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The Best Books We Read This Week

Our editors and critics choose the most captivating, notable, brilliant, surprising, absorbing, weird, thought-provoking, and talked-about reads. Check back every Wednesday for new fiction and nonfiction recommendations.

The Best Books We Read This Week
All Books

Nonfiction

Fiction & Poetry

  • An eaten apple.
    From Our Pages

    Flesh

    by David Szalay (Scribner)
    Fiction

    Szalay’s novel follows its protagonist, István, through adolescence in Hungary, five years in the army, and a move to London, where he lands a job as a security driver for extremely wealthy clients. István mainly approaches his life as a series of detached events. But his most formative experiences—a moment of physical fearlessness, an intense affair—reverberate, even as he finds himself unable to account for his bursts of violence and desire. An excerpt from the novel first appeared in the magazine.

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  • Boats approaching a waterside town.

    Taking Manhattan

    by Russell Shorto (Norton)
    Nonfiction

    This vivid history chronicles England’s “taking” of New Amsterdam from the Dutch, in 1664. Shorto, however, argues that it was the Dutch, not the English, who sowed the seeds of the multiethnic, religiously tolerant, and unabashedly capitalistic metropolis that would emerge as New York. He recounts the lives and doings of Peter Stuyvesant, the last leader of the Dutch colony, and his adversary Richard Nicolls, the commander of the English invasion. The taking, accomplished without bloodshed, was less a usurpation than it was a merger of two ways of being. Though Shorto describes the joint enterprise with admiration, he also confronts the dispossession of Native inhabitants which preceded it, and the city’s imminent future as a slave-trade hub.

  • Two women.

    Goddess Complex

    by Sanjena Sathian (Penguin Press)
    Fiction

    Sanjana, the protagonist of this biting novel, has recently left her husband in Bombay after a dispute over whether to have children. Couch-surfing in the U.S., she contends with her own perceived shortcomings as “a thirty-two-year-old soon-to-be divorcée” who has “twice overdrawn her bank account.” After Sanjana discovers that her ex is in a new relationship, with someone who has an almost identical name and likeness, and that this person is pregnant, she returns to India to finalize her divorce. There, she’s forced to confront her doppelgänger at the wellness retreat that the woman runs for wannabe parents. What follows is a twisted examination of motherhood and the arbitrary expectations of adulthood.

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  • Geometric red shapes on a beige background.

    The Containment

    by Michelle Adams (Farrar, Straus & Giroux)
    Nonfiction

    This nonfiction work tells the story of a single Supreme Court case, Milliken v. Bradley, which concerned efforts to desegregate public schools in Detroit. Decided in 1974, it remains a landmark of civil-rights law. In 1970, the N.A.A.C.P. filed a class-action lawsuit in federal court on behalf of plaintiffs including Ronald Bradley, a Black child in an under-resourced Detroit school where ninety-seven per cent of the students were Black. (The defendants included William Milliken, the Republican governor of Michigan.) Bradley won in district court, and the judge ordered the redistribution of nearly eight hundred thousand Detroit students through busing. The state of Michigan appealed, but the Sixth Circuit largely upheld the verdict. Then, following an appeal to the Supreme Court, Bradley lost, marking the first major defeat for Black people in a school case after Brown v. Board of Education. Adams, a Detroit native who teaches law at the University of Michigan, writes that Milliken v. Bradley “was where the promise of Brown ended.” Her passionate and well-researched account offers a full appreciation of the campaign for racial justice—in all its complexities.

    Black and white schoolchildren sitting inside a bus.
    Read more: Why the Court Hit the Brakes on School Desegregation, by Louis Menand
  • A person with a sheet of fabric obscuring their face.

