Readers of well-crafted historical fiction such as Trust by Hernan Diaz will be drawn in by Olivia Wolfgang-Smith's sure-footed Mutual Interest, which is set in turn-of-the century Manhattan, in the aftermath of the Gilded Age, with occasional excursions to Hollywood, Calif., and Utica, N.Y. Wolfgang-Smith (Glassworks) is nothing short of virtuosic in her wry and witty world-building, which immediately immerses readers into a rough-and-tumble capitalist quagmire where the stakes are incredibly high and safety nets are totally absent.

Vivian Lesperance realizes that if she's going to survive with her limited prospects, she must rely on her charm and manipulative abilities, primarily with the women she seduces, who provide her with economic support for a time. But when that time is clearly up, Vivian needs a new plan, which she finds in the form of awkward, sexually surreptitious, socially ascendent Midwestern transplant Oscar Schmidt.

Vivian assists Oscar in navigating the competitive waters of his business and muffles the potential reputational damage of both of their same-sex adventures by marrying him. Her skills are such that she manages to provide Oscar with professional and romantic riches via his business rival, Squire Clancy, another misfit, though one from a higher social class. Their three-way alliance yields enormous benefits for all, but threats to the home they've so carefully constructed for themselves loom--blackmail, social expectation, and justified labor unrest.

This is a novel of families won and lost, love, envy, and betrayal told in a remarkably fresh and entertaining way, with immersive period detail and compelling emotional stakes. Mutual Interest is essential reading for lovers of historical and accessible literary fiction. --Elizabeth DeNoma, executive editor, DeNoma Literary Services, Seattle, Wash.

A tiny Italian village facing destitution catches a whiff of hope in the vivacious, feel-good comedy Tartufo by Kira Jane Buxton (Hollow Kingdom, Feral Creatures).

The village of Lazzarini Boscarino has seen better days. Tourists only come into town if they're lost, and all the bars and restaurants have closed save Bar Celebrità, which "could perhaps use one of the potent espressos made by its bartender." The village's first female mayor, Delizia--who narrowly won the election against "a donkey of legal drinking age"--faces the unenviable task of telling her constituents that the village is on the verge of bankruptcy. Then local truffle hunter Giovanni's prized truffle dog, Aria, unearths an amazing surprise: a white truffle of record size, worth more than its weight in gold. The sale of this astonishing fungus could save Lazzarini Boscarino, but the drama and upheaval caused by its discovery ripples through the villagers' lives and relationships, and may leave the village with little to save. A stolen key, a missing person, and a dubious psychic foretelling add to the turmoil.

Buxton's prose meanders through poetic descriptive passages like a traveler taking a stroll through a wood dappled with golden Italian sunlight. The sheer hilarity of her characterizations and situations stands in striking, brilliant counterpoint to the sophistication of the imagery. Readers see the story's action through many points of view, from the main human characters to the animals and wildlife who inhabit Lazzarini Boscarino. This Tuscan romp is best savored over Chianti or espresso with friends who like to hear funny passages read aloud. --Jaclyn Fulwood, blogger at Infinite Reads

The joy and surprise of finally encountering a long-celebrated writer feels almost physical--a sharp reminder of all the great work that could so easily get missed. For a newcomer, reading Gliff by Booker Prize-nominated Ali Smith (Autumn; How to Be Both) is like that. This is a marvel of a book, a tale that manages both to distill and distort the present to project a sobering yet hopeful view to an uncanny future where surveillance is king and one's personal data determines their fate.

At the start, Gliff is a bit like peering in the windows of a house and finding familiar furniture and people and languages being spoken, but none of it makes sense. Smith's luminous prose keeps readers from turning away, and they instead remain locked on a scene that, to Smith's great credit, does become clear--startlingly so. Until then, the reader must wonder: Who are these children? Why must their mother work in this fancy hotel? And why must they quiet their questions and leave her there, departing "like we were guests who'd been quite nice to her" as she hugs them "separately, polite, goodbye"?

