Meg Shaffer imagines a charming world of bookish magic in The Book Witch, a novel about a literature-loving heroine gone rogue that is sure to delight readers of all varieties.

Rainy March is a third-generation Book Witch and a proud member of the Ink and Paper Coven. "I'm not the pointy-hat kind with the broom and all that," she writes in her case files. "I'm a Book Witch. I'm here to set the story straight." When Rainy's archenemy dives into her favorite mystery series with the intent of ruining their storylines forever, Rainy goes after him to protect the page as written. Once the story is set back to rights, Rainy is bound by coven rules to jump back into her world--without Duke, the fictional detective she's fallen for.

Rainy tells her readers, "All stories are love stories if you love stories," and any reader worth their salt knows even banned magical interdimensional literary travel is no barrier to true romance. Rainy and Duke find ways to be together again, but their ability to bend and ultimately break key coven rules sends them into a world-jumping, story-hopping romp in which it becomes increasingly unclear whether they are in a romance, a horror, a mystery--or all of the above. The Book Witch is genre bending, clever, and chock-full of nods to tropes, story arcs, and beloved classics. Shaffer's interdimensional book travel can prove hard to follow at times--exactly what is the real world and what is a work of fiction here?--but perhaps the distinction doesn't matter so much, anyway. After all, as Rainy believes, "People... need stories. But stories also need people." --Kerry McHugh, freelance writer

Kang Jiyoung's Mrs. Shim Is a Killer is a kaleidoscopic novel of murder-for-hire, crisscrossing loyalties, self-determination, and dark humor. In Paige Morris's translation from the Korean, Kang's matter-of-fact prose reveals a sly, absurdist wit. This playfully murderous thriller is not soon forgotten.

Since the death of her husband five years ago, 51-year-old Mrs. Shim has struggled to provide for her family by working in a butcher's shop. When she loses her job, she is desperate for other work--not easy for an ajumma, or middle-aged woman, to find. At the Smile Private Detective Agency, however, she meets a boss impressed by her use of a knife. "I'd like you to become a killer," the man says matter-of-factly, and Mrs. Shim finds she is in no position to turn down the gold bar he offers. Reluctant at first but driven by her need to provide for her children, she becomes Smile's best killer yet, causing surprised rumors to circulate about the knife-wielding ajumma.

Mrs. Shim Is a Killer shifts perspective to follow one character and then another. Aside from the title character, chapter titles refer to them by epithet: The Boss, The Shaman, The Confidant, The Daughter. Intrigue unfolds in this series of puzzle pieces, and through it all, readers root for Mrs. Shim, a reluctant but determined assassin.

Kang (The Shop for Killers) plays off expectations about mothers, lovers, and cultural norms. With a complexly twisting plot, disarming characters, and a deceptive sense of humor, Mrs. Shim Is a Killer breaks genre boundaries in a surprisingly hopeful package. Bloody but cheerful, this unusual tale is entertaining and strangely cozy. --Julia Kastner, blogger at pagesofjulia

Moorea Corrigan's fantastical Thistlemarsh is set squarely in a 1919 England marked as much by Faerie magic--and its sudden disappearance--as by the brutalities of World War I.

Against this backdrop, a young woman named Mouse is summoned back to her uncle's estate upon his death, where she is issued both an inheritance and a challenge: Thistlemarsh Hall, a Faerie-blessed manor house in the English countryside now in disrepair, must be fully restored within a month in order to secure her inheritance and the title of Lady Dewhurst. While she cares not a whit for the house or title, the bequest includes enough income to keep her brother, gravely injured at the front and with no remembrance of her, in good care for the rest of his days--and that's all the motivation the scrappy Mouse needs to try everything in her power to secure the inheritance. But when a Faerie lord named Thornwood enters her garden--the first Faerie appearance in more than a century--Mouse sees a possibility of success.

Despite every warning in Faerie lore, Mouse agrees to bargain with Thornwood. When the house seems to push back against Thornwood's magic, however, the two are forced to work ever more closely together to accomplish their goal of restoration (and inheritance).

