The only thing long-winded about If I Knew You Were Going to Be This Beautiful, I Never Would Have Let You Go is the title. Judy Chicurel's prose in this debut collection of linked short stories is perfectly sparse: blunt and cynical at times, sharp and witty at others.

If I Knew is set in the summer of 1972 in Elephant Beach, N.Y., a working-class Long Island town on the cusp of gentrification. Chicurel centers her stories on Katie, just turned 18 and not quite ready to leave Elephant Beach behind. Bit by bit, glimpses into Katie's life reveal a multilayered cast of colorful characters, painting a vivid and detailed portrait of Elephant Beach and the climate of 1972. Katie is in love with a Vietnam vet who is so lost in his experiences in the war that he barely knows she exists. Her girlfriends have their ups and down, but that doesn't stop them from supporting each other in trying times. The town drunk scares the pearl-clutching mothers in town, but Katie recognizes that he has a good heart beneath his wrecked exterior.

Chicurel has almost created a photo album rather than a series of linked stories; these snapshots of a moment or series of moments in Katie's life combine to describe a particular time and place but nothing more. Readers are often left to fill in the blanks, so those hoping for a clear narrative arc will be disappointed, but anyone interested in exploring the power of prose to evoke an era, a town and group of people will delight in Chicurel's way with words. --Kerry McHugh, blogger at Entomology of a Bookworm

One of the two interwoven plotlines in A Map of Betrayal, the seventh novel from National Book Award winner Ha Jin (Waiting; War Trash), is narrator Lilian's reconstruction of the life of her father, Gary Shang, the most important Chinese spy ever caught in North America. In the other plotline, Lilian's Caucasian mother has died, freeing Lilian, a 50-ish professor, to contact her father's Chinese mistress, who gives her his six-volume diary. Lilian discovers that her father had a previous wife whom he was forced to leave behind.

A mole for three decades in the CIA, highly valued by Chairman Mao, Gary-- forced to move to the U.S. at age 31 and remarry--is revealed to have been homesick during his entire "protracted mission." Convinced that the government is looking after his Chinese wife, he grows to love the America he needs to betray and tries to benefit both countries--until he makes one mistake, out of love for his American wife.

When Lilian is granted a Fulbright lectureship in Beijing in 2010, she seizes the opportunity to contact his first wife and children, in spite of Chinese government prohibitions. Though she's too late to find them alive, she does find her half-niece, and then discovers her charming, handsome half-nephew, who runs a small business outside Boston and begins to entangle Lilian's husband in unusual microchip purchases, acting more and more like his grandfather the spy.

Written a cool, factual, unadorned style, A Map of Betrayal is a quietly humane, painstakingly detailed portrait of an idealistic man who tries to set himself morally apart. Ever present in this dense, compelling tale are provocative questions about the nature of patriotism: When do you betray your country? When does your country betray you? --Nick DiMartino, Nick's Picks, University Book Store, Seattle, Wash.

In 1963, Andy Warhol filmed his close friend John Giorno sleeping, and made it into a 321-minute film titled Sleep. The Sleepworker, Cyrille Martinez's second novel (and first to be translated into English), explores the story behind this art project. He creates a humorous fictional account of how two men, called simply Andy and John, met through mutual friends and came to create an experimental film in the great fictional city "New York New York."

A satire of the real New York City, The Sleepworker opens with an examination of this mythos-drenched metropolis, alive with possibility. In a narrative voice that is both playful and snarky, Martinez introduces the city as a place where people seek acceptance into high society. Unemployed and uninterested in having a job, Andy and John do not fit into a culture that values work and business success. Readers are invited to share in the narrator's amusement as the protagonists pursue creative paths and try to establish themselves in a city that doesn't want them. Constricted by the expectations of New York New York, John and Andy struggle to strike a balance between being authentic artists and finding recognition for their art.

The Sleepworker is a tribute to a place and time that bred great people and events, as well as a humorous critique of a city that dreams of its past from a stagnating present. Whether readers know the relationship between Andy Warhol and John Giorno or are completely new to this piece of history, Martinez's book will enthrall. --Justus Joseph, bookseller, Elliott Bay Book Company

Val Wang's quirky memoir, Beijing Bastard, takes a candid look at the ties that bind people together despite cultural, generational and familial divides as well as shows a changing superpower at the beginning of the 21st century. As Wang turns exile and escape into her own heartwarming reality, her emotional journey parallels the insecurities of an emergent China, whose march toward global acceptance has changed the lives of its citizens forever.

