VanPatten holds nothing back in this raw and honest account of her lifelong relationship with God. "Faith is trusting that no matter what happens in life for good or for bad, God will provide," she writes. Through such emotive storytelling, she delves into the ways her faith and belief in God pulled her through hard times, including the end of a marriage and the enduring of loss. She is passionate in her conviction that there is a purpose behind the many ups and downs one faces, even though that purpose may not be clear in the moment. That certainty, though, is hard-won, and VanPatten touchingly explores how even a believer can face doubts.
Through inspirational prose and a constant positive outlook even when frankly describing dark moments, VanPatten’s story shines a light in the darkness of doubt and despair and highlights how the struggle can aid in making believers stronger than they thought possible. Centering on familial relationships, life milestones, and spiritual connections, A Quest to Discover the Essence of Faith is a testament to finding blessings and hope in each new day and circumstance.
Takeaway: An inspirational memoir about exploring one's faith and understanding God's will
Comparable Titles: Becka L. Jones's Meant To Be, Anna Gazmarian’s Devout.
Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: B
Marketing copy: A
Connecting our emotions to the world outside of us, the affective force, for example, is rooted in the amygdala and serves as a sometimes overzealous first responder, protecting us from perceived threats to those necessities. The affective force can “dull” and “excite” us, turn on auto-immune systems, “incite a passion,” or trigger fight-or-flight behavior, all in response to our need to gather or protect those necessities. The less potent cognitive force, by contrast, exists to “memorize and reason,” working to understand and estimate the impact of our actions, at times putting it in conflict with the affective force.
Peña brings ample reason and passion to his clear, concise introductions of these ideas, presenting the science with authority, precision, and a strong sense of what readers will find fascinating. Readers not steeped in the distinctions between cortexes will have no trouble following as Peña ventures into unexpected places—meme science, say, and a discussion of the question of whether language comes from our genes or our culture. Peña resists self-help advice or promises of controlling one’s brain in favor of thinking through, with ample citations and frank caveats, why we act as we do, how our brains shape us and our society and culture, and the urgent question of what we still have to learn.
Takeaway: Illuminating survey of “human forces,” necessities, and brain regions governing behavior.
Comparable Titles: Robert M. Sapolsky’s Behave, Troy A. Swanson’s Knowledge as a Feeling.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
The tangled lives in this small coastal town become every bit as important as solving the murder, and Casey teases out their interrelated happenings parallel to the hunt for the killer. That clever strategy helps build suspense along with plenty of character-driven dramatics, as when neighboring couples engage in an affair but meet their demise in a tragic accident the very day they decide to leave their spouses—driving their abandoned partners together in an ironic twist of fate. In a nod to the philosophical, characters hold lengthy discussions on life’s nuances, prompting an unexpected villain to muse “there are no men of faith on deathbeds, only men who die in hope of perhaps” when facing the consequences of his sins.
Each of Casey’s characters are granted satisfying resolutions, many with surprising relevance to the main plot. Even the final confrontation between Mallory and the killer is more rhetorical in its explosiveness than the typical fight scenes that tend to close out mysteries, and Casey caps the novel with a neat bow on the theme of guilt and self-punishment. The languid pacing, bright details, and delightful indulgence in theology only add to this distinctively off-beat, quality mystery.
Takeaway: Off-beat murder mystery with rich, complex character interplay.
Comparable Titles: Richard Osman’s The Thursday Murder Club, Catriona Ward’s The Last House on Needless Street.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing: A
This fleet-footed debut—a blend of suspense, ethical quandaries, and flashes of humor—hits full tilt right out of the gate, and the action never slows from there. That breakneck speed sacrifices some build up in places, but fits well with Brayden’s blistering, no-holds-barred quest to uncover the truth, made more gripping by his penchant for not “follow[ing] the rules” and growing awareness that he’s being set up by the very people he trusts the most. Clark plumbs the dual battle perspective skillfully, adding a rich layer of complexity to the narrative that makes Brayden's fight both charged and pensive.
