Victoria Jones is untrusting and unlovable. At 18, she's maxed out on her available time in foster or group home care, as her easy-to-revile caseworker Meredith emphasizes. As this debut novel opens, Victoria is on the streets of San Francisco. She's uninspired, unafraid and in no hurry to succeed.

Chapter two flashes back to Victoria at 10, as Meredith delivers her to Elizabeth, her "last chance" foster mother. The first-person voice and the past-and-present format, rather than creating a choppy narrative, give insights into Victoria's life and flesh out her motivations. Despite Victoria's resistance to love and her rock-bottom self-image, Elizabeth nurtures her, and plants the seeds of her life-long study of the language of flowers. "Common thistle is everywhere," she says, "Which is perhaps why human beings are so relentlessly unkind to one another."

A tragedy ends her placement, but when Victoria is emancipated she draws on that memory of true mothering and her talent with flowers and their symbolism to build a life. Healing her spirit takes longer; we ache to support her as Grant, a flower farmer, Renata, her boss, and, eventually, her own daughter offer her love.

Vanessa Diffenbaugh weaves plant meanings throughout the story and includes "Victoria's Definition of Flowers" at the end of the book. She has launched a nonprofit foster-child support movement, camellianetwork.org. Readers of this heartbreaking and hopeful novel will be moved to respond, if only to plant Canterbury bells (for gratitude). --Cheryl Krocker McKeon, bookseller

There's a certain slant of absurdity that seems to be the province of many writers in the Commonwealth. It's a way of viewing the world that creates a humorous atmosphere along with the creeping discomfort of knowing that just beyond the baffling surface of a tale, the reader is coming heart to heart with an uncomfortably profound truth. Books that pull it off, like Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time or Arundhati Roy's The God of Small Things, usually land impressive literary awards because readers recognize the authenticity behind the author's tilted prose.

David Whitehouse's debut, Bed, is one of these books, a darkly funny satire of dysfunction. The novel's perspective is that of Malcolm Ede's younger brother, who never tells us his own name because all that matters is that he's kin to a man who hasn't been out of bed since age 25. By day 7,483 of Malcolm's self-imposed confinement, he weighs more than 1,400 pounds, and neither his parents nor his brother have been able to escape his needs in over 20 years. The neighbors are nosy, the press curious and the psychiatrists glibly certain that Malcolm's "real problem" is depression. But, just like the tangles of real life, Malcolm's reasons for taking to his bed are much more complex--and they make him, perhaps, the only sane person in the room. --Dani Alexis Ryskamp, blogger at Intractable Bibliophilia

Danish police detective Carl Mørck is back at work after "sick leave," an innocuous term for what really happened: on a dead-body call, he and two colleagues were gunned down. Mørck is no longer himself, the ace detective who lived and breathed his work; he's argumentative and disruptive, and his fellow officers are fed up.

A plan emerges with a funding mandate from a government official to open a department called Q that will look into "cases deserving special scrutiny." Mørck descends to the new basement office of Q, "the fourth circle of Hell," and decides to do nothing, which is what he wants anyway.

But Mørck discovers that the funding for his department is higher than he was told, so he leverages his information to obtain a car and an assistant. That assistant is Hafez el-Assad, who, with his curiosity, drive to learn and useful copy of Handbook for Crime Technicians, pushes Mørck into reluctant action with one case file: five years earlier, Merete Lyngaard disappeared. A rising political star, she was last seen on a ferry to Germany after she and her brain-damaged younger brother, Uffe, were on a holiday; Uffe was later found wandering in Germany. Did she commit suicide? Did Uffe harm her? Was she kidnapped? There are more questions, but few answers.

Kussi Adler-Olsen has written a Scandinavian thriller without snow and with a leavening wit that is nonetheless dark and chilling and filled with appealing characters. By the book's end, the tension is so high turning the page is difficult, but you'll keep doing so, and happily. Even more happily, Dutton has the next Department Q book, and there are others waiting to be translated. --Marilyn Dahl, book review editor, Shelf Awareness

See our Maximum Shelf: The Keeper of Lost Causes for more.

