![](/images/editors-pick.png)
Lockwood’s recollections of her childhood memories as an adult are powerful, wrought in her careful tracing of her mother’s medical history—including researching common schizophrenia treatments of the era—and attempt at reconciling with her brother, all in hopes of framing her younger years against a desperate “search for truth.” Her mother’s poetry—written before the disease, and its treatments, become too overwhelming—helps with that search, and Lockwood quotes her musings often: “After our long cold winter days, // How we welcome each spring! // All life throbs and wakens now” her mother pens of their early time on the ranch.
The beauty and excitement of living on Sky Ranch is eloquently rendered in Lockwood’s narrative, with the thread of natural beauty—and the close animal relationships that went along with that—layered against the acknowledgment of her mother’s illness—and the challenges it raised for herself and her family. Lockwood’s grief when she watches her mother sink into depression and lose her joy is palpable, a heartbreaking reminder of the toll that mental illness can take on its victims and their loved ones. As much a love letter to her family ranch as a tribute to her mother’s arduous and painful journey, this stunning memoir will transfix.
Takeaway: Moving homage to ranch life and the impact of mental illness on family.
Comparable Titles: Patrick Dylan’s Safe, Wanted, and Loved, Karen Comba’s The Snipers We Couldn't See.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
Leslie crafts this delicate coming-of-age fiction debut with gentle care, portraying Frankie as a talented dreamer yearning for someone to appreciate—and nurture—his inner light. That person comes in the form of an unusual teacher in his Catholic school, Ms. Mary, who’s offbeat, welcoming manner makes her stand out—and gives Frankie the chance to blossom under her warm guidance. Mary encourages Frankie’s dreams of being a filmmaker, gifting him the opportunity to share his script at the Christmas Nativity play, and opens Frankie up to profound reflection on who he is, as Mary reflects that “God is love, so God can’t and won’t do anything else. It’s you that needs to love you.”
Mary’s compassion and tenderness are the perfect catalyst for Frankie’s transformation and help him find the inner strength to come out to his family—and to himself. Frankie’s journey comes with its own hurdles, of course, but Leslie keeps the focus on the feel-good results that Frankie’s bravery and authenticity produce. Coming into his own allows a deeper connection with his family, promising new relationships, and, above all, Frankie’s revelation that “you’ve got to have the courage to follow [your] dream[s].”
Takeaway: Tender coming-of-age Christmas story, with plenty of heart.
Comparable Titles: Drew Ferguson’s The Screwed Up Life of Charlie the Second, Steven Salvatore’s And They Lived….
Production grades
Cover: B+
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: B
Marketing copy: A
Radiant Achievement blends uplifting, at-times mystical self-help bromides (“Our inner voice connects us with our soul, and its messages guide us to live our purpose”) with clear, actionable steps for finding success, happiness, confidence, and more in life. Drawing on her own story of personal transformation, Howard encourages women to develop the “powers” that they already possess, like Inner Listening, Self Reflection, and the “full-body yes” of commitment, with a rousing emphasis on centering one’s own dreams rather than those of others—and doing so even when it’s uncomfortable. Howard urges readers to break from comfort zones, to embody their own self-worth, and perhaps most crucially escape old mindsets and patterns to achieve new things.
While terms like “soul” can be vague and some of the advice is familiar, Howard offers clear-eyed, pragmatic advice throughout for syncing up one’s values and drives with achievable ambition. Howard writes with nurturing warmth but also many focused exercises and a sure sense of the potent takeaway, that seed of truth that can perhaps, with care, grow into change. Readers looking for a brisk, heartening introduction to self-transformation will find much here that inspires.
Takeaway: Welcoming guide for igniting the self-transformational radiance of women.
Comparable Titles: Jamie Kern Lima’s Worthy, Brianna West’s The Mountain Is You.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
Building his memoir from ”glad I dids,” Coash provides inspiration at the expense of introspection, exploring, with insight and wit, how places like Nebraska prepare residents to succeed in the wider world. He expresses gratitude that loved ones don’t question his life decisions, preferring to avoid emotional discussions even if it means dealing with consequences on his own. Coash also doesn’t identify as a workaholic, but he uses work to both mask insecurity and smother pain, especially concerning his mother, another native of small town Bassett who fled for a bigger life. She functions as a cautionary tale: someone who remade her identity to fit a desired future. Her equally restless son would keep his options open.
Nominally a coming-of-age memoir, Running Naked is even more than that the story of making of an accidental politician, someone determined to make a difference. Coash was elected to the Nebraska State Senate in 2008, and rallied his fellow Republicans to abolish the death penalty (his vivid account of the “ugly” atmosphere outside the penitentiary during an execution begins to explain why). In an election year when politicians are seen as cynical attention mongers, Coash’s frank account of the struggle to find his career path—and become a trustworthy man—will resonate with readers eager for a positive narrative about the call to public service.
Takeaway: Optimistic memoir of falling into politics after coming of age in rural Nebraska
Comparable Titles: Tom Brokaw’s Never Give Up, Cheri Register’s Packinghouse Daughter.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
Levin sets this story of a woman scorned in the mind 1990s, the dawn of the digital era, when “E-mail was a novelty few used, at least in England.” Janie must adapt to the new technology in her quest for revenge. Samuel’s correspondence with Alison is old-school, letters in which the pair address each other with real yearning, with Samuel’s sincerity somewhat undercut by what readers may interpret as Levin’s satiric bent—despite his elaborate wooing of the respondent to his own personal ad, Samuel is surprised that love letters and dates lead to love making.
Chapters from Janie’s perspective pulse with justified bitterness, creating a tense, engaging contrast that powers the plot. She is no fool and refuses to let any make her a caricature of the abandoned aging ex. Deep concerns of reputation, deftly captured by Levin, motivate both leads throughout, which makes the muted reaction to the breakup from daughter Hannah a telling, relatable detail. Despite the title and the power of Janie’s anger, the letters and the love story overshadow the story’s most compelling element: Janie’s rage at betrayal.
Takeaway: Human story of love, betrayal and retribution, at the dawn of the digital era.
Comparable Titles: Fay Weldon, Elizabeth Berg.
Production grades
Cover: B+
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
![](/images/editors-pick.png)
Mallory’s eccentricity makes her a target for ridicule, and her attempts to confide in her parents fall flat as they dismiss the voices in her head as her imagination. Through this unnerving narrative, Zuiweta effectively wills Mallory's torment to her advantage, revealing a neglected and abused child whose cries for help often go unheard. Each betrayal deepens her wounds, turning her into a ticking time bomb—“Cadence won’t like that,” Mallory replies when a pastor’s daughter asks pressing questions—that is primed to explode. The betrayal of those she considered friends sabotages her capacity to trust, twisting her into a cynic. She is forced to be her own hero, even if it means becoming a monster.
With an emphatic eye revealing Mallory's chaotic internal world, Zuiweta excels in showcasing nuances of how people can fail an innocent, suggesting that this is how a serial killer is made, not born. The result is a hair-raising tug-of-war between good and evil, conscience and retribution that challenges readers to feel for and understand the young killer without necessarily justifying her actions. A satisfying yet unexpected ending will leave lovers of dark suspense yearning for the second installment.
Takeaway: Gripping coming-of-age thriller of trauma, neglect, and a murderous alter ego.
Comparable Titles: Zoje Stage's Baby Teeth, Oyinkan Braithwaite’s My Sister, the Serial Killer.
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
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 Doubt.
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-
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
![](/images/editors-pick.png)
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-
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
![](/images/editors-pick.png)
“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
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-