One of the novel’s most notable features is Clark’s skillful use of humor, with moments of levity strategically injected into an otherwise dramatically intense story, a strategy that humanizes the characters while deepening reader connection. That humor never undermines the seriousness of Brayden’s mission, though; rather, it underscores the human spirit's ability to find light even in the darkest of situations. The dense, expository passages that serve as background for the story’s military framework impede the flow and somewhat mute Brayden’s ability to fully convey his trauma, but still, this is a brisk, engaging debut.
Takeaway: Brisk military fiction with deeper themes of betrayal and corruption.
Comparable Titles: Bradley Wright’s The Secret Weapon, David Bruns and J.R. Olson’s Order of Battle.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: B
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: C
Marketing copy: A
Brisk Verse
Keillor’s signature mode remains the understatedly comic, and the Lutheran humility he has long lampooned, celebrated, and exemplified powers the collection, both as a subject and the lens through which he sees the world. “Our pastor is not that bad,” one narrator notes, a line that cuts to the quick of a sturdy strain of the American grain. Piquant wit even powers poems about life as an octogenarian, including one daydreaming about the ease of assisted living (“Three thousand a week and they treat us quite well”), though it never undercuts the resonance of Keillor’s elegies and encomiums on a host of worthy subjects: Norma Jean, soon to be known as Marilyn Monroe; medical workers; a grandson; an old cat; great writers; a cougher during a Haydn performance; a warm recasting of Larkin’s most famous line; and the sacrifice of American soldiers, whose youth still astounds the poet.
Highlights abound in this unpredictable collection, including limericks dedicated to authors Keillor loves (“Dear Emily D. of Amherst / Seldom shouted or cursed”); ironic stories of love, death, technological upheaval, and being dumped for voting Trump; and a laugh-out-loud appraisal of Kansas. The lowlights are mild provocations—a poem called “Flatulence”; another imagining incarceration for glancing at women—that at least live up to the title. They’re brisk.
Takeaway: Spirited, sparkling light verse in an understated American grain.
Comparable Titles: John Hollander’s American Wits; William Harmon’s The Oxford Book of American Light Verse.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
Richard’s own life often mirrors that of Jamestown, as both are getting a rocky new start. They face challenges and uncertainty, plus connection and sometimes violence in their dealings with the Powhatan with whom Richard shares pipes, knowledge, meals, and looks of “silent friendship.” Richard befriends Na-ta’a-em, a young Powhatan who often rescues Jamestown, whether from starvation, snake bite or attacks from rebellious Powhatan. The scenes that show the developing but still tense friendship between Jamestown and Na-ta’a-em are uplifting. Hovering like guardian angels throughout are Richard’s reliance on God, the Bible and his father’s comforting words of wisdom.
Na-ta’a-em teaches Jamestown survival skills, and the narrative often is focused on rebuilding the fort, council meetings, and the storm-tossed ships, passages that suggest the textures of life. Accounts of atrocities from both sides, including beheadings and scalping, prove wrenching, and Richard, for all his level headed piety, is relatively human: sometimes selfish, growing obsessed with his lost love and making others’s pain or joy solely about himself. Still, this is a hopeful novel, with an emphasis on community building, the power of faith, and cross-cultural friendship, and all that unites us as humans. Especially involving is the well-drawn parallel between Na-ta’a-em’s closeness with his father and Richard’s closeness with Francis and with God.
Takeaway: Uplifting novel of faith, cross-cultural connection, and the settling of Jamestown.
Comparable Titles: Elizabeth Struthers’s A Prayer for Therese, Angela Hunt’s Roanoke.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
The women’s inherent differences emerge subtly, as the group meanders across the Isle of Skye, each in search of very different outcomes. Denny has always been the type to follow her dreams, despite her father’s criticisms, and, as the proud but struggling owner of a bookstore, she’s at the end of her emotional rope following the death of her parents—and her own physical health problems. Maureen’s soul searching and Denny’s grieving form the backbone of the story, alongside their fractured relationship, though Amanda’s temper tantrums—and Lydia’s secrets—pop in for surprise appearances from time to time. The trip is not without its pitfalls, and local hunk Alec, the women’s hired driver, throws a wrench in the works as well, when both Denny and Lydia are swept into the magic of his “dreamy hazel-brown eyes.”
