In the chilling, spare-but-oh-so-dense novel The Rooftop, Uruguyan writer Fernanda Trías introduces Clara--her name a sharp contrast to her uncertainty, her unknowing. Clara recounts the life that she announces on the opening page "came to an end today." Once upon a time, Clara recalls, "I had a life before this one, a job, a flat, which I now remember nothing about." For the last four years, she's been trapped in a small apartment in an unnamed location, caring for her bedridden father and his caged canary ever since his wife, Clara's stepmother, Julia, died. Clara became mysteriously pregnant and hoped the baby's arrival could mean "We'll be a family again," but the news left Dad "pout[ing] like a petulant child." He's more interested in going out, an impossibility that elicits Clara's rage: "There's no sea, no square, no church, no nothing. The world is what's under this roof," she insists.

Clara, too, stopped leaving, convinced of dangers waiting outside. But at least she has the rooftop to which she occasionally escapes. But as money dwindles, Clara loses electricity and is forced to steal water from the building's courtyard. And yet, for a while, moments of joy still seem possible--especially in the unexpectedly delightful exchanges between her daughter, Flor, and her Dad. But paranoia and desperation grow until "there's nothing of us left."

Awarded the National Uruguayan Literature Prize in 2002, Trías is lauded as one of Latin America's most important contemporary literary voices, with multiple award-winning novels and short stories among her oeuvre. The Rooftop marks Trías's English-language debut, smoothly translated by Annie McDermott. --Terry Hong, Smithsonian BookDragon

In Tess Little's energetic debut, The Last Guest, a manipulative movie director's murder sets off a solid locked-room mystery about gossip, hatred and fear. Using the backdrop of Hollywood machinations, the novel also looks at how bonds between a teenager and her parents can differ.

Former actress Elspeth Bryant Bell agrees to attend the 50th birthday party of her ex-husband, director Richard Bryant, only for the sake of their 19-year-old daughter, Lillie. Elspeth dreads seeing her despicable ex-husband, but she wants to support her daughter, who appears in Richard's latest movie. Instead of the "sprawling carnival" Richard usually throws, he has invited only nine people, but Lillie is a no-show. The next morning, Richard appears to have overdosed, which police quickly rule a murder. The guests--each of whom the overbearing Richard often publicly humiliated--are suspects, as no one else entered or left the mansion during the evening.

Elspeth's concern for Lillie adds a strong secondary plot, as she tries to give comfort while being careful not to speak ill of Richard, who didn't know how to be a husband or a father. The young woman loved both her parents, overlooking Richard's controlling attitude and neglect. Little delves into the background of each supporting character, though a couple fade into the background. The Last Guest also illustrates why people put up with a toxic workplace, scared not just of losing a job but of being ostracized in a career.

Clever plotting delivers a fitting end inspired by movie making. --Oline H. Cogdill, freelance reviewer 

Kip Robinson Greenthal's enchanting debut novel, Shoal Water, begins with one couple's flight from the daunting disappointments of their past toward the promise of a better life along the barren coastline of a small fishing village in Nova Scotia. Greenthal, a former education director for Seattle Arts & Lectures, received the Landmark Prize for Fiction in 2020 for this shimmering paean to the stark beauty of Nova Scotia, where she lived for 12 years.

In 1971, Kate and her boyfriend, Andy, leave the jagged shards of shattered families behind to build a new future together in Slate Harbour, Nova Scotia, where Andy spent several years as a child. Moving into Andy's old house--supposedly haunted by the ghost of fisherman Basil Tannard, who believed a selkie saved him from drowning one storm-tossed night--they fall into the rhythms of the tightly knit community, which includes Andy's childhood best friend, Ivan. The powerful undercurrents of past demons and an unforeseen love triangle move silently under the surface for years of marriage and children, until the wave breaks upon them all with shattering consequences.

Greenthal creates an atmosphere as thick as the fog blanketing the harbor with her deep knowledge of Nova Scotian people, folklore and sea life. Her finely drawn and sympathetic characters are rendered in lovely prose that elevates their suffering without descending into pathos. Shoal Water is a highly attuned and poetic first novel of people finding their paths amid forces beyond their control. --Peggy Kurkowski, book reviewer and copywriter in Denver, Colo.

Twenty-something Clara could seem content with her life: caring friends, social invitations, cozy apartment, a career in publishing, even a book contract. But French Canadian cartoonist Mirion Malle (The League of Super Feminists) introduces her protagonist with a speech bubble--a disturbing confession revealing "the first time I felt like I wanted to die, I was probably, like, twelve?" Translated by Aleshia Jensen and Bronwyn Haslam, Malle's satisfying graphic novel deftly captures the struggles of a young woman battling depression caused by sexual violence.

Malle's stark black-and-white line drawings are mostly just outlines, as if Clara is literally missing the substance necessary to ground her. Indeed, she's barely getting by, withdrawing into isolated darkness. Most of her friends want too much of her energy; her boss doesn't respect her time or accomplishments; her writing leaves her (and her screen) blank. When she can, Clara attempts to get out, provides a shoulder to cry on, does her job, but more and more, being miserably alone is easiest. "I can't even remember what it it's like to feel good," Clara desperately divulges to an empathic friend who's ready to listen fully, to understand without judgment even when she reveals "that dying feels easier." Help, she concedes, might be possible to accept.