These will not be the only questions, of course. Repeatedly, the tale establishes something that seems utterly foreign until the moment it clicks into place as a very possible reality in the future. Rather than being terrifying, however, Gliff is driven by an energetic hope for better, standing in reckless defiance of the very picture it paints. A challenging book in every sense of the word, Gliff is tremendously clever and equally full of heart. Read it and think. --Sara Beth West, freelance reviewer and librarian

Suzanne Nelson's riveting first work of adult fiction, The Librarians of Lisbon, follows two best friends from the United States who find themselves in Portugal's ostensibly neutral capital city during World War II, working by day as librarians and by night on differing covert missions. Despite their deep friendship and fierce loyalty to each other, there's much Bea and Selene can no longer share, and the men they are drawn to have secrets of their own.

Nelson (A Batch Made in Heaven) draws on wartime archives and historical figures to craft her narrative. She alternates between the perspectives of daring, confident Selene and cautious, methodical Bea--polar opposites who became friends back in Boston, Mass., and are now an ocean away from home, working day jobs that employ their analytical and organizational skills, and attempting to infiltrate the Axis spy network in their off-hours. For Selene, this means attending glittering events in the company of disgraced cabinet member Luca Caldeira, and trying to curry favor with the wealthy mistresses of other important men. For Bea, it means many hours spent in a secret underground room, where she reviews intelligence (and makes use of her photographic memory) and tussles with the enigmatic Gable, a skilled double agent whose knowledge and scars run deep.

Nelson skillfully builds her suspense and raises the emotional stakes, leaving her two librarians--and readers--racing toward the final confrontation. Layered with Portuguese phrases, sparkling evening gowns, and details of World War II spy craft, The Librarians of Lisbon is a gripping espionage thriller and an emotionally nuanced tribute to a lifelong friendship. --Katie Noah Gibson, blogger at Cakes, Tea and Dreams

While passionate love affairs are standard fictional fare, the more quotidian stories of long marriages don't often possess the same literary appeal. Some readers may reevaluate that assessment after reading Jessica Soffer's This Is a Love Story, a realistic and affecting account of how one couple's bond endures in the face of life's inevitable challenges.

Soffer (Tomorrow There Will Be Apricots) tells the story of New Yorkers Abe and Jane. He's a novelist and poet who's managed to pair a successful writing career with a job in his family's textile business; she's an equally talented artist. In chapters that loop through time from their first meeting at Tavern on the Green in 1967 to the long days, decades later, when Jane is dying after a recurrence of cancer, Soffer explores Abe's brush with infidelity, Jane's postpartum depression after the birth of their son, Max, and the arcs of their respective artistic careers that oscillate between the poles of mutual support and occasional professional jealousy. Soffer periodically leaves this talented but in many ways unexceptional family for visits to Central Park, the site "where the most important moments of their lives have taken place." These chapters touch on the history of the park, the idiosyncrasies of some its current denizens, and more, offering the opportunity for some of the novel's most evocative writing.

In the end, Abe observes that "there has never been fault between us. Or at least never anything specific. You were. I was. We have always just been water, slipping through holes." In a sense, any attempt at summing up a long-term marriage is destined to fail. But in the case of Abe and Jane, it's a lovely and fitting benediction to an emotionally resonant story of their inextricably paired lives. ---Harvey Freedenberg, freelance reviewer

Jón Kalman Stefánsson (Your Absence Is Darkness) published Heaven and Hell in his native Iceland in 2008. This evocative English translation by Philip Roughton is sure to reinvigorate interest in this first volume of a trilogy that follows an unnamed young man navigating life after loss. Like the short fishing expedition at the center of the protagonist's experience, the novel is slight but contains unexpected depths. In fact, much of the lyrical text will put readers in mind of the sea or a deceptive fall of water that seems to tumble lightly over rock while containing an icy force.

The novel opens with a sort of invocation entitled "We Are Nearly Darkness," which establishes the narrative voice, a chorus of storytellers and memory keepers who "know a little about life and a little about death, and can tell of it: we come all this way to touch you, to set fate in motion." Heaven and Hell then follows the boy and his companion, Bárður, as they and their small crew prepare to go to sea, bringing along a borrowed copy of John Milton's Paradise Lost. Stefánsson's long clauses, endlessly rocking one to the next, inhabit the rhythm of the ocean, and while his plot is thin, it raises profound questions such as, "If only existence were always so direct and easily readable, if only we could escape the uncertainty that reaches out over graves and death. But what softens uncertainty if death does not?" This beautiful novel provides a reminder of the smallness of humanity and the power of community--and of words--to keep the darkness at bay. --Sara Beth West, freelance reviewer and librarian

Shara Moon's thoughtful debut novel, Let Us March On, provides a distinctive perspective on the U.S. civil rights movement through the voice of Elizabeth "Lizzie" McDuffie, a real historical figure who spent 12 years working for President Franklin Delano Roosevelt as a maid and unofficial civil rights liaison. Narrated by Lizzie, the novel traces the major events of Roosevelt's time in office and examines the long struggle for Black Americans to live freely and without fear.