    Death Takes Me

    by Cristina Rivera Garza, translated from the Spanish by Sarah BookerRobin Myers (Hogarth)
    Fiction

    In this novel, a detective, a tabloid journalist, and a professor become obsessed with a string of strange and gruesome killings. The victims are all male, the corpses all castrated, and each crime scene is signed with lines of poetry by the Argentinean writer Alejandra Pizarnik. The story that unfolds is hardly a conventional murder mystery; rather, it’s a genre- and gender-bending exploration of violence and desire, form and fragmentation. Veering between surreal interior monologue, scholarly criticism, and elliptical verse, Garza’s chimerical and metatextual whodunnit unsettlingly posits that no one—not the writer, and perhaps not even, or especially not, the reader—is truly innocent.

  • A cat.

    Mornings Without Mii

    by Mayumi Inaba, translated from the Japanese by Ginny Tapley Takemori (FSG Originals)
    Nonfiction

    On a summer day in Tokyo, the author of this moving memoir finds a kitten, “a little ball of fluff,” stuck on a fence. After rescuing the stray and naming her Mii, Inaba gradually learns the ins and outs of cat ownership: feeding, play, and the dangers of wandering outside. The book, which spans the twenty-odd years of Mii’s life, describes the daily joys and intimacies of having a pet, the difficulties that come with an aging cat, and the sorrows of outliving one’s animal companion. Inaba’s portrait of the human-feline relationship is reverential, an expression of devotion in its attention to detail.

Last Week’s Picks

  • A closeup of Jesus’ face.

    Miracles and Wonder

    by Elaine Pagels (Doubleday)
    Nonfiction

    Pagels, a Princeton professor emeritus, has written many engrossing books on early Christianity. Here, she ably navigates through the essential but surprisingly unsettled sources that seem to relate the events of Jesus’ life and death, her larger point being that the most improbable Gospel tales serve to patch a fractured narrative. They use familiar tropes and myths to smooth over inconsistencies that believers struggled with from the beginning. The shifting Nativity narratives, for instance, suggest that rumors about Jesus’ parentage existed from the beginning; Matthew’s account of the empty tomb serves, Pagels suggests, to counter skeptical claims that Jesus’ corpse had simply been stolen. She revels in the contradictions and the inconsistencies not as flaws to be explained away but as signs of the faith’s capaciousness. The miracles are miracles because, she explains, they are a source of wonder.

    Two sides of Jesus.
    Read more: We’re Still Not Done with Jesus, by Adam Gopnik
  • A woman holding a child.

    Seeking Shelter

    by Jeff Hobbs (Scribner)
    Nonfiction

    This moving real-life saga opens with a family—Evelyn and her five, soon to be six, children—living in a small city in California. They move to Los Angeles in search of better schools, but a single mishap leaves them mostly unhoused for the next five years. Hobbs reconstructs Evelyn’s story using interviews conducted after the family’s situation stabilized, but the narrative unfolds with gripping immediacy. Evelyn’s war is waged on the streets, on automated government-aid hotlines, in schools, in hospitals, in low-wage jobs. Most important, it’s also waged in her psyche, which Hobbs wisely foregrounds. Though Evelyn is undeniably a victim of corrupt systems, she possesses a resilience that makes her story nothing short of heroic.

  • Abstract illustration of a man in bright colors.

    What You Make of Me

    by Sophie Madeline Dess (Penguin Press)
    Fiction

    Ava, the protagonist of this unconventional début novel, contemplates her relationship to Demetri, her older brother, as he lies dying of brain cancer, at thirty-one. The siblings became inseparable in their youth, after their mother, an actress who “started off in Shakespeare and ended up in commercials,” killed herself. Demetri grew up to be a documentarian, and Ava a painter—the sort who makes pieces while having sex in an attempt to share “the colors of the experience.” But an attraction to the same woman tested their bond. In the face of tragedy, Dess’s narrator memorably dramatizes the anxiety-inducing exigencies of the creative arts, and the need of artists to remain focussed on their craft.

  • Two images of a white flower.

