Jessica Vye, a 12-year-old girl living in Yorkshire during World War Two, introduces herself on the first page of Jane Gardam's A Long Way from Verona by saying: "I ought to tell you from the beginning that I am not quite normal, having had a violent experience at the age of nine." That "experience" consisted of being told by a particularly revered author that she is a born writer, setting the stage for her future accomplishments. Jessica is doomed to be a truth-teller, no matter the cost. She is not well loved by her teachers, and even her friends despair of her, but she soldiers on, seeing matters clearly and saying so.

Issues of class arise when Jessica is invited to a "Children's House Party" at the rectory of a wealthy clergyman. The other guests are typical apple-cheeked, well-fed, pink and pompous English children who find Jessica, the daughter of a curate of very slender means, "gharsely." But the son of the household, an avowed Communist at 15, invites Jessica to visit an industrial town with him to see how bad things are. (She doesn't find it half bad, given her own circumstances.) By story's end, Jessica has learned how to be happy in the pursuit of one's art and is more clear-eyed and determined than ever. --Valerie Ryan, Cannon Beach Book Company, Ore.

When Jenny, a young bride planning her wedding on a budget, finds a beautiful vintage tea set at a car boot sale in Sussex, it's love at first sight. But two other women--Maggie, a florist and event planner, and Alison, a working mother running a small business out of her home--have also spotted it. Vanessa Greene's debut novel, The Vintage Teacup Club, takes its title from the women's agreement to share the set, creating a bond that changes all their lives.

As Jenny's wedding date draws near, she receives an unexpected message from the mother who abandoned her many years ago. Maggie's event business and flower shop are thriving, but the sudden reappearance of her charming ex-husband--right as she's planning the event of her career--throws her off balance. And while Alison adores her husband and two teenage daughters, she's feeling the strain of keeping her family afloat financially while he looks for work.

Greene weaves a heartwarming tale, alternating the three women's stories. An encounter with the tea set's original owners lends historical texture, while the characters' personal and financial struggles are convincing. Sweet and charming, The Vintage Teacup Club is best enjoyed with--what else?--freshly brewed tea sipped from a delicate (preferably antique) cup. --Katie Noah Gibson, blogger at Cakes, Tea and Dreams

Since her debut novel, gods in Alabama, Joshilyn Jackson (A Grown-Up Kind of Pretty) has made a name for herself with a signature blend of offbeat humor, family-driven plots, strong heroines, and a soupçon of Southern grace. In her newest novel, Jackson is in top form with a quirky but deeply felt fusion of two storylines that explore the ways our lives are shaped by different types of love.

Twenty-one-year-old Shandi Pierce always thought "Love stories started with a kiss or a meet-cute, not with someone getting shot in a gas station minimart." When she and her adorable, brilliant three-year-old son, Natty, are caught in a convenience store robbery and saved by a man she swears is the spitting image of "the great god Thor," Shandi quickly changes her tune. A firm believer in miracles, Shandi is convinced she and the "Norse godling" have crossed paths because they are destined to be together. Just like that, Shandi is in love.

However, while William Ashe may look like Thor, he's all too human. Although he's a magnificent physical specimen and a brilliant geneticist, William also has qualities associated with the high-functioning end of the autism spectrum, such as trouble relating to emotional matters and a strong tendency to frame the world in logic and numbers. Currently, he's trying to cope with the loss of his wife and two-year-old daughter in an auto accident, a crisis that would faze even the most emotionally aware of people. William sees the robbery as an opportunity to seize his "destiny, this shorthand word that means nothing beyond the strength of his own will." Where Shandi sees the hand of fate, William sees the chance to escape his pain.