In Thistlemarsh, Corrigan has crafted a singular novel--parts cozy, Fae-inspired fever dream, enemies-to-lovers romance, historical fiction--with a sense of place so vivid that Thistlemarsh Hall often feels like a character unto itself. --Kerry McHugh

In This Kingdom Will Not Kill Me, husband-and-wife author duo Ilona Andrews (Sapphire Flames) launch a fantasy series packed with danger, political machinations, and emotional heft. Maggie is living a normal life in Austin, Tex., making ends meet through her job and grocery-delivering side gig. Or she was, until she woke up naked in Kair Toren, a city that only exists within her favorite fantasy book series. She assumes that she's experiencing a subgenre known as portal fantasy, in which a person is magically transported and transformed into the hero of a fantasy world. But Kair Toren isn't the kind of fantasy city anyone would want to visit, and Maggie doesn't appear to be inhabiting the life of an important character.

Maggie begins to follow the book's original storyline and plans to steal from a minor villain to get off the street. Her plans go awry and she falls to her death in the river, only to find herself alive again. Things speed up from there, as she becomes a purveyor of information, desperate to prevent the war she knows is coming and the deaths of many fictional characters who are suddenly, undeniably real. Andrews's world-building is effortless, texturing the ruthless realm through Maggie's recollection of characters and setting even as she experiences events and nuances that weren't included in her books. With a propulsive plot, vivid characters, and perfectly paced reveals, this thrilling and satisfying first installment will leave readers desperate for more. --Kristen Coates, editor and freelance reviewer

Abby Jimenez (Say You'll Remember Me; Just for the Summer) delivers her usual lovable characters, witty banter, and emotional depth in The Night We Met. After Chris's best friend, Mike, offered Larissa a ride home from a concert a couple months ago, Mike and Larissa began casually dating. But when Larissa spends an unexpected and emotional but somehow enjoyable morning with Chris that includes rescuing a filthy dog from behind a trash can, she realizes her first impressions of Chris were wrong. Larissa discovers a surprising connection and sense of security in Chris as they find themselves constantly thrown together, co-parenting the havoc-wreaking Yorkie and discussing their shared love of obscure books. But as Larissa tries to make her relationship with Mike work, Chris senses that his feelings surpass those of friendship.

Chapters alternate between Larissa's and Chris's perspectives as the two navigate the nuanced, messy, and heartbreaking realization that whatever their feelings are, they can't matter, because Larissa chose Mike. Mike's charm and kindness make Larissa wonder if his steady presence is just what she needs, despite her draw to Chris. Jimenez traverses weighty themes through Larissa's determination to pick the right guy and provide for herself, unlike her mother, and Chris's history of carrying burdens entirely on his own. Larissa's life is also a constant hustle: she lives with her mom and works tirelessly to pay bills and debt her father accrued.

Through strikingly sincere reflection, Jimenez creates a love story deeply rooted in understanding. Beautiful moments of authentic connection carry Chris and Larissa through their difficult circumstances and eventually lead them to their happy ending. --Clara Newton, freelance reviewer

In Boomtown, Joe Pappalardo (Spaceport Earth) presents a riveting biography of 1927 Borger, Tex., a city sprung from the oil gushing beneath its surface.

Asa Borger learned of a 1926 Gulf Oil discovery on Dixon Creek and immediately, with the help of his lawyer John R. Miller (a "legal and morally flexible talent"), purchased 240 acres of nearby land and called the town Borger. Then he made Miller the mayor. Soon, men arrived for jobs on the rigs, with women and saloon-keepers at their heels. Prohibition didn't stop the criminal element from running distilleries just outside of town and making a fine profit while the law looked the other way. Within 90 days, the population grew from zero to 30,000. When two Borger deputies wound up dead outside the open doors of their vehicle, Texas Governor Dan Moody sent the Texas Rangers to find out what was going on.

Pappalardo's colorful, well-researched account documents just over six months in 1927, from February 2 to August 26, plus a postscript to chronicle what happened to the main players. Events unfold primarily through the perspective of Texas Ranger Frank Hamer (who would go on to win fame for ending the antics of Bonnie and Clyde). Drawing from newspaper articles and the self-published memoirs of Borger citizens, Pappalardo places readers in the thick of the action. This compelling story of a town--from its birth to how the criminal element insinuated itself into politics and law keeping--also serves as a cautionary tale of how overreach by the government, as in the case of Prohibition, can foster the workings of the black market. --Jennifer M. Brown

In 2017, Caroline Bicks was named the inaugural Stephen E. King Chair in Literature at the University of Maine. Four years later, she invited King to give her students craft advice. He generously granted her interviews and extended access to the personal archive at his home. Her fourth book, Monsters in the Archives, is a fascinating insider's look at King's process and themes, offering insight into five early works--and her experience rereading them as an adult facing childhood fears.