    No Fault

    by Haley Mlotek (Viking)
    Nonfiction

    Mlotek, a Canadian writer, ended a marriage in her late twenties. In her new book, she writes that this experience “hadn’t defined my feelings, but it had changed the shape of them in a way I couldn’t have predicted and probably would never recover from.” Alongside her personal narrative, “No Fault” offers a social history of divorce and meditations on the cultural detritus she turned to while grappling with her separation—from Nora Ephron’s “Heartburn” to a 2001 paparazzi photo of Nicole Kidman to Joan Didion’s “The White Album.” The book stands out for its avoidance of clear-cut binaries; Mlotek’s analysis is defined by an insistence on ambiguity, and her reticence about her own divorce is perhaps the most romantic thing about it, testifying to an abiding intimacy that transcends any legal relationship.

    One body splitting into two people.
    Read more: Who Gets to Define Divorce, by Molly Fischer
  • An outline of a human body.

    Adaptable

    by Herman Pontzer (Avery)
    Nonfiction

    Pontzer, an evolutionary anthropologist at Duke University, offers an engrossing, richly informative exploration of human biological diversity. He catalogues a great many examples, from East African hunter-gatherers whose life styles shield them from cardiovascular disease to Southeast Asian sea nomads with genetic adaptations that let them spend hours a day underwater. By revealing how our variable bodies respond to a wide range of environments, Pontzer challenges us to rethink assumptions that underpin our social and medical systems: ideas about disease, treatment, excellence, procreation. These assumptions, he shows, rest on a flawed monolithic image of the human body, a prototypical Homo sapiens whose vulnerabilities remain unchanged across climates and genetic histories. “There is no textbook human,” he writes, and, if we’re to better serve humanity’s needs, we must develop policies and practices that take into account the physiological diversity of our species.

    Infant in a cookie-cutter scientific template being measured.
    Read more: Medical Benchmarks and the Myth of the Universal Patient, by Manvir Singh
  • A paper boat.

    Dust and Light

    by Andrea Barrett (Norton)
    Nonfiction

    In these collected essays, Barrett, an acclaimed novelist, explores the relationship between fiction and nonfiction. For her, research creates “the bones” of a story, and imagination provides “the breath and the blood.” By way of example, she recounts how the experiences of American soldiers stationed in Russia during the early twentieth century influenced her story collection “Archangel.” She also highlights how history informed the work of her literary influences, like Hilary Mantel. The late author’s “Wolf Hall” trilogy, Barrett writes, uses details from Thomas Cromwell’s life as “nucleation sites around which emotion engages and metaphors are richly made.” Barrett’s book is an ode to fiction’s unique ability to illuminate history—not as fact but as felt experience.

Previous Picks

  • A photograph of flowers growing out of a bottle.

    Perfection

    by Vincenzo Latronico, translated from the Italian by Sophie Hughes (New York Review Books)
    Fiction

    The couple at the center of “Perfection” have moved from an unnamed country in southern Europe to Berlin in the twenty-tens, to pursue an art-adjacent life style and careers in graphic design. Like the laptops on which they work and play, Anna and Tom’s aesthetic preferences are always on the brink of obsolescence, and checking for updates is a full-time, if passive, occupation. The two move as one: they talk neither to each other nor to anyone else, and travel through a world littered with the cultural signifiers of intellectualized upward mobility (houseplants, hardwood floors). Latronico documents their decisions and demurrals with an elegant proportion of sly commentary to detached reportage. “Perfection,” an homage to “Things,” Georges Perec’s classic 1965 novel of modern malaise, captures a culture of exquisite taste, tender sensitivities, and gnawing discontent.

    Two people laying on the ground with two chairs in the background.
    Read more: ‘Perfection’ Is the Perfect Novel for an Age of Aimless Aspiration, by Alice Gregory
  • Photo illustration of a child and a bitten apple.