Once outside the microcosm of the robbery, Shandi and William each slowly realize they must come to grips with their personal demons. For Shandi, that means admitting to herself that although she cannot remember Natty's conception, it wasn't an immaculate miracle as she's convinced herself to believe, but rape. If she wants to own her past, Shandi knows she has to find out the truth behind Natty's paternity, and William's skills as a geneticist are just what the doctor ordered. At the same time, she's navigating her new feelings for William and living alone for the first time, having just moved into her own condo after getting tired of living with her well-meaning but social life–destroying mother.

After failing at suicide by robber, William finds himself once again grappling with grief for his wife, Bridget, the love of his life since high school. In carefully parceled flashbacks, Jackson slowly reveals their halting but passionate love story, its forward momentum helped along by their sassy mutual friend Paula but constantly impeded by Bridget's deep and sustaining Catholic faith colliding with William's equally strong conviction that God doesn't exist. That they eventually overcome their differences is made almost painfully bittersweet by the reader's foreknowledge of where their love story will eventually lead William and by the futility of Shandi's feelings for him. How can she hope to measure up to the epic love story William already lived?

Shandi and William make perfect foils for each other, her naïveté and openness a candy-colored contrast to his gray cynicism. Where he is a solid wall of logic and analytics--"In families, he realized, children are added to, not superseded.... Wives are structured differently"--she is a straightforward bolt of action: "He was sad and tragic, and helping a girl like me hunt justice might be exactly what he needed." However, the narrative is much larger than just William and Shandi. Jackson looks at a variety of relationships: parents and children, lifelong friendships, budding love, relationships that failed, relationships in flux. The robbery in the convenience store causes Shandi and Natty to forge a bond with William, but that bond threatens Shandi's closeness with her best friend Walcott, who was literally and figuratively shut out of the experience. Shandi's concept of romantic love is hindered not only by the rape she's refused to let herself admit happened, but also by the failure of her parents' marriage and their subsequent unhappiness. The shape of their past molds her difficulty risking her heart in a relationship.

Despite some of the heavier thematic elements, in Jackson's world, second chances and true love tend to prevail, and her offbeat sense of humor can find the lighter side of any situation, whether it's a confrontation with a snooty stepmother or moving away from home for the first time. Readers who prefer the fluffier side of chick lit will find plenty of laughs to satisfy their tastes here, and readers with a predilection for thought-provoking substance will likewise leave the story with a feeling of satisfaction. With a standout voice and a talent for creating fresh, vibrant characters, Jackson continues to be a powerhouse of bold, heartwarming, book club–worthy fare. --Jaclyn Fulwood

As Jill Mansell meanders through a small British town in Don't Want to Miss a Thing, she kicks things off with one of her main characters angrily heaving a large, smelly fish (recently given to her by an ex-beau) over her garden fence.

That would be Molly, a cartoonist and smart girl who has been very unlucky in love. She leads a collection of eclectic folks who all live together in the little village of Briarwood that, however quaint, boasts plenty of action. There's café owner Frankie, who seems to have the perfect marriage--except for the whole trust part. And Lois, a racy barmaid who's so oozing with sexuality it might surprise you how rarely she gets a man in her bed. The reclusive Hope has waited years for her lost love to return, while rakish playboy Dexter is the newest arrival to the party. He roars through town with a shiny yellow Porsche and a newly inherited infant, adding a dash of the unexpected to the mix.

Mansell (Take a Chance on Me) is one of the masters of fun, upbeat fiction with twists of romance. She is working her craft for the umpteenth time here, yet the novel still feels fresh--and even if you suspect where she may be leading you in this charming tale, it's still a pleasant stroll to an ultimately satisfying conclusion. --Natalie Papailiou, author of blog MILF: Mother I'd Like to Friend

Roy Choi, the man who launched the food truck frenzy in Los Angeles, has penned a brash, bold and exciting new memoir that transcends his self-made legend to expose the city's culinary marvels. L.A. Son is the story of countless immigrant families, from a first-generation son in a family living a hardscrabble life as they work to realize the American dream. Choi, though, was born with sohn-maash, a culinary magic touch honed by his exposure to the ethnic flavors and textures of Los Angeles's giant melting pot.