Prolific author James Sallis is probably best known for his Lew Griffin mysteries (Ghost of a Flea). His latest novel, The Killer Is Dying, is both stark and beautiful. Christian, an aging contract killer confronted by his own mortality, is caught in a web of mystery when his final target, a seemingly innocuous accountant, is taken down by an unknown assailant. The job was botched, and Christian aims to complete his task. At the same time, seasoned detective Dale Sayles is searching for his terminally ill wife, who has left him. All the while, a young boy abandoned by his parents in the anonymous suburbs of Phoenix is haunted by the killer's dreams. As the story unfolds, their disparate paths spiral closer, bound for collision.

Though marketed as a thriller, The Killer Is Dying reads as treatise on the human condition. It's not your typical "whodunit." If you hate a wild goose chase with loose ends, this book will challenge you. But it's well worth while to suspend your need for closure, as the author's sparse use of language forces detail into brilliant focus. His characters are so completely human that you slip seamlessly between their minds and memories, ensuring that while Sallis's tale is steeped in loss, it is never bleak. Devoid of even the slightest hint of sentimentality, the story suggests that we are all connected--if not in life, then certainly in death. --Tom Lavoie, former publisher

Enter the world of the Skilled, a select segment of society born with paranormal abilities. Liv works as a Tracker, who can find people by the scent of their blood. Her life is thrown into chaos when her friend Annika demands Liv find and kill the person who murdered her husband--but stipulates that Liv must work with her ex-boyfriend Cam, a man she still loves but must avoid for the sake of both their lives.

Gritty, dark and reminiscent of Kelley Armstrong's Women of the Otherworld series, this first novel in a planned trilogy takes the reader into a seedy world of organized paranormal crime. Liv and Cam may still love each other, but trust is a different matter when each of them is magically "Bound" to a different crime lord. However, as they navigate standoffs and money trails in search of those who killed Annika's husband, the secrets Liv and Cam turn up about their syndicate bosses grow deeper and darker, and they begin to realize they can't trust anyone but each other.

Blood Bound offers a little something for everyone: a convincing magical system for urban fantasy fans; for romance readers, a love that time and distance can't break; and a twist-and-turn plot for mystery buffs. Readers looking for a light and fluffy ride should go elsewhere. While Liv and Cam come across as likable, the overall mood of the book has both the grimy patina and complicated charm of the wrong side of town. --Jaclyn Fulwood, graduate assistant, University of Oklahoma Libraries

Economic downturns negatively affect every generation that faces them, and the recession of 2008 was no different, but the losses often go much deeper than one might realize. In Pinched, Don Peck, an Atlantic journalist, details the enormous social, emotional and personal costs of the current recession.

Peck doesn't try to pretend that the economic costs of recession are minimal; they are, as he points out, staggering. But the costs of economic downturn go beyond dollars and cents--they include the loss of valuable career opportunities for those just graduating from college and the loss of manufacturing and other blue-collar jobs for those who never attended. They include enormous costs in self-confidence and self-esteem, as millions of Americans suddenly find themselves without employment and thus, for many, without a meaningful use to which to put their time.

The losses of significant work and the permanent damage to careers are common fallout in any recession; however, Peck says, this recession differs in at least two ways. One is the losses inflicted by the housing bubble, which is easily the largest economic bubble to ravage the economy in U.S. history. The other is the political chasm opening between the haves, who have been largely unmolested by the recession, and the have-nots, who were sold an American Dream based on home ownership and consumption and who are now seeing everything promised evaporate.

Pinched paints a bleak picture of the this Great Recession because, in many ways, the picture is bleak. By bolstering the middle class and providing jobs, however, Peck suggests that we can turn the bleakness around, even if it takes years. --Dani Alexis Ryskamp, blogger at The Literary Cricket

Every sentence that Alexandra Fuller writes in this sequel to her memoir Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight displays such candor, sincerity, intimacy and unashamed delight in the eccentricities of her family that she renders all the Fullers irresistible.