Bicks (Shakespeare, Not Stirred) first encountered King via his 1978 short story collection, Night Shift, which she read when she was 12. Growing up in New York City, she recalls, she suffered from baseless anxiety. Reading King's classic horror during summer vacations in Maine was a way of indulging fear safely to achieve catharsis. The tale "The Boogeyman," about a closet-dwelling monster, haunted her thereafter. Bicks insists on King's power to create lasting moments that scare even him (e.g., the tub scene in The Shining).

Each chapter contains an appealing blend of biographical exploration and literary critique. King's stories often took inspiration from his life: Pet Sematary--his son nearly running in front of a truck; The Shining--a visit to a haunted Colorado hotel; Night Shift--the anger spurring college anti-Vietnam War protests; and 'Salem's Lot--his move to Maine with his single mother at age 11.

With its close readings, Monsters in the Archives affirms that King's oeuvre merits serious scholarship. This isn't just for horror buffs, but for anyone curious about archival research, literature, and writers' lives. --Rebecca Foster, freelance reviewer, proofreader, and blogger at Bookish Beck

Congratulations to art lovers who have never had someone say to them, "What purpose does art serve?" Critic Megan O'Grady has always embraced conceptual artist Barbara Kruger's observation that art teaches a person, "through a kind of eloquent shorthand, how it feels to be alive." Knowing a good title when she hears one, O'Grady borrows those words for How It Feels to Be Alive, a collection of five essays in which she investigates the way art "provokes unanswerable questions about how to live in a fragmenting society." She has chosen works that raised "questions that still feel urgent to me" and "offered me an eloquent shorthand in an often-incoherent world."

These marvelous pieces follow a similar structure. Each begins by focusing on one artist and then expands into a larger discourse on pressing themes. Her essay on Kruger starts with Kruger's most famous image, Untitled (Your Body Is a Battleground), "depicting a woman's face, bisected into positive and negative exposures." The mother of a young daughter, O'Grady describes how works like Untitled taught her that her body was politicized in ways men's bodies aren't and wonders "how art could meaningfully respond."

The other essays are equally provocative, such as the one on the water bottle decorated with "a sinister image of Flint, Michigan's water plant" by Pope.L, which calls attention to "the racism at play in the systematic undermining of the once-thriving town." How It Feels to Be Alive is a memorable and viscerally elegant treatment of the critical themes it discusses. Know anyone who questions the value of art? Hand them a copy of this book. -- Michael Magras, freelance book reviewer

A mission to the Moon reveals unexpected lessons (and life forms) in this fast-paced, comical, and profound illustrated middle-grade novel by author/illustrator duo Matthew Swanson and Robbi Behr (Cookie Chronicles series).

Twelve-year-old Leo Brightstar, his dad, and several others arrive on the moon to start the first Moon colony. Leo's father says they are "bold pioneers on a top-secret mission" but, immediately upon touchdown, he leaves on a task that specifically states, "DON'T BRING THE KID." Leo is crestfallen--he misses his mother, who separated from his father back on Earth, and his best friend, Mitchell. Then, Leo's dad disappears and Leo's absence is the only one that won't be noticed while on a rescue mission. The boy quickly learns, though, that the first rule of life on the moon--"There is no life on the Moon"--is frighteningly inaccurate. He encounters the Moon's natural fauna, like Valrootens (who "are gentle and kind and have fabulous tentacles"), Wogglers (who "like to steal things" that "someone really cares about"), and the terrifying "scamper-waddling," Valrooten-eating Hortle. Absurdity abounds, along with trenchant messages about nature's balance and the human propensity to meddle.

Swanson's expressive and philosophical writing is a treat ("So, anyone can be a pioneer as long as they haven't been to a place, even if others have been there for a million years?"). Behr's appealing black-and-white illustrations capture the very-much-alive moonscape as well as the nature of Leo's ever-shifting mission. Life on the Moon is an expansive coming-of-age story as Leo faces what it means to be human, a colonist, a friend, and an alien. --Emilie Coulter, freelance writer and editor

The Delta Codex by Deva Fagan (A Game of Noctis) is a nimble middle-grade science fiction bildungsroman that features a naïve yet charismatic lead.