A latchkey kid in a Korean household ruled by excesses of booze and dysfunction, Choi learned the art of the hustle early, soaking in the disparate cultures of rich and poor as his parents struggled to hawk their wares first as jewelry middlemen, then as restaurateurs, in downtown Los Angeles and Orange County. His lust for food was as big as his appetite for vice--gambling and drinking occupied equal space as his ascendancy up the corporate ladder in the financial world, his first real job post-college. While Choi's parents pulled him back from the brink each time, ultimately the Culinary Institute of America in New York saved him by giving "a restless kid from L.A. who had morphed into a thug who had become a chef who had cooked his way up a ladder, only to fall into the arms of the streets" a second chance. --Nancy Powell, freelance writer and technical consultant

Nostalgia, regional pride, taste buds imprinted in childhood: for whatever reason, Midwesterners have a passion for their victuals. From the my-corn-is-sweeter-than-your corn boast to reverent musings on family Thanksgivings, the 30 essays (with recipes) by writers from the heartland in Fried Walleye and Cherry Pie will spark memories among readers across the country.

Peggy Wolff's selections serve as a geography primer. What's "in season" determines the menu, including "fair food" in the summer. When the crops and livestock are on display, the deep fried treats (often on a stick) are abundant. Twinkies, in all their melted gooey-ness, star in John Markus's "Thrill Food," while for Lorna Landvik, the Minnesota State Fair offers 12 days of "fair perfume, the smell of food, heady with top notes of grease and spun sugar." For Indianapolis native Melanie Benjamin, the roar of Indy 500 engines and the consumption of traditional summer foods, including apple butter and fried biscuits, are intertwined.

Pie--cherry, rhubarb, lemon meringue--figures prominently in the collection, from Wisconsin sour cherry land to the Missouri Ozarks, but Sue Hubbell's pie quest led her to Oklahoma, where she was advised, "You're in cobbler country now, Ma'am."

Some of the authors feel a spiritual relationship with food: Robert Olmstead is "transcended" by Cincinnati five-way chili; Jacqueline Mitchard is sure there is "Corn in Heaven," and Jon Yates claims he found "pork tenderloin nirvana" along the Indiana/Illinois/Iowa corridor. --Cheryl Krocker McKeon, bookseller, Book Passage, San Francisco

In The Boy Detective, Roger Rosenblatt transforms a winter night's walk through the streets of New York City into a wide-ranging excursion into the territory of memory that invites comparison with Alfred Kazin's A Walker in the City. Following the tragedy-inspired memoirs Making Toast and Kayak Morning, this book allows Rosenblatt to showcase his capacious intellect and gift for wry humor.

Rosenblatt's childhood in an eight-room apartment just off Manhattan's Gramercy Park provides the rich lode of inspiration for the sometimes loosely connected musings that compose the book. In the 1940s and '50s, he embarked on "boyhood detecting prowls," fancying himself a junior Sherlock Holmes (with a dash of Sam Spade, Philip Marlowe and other literary detectives thrown in for good measure) as he tailed innocent citizens through his neighborhood. Repeatedly identifying an affinity between detective work and writing, Rosenblatt makes an intriguing case for a shared sympathy that links the professions: "Both see people for what they are," he writes, "judging privately, yet leaving cosmic judgment to others--perhaps the deepest sort of sympathy there is."

Ranging across decades of New York history, Rosenblatt is a knowledgeable and generous tour guide, pointing out the Gramercy Park connections of Herman Melville, Edith Wharton and Humphrey Bogart (and E.B. White's Stuart Little), as well as the nearby site of the original Madison Square Garden.

