Moore's coming-of-age dystopian tale (after Ballad of the Dead) has many intriguing ideas at its core, and Oliver's found family is incredibly charming, each playing their own part as they forage, hide, and, above all, value the land that supports them. Their motto—“we need everyone to take care of themselves”—plays out in the background as Oliver learns to work within their team while coming to grips with the pseudo-reality he’s been living back home. Moore’s depiction of the cave-cities Autumn and her family navigate—with their own printing press, markets, and self-sufficient processes—is brilliantly lifelike, a stark contrast to Oliver’s world, where the only available news is propaganda and fear keeps everyone locked inside their houses.
The story’s action ratchets up when the government Autumn and co. have been avoiding for years comes knocking, prompting Moore’s not-so-subtle message on the dangers of bureaucratic oversight. As Oliver’s resurfacing memories torment him with worries about his true nature—and Autumn’s history emerges bit by bit—the two are thrust into a heady battle of survival, where reality is uncertain and “everyone deserves a chance to put their old life behind them and start again.”
Takeaway: Intense dystopian tale pitting teens against an intrusive, near-future government.
Comparable Titles: London Shah’s The Light at the Bottom of the World, Michael Grant’s Gone.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
While the provocative cover suggests content of a fantastical evil, Drummond’s poetry is rooted in the sociological issues that continue to roil our world, like toxic masculinity, misogyny, racism, and poverty. “Down Home Girl” and “Lady Dee” for example, express the loss of sanity and innocence women experience as a result of sexual violence, while “Cotton Snow Flying” and “Black Lines” offer insightful commentary on the damaging effects of racism: “Black marks filling // White paper // no meaning, really [...] The meaningless dance of dark charcoal // on cotton fields.”
Besides the various forms of social oppression, making art is also a source of pain, both existential and personal. The collection’s first poem questions poetry’s validity as a form of art, and in “Foggy,” the speaker remarks “the corners of my mind // folds upon itself and // drifts away // and the world spins on.” Though despairing, Drummond’s verses also offer comfort and catharsis. The injustices, violence, and grief he identifies are those various readers suffer from, and many readers will recognize the pain on the page as their own—or learn from them. Though many of these selections sting, Drummond also offers the relief and freedom of urgent truthtelling.
Takeaway: Pained yet inspired collection that finds catharsis in misery and injustice.
Comparable Titles: Lucille Clifton’s “my dream about the second coming”; Gwendolyn Brooks’ “We Real Cool”
Production grades
Cover: B-
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: B
Liu shares stories from her childhood, lessons imparted by a controlling father who grew up in a Communist regime and could never express his love and pride in her. That powers one of her major breakthroughs: her desire to create “an environment in which those around me can share, grow and learn together.” Liu is frank in relating her father’s severe, authoritarian behavior, some of which could be considered abuse, and the teachings she learned for good or ill. But she is also a generous daughter, acknowledging that “My parents did the best they could, based on what they knew at the time.”
Each chapter represents a theme followed by descriptions of her father’s use (or abuse) of those attributes. She explores some painful material, describing bosses whose behavior ranges from disrespectful to racist to threatening to harassing, describing the techniques she developed to handle predators—and those she still employs in the ongoing work of healing. Chapters end with thought-provoking questions the reader can apply to their own struggles, like “How can you befriend this part of you, so you can be kinder to yourself?” This is a helpful chronicle and also a work of courage, determination, and empathy.
Takeaway: Heartening guidance for living at one’s best, derived from a life of lessons.
Comparable Titles: Ryuho Okawa’s The Unshakable Mind, Suzanne Rocha’s The Joyful New Me.
Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A-
Mason (author of EO-N) weaponizes profound symbolism and poignant prose to unite Joseph and Bernhardt’s struggles of being trapped in oppressive systems that deny them autonomy and their quest to reclaim some sense of identity. The pacing, patient but never sluggish, excels in its visceral depiction of violence—“the fractured, the burnt, the crushed and torn”—but its focal point is the endearing characters’ existential battles within. Bernhardt epitomizes the collective loss of faith in a cause for which dehumanized soldiers had been willing to risk their lives, while Joseph represents societal neglect of the most vulnerable. The narrative picks up when both attempt to carve a new life for themselves.