Codex Delta has no memories of the time before she was summoned to the Vault of Echoes six years ago. Now 11 ("Twelve?"), she understands that being a codex means she must hold "powerful" and "dangerous" echoes of the knowledge brought to Danak-Tol two centuries ago; she must also remain silent to keep the echoes from waking. The wardens assure the codexes that this is "the greatest honor a citizen could have." But pale-skinned Codex Delta is unsure. When she meets Kesi and Jyn, the "warm brown"-skinned children of a city minister, they tell her the echo she holds must be awoken. Their mom thinks it belongs "to someone who knew something about the bloodstorms" and could be used to save the planet from the storms' increasing frequency and toxicity. Suddenly Codex Delta is part of a plot, escaping into the forbidden wasteland beyond Danak-Tol's walls. With the aid of a tablet, Codex Delta begins to express herself and to understand the deep-rooted secrets that kept her silent and imprisoned.

Fagan has crafted an engrossing, post-apocalyptic yet hopeful adventure that takes place in a world that contains both whimsy and menace. The dangers outside the city walls, including toxic blooms and monstrous sphincters, pale in comparison to the perils of the stifling, secretive society within. Delta's journey from parroting propaganda to thinking for herself is the kind of compelling and believable that has brought decades of readers to Lois Lowry's The Giver and newer generations to Donna Barba Higuera's Alebrijes. --Lynn Becker, reviewer, blogger, and children's book author

The defining elements of living creatures that humans categorize as birds take center stage in the illuminating picture book What Makes a Bird by Nadeem Perera, the co-founder of Flock Together, a "birdwatching support group combating the underrepresentation of Black, Brown and POC in nature." This detailed introduction to all manner of feathered friends is strikingly illustrated by graphic designer Montse Galbany (Awesome Accidents).

What Makes a Bird? is divided into four main sections: "What Makes a Bird," "Where Do Birds Live," "What Do Birds Do," and "Becoming a Birder." Each section is divided into chapters (like "Birdsong" or "Deserts") where Perera expands on the main topics with engaging facts and detailed diagrams. For example, budding ornithologists can learn that parrots "might have dreams," crows are especially clever "with tools and problem-solving," and the common tailorbird "uses plant fibers... and spider webs" to "sew" the edges of leaves together as cradles for their babies. Additional content can be found in sideline subsections that offer readers informative tidbits.

In the final section of the book, Perera shares his journey to becoming a bird enthusiast, offering tips--regardless of where someone may live--and providing a sample birdwatching logbook. Galbany's digital art uses the palette of the natural world with some high-saturation hints to add extra allure to each page. The lifelike illustrations afford the audience a chance to see birds with which they may be wholly unfamiliar. Perera and Galbany help readers understand and appreciate our avian planetary co-habitants through this beautiful, fascinating work.  --Jen Forbus, freelancer

Bram Stoker Young Adult Novel Award nominee Kalynn Bayron (You're Not Supposed to Die Tonight; Cinderella Is Dead) continues her excellent work in middle-grade with Olive Oakes and the Haunted Carousel, a thrilling, high-energy, Nancy Drew/Goosebumps-style series opener.

While 11-year-old Olive's cousin Eli calls her "nosey," Olive's father says she has "journalistic curiosity." The kind of curiosity that has her sticking her "nose into grown folks' business... a lot." So it's unsurprising when Olive overhears her parents having an intriguing conversation: Olive's real estate agent mother and historian father are going to spend a few days in Whispering Woods to check out a possibly haunted property. Olive and Eli are thrilled when they get to come along. But something isn't quite right about the town. The main street is a little too perfect, people's smiles are too big, and the traditional Finnegan Family Carnival has a sign reading, "All ages welcome, but please, keep your children close." When a creepy woman tells Olive and Eli to "avoid that carnival at all costs," the duo know without a doubt they have some carnival investigating to do.

The first-person point of view moves rapidly as the kids jump between suppositions, suspects, and downright "strange things" (such as supposed disappearances on the carnival's carousel). Olive maintains a detective notebook that works as an excellent tool to highlight important notes for readers while inviting them to do the same kind of investigating. Bayron creates in Olive and Eli an adorable, comfortable relationship where the children can equally razz and embolden each other. --Kharissa Kenner, school media specialist, Churchill School and Center