    Original Sins

    by Eve L. Ewing (One World)
    Nonfiction

    This stark critique of America’s schools anchors our current educational system in eighteenth-century ideas about race and intelligence. Tracing a line from Thomas Jefferson’s “Notes on the State of Virginia” through Jim Crow to present-day policies on housing, zoning, and standardized testing, Ewing argues that this system was always intended to operate differently for different people. It aimed to make good citizens out of whites and “a class of subservient laborers” out of Blacks, and to culturally erase Native Americans altogether. For Ewing, the varying life outcomes of these groups indicate that our schools not only reflect society’s racial hierarchies but “play an active role in constructing, normalizing, and upholding them.”

  • Illustration of a face and flames.

    Notes on Surviving the Fire

    by Christine Murphy (Knopf)
    Fiction

    Sarah, the narrator of this début novel, is a graduate student who studies the kinds of violence that Buddhism considers justifiable. She’s also the recent survivor of a sexual assault, and her attacker, whom she calls Rapist, is in her department—where he has remained despite her report of the incident. After Sarah discovers her best friend dead, she senses foul play and decides to pursue justice, this time on her own terms. The novel’s strength lies in Sarah’s duality: having grown up hunting, she is “as comfortable with Tibetan hagiographies as with the beating hearts of bloody things.” The narrative is equally layered, with a thriller’s bones, a satire’s glare, and a comeuppance story’s anarchic spirit.

  • A statue of a woman’s torso wearing modern undergarments.

    Immaculate Forms

    by Helen King (Basic)
    Nonfiction

    King, a British classicist, is interested in the many ways that women’s bodies have been misunderstood by the Western world, including the damage done by Christianity. Her lively study is organized not by time period but by body part—breast, clitoris, hymen, and womb—a choice that makes it less a sustained argument in support of a certain kind of femaleness than a compendium of trivia ranging from Eve to Mary, from ancient-Roman wet nurses to Victorian clitorectomy clinics. But the variety and contradiction of the trivia provide its own kind of argument. “The story I will tell,” King writes, “is not a reassuring narrative of progress, but one with no clear direction, no steady, logical development toward a ‘now’ in which we know pretty much all there is to know.” The book leaves you with the impression that, no matter what you believe to be obvious and natural about the female body, somebody in power once believed the exact opposite.

    Collage illustration of body parts and divine rays of light
    Read more: The Two-Thousand-Year-Old Virgins, by S. C. Cornell
  • A black-and-white photo of a man leaning on his arm, with a cigarette in his hand.

    When the Going Was Good

    by Graydon Carter (Penguin Press)
    Nonfiction

    Carter, a former editor of Spy, the New York Observer, and Vanity Fair, has been held up over the years as a force of style, both in his personal taste and in his expansive vision of creative work, which grew from his editorial experiences during a prosperous and thrilling era in American magazines. This winsome memoir is a recounting of that period, brisk, bright, and full of well-told anecdotes about celebrities, artists, and other power players in Carter’s orbit. The book trades in a familiar New York style of information-sharing by which outsiders are allowed to feel like insiders, and sometimes—because Carter’s career has been one of turning tables endlessly—the other way around. “Somehow, in my case, with a lot of mishaps and a dollop of good luck along the way, things just worked out,” Carter writes: the voice of a man who tasted the best of the American century and still left the party early, with his dignity intact.

    A photograph of Graydon Carter and Fran Lebowitz in a convertible
    Read more: Graydon Carter’s Wild Ride Through a Golden Age of Magazines, by Nathan Heller
  • A Roman column, split halfway.

    Strike

    by Sarah E. Bond (Yale)
    Nonfiction

    Rebellion in ancient Rome is commonly associated with a single man: Spartacus, the leader of the Third Servile War. But this incisive history contends that it’s a mistake to attribute the uprising to a single individual’s ingenuity, or to imagine that any act of collective defiance in the Empire was an isolated occurrence. Bond shows how professional and trade associations empowered bakers, gladiators, charioteers, and the like to wield their leverage—for example, by withholding their labor—in pursuit of improved conditions. Employing “strategic anachronism,” she connects their struggles to contemporary union efforts, emphasizing the ways in which, from antiquity to the present, solidarity among workers has persisted despite backlash from the ruling classes.

