The absurdities of life coupled with the strangely surreal are hallmarks of Swedish actor and playwright Jonas Karlsson's work (The Room). His second novel, The Invoice, again turns on a Kafkaesque premise: a nameless, 39-year-old part-time video store clerk and film aficionado--a loner with only a handful of friends, whose most notable indulgence in life is having a pizza and taking in a movie in his one-room Stockholm apartment--receives a bill for 5.7 million kronor (roughly $875,000) in the mail. Thinking the bill--imprinted with a nondescript logo--is a mistake or a scam, the narrator disregards it. The next month, he receives another bill in the same amount, but with a surcharge of 150 kronor tacked on as a late payment. When the narrator calls to inquire, he makes matters worse as it is soon discovered that he owes even more than originally calculated. "What am I supposed to be paying for?" the narrator asks. "Everything," says the representative. "Being alive costs."

Through a cryptic, engrossing storyline that snowballs with staggering, thought-provoking complications, Karlsson reveals more about his underachieving hero. It seems contradictory that the hefty "happiness tax" in the whole country should be imposed upon someone living such a simple life. Fair or not, this leaves the narrator to scramble for deductions in the form of disclosures about free-floating anxiety, missing his parents and the loss of a secret love. The satirical, philosophical nature of this story delves into the meaning and purpose of life, how we measure joy and what truly constitutes a sense of accomplishment. --Kathleen Gerard, blogger at Reading Between the Lines

Much like its protagonist, Bye Bye Blondie wears its barbed-wire personality proudly. French writer and filmmaker Virginie Despentes (author of King Kong Theory and Baise-moi, among others) arms her novel with attributes to scare away the faint-hearted: an unlikable, mentally unstable heroine; more cocaine than can fit up two nostrils; punk rock violence that unglues one's Mohawk and ruins a perfectly decent pair of Doc Martens. Beneath the debauchery is a woman on a precipice, attempting to reconcile her haphazard life with some semblance of contentment.

Despite--or because of--this thorny exterior, the novel's decidedly lovelorn center is all the sweeter. Following a stint in a mental hospital, teenage Gloria's love affair with fellow patient Eric turns lifelong when they find each other again after many years. The couple's reunion is volatile; they grapple with the disparate realities between the idealistic teenage drifters they once were and the aging, disillusioned adults they've become. The novel volleys between barrooms and house parties, arguments that shred vocal cords and sex scenes as gentle and sweet as a lamb. Despentes follows the couple from youth to middle age as they search--often unsuccessfully--for happiness, fulfillment and each other.

One learns alongside Gloria that beneath its superficialities, punk rock's baseline is raw emotion, be it anger or love. Gloria and Bye Bye Blondie possess both in spades. --Linnie Greene, freelance writer

When Zoo signs up to be one of 12 contestants on a TV reality show, she does so intending to have one last adventure before she and her husband try to create a family. Because the show has promised that the experience will be tough, Zoo expects to be challenged and welcomes the idea. In addition, the chance to win a million dollars is enough to keep her in the game. What Zoo and the other players in the woods don't realize is that something goes very wrong during the filming of the first week; Zoo figures the events and devastation she has to contend with are part of the game. Through Zoo's eyes, readers slowly learn the truth about the game and the world.

With The Last One, Alexandra Oliva has written a debut novel that combines elements of reality TV with those of a post-apocalyptic world to create a tense atmosphere, filled with memorable characters who move through the game and surrounding world with varying levels of proficiency. She has done her homework on orienteering, the basic hunting and trapping of animals, and other survival skills a person might need to live alone in the woods without much more than the clothes on one's back. Oliva also does an excellent job of portraying the psychological and emotional traumas that the contestants face, particularly those of Zoo, who begins to question her motives for playing as time progresses. For fans of Survivor and The Hunger Games, Oliva has melded the best of both worlds and added her own unusual twist. --Lee E. Cart, freelance writer and book reviewer

Catherine Banner's first adult novel, after her Last Descendants YA trilogy, is a magically irresistible family saga about four generations of the Esposito family and their café, the House at the Edge of Night, on the small fictional Sicilian island of Castellamare.