The tone, often gritty and grounded—“things people die from aren’t necessarily the things that kill ‘em” a character muses—softens in moments of reflection and human connection. "Sometimes you gotta be where you don’t wanna be, but that doesn’t mean you can’t leave whenever you want,” Frank says, inspiring hope in an otherwise bleak world. Lovers of historical fiction rich with wisdom will find this book haunting but healing.
Takeaway: Captivating study of the futility of war and the emotional toll of violence.
Comparable Titles: Kristin Hannah’s The Nightingale, Richard Flanagan’s The Narrow Road to the Deep North.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: B-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A-
Powered by a hard-edged, highly trained, but engagingly human protagonist facing a host of competing military and government agendas, The Quantum Grail moves fast, with tense scenarios, crisp chases and confrontations, and surges of page-turning adrenaline. Both banter and violence hit hard, but the uneasy alliance between John and Nia—blasting AC/DC and TLC—gives the material heart, especially as John uncovers dark, intimate secrets about his own marriage. The plotting is somewhat convoluted, revealed through flashbacks and character relationships, but Redvale makes the puzzle pieces clear, matching the intensity of the threat to John’s intensity of feeling.
Fans of conspiracy-inspired thrillers and no-nonsense heroes will be captivated by this involved mystery and its leading man. Redvale knows his genre and what readers want. Technical detail is convincing but not belabored, smartly blending thriller elements—government agencies, covert ops, terrifying tech, the rigors of SEAL training—into a strong debut.
Takeaway: Riveting thriller debut of a SEAL, conspiracies, and deadly new tech.
Comparable Titles: David Baldacci's Absolute Power, John Connolly's The Dirty South.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A-
Striking detail abounds as Lewis describes his beginnings, struggling to feed his family, investing himself in his wife’s place of work, Taco Bell, both to support her and to master the logistics of the business as he began his ascent up the ladder at Pepsi Co. Branding himself the “enterprise go-to guy,” he made a name for himself as he earned his MBA, refusing to be intimidated by the corporate world. Lewis covers his rise with heart and insight about losses, setbacks, monetary struggles, and some harder travails, too. Readers will feel the impact of witnessing his mother, during his childhood, defend him and his siblings from abuse. Through it all, Lewis’s determination and resilience pulse on every page.
Some formatting issues and attention paid to niche experiences diminish narrative momentum that could have been more personable. Readers not invested in the life lessons one can derive from golf may find themselves impatient on occasion, though the story of having to participate in a charity golf tournament despite never having swung a club proves rousing: “Watch, learn, socialize, and, most importantly, have fun,” Lewis told himself. This empowering memoir serves as a testament to personal resilience and a blueprint for achieving success while holding firm to what matters.
Takeaway: Inspiring memoir of business and personal growth and a commitment to justice.
Comparable Titles: John Daymond’s Rise and Grind, Aurora James’s Wildflower.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A
Writing in a personable tone, McCollough implores readers to apply logic and critical thinking skills to everything they are told, from the government, news outlets, in school curriculums, and especially any time we might feel pressed to surrender money or our personal information. "Be skeptical,"he writes, noting that “there is money to be made by feeding into people’s paranoia.” Through brisk, organized chapters, McCollough explores the history of scientific reasoning (science, he argues, is “the greatest good that humans have ever come up with”) and lays out how to incorporate its rigor and logic into everyday thinking. McCollough convincingly demonstrates the importance of parents learning this for themselves and also teaching it to their children.
Touching on conspiracy theories, faith and religion, and cause and effect, Debunk offers a quick, inviting introduction to the "real-world consequences" of misinformation and outdated science, providing multiple avenues—“Observe, Predict, Test”— to keep from being taken in. The book is not comprehensive, but readers new to the question of what we can do to shore our minds’ defenses up in this ever-evolving information age will find much here that is instructive and illuminating.