  • A painting of a woman sitting down and gazing upward.

    Lower than the Angels

    by Diarmaid MacCulloch (Viking)
    Nonfiction

    In this thrilling and comprehensive new book, MacCulloch, a historian at Oxford, argues that marriage and family have in historical terms come only lately into fashion among Christians. For much of Christian history, he suggests, all sex was sinful—even the marital and procreative, even the unconscious. “It is better to marry than to burn,” the apostle Paul famously wrote, but even better was to douse the flames of lust with an analogous but more elevated communion with God, to partake in what MacCulloch calls the “substitute families” of a celibate religious life. MacCulloch points out that this approach is much like the compromise that some churches, including the Anglican and Catholic ones, have struck with gay couples today.

    Collage illustration of body parts and divine rays of light
    Read more: The Two-Thousand-Year-Old Virgins, by S. C. Cornell
  • Pink and red title text on a black background.

    There Lives a Young Girl in Me Who Will Not Die

    by Tove Ditlevsen, translated from the Danish by Sophia Hersi SmithJennifer Russell (Farrar, Straus & Giroux)
    Poetry

    These poems—drawn from several of the revered Danish writer’s collections and published together in English for the first time—are tinged with the longing of Ditlevsen’s inner child. The poet, who died in 1976, injects mournful omniscience into explorations of heartache. The young girl living inside Ditlevsen stares at a reflection of her adult self, “searching for something she hopes to recover.” What is recovered through the writer’s deceptively plain language, confined in her earlier work by rhymed verse but free from form in later years, is her yearning for “Protection / against every kind / of desire.”

  • An illustration of a hand pointing out from a hole in a red poster.

    Red Scare

    by Clay Risen (Scribner)
    Nonfiction

    The Red Scare reshaped every institution in American life: Hollywood, labor unions, churches, universities, elementary schools—and, above all, the national-security state. Risen, a journalist at the New York Times, describes the biggest showdowns and the many oddities of the anti-Communist surge, in addition to the fear and suffering of those who bore the brunt of it. His book, a marvellous accounting that covers many moments of high drama, also usefully lays out the many mechanisms of repression that made the Red Scare possible, from executive orders and congressional-committee hearings to conservative control of vital media outlets. It also describes how something that once seemed so terrifying and interminable did, in fact, come to an end.

    Photographs of Joseph McCarthy
    Read more: How the Red Scare Reshaped American Politics, by Beverly Gage
  • A painting of a sheep jumping and a blue scribble.

    The Boyhood of Cain

    by Michael Amherst (Riverhead)
    Fiction

    In this tender début novel, Daniel, the precocious pre-teen protagonist, comes of age in rural England. After an illness and financial mismanagement force his father to accept early retirement, the family relocates from a suburban town to the countryside. The narrative follows Daniel as he adjusts to his new surroundings and contends with a series of disappointments and troubling discoveries. He learns of his mother’s jettisoned dream of becoming an actress; he grows close to a teacher whose attention proves capricious; and he becomes infatuated with a new classmate, who has a “glorious body.” No longer just an observer of the adult world, Daniel learns difficult lessons about life and sexuality.

  • A photo of a handful of potatoes.

    Rot

    by Padraic X. Scanlan (Basic)
    Nonfiction

    This vigorous and engaging new study of the Irish famine is richly underpinned by research in contemporary sources and firmly rooted in historical scholarship. Scanlan convincingly argues that the famine was the product of a particularly virulent form of exploitative capitalism that left millions of people exposed to the instability of short-term rental of land, to fluctuating food markets, and to wages driven downward by the pressure of too many laborers looking for too little work. As he puts it, “Intensive monoculture made Irish potatoes vulnerable to blight. The solutions proposed to mitigate famine were themselves the product of a kind of intellectual and political monoculture. Solutions were unimaginable outside the market that fuelled the crisis to begin with.”

