In Sleepovers, debut author Ashleigh Bryant Phillips provides 24 stunning, unsparing portraits of small-town Southern life. The collection begins with a bang as "Shania" recounts a girl's childhood memories of an estranged friend after she runs into her at a grocery store. In "7-Up Cake," a young student is disillusioned with her idealized teacher Miss Katie. "Sleepovers" recounts a charged friendship between two girls broken apart by financial circumstances. Finally, in one of the collection's last and most brutal offerings, "Snowball Jr.," a battered young woman's consciousness gives way to pastoral fantasy in the last moments of her life.

In story after story, Phillips conveys the vivid complexity of a claustrophobic world and its uncategorizable inhabitants. The prose is quick-witted and jagged-edged, never failing to pack a punch. From chewed pen caps to splintered porch railings, chipped nail polish to slick sunscreen oil, Sleepovers is populated but never totally defined by its mundane and yet ungraspable details. Like her character Lorene, who spots the emotion in a moth fluttering just beyond a screen door, Phillips has an uncanny skill for seeing and capturing the details that give a moment its texture and reflect an invisible atmosphere of feeling. In her hands, these images, which before had not been visible--or had been seen so much that they were no longer noticed--are given new life. Phillips's haunting, relentless attention to detail asks readers to see such moments and the people they enchant with renewed vigor, empathy and compassion. --Alice Martin, freelance writer and editor

An oft-forgotten classic from 1949, Dorothy Strachey's Olivia is a groundbreaking story of homosexual desire and self-awakening. At 16 years old, Olivia is shipped off by her proper, English parents to an all-girls Parisian boarding school. Almost instantly, Olivia becomes a favorite of the intelligent, charming headmistress, Mademoiselle Julie. As their student-mentor relationship deepens and takes on erotic undertones, Olivia becomes aware of dark secrets among the school's students and faculty members. Tensions and passions mount as the school year draws to a close, and Olivia senses, despite her hopes and desires, that her first passionate love is destined to end in disappointment.

With a new introduction by André Aciman, Olivia's first-person narration begins with a line as true now as when Olivia was written: "The world, I know, is changing." Like its protagonist, caught between the worlds of childhood and adulthood, the novel stands poised mid-transformation, summoning in the same stroke a series of contrasts: materialism and spirituality, the traditional and modern, denial and confession. Olivia attempts to put words to the "anomalous lack" that defines her ravenous desires, and her passion is palpable in the novel's prose, which invokes all the ecstasies and devastations of adolescence and want. Richly textured by the politics of the female boarding school world, the novel captures the jealousies, obsessions, rages, and tenderness that complexly define its characters. The beauty of Strachey's novel ultimately lies in the effortless illustration of what it means to feel another person, of lying in bed in the dark, sensing someone standing just on the other side of the door. --Alice Martin, freelance writer and editor

Narrated by a comedically brash protagonist, Sad Janet by Lucie Britsch is a smart and biting debut novel about sadness, control, womanhood, prescription drugs and belonging.

Everyone is taking pills for something except Janet. She's sad, but doesn't want to change. After her family stages an intervention, Janet considers disowning them. But with Christmas nearing, she accepts a prescription for a new drug that promises she can "surrender to the season" and afterward "return to [her] normal disposition."

Janet's story unfolds through acerbic observations as she waits for the festive spirit to overwhelm her. Her bleak thoughts about love ("a weight you carry"; "a string of misunderstandings"), antidepressants ("take the edge off... like edges are bad") and boys ("I really want things to not be about boys for once.... Or worse, men"), encapsulate a simultaneously hopeless and astute outlook. They're symptomatic of the sexist, judgmental world from which she feels apart--one populated by people like her uncle, who says, "I read somewhere that women need to speak now"; her mother, keen on Janet "pumping out babies"; and doctors unwilling to listen, imploring she be a "good girl and take the pills."