Memoir, urban travelogue or summing up of a career grounded in the written word, Roger Rosenblatt's The Boy Detective is an elegant and wise journey through an incomparable city and a meaning-filled life. --Harvey Freedenberg, attorney and freelance reviewer

Starting at Zero is the story of Jimi Hendrix in the legendary rock guitarist's own words. Compiled from interviews and the lyrical content of his songs by filmmaker Peter Neal, it offers a perspective on Hendrix rarely seen in books about superstars, an intimate portrait that reveals much more about his inner motivations than any historical biography.

Hendrix speaks of his life with a quiet grace that seems at odds with his noisy stage persona, beginning with his childhood in Seattle and his early love of poetry "mostly about flowers and nature and people wearing robes."

He took his band, the Jimi Hendrix Experience, to London in the mid-1960s, paying dues and earning a reputation for brilliant improvisation and musical talent. He also began to resent the fans who wanted him to do the same thing every night, smash his guitar over and over, play the same hits.

Soon, however, he becomes exhausted from touring, his words creating increasingly bizarre imagery, his songs turning trippy and vague. The last four years of his life are turbulent and confusing, as Hendrix retreats further into his music, his own solitude and--though never directly mentioned--drugs.

Starting at Zero is a beautiful tribute, all the more compelling for its lack of biographical or historical context. There are just the words of Jimi Hendrix, a brilliant and tragic guitarist with the soul of a poet. --Rob LeFebvre, freelance writer and editor

Doris Kearns Goodwin's The Bully Pulpit is about one of our most famous presidents--Theodore Roosevelt--and one of our least well-known--William Howard Taft--and their roles in a challenging and changing time in American history. Goodwin (Team of Rivals) focuses on the intense friendship between Roosevelt and his successor, which lasted until 1912, when they became bitter foes, both vying for the Republican presidential nomination. When Taft prevailed, Roosevelt chose to continue the fight as a third-party candidate, splitting the vote so that Democratic candidate Woodrow Wilson won the election.

Goodwin also traces the origins, growth and development of America's muckraking press and the dawn of the Progressive Era. At McClure's, one of the greatest magazine staffs in journalism's history--including Ida Tarbell, Ray Stannard Baker, Lincoln Steffens and William Allen White--wrote powerful exposés that paved the way for Roosevelt to stare down monopolies, robber barons and corrupt politicians. When Taft began diluting many of the reforms Roosevelt put in place, the reform-minded press was there to cover it all.

Deep and scholarly, with rich background and a plethora of historical minutiae, The Bully Pulpit is not a breezy read. Yet, as she has done so brilliantly in previous books, Goodwin makes the political machinations of American history interesting by focusing on the humanity of the larger-than-life figures at the heart of the story. --Jonathan Shipley, freelance writer

As you're reading Ann Patchett's nonfiction collection, This Is the Story of a Happy Marriage, don't be surprised if you have the sensation that instead of consuming words on a page, you're listening to your wisest, most humane friend.

As she reveals in "Nonfiction, an Introduction," Patchett "got her start in women's magazines," relying on her day job to pay the bills while she worked on her first novel. For that reason, she says, the 23 pieces in this collection are "full of example and advice." Those qualities are best revealed in "The Getaway Car," originally published as an exclusive for Byliner. Patchett's account of her fiction writing apprenticeship contains enough sound counsel in 40 pages to replace a good-sized shelf of instruction manuals. In the title essay, written as an audio piece for Audible, Patchett relates what she's learned about why marriages fail and succeed, contrasting her brief and disastrous first marriage with her current one--which came about after an unusual 11-year courtship.

Many readers of Shelf Awareness have warm feelings toward Patchett for her role in establishing the Nashville independent bookstore Parnassus Books in 2011. In "The Bookstore Strikes Back," she admits she's "dizzied by the blitheness that stood in place of any sort of business sense," but in the store's relatively brief life it's been a spectacular success, landing her on the front page of the New York Times and causing her to "inadvertently become the spokesperson for independent bookstores."