    Silhouette of potato plant superimposed over map of Great Britain, top; photograph of an Irish family, bottom.
    Read more: What Made the Irish Famine So Deadly, by Fintan O’Toole
  • A stylized flame design.
    From Our Pages

    Dream Count

    by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (Knopf)
    Fiction

    Adichie’s novel is a braided account of four women, in Nigeria and America, reflecting on the choices and missed opportunities that led them to their current lives. Partnerships are forged and broken. Secrets shared between Adichie’s characters—of ambitions thwarted and dreams realized—liberate them even as they tether each to the inexorable patterns of existence. The novel was excerpted in the magazine.

  • A photo of a row of ants carrying green leaves.

    The Moral Circle

    by Jeff Sebo (Norton)
    Nonfiction

    What kind of ethical consideration do we owe insects, plants, or A.I. systems? This book argues that if entities have the capacity for welfare—the ability to be helped or harmed—they should be included in our moral circle, which Sebo defines as “the set of beings who matter for their own sakes.” Using a series of thought experiments, he suggests that our moral intuition may not be the most useful tool for evaluating the ethics of our conduct, especially when it affects beings that are far removed from our everyday experience, either geographically or evolutionarily. “Taking this virtuous path,” Sebo concludes, “requires telling ourselves new stories about the meaning, purpose, and value of human existence.”

  • A black-and-white photo of a man, Charles W. Chestnutt, facing forward.

    A Matter of Complexion

    by Tess Chakkalakal (St. Martin’s)
    Nonfiction

    Charles W. Chesnutt, the subject of this well-considered biography, was born to free people of color in 1858. He could have passed as white, but he identified as Black; he was, he explained, “quite willing for the colored people to have any credit they could derive from anything I might accomplish.” Though he often wrote about “the race question,” he wanted his work to appeal to readers with wide interests, believing that, as Chakkalakal writes, “only by putting the individual over race will the race be served.” This conviction was not generally embraced by the generation of Harlem Renaissance writers that followed, but Chesnutt’s work was nevertheless a catalyst for the movement.

  • A photo of a courtyard in front of an apartment building.

    Homes for Living

    by Jonathan Tarleton (Beacon)
    Nonfiction

    Tarleton, an urban historian, recounts the history of—and examines threats to—the Mitchell-Lama program, a nineteen-fifties housing initiative that allowed New Yorkers to purchase “limited equity” co-ops, low-cost apartments that they technically owned but couldn’t resell or pass down. The author focusses on two buildings, Southbridge and St. James, whose residents were given the opportunity to “go private”—that is, to leave the Mitchell-Lama system and sell their homes at market rate. Tarleton found that the residents were under the spell of something other than money. To them, ownership came with a vision of boundless possibility. In their longing, Tarleton sees the effects of what he calls “over a century of public policy and real estate propaganda.”

    Model of a townhouse opened up.
    Read more: What Do We Buy Into When We Buy a Home?, by Jennifer Wilson
  • An abstract illustration of a woman with flowers on her outfit, facing an image of Virginia Woolf on a pink background.

    Theory & Practice

    by Michelle de Kretser (Catapult)
    Fiction

    De Kretser’s seventh novel begins on a historical note—in 1957, an Australian geologist contemplates a past romance—before swerving abruptly. “At that point, the novel I was writing stalled,” the unnamed narrator interjects. Afterward, the story edges closer to autofiction, following the experience of the narrator, a young Sri Lankan Australian woman, as she attends graduate school in Melbourne. While working on a thesis about Virginia Woolf, she considers what it means to be a “modern woman” in an intellectual milieu saturated with French theory. Drawn into an affair with another student, she grapples with her feminism and discovers unexpected points of contact between ideas and physical passion.

  • A painting of a sombre face crying and surrounded by rays.

