jimmy Fellini, now head of the Italian mafia. Eddie just wants his daughter back, but Jimmy's involvement could start a war between the Russians and Italians. As with all wars, there will be casualties, one of which may be Eddie.

The Defense rises above generic courtroom dramas and mob-related thrillers mostly because of Eddie. The swindler-turned-lawyer (Eddie doesn't see a big gap between one and the other) gets put in impossible situations, with the clock ever ticking and vise ever tightening, but somehow he finds clever ways to keep his head above water. He shares a few interesting tricks about reading and manipulating juries, but there's nothing dishonest about his love for Amy, and even the most righteous readers would probably agree the end justifies his means. --Elyse Dinh-McCrillis, blogger at Pop Culture Nerd

Betsy Lerner (The Forest for the Trees; Food and Loathing) recounts the story of her life and her mother's life--and their complicated, often contentious relationship--through bridge, an intricate card game that takes skill and practice to master. After Lerner's octogenarian mother Roz has surgery, Lerner stays with her to help out, and decides to investigate the game that has served as Roz's sustaining, lifelong constant. Enrolling in lessons and attending Roz's weekly bridge club, Lerner finally discovers a common ground to understand better her emotionally self-contained mother.

Snarky acuity and sensitivity layer the bittersweet narrative. Lerner explores the unspoken, painful recesses of Roz's life and the unsung lives of five Jewish women--children of the Depression, pre-feminist--who have met weekly in New Haven, Conn., to share lunch and play bridge for 50 years. Lerner believes bridge was the entertaining "HBO of its day." She shares details about the club and the ladies--collectively and individually--recounting their hopes and hardships and how they've faced life with proud, stoic self-reliance rare to women of Lerner's self-actualized generation, who put career and personal fulfillment over marriage and children. Lerner's own mother--a Brooklyn-born Socialist--is "darker, moodier and harder to know" than the rest of the Bridge Ladies. But as Lerner becomes more astute in game play, bridge becomes a deeper metaphor for crossing the rugged gulf between mother and daughter, who come to appreciate each other and how they've played the hands life has dealt them on their own terms. --Kathleen Gerard, blogger at Reading Between the Lines

The quintessential American Dream is a heartwarming rags-to-riches tale, but a good riches-to-rags story can be just as captivating. Frances Stroh's memoir, Beer Money, chronicles the unraveling of the 150-year-old Stroh Brewing Company, her fourth-generation brewery family and, in the background, its home city of Detroit. Raised among the automobile barons' Grosse Pointe estates, Stroh and her three brothers grew up with private schools, country clubs and world travel. Her father held a token executive sinecure at the family brewery, but she remembers him best as an extravagant collector of antique guns, Martin guitars, Leica cameras and rare books--and as a capricious alcoholic. Although also from a wealthy family, Stroh's mother was a prudent scold always worried about losing money, so she dressed her children in hand-me-downs and shopped at the A&P. Stroh remembers her boarding school experience: "Straight As, varsity teams, good taste in music, and a robust drug habit, that was what landed you on top, socially. Surviving a 'bust' made you legendary."

She describes the dissolution of her family: her parents' divorce and father's remarriage to a gold-digger, her brother Charlie's addiction and accidental death, her brother Bobby's three marriages, and her own divorce and sporadic attempts at creative work. By the 1980s, the company was already failing. In 1999, what was left of it was sold to Miller. The sale proceeds soon dried up, Detroit was in ruins, her father died broke and alone, and Stroh shucked her strangling legacy. With Beer Money, she is on her way to a fresh new writing career--perhaps a riches-to-rags-to-riches story in the making. --Bruce Jacobs, founding partner, Watermark Books & Cafe, Wichita, Kan.

