A precocious young machine finds her humanity in the deceptively cozy dystopian novel The Infinite Sadness of Small Appliances by Glenn Dixon (Bootleg Stardust).

In the not-so-far future, a group of smart appliances dutifully serves their aging humans Harold and his terminally ill wife, Edie. The story unfolds mainly through the sensors of Scout, an automated vacuum. She and her friends Watch, the smartwatch who manages the home, Clock, Fridge, and Auto, the self-driving car, don't fully understand the vagaries of human emotion. However, they know Edie's death from cancer means not only grief for Harold but disaster for their household. A technological force known as the Grid rules their world, and it will not allow a lone elderly man to remain in a house as large as Harold's. His grown daughter, Kate, banished from their home by the Grid for hacking into it as a teenager, is allowed to visit to help him downsize, but Harold doesn't want to go. Neither do the appliances. The humans and household gadgets form an alliance to protect Harold's autonomy, but the Grid has eyes and ears everywhere and isn't about to let a couple of humans and a smart vacuum interfere in its plans.

"Futuristic Roomba" must rank high on the list of most unlikely protagonists, but Dixon's characters are calculated to delight without ever tipping the narrative into feeling cynical. The conclusion requires a healthy amount of willing credulity, but readers already charmed by the mechanical cast will likely not mind. This heartfelt fable for the digitally automated age is smart in more than one sense of the word. --Jaclyn Fulwood, blogger at Infinite Reads

In Emma Straub's buoyant seventh book, American Fantasy, a reunion cruise assembles several people dissatisfied with their lives and hoping to reclaim a sense of possibility.

The Boy Talk 2023 cruise is a five-day route aboard the American Fantasy from Miami to the Bahamas. Thirty-year-old Sarah, head of the Jackrabbit production team in charge of the talent, is nursing a broken heart after her girlfriend left. The other two point-of-view characters are 50-year-old divorcée Annie, a passenger, and Keith Fiore, one of the five boy band members. Keith's older brother, Shawn, is the de facto band leader, eager to prolong the group's success through a world tour. Keith, however, is reluctant. A recovering alcoholic, he'd prefer privacy to live as a normal person and work on his marriage.

At a meet-and-greet, Annie asks Keith if he's okay. Taken aback by a genuine question rather than the usual fawning, he finds himself interested in Annie, and over the next few days they form a connection. Micro-chapters replicate the highly scheduled fun of a cruise. Each night there's another themed party: 1980s, pajamas, prom. The hedonistic atmosphere fosters resentments--and even fistfights--among the band and the passengers.

Compared to the other two protagonists, Sarah gets short shrift, and the round of performances and photo ops can get as repetitive for readers as for the band. Still, this is a potent picture of the downsides of fame and the struggles of midlife. The novel's title is true to the wish-fulfillment nature of the plot, making it a perfect follow-up for fans of Curtis Sittenfeld's Romantic Comedy. --Rebecca Foster, freelance reviewer, proofreader, and blogger at Bookish Beck

Debut author Che Yeun's Tailbone presents a tense, chilling portrait of a teenager's perilous journey into unprepared independence. In 2008, as the global financial crisis hits Seoul, the unnamed 17-year-old narrator is a high school senior unsure she'll graduate with her falling grades. She instead skips classes and roams "the loud, polluted streets of my childhood." Home is made miserable by her abusive father, who only comes home in an alcoholic stupor to berate her mother trapped in eternal subservience.

She leaves home abruptly, becoming "just another hollow teenager bobbing along the stream of Seoul." Traveling to "one of these ghost neighborhoods," she enters "an unrecognizable world" where she takes a room in a women-only lodging house. The current inhabitants of the dilapidated building are unmoored young women, often referred to as a single entity: "girls." They chase dreams of glamour and love while relying on "old desperate idiot men to feed their hunger for pretty things." Juju is the one who stands out, and she teaches the narrator about taking out questionable loans in a parent's name. Juju reluctantly cares, possibly too much, attempting to protect the teen from devolving into one of the women pulled away by "creeps and cars and nightclubs."

Yeun writes with glaring clarity, exposing a tortuous cycle of twisted hope and bleak reality, exacerbated by a sweeping financial downturn that further threatens the girls' already tenuous existence. Societal--and personal--judgment stifles these girls, already openly commodified, but Yeun hauntingly commits to amplifying their humanity, as they confess uncertainty, fight invisibility, savor fleeting moments of kindness and empathy. --Terry Hong

Intense fear and an evocative atmosphere drive the relentless plot of Andrew Reid's The Survivor as a young man grapples with one of the worst days of his life.