In the years before World War I, Amadeo Esposito, a foundling from Florence, has transcended his circumstances and become a physician. He arrives in Castellamare with a red leather notebook in which he records the folk tales the islanders recount. Among his first storytellers is the beautiful schoolteacher Pina Vella, who tells him how Sant'Agata, Castellamare's patron saint, saved the island from a plague of sorrows.

Amadeo and Pina soon marry. Their son is born on the same night that the wife of il conte, Castellemare's titled nobleman, gives birth to a boy, a child who is soon rumored to be Amadeo's, too. Disgraced, Amadeo loses his position as the island physician. To support their growing family, Amadeo and Pina open their café. Three subsequent generations of Espositos continue operating the business, and all the while, they gather the locals at the café to talk and gossip, through loves and betrayals, marriages and estrangements, friendships, grudges, rivalries and the moments of unexpected grace.

This wonderful novel offers much to savor. Banner's island setting is especially well done--a rich and fabulous creation, full of texture and detail. Emotions are deeply felt, consequential and operatic in this small place. All of the people here have lives that matter because they live them fully, and readers are lucky for it. --Jeanette Zwart, freelance writer and reviewer

In ancient Rome, as in the modern world, weddings and murder aren't supposed to go together. But for Flavia Albia, a private informer (detective) who learned her craft from her father, Marcus Didius Falco, picking up a new case six days before her bridal ceremony is a relief. Lindsey Davis (Deadly Election) ably mixes marriage and mayhem in her fourth Flavia Albia novel, The Graveyard of the Hesperides.

Adopted as a teenager by Falco (the protagonist of Davis's previous long-running mystery series), Albia is a sharp-tongued widow who relished her independence, until she fell in love with Tiberius Manlius Faustus, an upstanding if slightly dull plebeian aedile (magistrate). As Graveyard begins, Faustus is juggling his crabby relatives, his anxious bride and his new contracting business, which includes the renovation of a down-at-heel bar called the Garden of the Hesperides. When the remains of six bodies are discovered in the bar's courtyard, Faustus and Albia investigate, questioning the bar's landlord, waiters, grain suppliers and a seedy assortment of local residents. The bones have lain undisturbed for more than a decade, but as Albia soon discovers, someone doesn't want her digging up old secrets.

Davis's deep knowledge of Roman life and culture creates a believable setting, although the details occasionally overwhelm the plot. Albia is an engaging narrator, though not an infallible detective, and her zany relatives (especially her wedding-crazed younger sisters) provide an entertaining counterbalance to the investigation. Davis fans as well as new readers will enjoy this twisty, dryly humorous mystery. --Katie Noah Gibson, blogger at Cakes, Tea and Dreams

Deserts of Fire explores the concept of endless war and its impact, both personal and societal, through 21 speculative stories about living alongside terrorists, about citizen-soldiers enduring combat and suffering PTSD, and about the dehumanizing aspect of technological war.

In Norman Spinrad's "The Big Flash," following the U.S. government's overly successful attempt to get citizens enthusiastic about deploying nuclear weapons, a character remarks, "We'd all like to get it over with one way or the other." And in "The Sun Inside" by David J. Schwartz, set in the fictional kingdom of Pellucidar first created by Edgar Rice Burroughs, an imperialist general argues, "War isn't something people need; it's something we can't avoid. It's what we do. That being the case, it's imperative to be on the winning side, and not allow enemies--existing or potential--the opportunity to gather strength." In many of these stories, collected and edited by Douglas Lain, it is hard to escape the eschatological impulse, a certain nihilistic drive, that fuels much of war, suggesting that perhaps the only end to war is to end humanity.

In another standout, Ken Liu's "In the Loop," a software engineer, whose father committed suicide due to the stress from his job as a drone pilot, writes code for a new generation of killing machines. He makes them smarter, safer and prone to less "collateral damage," and comes to the realization that "fighting with robots meant that no one had to feel responsible for killing."

This is a fine collection of stories, covering big ideas and conveying thoughtful characterizations. --Evan M. Anderson, collection development librarian, Kirkendall Public Library, Ankeny, Iowa.