Beneath Janet's melancholic armor is a drive to be different. She identifies with the abandoned dogs at the shelter where she works, wishing a family would adopt her, too. Intrinsic to her narrative are her eccentric coworkers: always smiling Melissa, whose glossiness sometimes rubs off on Janet, and angry feminist Debs, who keeps Janet's cynicism in check. A searing, comedic and accessible take on depression and personality, Sad Janet delivers a comforting message about the value of individuality. --Samantha Zaboski, freelance editor and reviewer

Abbi Waxman's warm, quippy novels explore familial dynamics with sarcastic wit and plenty of heart. Even the title of her fourth novel, I Was Told It Would Get Easier, will make some readers snort-laugh in recognition. The book follows single-mom lawyer Jessica Burnstein and her teenage daughter, Emily, as they embark on a weeklong bus tour of East Coast colleges. Jessica is hoping to reconnect with Emily, maybe even restore their once-tight bond. Emily isn't even sure she wants to go to college, and alternates between being grateful for her mom's care and annoyed at her interference.

Waxman (The Bookish Life of Nina Hill) whisks readers through the tour at breakneck speed, introducing entertaining secondary characters: the perky tour guide, the snarky queen bee, the grade- and status-obsessed parents. Less expected are several old friends of Jessica, who give Emily a new perspective on her mother as a person. The dual narration, often commenting on the same incidents from both Jessica's and Emily's points of view, serves to highlight the many missed connections (and a few special moments) between mother and daughter. Adding to the tension are a work crisis for Jessica and a brewing scandal at Emily's school, which each of them attempt to manage alone.

Being a teenager--or parenting one--is tricky territory, but Waxman steers her characters through it with compassion, snappy dialogue and the right dose of zany humor. Things may (or may not) get easier for the Burnstein women, but the ride, literal and otherwise, is highly enjoyable. --Katie Noah Gibson, blogger at Cakes, Tea and Dreams

Menace often comes from ordinary situations in the stories found in Bluebeard's First Wife by Ha Seong-nan (Flowers of Mold). How well do people know each other, and what can happen when they are carried away by obsessions? Couples who decide to marry while still strangers to each other figure in several selections, such as "Joy to the World" and the title story. In some cases, the engagement is quick, in others after the relationship "started to feel a little boring," but always one person's secrets intrude to overturn the other's world, raising the question of how well two people can ever know each other.

In stories such as "Pinky Finger," a quotidian risk like taking a taxi alone at night proves dangerous in ways beyond the expected. Lives end or are merely upended. A sense of unease pervades every story, whether it traces the slow breakdown of a relationship or abruptly startles readers with an opening line such as, "The fisherman is trying to drag me to the riverbank."

In stark, unflinching prose, Seong-nan plumbs feelings of isolation in a modern world in which characters often find themselves bent under the force of traditional expectations, with new dangers looming every day. This is a uniformly captivating collection of stories that could be incidents from a local paper, but which are no less haunting for it. --Kristen Allen-Vogel, information services librarian at Dayton Metro Library

The horror novel Devolution by World War Z author Max Brooks gazes unflinchingly at who people are when pressed to their absolute limits--and what they can become in the process. The book focuses on the journal entries of Kate Holland, a new resident of the eco-friendly, wealthy and very isolated Washington town Greenloop. An introverted and anxious person in a troubled marriage, Kate is looking for a new start in a small community that seems incredible on the surface. But in the aftermath of a volcanic eruption, the village is completely cut off from the outside world (and badly needed supplies). Now the small Greenloop population has to band together to survive. Especially because others are out there. Animals thought impossible to exist are watching their every move and planning their own.

Devolution is at first a clever satire of privileged lifestyles, and it shifts (once the Sasquatch are introduced) with no hesitation into a devastating survival narrative. Brooks cleverly uses dramatic structure to get readers there, allowing the plot to reveal the true depths of his characters; their gradual change over the course of the entries is always surprising and moving. The final climactic third of the book then hits breakneck speed with brilliant plotting, before it comes to a chilling conclusion about what people can transform into when they have to survive. Devolution is spectacular, tailor-made for fans of Bigfoot, with an ending that'll give goosebumps to the most jaded horror veteran. --C.M. Crockford, freelance reviewer

Not many people have the chance to see inside a storied company such as Studio Ghibli, nor become so acquainted with its inner machinations. In his business memoir, Sharing a House with the Never-Ending Man, Steve Alpert describes 15 years as the "resident foreigner" at the film studio, for Ghibli fans, Miyazaki stans, animation aficionados and those with a love of looking at intercultural communication from the outside.