Wang came from an overachieving Chinese family; her parents were eager to see the next generation through Ivy League colleges into careers in law or medicine. As an exchange student living in Sweden, Wang took a mutinous turn from her parents' wishes when she saw Beijing Bastards, an idealistic Chinese documentary that spoke to her alienation and restlessness and kindled her interest in film. She took a job as editor of an English-language Beijing weekly and moved into an old courtyard home with her father's relatives, where she endured the same familial battles and philosophical struggles that haunted her in the U.S. Even as she found her niche in journalism and filmmaking, Wang's linguistic and cultural misunderstandings led to countless humorous conflicts. "The very thing I had resisted learning as a child was whipping around and delivering a roadhouse kick to my head," she writes of her stumbles with the language.

Beijing Bastard is a modern comedy of manners and a fresh take on the Lost in Translation theme of an American abroad, learning about herself in ways she doesn't expect, all with a Chinese twist. --Nancy Powell, freelance writer and technical consultant

In 2005, Armenian-American journalist Meline Toumani traveled to Turkey--a place she had previously known only as "a terrifying idea"--with the intention of studying Armenia-Turkey relations for a month or two, three at the most. She stayed for two years. The result is There Was and There Was Not: A Journey Through Hate and Possibility in Turkey, Armenia and Beyond, an engaging and deeply personal exploration of ethnicity, nationalism, history and identity.

The conflicting Armenian and Turkish narratives regarding the massacre of Armenians in the Ottoman Empire in 1915 defined the Armenian diaspora community of Toumani's childhood; Turkey has historically denied that the massacre occurred or minimized the scale of the deaths. The Armenian community focuses substantial energy on campaigns designed to pressure the Turkish government to recognize the massacre as genocide. Toumani had reached the point where the dominance of the genocide narrative felt like an artistic and emotional chokehold. She set out to Turkey in an attempt to answer two questions: How could she honor her history without being suffocated by it, and why do Turks cling to their version of the events of 1915?

Over the course of the book, the clear-cut oppositions with which Toumani begins her project become more nuanced. Even the unity of the Armenian community itself becomes more complex as she examines the different concerns of the diaspora. There Was and There Was Not is neither a history of the genocide nor an examination of its political ramifications for the modern world. It is the story of one woman's attempt to understand her community, its fundamental assumptions, and herself. --Pamela Toler

Every superhero has an origin story, a secret past that influences his or her present. As Harvard historian and New Yorker staff writer Jill Lepore (Book of Ages; New York Burning) discovers, Wonder Woman's history is rooted in the feminist ideals of the early 1900s. This Golden Age icon was created in 1941 to combat Superman's masculinity; she fought for equality, but her stories' underlying themes of shackling, bondage and unrepentant sexuality as metaphors for women's repression unleashed cries for censorship.

Wonder Woman embodied the philosophical beliefs of her creator, William Moulton Marston. A lawyer, a psychologist, the inventor of an early lie-detector test and a comic-book writer, he led a double life in more than one respect. He was a champion of matriarchal progress, but behind the scenes he lived with two brilliant, accomplished women at the same time--Elizabeth Holloway and Olive Byrne, who each bore him two children--and relegated them to roles of patriarchal service, spinning and promoting his philosophical beliefs. His story intersects with those of birth-control activists Ethel Byrne and Margaret Sanger (the mother and aunt of Olive Byrne, respectively), whose own political careers relied on maintaining the secrecy of Olive's domestic situation.

"Feminism made Wonder Woman... and then Wonder Woman remade feminism, which hasn't always been good for feminism," writes Lepore. Though critical of Marston's excesses and the costs they incurred for the women in his life, she handles all the salacious details and character quirks of the man and his entourage with the deft hand of a novelist, creating a balanced narrative of this heroine's controversial history. --Nancy Powell, freelance writer and technical consultant

Hawaii: land of hula and lei, Pearl Harbor, surfing, Kona coffee and pineapples. In Captive Paradise, noted historian James L. Haley (Passionate Nation: The Epic History of Texas) aims to replace these stereotypes with a somewhat revisionist history of our only state that was once a kingdom. Haley digs deep into the early years of the Hawaiian monarchy before there were written records to chronicle its many chiefs and often savage wars.