Moon takes readers inside FDR's White House, sharing the day-to-day experiences of Lizzie and her husband, Mac, who worked as Roosevelt's personal valet for years. Although Mac is hesitant to push the president on civil rights issues, Lizzie feels the weight of their position as a Black couple who have FDR's ear. As she receives hundreds of letters from fellow Black Americans, Lizzie shares their concerns with the president and his wife, Eleanor, eventually becoming FDR's "SASOCPA" ("self-appointed secretary on colored people's affairs"). She even makes a few campaign appearances when FDR decides to run for a second term.

Moon's narrative brings the Great Depression to life through Lizzie's sharp-eyed observations and her deep regard for the president and his family, and the letters from ordinary Americans struggling to make their voices heard. Moon deftly depicts how Lizzie balances her housekeeping duties, her civil rights work, and her loving but complicated marriage to Mac. Let Us March On is a compelling portrait of a woman determined to fight for her people and serve her country with integrity and grace. --Katie Noah Gibson, blogger at Cakes, Tea and Dreams

Former postal inspection agent-turned-freelance courier Mercury "Merc" Carter is the most unlikely of action heroes in The Mailman, Andrew Welsh-Huggins's energetic series launch.

Four masked criminals are holding Rachel Stanfield and her husband, Glenn, captive in their suburban Indianapolis home. They're willing to torture, even kill, Rachel unless she tells them the whereabouts of Stella Wolford, a low-level employee who recently gave a deposition for a lawsuit at Rachel's firm. They refuse to believe Rachel doesn't know. When the "shrimpy" Merc arrives to deliver a package, his surprise appearance is an inconvenience but this ruthless gang, who pride themselves on being "the best of the worst," think they will dispatch him easily. They are wrong. Merc insists he must deliver his package only to Rachel: "I'm a guy who delivers stuff. Occasionally, things get complicated." Merc incapacitates the gang one by one, but they still manage to escape, taking Rachel hostage, and leaving Merc and Glenn to embark on a cross-country pursuit.

Welsh-Huggins's sharp plotting is propulsive, and The Mailman's high-adrenaline pace never lets up. He weaves in historical background about the United States Postal Inspection Service being one of the country's oldest police divisions and how its agents can carry guns, giving The Mailman a dose of realism. Merc's intelligence and ability to adapt to violent situations without going over the top carry The Mailman. Merc has much in common with Jack Reacher and Colter Shaw, but Welsh-Huggins makes him a distinct character. --Oline H. Cogdill, freelance reviewer

In At Dark, I Become Loathsome, a grotesque yet moving horror novel from Eric LaRocca (You've Lost a Lot of Blood), the conductor of a macabre ritual to help those contemplating suicide forms a disturbing connection with a potential subject.

Ashley Lutin has always considered himself to be a "horrible creature," and he has only sunk more deeply into darkness in the years since his wife died and his young son went missing. A "self-loathing bisexual," Ashley worries that he may have driven his son away with his fears that the boy might be gay--"I just didn't want him to be like me." To help others who have often "thought that the world would be a better place without [them]," he has created a " 'fake death' ritual," through which they can confront death by being buried alive. But not long after receiving news about his son's disappearance, Ashley is approached by a new client who tells him a story that both revolts and intrigues him. He begins to lose the careful balance that has contained his self-described loathsomeness in the dark.

An expert in body horror, LaRocca skillfully uses the unsettling stories that fascinate Ashley to drive home the ugly burden of guilt he feels over his son's fate and his own sexuality. As Ashley careens out of control, readers will be breathless and on the edge of their seats, waiting to find out whether the truth will set him free. --Kristen Allen-Vogel, information services librarian at Dayton Metro Library

A Crown So Silver, the second installment in the Fair Folk series by Lyra Selene (A Feather So Black), continues the breathtakingly adventurous and sexy story of a young woman caught between the worlds of humans and the Folk.