When Maggie Watson turns out to be a bit of a bridezilla, it's most surprising to her bridesmaids--who happen to be her three tall, blonde daughters. In spite of their stereotypically Californian good looks, the three women are chagrined to realize how much better their mother's love life is than theirs.

Protective big sister Rachel is divorced and juggling life as a single mom, but still not over her cheating ex-husband. Beautiful Sienna is engaged for the third time--to a man she doesn't love, but she can't figure out how to get out of it. And clumsy Courtney isn't looking for love; she just wants to finish her college degree to prove to her family that she isn't the dumb little sister.

As the wedding plans progress, Maggie, Rachel, Sienna and Courtney will have some surprising revelations. Can they overcome their differences so Maggie can have the elaborate, over-the-top wedding she wants? Or will their secrets, the pink champagne and the swans in the swimming pool tear them apart?

With lots of humor, Susan Mallery (Three Sisters, The Girls of Mischief Bay) accurately portrays the complicated relationships that even the best of sisters often have. Navigating their own love lives, plus trying to placate each other, keeps Rachel, Sienna and Courtney busy, and is sure to keep the reader chuckling.

A perfect summer read, Daughters of the Bride is bound to make romance readers and anyone who's ever been a bridesmaid happy. --Jessica Howard, blogger at Quirky Bookworm

One London newspaper called the 1895 murder of Mrs. Emily Coombes "the most dreadful murder of the century." The killer was her 13-year-old son, Robert, who, along with his 12-year-old brother, Nattie, continued to live in their East London home with the decomposing body for 10 days before the stench began arousing suspicions. With her usual restraint and impeccable research, biographer Kate Summerscale's The Wicked Boy delves into the matricide, its sensational courtroom trial and the jury's verdict that Robert was guilty but insane at the time of the murder.

When Robert was sentenced to an indefinite detention at Broadmoor ("a fortified criminal lunatic asylum that housed the most notorious killers in Britain"), most readers would think that was the end of the story. But Summerscale's investigation discovers that Robert was rehabilitated, and in the second half of his life, he won a medal for his military service in World War I, and became an unofficial guardian to an abused boy (whose abuse was very similar to that in the Coombes household when Robert was a child).

Summerscale (The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher) is a deft historical crime writer with an eye for fascinating period detail and psychological insight to the times. She writes with immense control, trusting that her readers will connect the pieces of evidence without breaking the Victorian era reserve with modern day-intrusions. The Wicked Boy is an absorbing piece of true-crime investigation, and a surprising and satisfying tale of redemption. --Kevin Howell, independent reviewer and marketing consultant

Journalist Nick Foster explores a backwater archipelago of Panama in The Jolly Roger Social Club: A True Story of a Killer in Paradise, a work of true crime and national history. As he investigates the serial killer known locally as Wild Bill Cortez, Foster asks: What is it about this expat society, or this place, that allowed these events to unfold?

William Dathan Holbert was originally from western North Carolina, where he showed an early disrespect for the law and his friends. Foster's investigative work follows a young man who defrauded his mentor and experimented with white supremacy before running for the border with his girlfriend, Laura Michelle Reese. But it was in the small village of Bocas del Toro in Panama that he came into his own, eventually killing a number of fellow American expatriates for their cash and real estate. On the property of an early victim, he opened a bar called the Jolly Roger Social Club ("over 90 percent of our members survive"), where he groomed future victims. Holbert and Reese still await trial in Panama.

The Jolly Roger Social Club intersperses Holbert's crimes with Panamanian history, from the building of the Canal to Manuel Noriega's dictatorship and its ties to United States politics and economics. With this broader perspective and interviews with expats in Bocas del Toro who knew "Wild Bill," Foster explores the factors that provided Holbert with the setting where his crimes went undetected for years: a remote corner of the Caribbean where people sometimes simply... disappear. --Julia Jenkins, librarian and blogger at pagesofjulia

Israeli poet Orit Gidali explores politics, religion and community in Twenty Girls to Envy Me. Of particular note is Gidali's treatment of motherhood beyond cultural norms that equate maternity with happiness. Her poetry shares personal reflections about being a mother that are complicated by ongoing violence that affects generation after generation, not just in Israel but globally. She demonstrates how this external landscape shapes domestic life so that even moments of great peace and joy are fraught with conflict. Yet she knows awareness is not enough to drive action or bring about necessary change.