Malle writes with exposed vulnerability, her art aptly raw, almost chaotic with unstaunchable tears, overwhelming emotions. Her panels vary from page to page--framed or uncontained, unpredictably sized--deliberately eschewing consistency. Pages turn blank, reflecting Clara's empty exhaustion; pages become black, mirroring unbearable torrents of sadness. The result is haunting--and yet by book's end, surprisingly uplifting. --Terry Hong, Smithsonian BookDragon

Broadway and TV star Sutton Foster swears by crafting--not only as a hobby, but as a way to deal with drama (on and off the stage) and make something beautiful. In Hooked, her breezy, engaging memoir, Foster shares her adventures in cross-stitch, collage, crochet and other forms of crafting, alongside anecdotes from her career and her life.

Foster examines her personal and professional journey--her first national tour, her Broadway debut, her first marriage, her journey to motherhood--through the lens of creative projects. Along the way, she reflects on her Midwestern childhood, her complicated relationship with her agoraphobic mother and her struggle to build friendships as a young woman. Readers will savor behind-the-scenes glimpses of Foster's work on Broadway shows like Anything Goes and Thoroughly Modern Millie, and her later TV projects such as Bunheads and Younger. Foster keeps her tone light and approachable while exploring heavy subjects: her parents' stormy marriage, her insecurities as a young performer, her struggles with infertility.

As Foster and her fans both know, crafting projects (and life) don't always turn out as expected. She shares frankly about her failures: a stained embroidery project, a too-tight cardigan, a batch of inedible muffins. But there are also successes: a blanket for her newborn daughter, collages and drawings she's hung in galleries (and dressing rooms), countless batches of Christmas cookies. Perfect for Foster fans and those who believe in the power of making things, Hooked is as cozy as the afghans Foster loves to stitch backstage. --Katie Noah Gibson, blogger at Cakes, Tea and Dreams

Elijah Cummings's We're Better Than This--a 2020 Essence Best Book of the Year and NAACP Image Awards Winner for Outstanding Literary Work in the Debut Author category--is part memoir, part behind-the-scenes look at the inner workings of American democracy and part call to action. That last piece is, perhaps, the most crucial concept readers can take from the life Cummings dedicated to public service.

Though Cummings began the work on this book himself, he and James Dale were unable to finish the project prior to the congressman's death in 2019. Dale, along with Cummings's widow, Dr. Maya Rockeymoore Cummings, completed the work posthumously to honor Cummings's wish to share his story with his nation, working diligently, Dale notes, "to make sure that this book was true to his vision and his wishes." The result is remarkable, capturing not only Cummings's stories but his voice (an effect further enhanced in the audio version, narrated by Laurence Fishburne).

We're Better Than This takes its title from an oft-repeated phrase in Cummings's speeches, in which he displayed a righteous outrage at the state of American democracy in the 21st century. Though Cummings himself died before much of his work could be completed--to repair the damage he saw--his own words can be a comfort and a clarion call to act in trying times: "When it seems like you can't do anything, do something. Don't say it's too big or too oppressive to overcome. Start. Try. Now." He started the work--and now it's up to us to take it from here. --Kerry McHugh, blogger at Entomology of a Bookworm

A captivating queer love story unfolds between two teenage magician's assistants in Shaun David Hutchinson's Before We Disappear.

Set against the beguiling backdrop of the 1909 Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Exposition, the shrewd, "pale as an egg" 16-year-old Jack works for the power-hungry magician, the Enchantress. Jack's mother died when he was six, forcing him to steal to survive--when the Enchantress caught him stealing from her, she groomed him to be her assistant. When greedy rival magician Laszlo appears at the fair eager to upstage the Enchantress, Jack quickly falls for Laszlo's shy, blue-eyed assistant, Wilhelm. While sneaking out to visit Wil, Jack learns Laszlo kidnapped the young man 12 years ago, when he was four. Laszlo now exploits Wil's secret ability to travel invisibly and move objects from place to place. Jack vows to help Wil escape to safety, but it's dangerous to cross Laszlo. "Since kidnapping me, [Laszlo has] traveled the country with me and forced me... to commit all manner of crimes," Wil reveals to Jack. "He threatened me that if I tell anyone, try to ask for help, or run away, he'll murder me or anyone I know."

Hutchinson (At the Edge of the Universe; We Are the Ants) compellingly crafts dysfunctional relationships between the young men and their magician bosses/pseudo-parents. Despite daily bouts of psychological and emotional manipulation, Jack and Wil still seek attention and approval from the magicians, who are the only family they know. As the narrative switches between Wil and Jack, Hutchinson maintains an undercurrent of unease and suspense, as each flirts with their own agency and one another. Hutchinson successfully blends the historically rich setting with a gritty, desperate fantasy love story. --Kieran Slattery, freelance reviewer, teacher, co-creator of Gender Inclusive Classrooms