Fia was supposed to die on the night of the Ember Moon. Instead, she was reborn and inherited a lost Folk artifact, the Treasure of the Sept of Antlers, which results in a "riot of new, powerful magic roaring through [her]." Fia's husband, the devastatingly gorgeous Folk lord Irian, adores her, but his fear for her manifests in overprotective tendencies that Fia finds frustrating. She's spoiling for battle against her sister, Eala, who has seized control of the gates to the human world. Irian suggests they journey to the Silver Isle, a wintry island ruled by a smith-king. Fia agrees, believing they will ask the king to reforge the remaining lost Treasures to help them defeat Eala. But after they reach the island, Irian instead asks the smith-king to destroy the existing Treasures. A dangerous magical tournament, Eala's own arrival to the Silver Isle, and an explosive secret will test Fia and Irian's love, win them new allies, and change the struggle for the Folk world in unimaginable ways.

In A Crown So Silver, Selene expands her lush fantasy setting, bumps the romance from steamy to scalding, and brings new friends and enemies into Fia's path. The prose remains as dreamy and poetic as in the first book, and the ending sets up a dramatic twist that will leave readers clamoring to get their hands on the next volume. --Jaclyn Fulwood, blogger at Infinite Reads

At the Fount of Creation, the second installment in Tobi Ogundiran's Guardian of the Gods duology, ratchets up the action in the fight to save the orisha--and the world. But as the adventure unfolds, a question arises: Are the orisha really worth saving?

The narrative picks up shortly after In the Shadow of the Fall, the duology's first novella, ends. Again readers primarily follow Ashâke, but chapters from a few other perspectives are included, such as Djábri, a tortured soul who's still trying to do good. Ashâke has come far, maturing from childish acolyte to young woman working for the benefit of others. The narrative also spends time with the antagonists, adding depth by exploring their nuances. Each character is flawed and relatable in ways that will make readers care about their well-being.

This is a thoughtfully complex conclusion to the duology. It builds on the in-depth, Yoruba-inspired world Ogundiran established in the first volume. The system of gods and magic comes to life with expansive world-building and intriguing dynamics, complete with god-on-god conflict and a mysterious silver ore with magical properties. Several factions emerge, each full of distinct characters who clash fantastically with one another. The final conflict and the revelations it brings are riveting.

At the Fount of Creation--and the duology as a whole--is a fast-paced fantasy epic populated with relatable characters and cinematic action. It feels light and fun as it probes heavier themes of power, who deserves to have it, and what's warranted in the face of corruption. --Carol Caley, writer

A probing, curious mind interrogates a fascination with New York City in Kay Sohini's gorgeously detailed debut graphic memoir, This Beautiful, Ridiculous City. Sohini, who holds a Ph.D. in English from Stony Brook University, explores her life to see how and why she became infatuated with New York, a city with which her "attachment can never be explained in the realm of the logical." She begins with an image that's repeated two more times later in the book: a plane sitting on the tarmac at JFK airport in the rain on her first night of the city, as she tries to make an inventory of what she's left behind. Each time, the refrain changes slightly, complicating the narrative.

The first chapter touches on literary greats, such as Sylvia Plath and Alison Bechdel, who helped shape her image of the city as a refuge for creatives. Then, Sohini dives into her formative years growing up in postcolonial India in a large family home in the suburbs of Calcutta. The book transcends autobiography through a collage-like assembling of cultural and historical context alongside the personal. For instance, India's rapid industrialization with her parents' decision to send her to a private, English-speaking school, which in turn becomes "the language [she] thought in," and "the language [she] understood the world through." All of which helps foster her attachment to things like Friends, which fed into her longing for New York, a place where she finally feels at home. This Beautiful, Ridiculous City is a poignant examining of New York as seen through an Indian immigrant's eyes and history. --Nina Semczuk, writer, editor, and illustrator

As a Grammy-nominated singer-songwriter, visual artist, and member of The New Pornographers, Neko Case is unquestionably one of the most creative, versatile, and distinctive artists performing in the 21st century. With The Harder I Fight the More I Love You, she turns her singular talents to telling her own story, with haunting and profound results.