The Ann Patchett revealed in these pages feels deeply, remembers meticulously and moves gracefully through the journey that is life. We all can be thankful she's invited us along for the ride. --Harvey Freedenberg, attorney and freelance reviewer

John Sutherland (Lives of the Novelists) tackles an impressively broad subject in A Little History of Literature. Beginning with Homer and The Epic of Gilgamesh, Chaucer and Shakespeare, he hopes to instruct his reader in literature--what it is, where it's been and where it might be headed.

Sutherland takes us from a childhood of "reading... under the blanket, with a torch, after lights out," and the genesis of children's literature, through the modern developments that brought us Fifty Shades of Grey and genre divisions. Even as he recounts the historical details behind Beowulf or the birth of the King James Bible, he skips forward to reference current trends, markets and buying habits, relating them to centuries-old forces. Major works from many centuries are joined by digressions into the history of printing, of copyright and of books themselves.

Sutherland presupposes a certain background among his readers: "much of what many of us know about science comes from reading science fiction," for example, or his description of "many" or "most" children growing up reading at home. He also focuses, with few exceptions, on Western literature, although he does make a conscious effort to call attention to the role of women writers within that tradition. These issues aside, this slim book makes for a necessarily cursory review of literature's greats--and the loving treatment by an expert, presented in easily understood terms, will please both novices and established readers looking to dip back into well-loved works. --Julia Jenkins, librarian and blogger at pagesofjulia

Nick and Tesla Holt, 11-year-old twins, star in a middle-grade novel sure to appeal to mystery and adventure fans, as well as to budding scientists who enjoy devising experiments such as erupting volcanoes.

Steve Hockensmith (Pride and Prejudice and Zombies) sets this madcap mystery in San Francisco's Half Moon Bay, where the twins are staying for the summer with their uncle (either a genius or a madman, they're not sure at first). Their discoveries and adventures in a new town drive this fun- and scientific fact–filled novel as they invent contraptions that help them escape from tight spots--and just as often draw them into difficult dilemmas. "Science Bob" Pflugfelder, an elementary schoolteacher and TV personality, provides instructions (and humorous asides) for replicating the clever devices made by the twins, so readers may join in the excitement. The twins make a bottle rocket and launcher to entertain themselves, and set it off in a vacant lot. But the twins break Science Bob's first rule ("Never stand over an unlaunched rocket"), so when the rocket flies, it takes Tesla's pendant with it. It lands behind the fence surrounding the "old Landrigan place," guarded by Rottweilers and a pair of suspicious "construction" guys, and Nick spies a girl in an upstairs window.

How Nick and Tesla search for the pendant and the identity of the mysterious girl makes for a suspenseful adventure. The brief, liberally illustrated chapters, combined with five experiments make this an involving experience for a diverse audience of readers and experimenters. --Jennifer M. Brown, children's editor, Shelf Awareness

Island of Fire, the third book in Lisa McMann’s planned series of seven, ignites even more challenges in her characters' war against imagination.

Fourteen-year-old Unwanted Alex Stowe and the rest of Artimé are reeling from the loss of Mr. Today, the mage who was killed at the hands of Alex’s twin brother, Aaron, in Island of Silence. Weeks have passed and Alex, as Artimé’s new leader, feels helpless, unable to provide food or protection--unless he can solve the cryptic spell left behind by Mr. Today. Meanwhile, in the antagonistic land of Quill, Aaron Stowe rises back to power and declares himself High Priest. While Aaron’s role isn’t quite as prominent in this installment, he still proves once again to be a complex and entertaining villain when he appears on the page. McMann alternates among many characters, including Unwanteds Lani and Samheed, who became voiceless hostages on the "strangely quite island" of the previous book.

After the magic-lite start, the author ramps up the fantasy with new spells, ships that steer themselves, and the volcanic Pirate Island to dazzle readers. Slight romance arises, but the real emotion of the novel comes through in Alex’s frustrations and drive to do right by the Artiméans. McMann continues to raise the stakes in this series without losing any steam. --Adam Silvera, reviewer and children’s bookseller