Ben Cross is looking forward to his new job at DataDyne Solutions, a billion-dollar business that helps its clients avoid Environmental Protection Agency fines. But the 26-year-old's first day ends before it begins: he sits at his new desk to find he's locked out of his computer, then he's escorted out by security because he's been fired. Stunned, Ben makes his way to the subway, where his fear of dark, tight places almost prevents his descent down the stairs. After he makes it on board, he receives anonymous text messages saying that unless he stops some passengers from getting off at their stop, they will die. At first, Ben thinks this could be a prank, but then a man is shot after exiting the train. More threatening messages arrive, targeting other passengers and hinting at Ben's secret past. Meanwhile, NYPD Detective Kelly Hendricks, who was recently assigned to the subway system as punishment for publicly humiliating a supervisor, is above ground investigating the first murder.

The Survivor alternates between Ben's and Kelly's perspectives; Reid ramps up the terror as he evokes Ben's vertigo and claustrophobia, while Kelly's motivation comes from her hope that the investigation may put her back in good standing with the NYPD. Reid delivers an unpredictable thriller, doling out Ben's and Kelly's backgrounds as each turn of the train brings more scares. --Oline H. Cogdill, freelance reviewer

In her witty, heartwarming 11th novel, Dog Person, Camille Pagán (Good for You) explores the challenges of navigating grief and finding new love--through the eyes of man's best friend.

Since his person, romance novelist Amelia May, died, aging rescue dog Harold has been trying his best to take care of her widowed partner, Miguel. Amelia had charged Harold with helping Miguel find love again after her death, but that's proving difficult; Miguel subsists mostly on cereal and rarely leaves the house, even to tend to Lakeside Books, the Michigan bookstore he and Amelia cofounded. Then, a reclusive author fails to show up for his event, leaving the store in financial trouble, so Harold and Miguel take off for Chicago to find out why. When, instead, they find the author's charming but guarded sister, Fiona, and her precocious tween daughter, Amelia Mae, Harold must employ all his canine ingenuity to fulfill his Amelia's last wish.

Pagán's narrative unfolds in Harold's voice, including sly observations about odd human habits and judgments of people based on their kindness (and dispensing of treats or belly rubs). As Harold and Amelia Mae scheme to nudge Miguel and Fiona closer to each other, Harold is forced to confront his own physical limitations, even as Miguel may finally be emerging from his grief. The supportive staff of booksellers at Lakeside makes a charming addition to a novel that celebrates love in all its forms: platonic, romantic, communal, literary, and--of course--the enduring love of a good dog. --Katie Noah Gibson, blogger at Cakes, Tea and Dreams

What Ever Happened to Eddy Crane? is equally gripping as an account of a woman's maturing through loss and grief as it is as a murder investigation. Author Kate Crane's father disappeared one night when she was 12, after calling to say he was on his way home from work. His beloved Mercedes was found abandoned at the airport and, weeks later, the family dog who'd been with him was found unharmed. But nothing was heard from Eddy Crane again.

Kate Crane eventually threw herself into the search for answers, following years of waiting for the authorities to unearth new information, as well as seeing her story used as fodder for television crimes series. Driven by her need for closure, she began an exhaustive DIY inquiry, knocking on the doors of aging witnesses and meeting with anyone involved in the initial investigation. Her quest for truth was far from risk free. As Crane peeled back the layers of a decades-old conspiracy involving local corruption and betrayal, she realized that the people who wanted Eddie gone were still very much alive --and they hadn't forgotten the secrets they killed to protect.

What Ever Happened to Eddy Crane? fluidly blends genres, recounting Crane's personal experience of the 1980s while maintaining a propulsive, thriller-like pace. It is a rare work that manages to be both a rigorous piece of journalism and a tender, heartbreaking meditation on the lasting bond between a father and a daughter. There's no neat cinematic Hollywood ending, but instead this memoir concludes with a raw and candid look at the limits of justice and the limitlessness of love. --Elizabeth DeNoma, executive editor, DeNoma Literary Services, Seattle, Wash.

Investigative journalist Patrick Radden Keefe (Rogues; Say Nothing) transforms family tragedy into a meticulously researched propulsive thriller in London Falling. Born in 2000, Zac Brettler was the younger son of well-to-do Rachelle and Matthew Brettler. "Zac appeared to savor 'the adrenaline of a fast life,' " brandishing wads of cash, accessing exclusive venues. On November 29, 2019, at 2:23 a.m., an MI6 camera caught a young man jumping into the Thames from the fifth-floor balcony of Riverwalk, one of London's poshest addresses. The corpse discovered a few days later was Zac.