Case is fascinated by ghosts, and her memoir is filled with them. As a child, she faced heartbreaking and infuriating hardships, including being bounced between her young, "stressed and uninterested" parents, who were "poor as empty acorns" and utterly incapable of caring for her. That Case emerged relatively intact from these experiences is a marvel. Bighearted and compassionate, her telling captures how a person can make sense of her life and the people who care for her, however imperfectly--and the fact that some people can't. She writes, "[Forgiveness is] not a tiny golden diploma you bestow upon someone. Forgiveness takes many forms and may be as simple as the moment something no longer has power over you." Her humor and generosity with her younger self, as well as with the friends and family who helped her survive, are an expert demonstration in emotional intelligence and wisdom.

Music played a decisive role in how Case began to build her own identity, to connect with other like-minded people, and to forge her way into the world. Case emerges into the world and makes it her own, on whatever terms she can craft, and The Harder I Fight the More I Love You is a marvelous and moving memoir with an insistent, important perspective on the world. --Elizabeth DeNoma, executive editor, DeNoma Literary Services, Seattle, Wash.

A life of independence and literary renown is irrevocably altered in Shattered: A Memoir by British Pakistani novelist and screenwriter Hanif Kureishi. In a series of reflective, chucklesome, and sometimes brooding "dispatches" from his hospital bed, Kureishi narrates his consequential year of recovery after the Christmas 2022 fall and spinal injury that resulted in tetraplegia.

For Kureishi (The Buddha of Suburbia; The Nothing), a writer known for his irreverent humor and flair for capturing the gritty realities of life, the ability to express himself freely is his most precious asset. Here, readers will find his writerly talents in full bloom even as he must renegotiate all other aspects of his life.

Shattered opens in January 2023 at Rome's Gemelli Hospital. Kureishi was unable to move his limbs and communicated by dictating diary-like entries to his partner, Isabella, and his sons, Sachin, Carlo, and Kier, as they circled in and out of his hospital room. His immobility didn't stop Kureishi from appreciating the more farcical aspects of his medical care, including the time a nurse excitedly mistook him for Salman Rushdie.

Kureishi was not immune to "the rage of helplessness" but it didn't consume him. As he describes cappuccinos with a fellow patient and visits from friends, he recalls Great Britain's multiracial transformation during the 1960s and the influence his father, "a civil servant at the Pakistani Embassy in London," had on his career.

It is Isabella, devoted to and exhausted by his care, to whom Kureishi dedicates this memoir. He has faith they can find "a new way of loving each other." In spite of everything he has lost, Kureishi is determined to write. "It has never mattered to me more," he declares, accepting an astonishing new reality in which "all I have left is speech." --Shahina Piyarali

Science writer Liese Greensfelder's memoir, Accidental Shepherd, gives a wry, affectionate account of the unexpected year she spent managing a remote mountain farm in Norway. Eager to learn about agricultural practices, Greensfelder traveled from California to Norway in 1972 to spend the summer working with a farmer named Johannes Hovland. Upon arrival, she discovered that Johannes had been hospitalized following a stroke. He asked 20-year-old Liese to watch over the farm for a few weeks--which turned into months. With help from her new neighbors (but no modern machinery), Liese plunged into the tasks of milking, caring for livestock, maintaining the farm, haying, and weeding Johannes's prized garden. Over the course of the year, she fell deeply in love with her new community of Hovland and its kind, hardworking people, who taught her to speak kvammamaol, their dialect of Norwegian, and generously shared their knowledge.

Greensfelder's narrative celebrates the beauty of western Norway and its mountains, meadows, fjords, farms, and remote cabins that were once frequented by budeier--shepherdesses who cared for free-ranging sheep and cows. She describes the farm's never-ending work, her deep sense of responsibility to Johannes's animals, and her growing confidence and skill. Amid the backbreaking work, however, Greensfelder also found joy: in summer hikes, cross-country skiing, local dances, and deep friendships with her neighbors, who answered her endless questions and embraced her as one of their own.