    Jesus Wept

    by Philip Shenon (Knopf)
    Nonfiction

    The topics of this fleet and vivid new account of the papacy’s recent history are familiar—disputes over sexual mores, war and peace, church and state, money, and the reach of Vatican authority—and so are the author’s assessments of them: the problem is that the churchmen who run things are corrupt, secretive, hypocritical, and illiberal. But the depth of Shenon’s reporting, combined with his strict observance of chronology, gives fresh emphasis to material lost in the churn of the news cycle. The narrative suggests a comprehensive insight about Catholicism in our time: since the nineteen-sixties, the striking changes in the ways that the Popes comport themselves have masked the Church’s stubborn resistance to change.

    Pope Francis waves outdoors in the Vatican.
    Read more: The Pope’s Role Has Changed in Our Time. But Has the Church?, by Paul Elie
  • A black-and-white mural of Anne Frank.

    The Many Lives of Anne Frank

    by Ruth Franklin (Yale)
    Nonfiction

    This book depicts the rich texture of Frank’s life, and the “complicated genesis” of her published diary, while also exploring her afterlife as a “figurehead against prejudice,” one whose story has been edited, censored, commodified, and appropriated. Franklin, an award-winning biographer, details how Frank’s legacy was formed, and sometimes deformed, by her father, Otto, who survived her. Otto’s role as the keeper of Frank’s memory is “perhaps the most confusing—and most contested—aspect of Anne’s story,” Franklin writes. With sensitivity and assiduous research, she constructs a vivid cultural history that advocates for a reëvaluation of Frank, not as a symbol or a saint but as a human being and a literary artist.

  • A photo of groups of people lounging in Central Park.

    A Gorgeous Excitement

    by Cynthia Weiner (Crown)
    Fiction

    The title of this assured début novel is taken from Freud’s description of cocaine’s effects. That drug, combined with prescription medications, sex, and alcohol, fuels the narrative, which is closely modelled on the real-life death of a Manhattan teen-ager in 1986—the so-called Preppy Murder case. The summer before the protagonist, Nina, leaves the Upper East Side for Vanderbilt, she is searching for someone to “please God take her virginity.” She soon meets Gardner, a devious and charming troublemaker who fills her with a “buzzy euphoria.” Nina follows him on a series of dangerous outings that lead her to grow disenchanted and wary. “Everything’s too big to get my head around,” she says, as she begins to reckon with the compromises of adulthood.

  • A photo of a man standing and looking out over a snow-covered area.

    Ends of the Earth

    by Neil Shubin (Dutton)
    Nonfiction

    In this comprehensive yet concise history of modern polar exploration, Shubin, a professor of evolutionary biology, mixes urgent scientific findings about glaciers and sea-level rise with prescient geopolitical histories of Arctic territorial disputes. Throughout, Shubin relates stories from his own field expeditions: a pilot lands a propeller plane in an icy valley; a crew member stumbles on kaleidoscopic hues of blue while spelunking in Antarctic crevasses; Shubin’s team discovers a field of dinosaur footprints that had been miraculously preserved under layers of ice. Such descriptions enliven the book, and capture Shubin’s reverence for both the beauty and the mysteries hidden in the cold, barren tundra.

  • A photo of a man walking around a pile of rocks.

    Stone Yard Devotional

    by Charlotte Wood (Riverhead)
    Fiction

    Short-listed for the Booker Prize, this quiet, probing novel follows a middle-aged woman as she moves into a cloistered religious community near the town where she grew up. The narrator has left her marriage and her job without announcement, and this sudden abstention is also thrust upon the reader; details from the woman’s former life filter in slowly, but much of the past remains obscure. Instead, the narrator documents her trials at the convent—a plague of mice, the arrival of a murdered nun’s bones—where the ordinary and the extraordinary collide. Here, faith is more than foolishness but less than sacrosanct, and one woman’s disappearance becomes a rumination on what it means to exist.

  • An illustration of a dog sitting by a table.