Lloyd’s masterful scene setting and keen eye for Scottish history transform this novel into a stunning tapestry of love, loyalty, and family. Some chaotic transitions disrupt at times, but Lloyd’s relatable characters—and a darling cairn terrier with a new brood of puppies—steal the show, making this not just an appealing love story, but a firm testament to self-empowerment.
Takeaway: Three women pursue personal growth while snowbound on a Scottish island.
Comparable Titles: Kennedy Kerr’s The Cottage by the Loch, Sophie Kinsella’s I Owe You One.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: B-
Marketing copy: A-
Irra gifts Gina a talisman, a fae family heirloom, created when Gina was born, that enhances the wearer's power, and Yap's story explores what happens when a young girl receives a great power and no guidance in mastering it. Except for a neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, no adults have stepped in to stop the abuse in Gina’s life, so of course Gina, endowed with potent new agency, will strive to protect her family, despite the warning emblazoned on her keepsake pendant: “With this talisman, I bear the responsibility of my new powers, never to use them for revenge.”
Yap explores themes of abuse and racism with jolting frankness, and the story moves briskly, with emotional urgency, though the prose often lacks polish and dialogue tends toward the expository. (Characters declare things like “It’s the 1970s” with regularity.) The mechanics of aura-reading are smartly left intuitive, without explicit rules, and the mysteries Yap teases entice—and, in the spirit of series starters, don’t all get resolved. Powering the novel, though, is the potent central dilemma of power and how to use it, as Gina finds magic doesn’t relieve her from real-world consequences.
Takeaway: A young girl, touched with fae magic, must protect her family from abuse.
Comparable Titles: Jodi Taylor’s The Nothing Girl, Kyrie McCauley’s If These Wings Can Fly.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: B
Marketing copy: B
Grote navigates Christian’s unfair life with skill, depicting his pseudo-parenting of younger siblings and overwhelming burden of responsibility through tight plotting that swiftly propels the story. Kimberly’s flakiness—she’s dated loads of “uncles” and instructs her kids on the best way to run cons on unsuspecting marks—is a grim measure for the family, but it gives Grote a jumping off point to introduce a slew of quirky but lovable characters. Those include the children’s grandmother, who smuggles them into her seniors-only community, where “the surviving male population still wore pants the color of canned fruit,” and a grandfatherly man living there who takes them under his wing, though the kids don’t realize until later that his game-changing wishes will play a significant part in their futures.
Readers will sympathize with Christian and his valiant efforts to make sure his family remains intact—and cheer when a responsible adult finally enters their orbit. The ending may not be a classic happily-ever-after, but, even Christian wisely observes that “everybody needs to have a family. And if life doesn’t see fit to give you one the usual way, you got to make do with what life gives you instead.”
Takeaway: Spirited adventure bursting with quirky but lovable characters.
Comparable Titles: Katherine Dunn’s Geek Love, Jerry Spinelli’s Crash.
Production grades
Cover: B+
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: B+
Marketing copy: A-
When Alec’s health starts to fail, Miller becomes more involved in his estate, uncovering a tangled web of complications he’s facing, including uncooperative renters, his declining physical condition, and financial strain. When he dies, Miller assumes the role of orchestrating his final affairs, in the process stumbling onto a family secret that changes her world forever—and opens a door to the familial ties that she’s always longed for. Readers will empathize with Miller, as she recounts secret after secret that come crashing down, musing “is there some golden rule dictating how many times a person can successfully undergo personal reinvention?”
This riveting and emotive journey through tumultuous family dynamics teaches the importance of holding onto one's faith, ultimately allowing acceptance and forgiveness to win out in the end. Through her unflinching honesty, Miller explores prejudice, found family, emotional abuse, and the rippling effects of dark family secrets; despite those weighty themes, she writes with a relatable, encouraging tone that results in an uplifting and impactful narrative. The twists are shocking, uncovered as Miller digs into the buried grit of her father’s past, but she delivers them against a backdrop of faith and love, summing it all up with the wise insight that “we all have skeletons.”