The poem "Heir to the Curfew" opens with her son's hair: "that I let time pass, your hair lengthens, bound in my hand while you sleep." The pleasantness of this intimate moment shifts when she sees that his hair will be "cut short, like the time from here to the army." In this way, she seamlessly moves from one reality of motherhood to another, less pleasant aspect: mandatory service for Israeli young adults. The juxtaposition continues, of nursing her infant and a cycle of violence at odds with domesticity, of a military uniform that smells of laundry. Even as she warns her son against participating in this cycle, "she, occupied by [his] sweetness, is not rising up to do anything." In this life-affirming moment, she mourns her ambivalence, recognizing that her focus on home may prevent her from taking action in the outside world. Gidali's poems offer timely criticism of such apathy without being scathing, leaving readers with a prevailing sense of hope. --Justus Joseph, bookseller at Elliott Bay Book Company

It's 1934, and Melia Hoyle is a 14-year-old mechanic in Walnut Ridge, Va., scrambling to keep her younger siblings in her custody and holding the despicable Harley Blevins at bay. Blevins runs a chain of gas stations, and will stop at nothing to get his hands on Brenda's Oasis, the station Melia took over when her mother died. Melia concocts a crazy plan to take in an "old bum" and pass him off as her long-lost daddy. Hiram Watts is "a heap of mud and hair, a cotton shirt, and a pair of torn-up trousers planted squarely in the path to pump number two" when she first encounters him, but he soon proves his worth ten times over as a businessman... and a father figure.

Joining the ranks of Scout from Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird and Frankie from Carson McCullers's The Member of the Wedding, Melia is a southern force to be reckoned with. "I don't know nothing 'bout--'bout feeling. All I know is fighting. And holding on. At the end of the day, I don't got much left for nothing else." Any one of the intriguing cast of characters of Lucky Strikes--the gruff, protective truckers, Harley's bumbling, blushing nephew Dudley, the down-at-the-heels lawyer still carrying a torch for Melia's mama--could make a splendid protagonist, but tough-tender Melia tops them all. Although Louis Bayard is best known for his historical mysteries (The Pale Blue Eye) and his Downton Abbey recaps in the New York Times, his foray into young adult literature may be his finest work yet. --Emilie Coulter, freelance writer and editor

Bear and Hare are back for another jaunty go-round in Bear and Hare Share, and despite the spirit of generosity the title suggests, they never do share--and it's all Hare's fault.

The two friends are on a walk, both smiling. All is well. Hare says, "Oooh, a flower!" and then eats it. "Share? asked Bear." "Mine! said Hare." This is the fun-to-read-aloud refrain of the book--all the wonderful nuance lies in Hare's guilty expression that says, "No way in the world I am giving you a bite of this delicious flower even though you are my friend." Amazingly, Bear hugs Hare anyway. They go for yet another walk. "Oooh, ice cream!" says Hare. "Share?" asked Bear, looking less happy than before. "Mine! said Hare." Hare has angry eyes here, and his arms are wrapped protectively around the giant ice cream cone, even his long ears are wrapped around it. Still, Bear doesn't care. Hare doesn't want to share a balloon, either, and their ensuing tug-a-war pops it. And when Hare finds some delicious honey, and a swarm of furious bees, it is Bear who comforts and nurses the bee-stung Hare: "There there." (Bear still gets no honey...)

British author-illustrator Emily Gravett's (Orange Pear Apple Bear; Again; Bear and Hare Go Fishing) madly adorable pencil, watercolor and crayon paintings of the bear-and-hare pair leap off the thick white pages to steal readers' hearts. Preschoolers know sharing is important (if difficult), but perhaps an even more important reminder is that being friends means occasionally forgiving ignoble behavior and moving on. --Karin Snelson, children's & YA editor, Shelf Awareness