At first glance, one might consider Nicola Christine Victoria Huntingford Fuller and Timothy Donald Fuller indifferent or careless parents and alcoholics, perhaps even certifiable. A closer look reveals a great love story that includes huge amounts of loyalty and forgiveness, a capacity to come back from heartbreak and a dogged belief that they have a home in Africa, rather than their birth countries of England and Scotland.

Nicola, as a former child of adversity, put up with her family moving around Africa, running from war and the loss of three children. The only survivor other than Alexandra is her older sister, Vanessa, whose eccentricity is her insistence that she cannot read. Nicola suffered periodic bouts of absolute madness, but continued to hope that the next move would be the right one. When asked why they kept going back, she says: "It was Africa, that was the main thing--we wanted to go back to Africa. We longed for the warmth and freedom, the real open spaces, the wild animals, the sky at night."

The perfect equatorial light of Africa is mentioned several times and, at the end, sitting under the Tree of Forgetfulness on their banana and fish farm in Zambia, Fuller helps us see it. Within it, her parents are finally at home. The reader is captivated by their humor, courage under fire, perseverance and overarching love for the land they've made their own: Africa. --Valerie Ryan, Cannon Beach Book Company, Ore.

Vicky Tiel, self-proclaimed inventor of the miniskirt and wrap dress (look out, Diane von Furstenberg!), has produced a memoir that might more aptly be titled "It's All About the Sex." While her career as a fashion designer is covered here, Tiel's book focuses on Hollywood flings and gossip from the '60s and '70s. Unintentionally or not, the read is an utter hoot.

Tiel's over-the-top narrative is full of chutzpah, whether she gleefully recounts standing up Woody Allen after he beat out another director in a contest to take her to bed or shamelessly details her role as a mistress to the married make-up artist of none other than Elvis Presley. Tiel speaks with adoration about her friendship with the generous, larger-than-life Elizabeth Taylor, whom she dressed for many years, but gives other stars shorter shrift (although Mia Farrow apparently gives quite the lap dance).

This rollicking escapade of booze, drugs and travel is interspersed with sex advice (be nothing if not enthusiastic), life lessons from Miles Davis and Coco Chanel and, inexplicably, many recipes from the stars (spaghetti by Sophia Loren, anyone?). In between her motorcycle ride with Paul Newman and tantric lovemaking with Warren Beatty, Tiel also writes about her groundbreaking, fashion-forward designs, such as the red draped "Pretty Woman" dress she created for Julia Roberts. But in a book that's "all about the dress," a photograph or two would have made this far-out recounting of Tiel's life even groovier. --Natalie Papailiou, author of blog MILF: Mother I'd Like to Friend

Erica Heller, daughter of Catch-22 author Joseph Heller, throws open the doors on her family's history and skeletons in this funny, heartbreaking memoir. Given that there are two memoirs by Heller himself, a biography by Tracy Daugherty (Just One Catch) and many interviews Heller gave throughout his life, readers might wonder if Erica Heller will have anything new to say about her famous father.

The answer is: absolutely. While the book touches on well-known details of Joseph Heller's life, such as his friendship with celebrities like Mel Brooks and Mario Puzo, Erica Heller provides insight into life with her mercurial father. Rather than focus on his genius, she fleshes out his personality and their relationship, giving us a man who secretly follows his daughter to her new school to make sure she arrives safely but also disparages her through a thinly veiled fictional version of Erica in a published work.

While her father is the star attraction, Erica Heller's own story is the true focus of this book. Her childhood is peopled with unforgettable characters: her indomitable grandmother who refused to let poverty stop her from spending sprees; her mother, Shirley Heller, whose once-happy marriage to Joseph ended in a hostile divorce; a slew of quirky family friends; and the Apthorp, an apartment building so full of history, personality and community that it becomes a character itself. While most of our parents are mere mortals, Heller's tale of trying to meet parental expectations while finding her own path will resonate with readers everywhere. --Jaclyn Fulwood, graduate assistant, University of Oklahoma Libraries

Donald Altman, a former Buddhist monk and now a practicing psychotherapist, has written such books as The Mindfulness Code and Living Kindness; he also leads workshops in mindfulness training (e.g., "Mindful Eating," to help people overcome eating disorders). Here Altman encourages his readers to take the least scary, most feasible, baby step of all in mindfulness: for just 60 seconds commit to being present. "You may not be able to remedy the situation in one minute," he writes, "but you can face it and vow to do something about it."