Takeaway: Emotional memoir of family secrets, grief, and, ultimately, forgiveness.
Comparable Titles: Gail Lukasik's White Like Her, Judy Bolton-Fasman's Asylum.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
Noting that “we have little influence on our political opponents” and that our instincts for facing conflict are “amazingly bad and often drive us deeper” into it, Elwood argues that, because “no one is in charge,” liberals should undertake the “morally righteous and vitally important endeavor” to reduce polarization. This demands humility, he notes, though he acknowledges that it’s possible to do this work while still believing the conflict is “mostly the other side’s fault.” After exploring the polarization feedback loop that continually encourages dehumanization, and examining declining trust in media and the complexities of asymmetrical conflict, Elwood lays out steps for lowering the temperature: pushing back against divisive behaviors on one’s own “side”; talking about and modeling behaviors that diminish conflict; avoiding “language that we know will anger the other side for no good reason and for no practical benefit.”
Elwood demonstrates persuasively that insults and contempt fueled by hate, ignorance, and fear lead groups to barely recognize each other, making the impasse difficult to bridge. Speaking of contempt, Elwood makes no secret of his feelings about Trumpism, but he does take ownership of his own anger and disgust, admitting that, after the 2016 election, “I behaved in ways that I now realize were childish and only added to our divides.” There’s much to reflect on in his urging liberals to perform the middle-child role of peacemaker, even at a strategic level: shaming the “bad guys” never persuades them to listen.
Takeaway: A liberal’s call for his side to lower the temperature of American politics.
Comparable Titles: Ezra Klein’s Why We’re Polarized, Justin Lee’s Talking Across the Divide.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A-
My Father Once Told Me
“In the beginning, the Great Spirit and his children were… the only light that could be seen in the darkness” the father’s story begins, describing how his children’s boredom led the Great Spirit to fashion a “very beautiful, blue Something” out of the dark void. Konkol accompanies that reverent story with lush illustrations, illuminated in much the same way as the night sky on a clear evening, with iridescent constellations dancing across the pages. As the Great Spirit and his children infuse the world with light, so, too, does Telleria’s story shimmer with otherworldly whispers, as the blue Something transforms into a billowing aquamarine ocean punctuated by striking earth-toned animals.
This is truly a gorgeous retelling, and the Great Spirit’s playful children will delight younger readers as they scamper, skate, and stir across the oceans, creating islands in the water and framing the seascape with rippling mountains. As the “growing Something” rises from the depths, the Great Spirit’s daughter Mountain Lion and son Mountain Goat “[spring] from peak to peak,” kickstarting a cavalcade of animal brothers and sisters that shape, reform, and populate the Earth. When the animals grow weary, the Great Spirit calls them home, painting their textured shapes across the sky—and leaving a strumming legacy of light for the young boy, who whispers to his father “I [can] see them all.”
Takeaway: Gorgeous retelling of the Great Spirit’s creation of Earth.
Comparable Titles: S.D. Nelson’s The Star People, Kevin Locke’s The Seventh Direction.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
Weaving in familiar gods from Greek mythology—Hades himself has stolen Alex's Titan magic—and creating imaginative elf lore, Parker builds an intricate universe full of magic, surprise (Glock-wielding Elves!), and thousands of years’ worth of tradition. But Alex's rebellious spirit and sarcastic wit keep the narrative light and engaging, even in the face of deaths, enemy fractions, journeys to the stars, and questions of family loyalty and predestined obligation. Trained as a soldier since the age of four, Alex is not new to danger, yet navigating the responsibilities of her duty as Keeper and following the rules of political protocol are almost as formidable as her adversaries.As Alex works to uncover the duplicitous plan of betrayal by other factions, Alex finds that not only is the fate of Eledon and the elfin gold at risk, but so is her life.
Fans of elf fantasy, mythology, and genre-crossing fantasy involving the likes of “Star Elves” will enjoy the world building and character arcs. Telling the story herself in brisk first-person, Alex is a quick witted, powerhouse of a heroine that readers will be happy to learn will return in later books
Takeaway: Inventive space-faring elfin fantasy boasting a quick-witted Earth heroine.