Packed with details of farming life and peppered with Norwegian vocabulary, Greensfelder's memoir is an intimate portrait of a vanished region and an evocative tribute to the community she came to love. --Katie Noah Gibson, blogger at Cakes, Tea and Dreams

For most people, Rachel Carson is synonymous with her Silent Spring exposé of unregulated chemicals destroying the sustainability of American agriculture. In Rachel Carson and the Power of Queer Love, Boston University professor Lida Maxwell examines letters Carson exchanged with her intimate friend Dorothy Freeman and argues that Carson's environmentalism was inextricably intertwined with queer frameworks of love.

Maxwell draws on writers from many disciplines, including Black and queer studies, to elucidate how structures commonly thought of as inherent to human desire and relationships are shaped by white patriarchal capitalism. She demonstrates that ideologies of heteronormative love are based on self-shaming to distance oneself from supposed deviances, lack of utility in an ideal of love for its own sake, and separation between the political and the intimate. In the queer relationship Carson developed with Freeman during their time on Southport Island in Maine, these ideals of straight love are inverted. Unlike heteronormative ideas of naturally occurring love without purpose, Carson and Freeman are active creators of their love, which is a source and result of wonder rather than shame, characterized by "loving use" rather than the "using up" of capitalist consumption, and vital to Carson's commitment to nonhuman nature and political activism.

Maxwell brilliantly evokes emotions while making intellectual arguments, telling the story of Carson and Freeman's developing love through passionate excerpts from their letters and gorgeous descriptions of the land that served as the backdrop and companion to their love. Readers of all sexualities stand to gain tremendously from her work in every area of their lives. --Dainy Bernstein, freelance reviewer

Anyone interested in the commerce of art knows the names Christie and Sotheby, but they should also know the name Goldschmidt. At London's Goldschmidt sale of 1958, "the modern art market was born," according to British art historian James Stourton: impressionist paintings sold for unprecedentedly high prices, burnishing the idea of art as a financial investment and London as the global market's red-hot center. Stourton lays it all out--skillfully and patiently, often wryly and sighingly--in Rogues and Scholars: A History of the London Art World: 1945-2000.

The years that followed the Goldschmidt sale, which was overseen by auction house Sotheby's, saw the demotion of dealers and the rise of auctioneers. Stourton has a conspicuously good time writing about the machinations of rivals Sotheby's and Christie's, which "became as aggressive, dominant and competitive in their field as Pepsi and Coca-Cola." Incorporating first-hand insights from interview subjects who were on the art scene at pivotal moments, Stourton introduces half a century's worth of noteworthy auctioneers, dealers, gallerists, and artists. Among them are commission fixers, a top-grade forger, and other rogues promised by the book title.

Much of Rogues and Scholars unfolds in swinging London, where movie and pop stars were increasingly making the art scene. Stourton (Heritage: A History of How We Conserve Our Past) has pieced together an absorbing character-based history-cum-exposé in which, in a probably unintentional reflection of the art world's then-ascendant fascination with celebrity, Mick Jagger's name appears more often than those of Cy Twombly, Robert Rauschenberg, or Jasper Johns. --Nell Beram, author and freelance writer

Coretta Scott King Award winner and Newbery Award honoree Renée Watson (Piecing Me Together) uses poetry and lyrical prose to sculpt All the Blues in the Sky, a deeply affecting window into healing that skillfully manages to be both heartbreaking yet full of hope.

A month ago, on 13-year-old Sage's birthday, her best friend was killed by a drunk driver. Since then, Sage struggles to understand why "sometimes no one sees death coming," especially when it suddenly and senselessly comes for a best friend as "mangled metal wrapped around/ a street sign." Grief group at school provides a safe space. There, Sage meets Ebony, who helps her understand that when life feels like an ocean, "there is something/ to hold on to/ to keep you afloat." But healing is slow and difficult, and Sage is constantly reminded of everything her best friend will never get to do. Luckily Sage is surrounded by fellow grief group members, wise and loving adults, and even a neighborhood boy to crush on, as she begins to slowly make her way toward acceptance and healing even through horrific and ongoing loss.

All the Blues in the Sky is an intimate, intense portrayal of grief as well as the uncertainty and promise of tomorrow. Watson's hybrid style skillfully makes use of poetry and lyrical prose to crack open the heart of her protagonist, while grounding Sage in a realistic middle school experience. The author sure-handedly balances intense, engulfing sadness with moments of love and beauty, and shows how life, and death, carry on, with every person affected differently. --Lynn Becker, reviewer, blogger, and children's book author

A conservative teenager serves as a congressional page and begins to open her mind to different worldviews in this astounding historical novel jam-packed with the real-life events and issues that crowded headlines in 1973.