While acknowledging and making no excuses for the many injustices, diseases and indignities brought to the islands by the mostly Japanese, British and American arrivals, Haley presents early Hawaii as equally cruel and violent. Before the appearance of British explorer Captain James Cook and even after the first King Kamehameha united the string of island tribes, the kanakas (native Hawaiian commoners) suffered infanticide, war, slavery, sodomy, disease, incest and human sacrifice. The Sandwich Islands could only be called paradise in so much as tropical weather and unbridled promiscuity are bliss--which to weathered seamen, they certainly were.

After the first explorers returned home with stories of the ideally located lush islands, a stream of missionaries followed. Haley attributes the rapid Westernization of Hawaii to these perseverant Christians who often left their evangelism for more lucrative opportunities to create businesses and craft a new government. United States politicians and ambassadors soon followed to cajole and pressure the strategic islands into the annexation of 1898--the final capture of paradise. Haley's story goes beyond surfboards and orchids; it is a dramatic history of the U.S.'s most recent and complex state. --Bruce Jacobs, founding partner Watermark Books & Cafe, Wichita, Kan.

Who better to ask a writer about writing than another writer? For more than 30 years, BOMB, a magazine of essays, literature and visual portfolios, has been publishing in-depth interviews with artists conducted by artists of all disciplines. In BOMB: The Author Interviews, publisher and editor Betsy Sussler collects 35 of the best conversations between influential and intellectual authors of world literature.

The q&as delve into aspects of the writer's craft, including the importance of sentences, rhythm and pacing, creating characters, narrative shaping, literary influences, editing and revision, the publishing industry and the demands of the writer's life amid more mundane concerns. They are intimate and give rare insight into the creative processes, feelings and work habits of contemporary prose writers and poets such as Sam Lipsyte, Steven Millhauser, Courtney Eldridge, Amy Hempel, Tobias Wolff and Jeffrey Eugenides. Each conversation differs in topic and tone. Clipped, clever banter infuses the exchange between Kathy Acker and Mark Magill, while a host of the q&as convey mutual admiration, as evidenced when Junot Díaz and Edwidge Danticat discuss their ancestry and what it's like to be "book obsessed."

Articulating the complexity of the craft, the challenges of the writing life and the impetus behind certain works sometimes proves difficult, but each dialogue sheds light onto the act of writing itself and the profound satisfaction in having created something lasting on the page. Such revelations are bound to be helpful and insightful to readers and other writers intrigued and mystified by the process. --Kathleen Gerard, blogger at Reading Between the Lines

"Leo is the mailman of a little old town," begins this charming tale of old-fashioned friendship.

Sergio Ruzzier (Have You Seen My New Blue Socks?) pictures a rural village of rolling hills and red-tile rooftops that hints at Italy. Leo, a ferret-like fellow, sports a dapper blue cap and leather satchel as he carries "big boxes, small packets, envelopes of every size," including a bone-size package that brings a pooch running and a box that lures a fish to the stream's edge. Leo removes his cap for the occasional game of bocce or conversation. If only Leo would get a letter himself! One morning during a postal pick-up, Leo finds a small blue bird he names Cheep. He feeds the bird and gives him shelter. Ruzzier indicates the passage of time with changing leaves and falling snow. One of the most charming scenes depicts Leo and Cheep ("now a little family") building a snowman (Cheep affixes bird leg–shaped twigs at the base).

When spring arrives, the look on Leo's face indicates that he knows before Cheep does what comes next: "Cheep is a big little bird now, and he is ready to go." The walls of Leo's kitchen seem bluer now. Cheep only ever says one word ("Cheep"), yet Ruzzier's expressive watercolors convey the connection between these two friends. Leo holds his cap as Cheep waves goodbye from the sky; the blue of his cap matches Cheep's feathers and underscores their unspoken bond--a bond that the closing images attest will last. --Jennifer M. Brown, children's editor, Shelf Awareness