Comparable Titles: Lindsay Buroker's The Elf Tangent, Analeigh Sbrana's Lore of the Wilds.
Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: B+
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: B+
Right from the start, Allison does a great job of immersing readers in the rich, real-life tale, reporting on tantalizing clues (a miniature grandfather clock that died in 1953; an elusive note from his father) establishing the mystery, the family, and the sweep of time, and supplementing it all with diary entries, photos, and archival evidence. The narrative hurtles forward in the form of a quest-cum-bildungsroman, where with every ensuing clue, the question of what has happened to the missing clock collection becomes more urgent. The narrative often delves into the intimate intricacies of clocks, watches, and the art of their making, and will delight clock-lovers, though the hunt will be approachable to anyone interested in compelling family stories.
That mystery is resolved almost halfway through, with the rest of the book marveling at the various clocks in this once-missing collection, celebrating the marvelous devices—like a world clock displaying the time in 24 cities on 12 faces, or many gorgeous mainsprings and inner workings—with an expert’s eye and sense of surprises delight. Allison surveys the collection in chatty dialogue and clear, engaging photographs that will dazzle clock-lovers, though lay readers may find it often technical. This book is a labor of love, a grandson setting down for posterity the truth and wonder of a lost heritage. Lovers of clocks and quaint family histories will enjoy this book, which succeeds in touching the heart.
Takeaway: Touching, fascinating read for lovers of clocks and quaint family histories.
Comparable Titles: Simon Goodman’s The Orpheus Clock, David Rooney About Time.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
It Rhymes With Truth
Their rule is to never talk of the past, the “dirty water under a creaky bridge.” But beneath the boy's smart and mischievous facade, Miller’s deft first-person perspective reveals the heart of a sad and broken child, unaccustomed to being read bedtime stories and sung lullabies. Miller’s storytelling is charming and contemplative, contrasting the innocence of their interactions with the boy's sometimes unhinged thoughts, subtly showcasing the defensive psyche of a child shaped by a rough childhood.
The boy never admits to being fond of Ruth and often contemplates running away, but the book, for all its witty prose and playful footnotes (including a recipe for brownie soup), proves rich with feeling. “You’ve already seen what’s behind the rainbows and teddy bears, haven’t you? You know what the world is, don’t you?” Ruth asks, trying to break through the boy’s distrust and discomfort with every kind gesture or statement of love. His precocious observation, "Things in the world don't stay nice for so long before they go bad" encapsulates his wary outlook, but Ruth's wisdom and her persistent compassion might be the candle in the dark for both. A vital, moving novel.
Takeaway: Playful, moving story of a boy and an elderly woman saving each other.
Comparable Titles: Elizabeth Strout; Kevin Wilson’s Nothing to See Here.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
It's from this discord, and Kiya’s new idea, that the future of humanity rises, as this first family, soon cast out of the clan, claims the name Titans. Kiya makes another declaration, this one more clearly rousing: “Let us raise ourselves to the pinnacle of success, a family overflowing with riches to share with all who ask.” Wammack’s brisk novel charts the Titans’ rise, from the founding of the city of Tartarus to the building of great legacies, the narrative always reflecting the foundational stories it draws from but also emphasizing the human, even when the names of the next generation of Titans will pique the interest of any student of ancient myth: Cronos, “born perfect in every respect,” and who will eventually “groan” as he “deliver[s] Zeus into Rhea.”
Wammack’s demystifying approach makes familiar generational shifts—from Titans to Olympians like Zeus, Hera, Hades, and Demeter—feel both inevitable and surprising, and his treatment of Oceanids and Gigantes, solstices and battles, and the Great Library of Olympus (home of “all knowledge known to humanity”) always center one powerful idea: at the heart of these stories are people, just like us.
Takeaway: Swift, deeply human imagining of the dawn of the Olympians.
Comparable Titles: Mary Lefkowitz’s Greek Gods, Human Lives, Steven Mithen’s After the Ice.
Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: B
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A