The insights into how filmmaker Hayao Miyazaki works, the animation process and especially what it takes for Studio Ghibli films to be dubbed in English for U.S. markets are fascinating. Perhaps more interesting still is Alpert's ability to take readers into the boardrooms, the negotiations and the processes behind the creation and distribution of international favorites such as Princess Mononoke, Castle in the Sky and Spirited Away. Readers will enjoy glimpses of interactions with Disney executives, and revel in awards won. Most of all, the joy of this book is joining Alpert on his daily cultural and language challenges as an American executive in Japan, as well as his memories of moments with some of modern Japan's most influential men.

Some of Studio Ghibli's nuanced storytelling artistry clearly rubbed off on Alpert; Yasuyoshi Tokuma, Toshio Suzuki and, of course, Miyazaki are artistically rendered in his recollections. The modern-day Japanese answer to Disney, this company could not be further from the American animation studio model, and Alpert reveals part of why Ghibli's reputation for cinematic excellence is well-deserved, in a memoir that's equal part anecdote and cultural primer. --Michelle Anya Anjirbag, freelance reviewer

In this delightful picture book by Jancee Dunn (How Not to Hate Your Husband After Kids), illustrated by Scott Nash (Flat Stanley), when an unnamed child gets called into the principal's office it's not the child who's in trouble--instead, the child's teddy bear is the naughty one.

"Somehow" Teddy has called on "a number of his stuffed animal pals" to jump into their children's backpacks and infiltrate the elementary school. Teddy, an elephant, a giraffe and all manner of stuffed animals wait in the cubbies until their children leave the room. "That's when the party began." Stopping by the cafeteria, the gym and the music room, Teddy and company have a field day. Finally, the animals wind up in the art room where they make a glue trap for the art teacher, roll in finger paint and twist pipe cleaners into a rope so they can escape out the window. Now, the principal insists, this wayward group "must face the consequences." Fortunately for all, this principal once had a teddy, too.

This follow-up to the duo's 2017 I'm Afraid Your Teddy Is in Trouble Today continues the terrific conceit, staging a scolding young readers can thoroughly enjoy. The text, told entirely from the principal's point of view, takes on a gravity belied by her colleague's obvious amusement, conveyed in his facial expressions. Nash's bold and colorful digital illustrations skillfully convey all of the fun in this absurd situation, his dark outline showing active motion and his changing perspectives depicting a teddy's-eye view. Any child who's ever been in trouble will adore the turnaround, agreeing with the principal that "there are no naughty bears--only naughty behavior." Hugs all around! --Lynn Becker, blogger and host of Book Talk, a monthly online discussion of children's books for SCBWI

As Nana Akua Goes to School begins, Zura's teacher tells the kids about the upcoming Grandparents' Day celebration: "Each of you will bring your grandparents to school so they can share what makes them special." Lucky for readers and for Zura, her grandmother has a fascinating cultural tradition that, in her first book for kids, Tricia Elam Walker presents with extraordinary grace and nimbleness.

Nana Akua is plenty special: she grew up in West Africa and gives Zura fantastic hugs. But Nana Akua is also special in a way that makes Zura nervous. When the old woman was a child in Ghana, her parents permanently marked her face so that she would match her tribal family. Zura knows that the marks "represent beauty and confidence," but one day at the park she saw a child point to Nana Akua and say, "That lady looks scary." After Zura invites Nana Akua to the celebration, she admits her concern: "What if someone at school laughs at you or acts mean?" Nana Akua has an idea. She suggests that they bring along the quilt she made for Zura's bed, which features traditional Ghanaian symbols--"Even though they are not exactly the same as the marks on my face, they can help explain them."

The text of Nana Akua Goes to School has a treacly moment or two, but this is offset by the clear-sighted storytelling. Walker anticipates young readers' questions with Mr. Rogers-like perceptiveness. The story's quilt motif carries over into April Harrison's (What Is Given from the Heart) mixed-media collages. Leaning heavily on chartreuse, lavender and robin's-egg blue, she cobbles together elements that have their own distinct patterns and textures, giving each page a patchwork look. --Nell Beram, freelance writer and YA author