The police claimed suicide. But death shockingly exposed Zac's utterly fabricated identity as Zac Ismailov, son of a Russian oligarch estranged from his family and awaiting a £200 million inheritance. Zac spent his final night with "gangster" Verinder Sharma and bankrupt "charlatan" Akbar Shamji, who both managed to exude extreme wealth and high-power connections. Desperate to understand, Rachelle and Matthew invested tireless years fighting "the bizarre passivity of Scotland Yard," eventually hiring a private investigator and conducting their own inquiries.

In a feat of remarkable reportage, Keefe layers expansively diverse narratives--Holocaust survivors, "London's new identity as a twenty-four-hour laundromat for dirty money," the Cipriani Five, Idi Amin, Margaret Thatcher, Muhammad Ali, even Zac's rabbi grandfather's own secret life--to create an irresistible web of mystery. Keefe's unerringly razor-sharp attention links these disparate elements of heedless ambition and otherworldly privilege that created a powerful vacuum of want in a tenacious teen desperate for access. With empathetic insight, Keefe deftly sifts through facts and fictions to distill Zac's young life, enthrallingly seeking the unknowable truth of his tragic death. --Terry Hong

Unbreakable: A Japanese American Family in an American Incarceration Camp is a spectacular picture book memoir about the childhood experience of Japanese American activist Minoru Tonai, who died in 2023, co-written by Jolene Gutiérrez (The Ofrenda That We Built), illustrated by animator Chris Sasaki (Home Is a Window).

In 1941, Min is a California boy who enjoys collecting rocks. His life begins to change when FBI agents visit his home, suspecting his greengrocer father of being a spy because of his Japanese ethnicity. After the December 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor bombing incites war, FBI agents take Min's father. The boy, his mother, and two siblings are forced to abandon their home, possessions, and dog. Reduced to "family 12803," they're first "herded into a stinking horse stall" at Santa Anita Park, before being incarcerated in Amache Relocation Center in Colorado for the duration of the War.

Tonai and Gutiérrez brilliantly use a personal story to depict the unjust treatment and imprisonment of "more than 120,000 people of Japanese ancestry during World War II." The authors gorgeously capture young Min's doubts, fears, and questions, gifting him agency through an inner narrative. Min's love of stones, a hobby he shares with his beloved father, becomes an affecting motif that signals resilience and strength. Sasaski masterfully controls light and shadow in their digital art, using spare, lilac-hued details--Min's mother's dress, desert blooms--to suggest tenacious hope. Extensive backmatter is appended: standouts include an essay about evolving language and friends' and associates' letters of support for Min's father to the FBI. This formidable trio transforms ignominious history into "something beautiful." --Terry Hong

National Book Award-winning author Martin Sandler (1919: The Year That Changed America) collaborates with his son, journalist Craig Sandler, to chronicle the impact of America's pastime on the United States during the lead-up to World War II in the wholly captivating Baseball's Shining Season.

Major League baseball was a different sport in 1941: the players' salaries were significantly lower; "not a single club was located farther west than St. Louis"; there were just 16 teams; and "every game was played in the afternoon." The Sandlers introduce readers to the New York Yankees' Joe DiMaggio, with his record-breaking hitting streak, and the Red Sox's Ted Williams, with his astounding .400 batting average season. Their accomplishments on the field helped offset fans' dread of impending war: "The bad news would continue to come, but DiMaggio's play would continue to offer a bright spot all the same." Since Major League Baseball was segregated in a "fiercely racist" 1941, the Sandlers dedicate much of the book to the incredible talent found in the Negro Leagues as well as the Japanese and All-American Girls Professional Baseball Leagues. "After the fighting was over, as the world was entering its next chapter, baseball would play a unique and crucial role in rebuilding the relationship" between the United States and Japan.

Baseball's Shining Season is a thorough survey of baseball in 1941, and the Sandlers scrupulously describe the political and historical context of the exceptional season, illustrating its influence on people in the United States and around the world. Martin W. Sandler and Craig Sandler hit it out of the park with this stunning piece of upper middle-grade nonfiction; it's an all-around winner. --Jen Forbus, freelancer

Two-time Carnegie Medal-winner Patrick Ness returns to the world of Chaos Walking with the gripping and emotional Piper at the Gates of Dusk. This first installment in a planned YA sci-fi trilogy follows the intrepid sons of the original books' protagonists as the teens try to defeat child-thieving gods.