For a person feeling irritable, for example, Altman recommends relaxing for 60 seconds without an agenda, without projections, simply "being with" the irritability--all of which should lead the person to recognize the roots of the irritability. The practice applies just as well to someone who has unexpressed expectations of another person that were unfulfilled or who feels uncomfortable about his or her body. The practice of One Minute Mindfulness aims to give people the space they need, free from pressures. This ancient awareness technique has been tested by modern neuroscience, demonstrating the adaptability of the brain and its ability to rewire established neural patterns.

Altman clearly delineates this gentle, liberating approach through the five parts of his book: "One Minute Mindfulness for Home and Play," for "Work and Creativity," for "Relationships and Love," for "Health and Wellbeing" and for "Nature, Spirituality, and Contemplation." Each short chapter concludes with a simple exercise, practice or meditation to allow the reader to experience mindfulness within the area explored. This calm and compassionate book offers tremendous help for every area of our lives. --Judith Hawkins-Tillirson, proprietress, Wyrdhoard Books, and blogger at Still Working for Books

Kenneth Oppel (the Silverwing Trilogy) imagines the shaping of Victor Frankenstein's psyche in a taut and chilling novel that serves as a brilliant prequel to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. He keeps many of Shelley's major players, and invents an identical twin, Konrad, born two minutes before Victor. The tension between the 15-year-old brothers over their romantic feelings toward their cousin Elizabeth Lavenza brings out the dark side in Victor.

Victor loves his twin, but also needs to feel superior to him, and this duality dogs his every step. One day, while Victor, Konrad and Elizabeth are horsing around, Elizabeth falls against some bookshelves that open a narrow entrance to a secret passage. In the bowels of the Chateau Frankenstein, they discover a library of forbidden texts that offers, among other things, the secret of alchemy and the Elixir of Life. When Konrad falls ill, Victor enlists Elizabeth and their friend Henry to help discover the recipe for the Elixir of Life in order to save him. Their pursuit is the "dark endeavor" of the title. Their mission leads them to the laboratory of a hermit-like alchemist and some spine-tingling adventures to retrieve the ingredients.

The question that plagues Victor is whether he should play God just because he can. Oppel succeeds in creating a complex character living in the 18th century whose inner struggles will resonate profoundly with young men and women of modern times. --Jennifer M. Brown, children's editor, Shelf Awareness

For all of us who fell in love with Colleen Minou (Stoner) and Ben Bancroft (Spaz, due to his cerebral palsy), Ron Koertge's follow-up more than measures up to the novel that introduced them, Stoner & Spaz. Ben met with approval from his peers with his documentary, High School Confidential. But Colleen came with him for the screening, and left early with "a guy with a couple of joints and a Pontiac Firebird," as Ben puts it. Ben did, however, meet a fellow filmmaker, Amy, who goes by A.J., respects his work and wants to talk with him about film.

Here Koertge digs deeper into the lives of both Colleen and Ben, and as they confide more in each other, they touch off a snowball effect. A.J. adds another dimension to their exchanges, and Colleen urges Ben to search for his mother. If you find yourself keeping a list of Ben's favorites for your Netflix queue, you're in good company. When he and Colleen pull up at his mother's address, 111 Magnolia, he thinks, "One eleven is a little seedy, like in Day of the Locust, the ultimate movie about Hollywood the way it used to be." The chemistry between Colleen and Ben oozes from every page. She's gutsy and smart as well as beautiful, and she makes Ben feel prized and alive. He stands by her in her struggle to stay clean as the one person she can count on and, in all the important ways, he can count on her. Life is messy, no one is perfect, but they are in it together. --Jennifer M. Brown, children's editor, Shelf Awareness