In her introduction to The Dog Merchants, journalist Kim Kavin states, "I'm not on the side of the breeders, and I'm not on the side of the rescuers. I'm on the side of the dogs." To fulfill this role as canine advocate, Kavin examines the good, the bad and the ugly in the commercial world of man's best friend. From dog auctions to shelters, exclusive conformation dog shows to PetFinder.com, Kavin investigates the many ways people can acquire four-legged companions. She provides readers with an unbiased look at the industry, debunks the myth that consumers can be guaranteed quality with puppies from breeders but not shelter dogs, and helps to educate consumers about misleading marketing. As she points out, "There is always at least one other side to any sales pitch, and it's our job as conscious consumers to find it." Ultimately, Kavin hopes to unite breed-devotees and mutt lovers alike in moving away from the attitude that some dogs are better than others for purely aesthetic reasons and instead make strides toward informed buying--and raising--decisions that ensure the well-being of all dogs.

Kavin's journalistic approach to the subject offers a balanced analysis of a impassioned subject, and her hands-on approach to research enhances her credibility. The insights into the commercial side of pet adoption are eye-opening, and even the most devoted dog advocates will likely find food for thought in these pages. The Dog Merchants is perfect for anyone considering adding a furry friend to their family. --Jen Forbus of Jen's Book Thoughts

"All dogs have a bit of wolf in them. It's been proven by science." So says Homer, the "wolfish" narrator of Andrea Zuill's charming Wolf Camp, who sleeps on a dog bed with an electric blanket.

Sometimes Homer sneaks up on the unsuspecting purple stuffed animal, Mr. Moose. He dreams of running with wolves in mountain meadows. So when a flyer advertising Wolf Camp tumbles out of the dog-food bag ("Have you ever felt like howling at the moon? Come join us!"), he knows he just has to go. Homer follows his people around with the flyer in his mouth until they break down. "I'm going to be a wolf!" he thinks happily as he heads off in a yellow school bus to the weeklong camp. Fang and Grrr, the wolf counselors, give a terrifying safety talk, warning Pixie, Rex and Homer not to chase the cats, who are "bigger here than back home," to stay away from grizzly bears, and "finally, never trust a squirrel." Dinner, oddly, has "hair on it." (Homer writes a letter home asking for some of "Grandma Polly's Pampered Pooch Doggie Snacks, the bacon-flavored ones.") Still, back home on his heated dog bed, Homer does feel a little different inside: "I was an honorary wolf. Ahh-whoooo...."

Zuill's wonderful pen-and-ink and watercolor illustrations, complete with cartoon bubbles, comically contrast the needle-nosed wolves and the collared, previously pampered pooches. This would be the perfect book to send off with kids for a summer-camp surprise. Giggles are guaranteed, as the wee ones get a little wolfish out there in the wilderness. --Karin Snelson, children's & YA editor, Shelf Awareness

A boy gazes contentedly at a taco on a plate: "Joey loved things that folded."

Joey collects road maps, plays the accordion, and even sleeps in a foldaway bed--his obsession with folding is real. So when Sarah Takimato's mother comes to school with a piece of paper and "folded it, and flipped it, and pulled it" to make an origami crane, Joey wants in. She tells him "the only way to become a true origami master is with much practice and great patience." Joey immediately starts practicing on construction paper, notebook paper, his homework, and his sister's sheet music. When he gets to the money in his mother's purse, his practice does a number on her patience: "This folding has to stop." He heads over to his friend Mr. Lopez's place, Muy Mexicana, for solace and fajitas. As he waits, he gloomily folds his napkin into a pyramid. Bingo! He has a new job, folding restaurant napkins into fans, crowns, and at long last, a crane.

More-igami is Dori Kleber's picture-book debut, and she tells her story with both gentleness and wit, and plenty of playful repetition for storytime. G. Brian Karas (Muncha, Muncha, Muncha!; Tap Tap Boom Boom) reflects her clean style with winsome, expressive gouche and pencil paintings. In a brilliant design coup, some of the pages have faint fold marks. Children who catch origami fever can fold their own ladybug using the step-by-step instructions in the back, and more and "more-igami" is sure to follow. Masterful. --Karin Snelson, children's & YA editor, Shelf Awareness