The Land, the indigenous people of the New World, use a wordless form of communication, dubbed "Noise" by the humans who live in "the city" on their planet. "When the first settlers landed... every man had Noise and no woman ever did." A cure was developed and 15-year-old brothers Max and Ben, like all children, received it. Now, a Glyph has arrived in the sky and kids are having Noise nightmares. When gods appear and steal Land and human children alike, Max and Ben learn that this has happened here before--and that an invasion is imminent. The Land and human denizens should unite, but genocidal preacher Margery Wingard denies the existence of gods and claims the Land is responsible. Then the gods surround the city.

Ben and Max offer candid insights in alternating first-person accounts, each expressing sadness and anger for human aggression toward the Land as they endeavor to solve this crisis. Ben, who cannot speak, feels especially voiceless when his communicator breaks; Max, who is adopted and trans, works through a tragic loss and others' judgment to maintain bravery and a good heart. The parents here shine--fallible yet accountable, openly emotional yet nurturing and protective. Ness (And the Ocean Was Our Sky; Different for Boys) delivers an incredibly layered story about settler colonialism, belonging, and the dangers of deceitful leadership, brilliantly juxtaposed with a gorgeous portrayal of interconnection. --Samantha Zaboski, freelance editor and reviewer

Australian author Ange Crawford's compassionate YA debut features a 17-year-old doing her best to appear "normal" at her first "real" high school despite a lifetime of chilling family dysfunction.

Astrid has been homeschooled since her father determined that the family unit is a "tool against the capitalist machine" that must be directed and controlled accordingly. He monitors everything Astrid and her mother eat, wear, and do. But when he loses his job, Astrid's mother must go to work and Astrid starts state school. While the teen is an expert at interpreting her dictatorial dad's moods, high school is a strange and thrilling new world of cursing peers, artificial ingredients, and tentative freedom. Her love for her father clashes painfully with her growing understanding that coercive control is a form of emotional abuse. "Sometimes," she thinks, "love, fear and control are all the same thing." Growing relationships with classmates and her disowned older sibling confuse, excite, and calm Astrid while creating electronic music becomes an escape and an exploration: "I am holding down that same note... twisting it and distorting it, until it wavers like me, and without words it tells everyone how formless I feel under all these lies."

In the gracefully insightful How to Be Normal, Crawford is sensitive to the challenges of seeking and accepting support in circumstances like Astrid's. Crawford shows Astrid's world expanding incrementally as the teen explores her sexuality, her identity, and the possibility of a future free from control. Fans of Jandy Nelson and Helena Fox should be drawn to the deep and dark mental maneuverings of a teen in unsettling transition. --Emilie Coulter, freelance writer and editor

Author/artist Vicky Lyfoung's debut upper middle-grade memoir, Hmong: A Graphic History, smoothly translated by Kao-Ly Yang, evocatively explores her French-born Hmong identity. Lyfoung was born near Paris in 1990 to Hmong refugee parents, and her childhood was marked with racist taunts, microaggressions, and questions about her ethnicity. At 15, Lyfoung watched a documentary, Laos, la Guerre Oubliée (Laos, the Forgotten War), that changed her life: "It was precisely that moment... that I began to want to know the history of my people."

To better understand herself as a diasporic young Hmong woman, she turned to diligent research. Although specific origins are unclear, the Hmong were "nomadic mountain people from Northern China." Repeated, vicious displacements began in 2000 BCE and populations eventually settled in Myanmar, Laos, Vietnam, and Thailand. The French colonized Laos in 1893, recruiting the Hmong to cultivate poppies for opium, and later to serve as guerilla fighters. The U.S. military followed the French with promises of safety (ostensibly from Communism), then abandoned the country to violent turmoil. Fleeing was the only chance of survival for Lyfoung's family, instigating a perilous journey through Laos, Thailand, and arriving in France in 1977.

Lyfoung displays an unblinking vulnerability and proud admiration as she reconstructs her parents' challenging, isolating experiences as non-French-speaking refugees. Her stark black-and-white panels with impermeable borders suggest a tightly controlled narrative as she concisely condenses sprawling political and cultural history into an approachable, informal graphic novel for young readers. Her rounded characters--more cartoonish cute than realistic--help temper the inhumane brutality she bravely refuses to elide. Stalwartly bearing witness, Lyfoung promises, "I am proud to be Hmong--and will be until the day I die." --Terry Hong