Takeaway: Clarifying introduction to critical thinking in the extremely online era.
Comparable Titles: Cindy L. Otis's True or False, John Grant's Debunk It!.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
With her new crew by her side, Ada finds uplifting community in her church youth group … and she leads her friends in taking on a highly personal mystery involving Johann’s mother that will test Ada’s—and readers’—detective skills and lead to unexpected developments. Ada is an engaging, relatable protagonist who works at sleuthing, training herself in observation and striving to work out puzzles of faith and souls. Pietzsch pays touching attention to the other mysteries of growing up, like bullies, loneliness, and the persistent fear, shared by Ada,“They were probably laughing and making weird faces behind my back.”
A story of family, friendship, and finding strength in yourself through faith, Finders of The Armor will appeal to young Christian readers who relish working out clues, making sense of the complexities of relationships, and all the work that goes into putting on a play. Pietzsch writes with welcome warmth about issues of self esteem, of uncovering principles of faith, and applying them in a tangible way.
Takeaway: Heartfelt, relatable, faith-based middle grade mystery series starter.
Comparable Titles: Colleen Coble’s Rock Harbor Search & Rescue series, Amanda Cleary Eastep’s Tree Street kids series.
Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: B
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A-
The family material constituting the novel’s first third is a marvel of domestic SF, deftly blending last-century Americana with gee-whiz kid’s-adventure enthusiasm, creature-feature consequences, surprises both pleasing and dark, and dead-serious acknowledgement of the destructive powers of nature and the frailty of human life. John’s father is both brilliant and reckless, the classic archetype, and the disasters that his family faces—all written with brisk elan—pulse with humor and invention. That’s true even of tragic beats, as when someone John loves becomes a “walking, talking nucleo-chemical time bomb.” John’s maturation and separation from the clan finds the comic energy fading, somewhat, though Johnson still springs daft surprises (one favorite: a chimp’s academic career). As John loves and experiences fresh loss, the story’s darker undercurrents become ever more urgent.
Lovers of thoughtful, humane science fiction steeped in weird science will feast, though the novel’s daunting length and lack of narrative momentum may keep readers from discovering the pleasures and startling insights within. Chapters tend to be paced like short stories, introducing and exploring a new, strange scenario and then wringing it, with crisp efficiency, for all its resonance.
Takeaway: Thrillingly inventive novel of growing up the son of a mad scientist.
Comparable Titles: Nick Harkaway, Lauren Beukes.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A-
For all the bold ideas and epic length, Martorano spins a tense and surprising thriller story of warring factions. There’s the secular elites in the domed paradise Babylon, complete with its own constitution, an amphitheater named after Homer, and founding “Giant”s whose consciousness, through a complex ascension ritual, can now live forever. They’re attacked, on occasion, by the hardscrabble, tent-dwelling New Amish, led by a preacher named Jeb Thompson, whose past is connected to Babylon—and possibly the world’s—greatest failing. That is the creation of super AI MARTIN, the “greatest military mind in history,” who 28 years before the novel’s present killed millions.
The stakes are both intimate and civilizational as Jeb seems determined to boot MARTIN back up. The climactic confrontations and battles, involving robot “Centaur” tanks, are exciting, though the plotting is perhaps inevitably dense and overstuffed with incident and backstory. But what shines here is Martorano’s concerns for the hearts and souls of his people, from a displaced laborer who learns to live off the land to the presciently named Eve, the woman accused of murder, who strives to live a life of faith. That empathy extends to even the immortal and artificial minds, as Martorano strives throughout to find the human (and perhaps the God) in the machine.
Takeaway: Humanity shines through this epic SF thriller of near-future division and automation.
Comparable Titles: Nick Harkaway, Mark Germine.
Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: B
Kind's short lines and rapid rhymes are a joy, as Sue patiently tackles problems faced by her amusing friends: Hippo Pou, who has ripped her tutu right before a big performance; Lou’s nephew Boo, who needs a bamboo crutch; and on and on. Celebrating innovative thinking, crafty ideas, and patience within friendship, Kind showcases the truth that helping others sometimes leads to helping yourself as Sue makes smart use of the bamboo, making a canoe so that Moo can cross a river, or using it to make stew for her sick friend named—wouldn’t you know it!—Chu.
Shirin Hashemi’s crisp, appealing character design deepens the fun, with each animal boasting memorable details (Sue’s scarf, sneezy dog Chu’s monogrammed hanky, Pou’s pink tutu) and big, relatable emotions that drive home the beats of the story. Taking in the drawings proves as much fun as speaking lines like “Pou has torn her tutu, Sue. / Right before her big debut!” Also included: fun guided questions to check for comprehension and to further engage young readers with Sue's tale.
Takeaway: Problem-solving and tongue-twisting rhymes power this delightful debut.
Comparable Titles: Eve Bunting's Have You Seen My New Blue Socks?, Sarah Seung-McFarland's Where The Lost Things Go.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: B+
Readers will squirm at the sickly-inventive means by which the Rune Killer dispatches victims, with scenes soaked in viscera and a palpable brutality. Black is an effective, if familiar, lead as the dour-yet-determined noir detective, whose visits with his institutionalized brother, Samuel, lend a tender vulnerability to his otherwise monochromatic portrait. Black’s partner, O’Malley, alongside their fellow detectives Jones and Ramirez, however, rarely escape the gravity of Black’s ethos, operating more as thematic enactments of duty and struggle than fully relatable characters. The plot’s meditations on the restless battle of good vs evil paints an appropriately taxing picture of Black, though some readers may lose interest in the drawn-out proceedings by the novel’s end.
Hamilton flourishes when envisioning gruesome contraptions and building a nihilistic, brooding framework. The Rune Killer’s reverence for the ancient Ordo Iustitiae and supernatural flourishes adds welcome texture to familiar roads, though the book’s procedural aspects are hindered by overly convenient staging, sacrificing suspense at times while lessening reader commitment to Black and his cohort of beleaguered but unwavering cops. Still, there’s plenty of potential brimming in this moody, violent urban thriller, where detectives are inherently good and the enemy is a viciously satisfying rendering of “evil in its purest incarnation.”
Takeaway: Gruesome noir detective story that flirts with supernatural elements.
Comparable Titles: C.L. Thomas’s The Hollow, John Connolly’s The Black Angel.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: B+
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: B-
Marketing copy: A
To solve this conundrum, Goodbrand relies on science, based on observation and evidence. He gives a brief but thorough overview of the formation of the universe and the development of biological life, rooting humans firmly in the cycle: “We are part of nature which is embedded in us as we are embedded in nature.” He then ties humans to what he calls the “arc of the cosmos”: “the elimination of matter” through the burning of energy—in other words, the unraveling of all life. This seeming paradox, that the point of life is to destroy life, in Goodbrand’s view, lies at the heart of human misery and conflict.
Goodbrand dedicates many pages to dismantling humanity’s view of itself as the pinnacle and point of life, saying our “self-centered exceptionalism” leads us to “cruelty and destructiveness.” Yet those traits, he notes, seem inevitable, as we follow our own ruthless survival instincts and therefore fulfill the cosmos’ larger aim of taking everything apart. Accordingly, Goodbrand doesn’t come up with a solution to life’s woes so much as propose a temporary fix: relative safety for the greatest number of people achieved through technology and adherence to scientific precepts, combined with a realistic acceptance of our fleeting place in a larger scheme that will end in universal extinction. It’s not the most optimistic place to end up, but for those readers with a hardy existentialist bent, it should prove enlightening.
Takeaway: Insightful, unsparing look at humanity in a universe hostile to life.