When 17-year-old Patty spends a year serving as one of the first female pages in the U.S. Senate, her personal social, sexual, and political awakenings coincide with some of the biggest upheavals in U.S. history, including the Watergate hearings, the battle to pass the Equal Rights Amendment, the Roe v. Wade decision, and the final days of the Vietnam War.

L.M. Elliott (Louisa June and the Nazis in the Waves) does a superb job of placing her readers squarely in 1973 Washington, D.C., filling the pages of Truth, Lies, and the Questions in Between with the music, art, books, movies, advertisements, and fashion of the era, alongside the political goings-on. Patty begins her year as an obedient daughter and dutiful girlfriend, becoming a page because it would make her "the perfect wife for a man of ambition," according to her boyfriend. But by the end of the year, everything she's seen has "opened her eyes to the fact things just [don't] feel right," not only about President Nixon's campaign tactics but also the sexist and racist attitudes she's long internalized.

Several pages of eye-drawing collage-style historic photos and documents introduce each chapter, giving readers a breathtaking month-by-month view of this extraordinary, electric time. Although Patty's father and boyfriend are somewhat one-dimensional, other characters are nuanced and realistic. Here is an uncommon YA title that covers new territory in a novel way. --Emilie Coulter, freelance writer and editor

Olivia Abtahi (Perfectly Parvin) and Monica Arnaldo's first picture book collaboration, The Interpreter, is an earnest and endearing depiction of a child who becomes overwhelmed while serving as translator for her Spanish-speaking parents.

While some kids have only one job--"to be a kid"--Cecilia has two: in addition to school and soccer, she acts as interpreter for her Spanish-speaking parents. Cecilia goes with her caretakers to all sorts of "grown-up places" and assists with appointments, making small talk with other parents, and translating phone calls and websites. Cecilia works so much "overtime," she's exhausted! At parent-teacher meetings, an adult asks Cecilia how she's doing and she explodes. Luckily, the girl's loving, grateful parents are compassionate and quickly understand that their daughter needs help. Now, Cecilia can perform her important job as interpreter and still have time for her other, equally important job: being a kid.

Abtahi, who herself played the role of Spanish, English, and Farsi interpreter as a child, delivers a clever, straight-from-the-heart story. Her portrayal of the emotional and physical toll Cecilia experiences hits home, as does the gratifying way her parents pivot to meet their daughter's needs. Arnaldo (Mr. S.), who also translated for her Spanish-speaking parents while growing up, employs dynamic watercolor and pencil crayon art to emphasize Cecilia's two distinct roles, illustrating the girl "working" in an oversized suit and showing a frenzy of activity by overlapping and blending colored speech bubbles (blue for English, orange for Spanish). This bilingual narrative is an excellent, resonant picture book for kids and caretakers alike. --Lynn Becker, reviewer, blogger, and children's book author

Author/artist Dac Trung Tran recalls "the endless summers of [his] early years" in his Vietnam hometown in the resplendent picture book Remember. A boy awakes to a note left on his bedside table that begins, "Dear son, Mom is going to work early today." The letter goes on to offer a series of caring reminders: "Remember to speak loudly when ordering breakfast," "to water the plants," not to "get too distracted by snacks and toys," "to feed your mind... and to play." Most importantly, at the end of his adventures, "Remember Mom will be waiting for you."

Tran's vibrantly saturated illustrations fill every inch of all pages, bleeding to the edges as if emphasizing the unlimited possibilities of each day. The boy's comparative tiny size--in the market, the library, on the sidewalks and streets--underscores the expansiveness all around, waiting to be explored. "It is a child's unique ability to find wonder in even the most unremarkable corners of their world," Tran writes in his concluding author's note, also revealing that the Mom-notes are real "words and advice" his mother left for him. They "felt like rules to live by, but also incredibly tempting rules to break," which the protagonist eventually does, driven by utter kindness--Mom's admonition to "cover your head so you don't get wet," gets disregarded to protect a lone pup on the street... albeit with a library book! Tran concludes with a timeless reminder to young audiences: "embrace the dreaminess. Wherever they find it." --Terry Hong