Comparable Titles: Marcelo Gleiser’s The Dawn of a Mindful Universe, Yuval Noah Harari’s Sapiens.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
A Clockwork Flower offers an appealing riff on the classic, tried-and-true portal fantasy quest narrative, complete with a found family of oddball adventurers whose bonds, for readers, may prove more enchanting than the adventure itself. Aries’ pleasure in befriending “magnificent” (“albeit, terrifying”) creatures shines through, as does Stevens’s—the novel pulses with a deep love of fantasy, its fey and tricksters, and of chapter-ending cliffhangers that keep the momentum barrelling along. While the fleet pacing is admirable in a genre known for its protracted epics, things here at times feel rushed, both in plotting and prose, and a lack of polish, from repetitive phrasing (”My heart felt like a drum. It pitter-pattered and began to flutter like a butterfly.”) to the presentation of dialogue, will prove a hurdle for readers.
That’s too bad, as the book is alive with love, invention, and a spirit of exuberant adventure. Stevens’s time spent traveling shows in his fondness for the varied lands the heroes explore (and the book’s accompanying map), like the purple grasslands of Forever Fields, or the gleaming techno-magical city of Telmara. There’s promise, here.
Takeaway: This portal fantasy's colorful cast and imaginative world deserves more polish.
Comparable Titles: John Van Stry’s Portals of Infinity, Rhaegar’s Azarinth Healer Series.
Production grades
Cover: B-
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: B-
Editing: C
Marketing copy: B
As in the first volume, Himeda’s love for music shines throughout, and the reverence her characters feel for it is matched by the author’s interest in the art and craft of making it, from tone to tuning to the “shades of expression” coaxable from harp strings and vocal cords. Even as he can’t actually play, Kaelin eats, drinks, and dreams music as he moves from one Master to the next. The stakes are high, involving the future of the Order and more, but also intimate, charting in lively, engaging detail Kaelin’s coming of age as a person, creative artist, and wielder of magic.
The prevailing sense of humanity, of characters who respect even their adversaries, edges the series toward cozy territory, but vivid prose and surprising magic—“low, undulating minor arpeggios” weave around one character, “pulling him gently up and out of his home”—will please lovers of any thoughtful fantasy, The momentum slows for music lessons, but Kaelin is easy to cheer for, a young man of bone-deep goodness, eager to enter harmonious states of learning and creation. This sequel offers enthralling world-building, lush accounts of music and magic-making, and an ending that is truly suspenseful—an especially good trick given that the climax involves men sitting around debating.
Takeaway: Music is magic in this heartening fantasy series of a bard’s road to mastery.
Comparable Titles: Emma Bull’s War for the Oaks, Mary Gentle’s The Black Opera.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
Despite a life lived under the threat of destruction if he disobeys the Vampyres, Caesar’s deep, abiding love for Rome shines throughout Grey’s narrative, serving as a catalyst for his efforts to rid the city of Vampyre rule. Here, his passionate coupling with Cleopatra is formed on their joint desire to expunge Vampyres (referred to as Magicians in Egypt) from their countries, and, as the pair craft secret plans together while fighting the very real dangers surrounding them, Caesar becomes intimately familiar with his eerie enemy—an enemy that Grey casts as tricky, powerful, and, surprisingly, mortal.
Though some scenes stretch credulity—Caesar and Cleopatra’s Nile cruise turns into a Vampyre-catching quest, and after a vicious beating by an irate Vampyre during his North African campaign, Caesar sends out a body double in battle—Grey leaves readers with thoughtful reflections on whether otherworldly persuasions may have affected Caesar’s well-known tactical movements and political shifting. Just as Grey’s Caesar is on the cusp of eliminating his supernatural adversaries, Grey paints him into a desperate corner, turning his desire to break Rome free from Vampyres as the reason for his own downfall. The epilogue dangles other potential historical run-ins with Vampyres, offering readers the possibility of more to come from Grey in the future.
Takeaway: Reimagining of Julius Caesar’s life, dictated by Vampyre influence.
Comparable Titles: Seth Grahame-Smith’s Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, Brian M. Stableford’s The Empire of Fear.
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: B+
Marketing copy: A