    Cold Kitchen

    by Caroline Eden (Bloomsbury)
    Nonfiction

    Primarily unfolding in the kitchen of an Edinburgh apartment, this cozy memoir offers rich descriptions of international foods stored in the pantry and cooking on the stove. But “a kitchen is a portal,” Eden writes. These domestic scenes spark recollections of visits to Central Asia—Istanbul, Riga, Siberia—and each chapter closes with a recipe for a now familiar dish. In the book’s strongest moments, Eden gestures toward the political significance of her culinary escapades abroad. At a café in Poland, she reflects on the legacy of the Second World War; in Kyrgyzstan, she ventures out for clover dumplings in the aftermath of protests there. In so doing, she asserts that food can be as valuable as a place’s “history, architecture and civic life.”

  • A man sits on a chair reading with a dog on the floor in front of him.

    Love and Need

    by Adam Plunkett (Farrar, Straus & Giroux)
    Nonfiction

    Blending biography and criticism, Plunkett shows how the circumstances of Frost’s peripatetic life gave rise to some of his most successful poems. As in the best critical biographies, Plunkett does not merely track down real-world inspiration for a given work. Rather, he brings together Frost’s personal life, literary sources, and publication history to enrich our understanding of the poems, then uses the poems to enhance our understanding of the life. The result is a thorough, elegant, and, at times, surprising study of Frost, who emerges as a remarkably complex poet and a compelling but complicated man.

    A black-and-white photograph of Robert Frost.
    Read more: The Many Guises of Robert Frost, by Maggie Doherty
  • An abstract square painting featuring a dark and gray colors.

    Code Noir

    by Canisia Lubrin (Soft Skull)
    Fiction

    This collection of “fictions”—many too strange to be called stories—is filled with disappearances, deaths, and gnomic pronouncements. Lubrin, a St. Lucian-born Canadian poet, writes that “the murderers in this draft are those who write the laws,” referring to the titular seventeenth-century French edict that governed the traffic and ownership of Black people. Text from these regulations appears between Lubrin’s pieces, hauntingly drawn over by the artist Torkwase Dyson. The collection displays tremendous stylistic breadth: one work simply describes seventeen dogs, another features a mathematically gifted conch shell, and others are closer to poetry, with only a few plotless lines. The over-all effect is a dizzying, disorienting view of “history’s wide grave.”

  • An illustration of a child wearing a crown of leaves and fruit.

    Victorian Psycho

    by Virginia Feito (Liveright)
    Fiction

    Winifred, the protagonist of this Victorian-era grotesque, takes a position as a governess at an English manor. The lady of the house, Mrs. Pounds, has instructed her to cultivate “good moral character” in her children, but Winifred senses “a Darkness” in Mrs. Pounds, one that she herself shares: it “rests within my rib-cage, a jailed animal grown listless with domestication.” Vandalism and lechery are among the milder affronts that occur on Winifred’s watch, and her narration, though sombre, sparkles. “It fascinates me,” Winifred reflects, “that humans have the capacity to mortally wound one another at will, but for the most part, choose not to.”

  • A black-and-white photo of men in suits cheering on a stage.
    From Our Pages

    Lorne

    by Susan Morrison (Random House)
    Nonfiction

    The New Yorker’s articles editor spent a decade on this sly, anecdote-stuffed biography of Lorne Michaels, the producer who created “S.N.L.” Her witty and insightful portrait incorporates hundreds of interviews, including writers and comedians—such as Tina Fey, Bill Murray, and Will Ferrell—who got their start on the show. An excerpt appeared in the magazine.

  • Photograph of land from above.

    Land Power

    by Michael Albertus (Basic)
    Nonfiction

    In the past few centuries, land has changed hands on major scales: from nobles to commoners during the French Revolution, from Native peoples to European settlers in North America, and from the wealthy to the poor in China, Russia, and Mexico. This sweeping study examines the results of such shifts, which, the author argues, are what set countries on diverging developmental paths and produced a host of modern social ills. The seizure of land by settlers, for instance, entrenched racism, and collectivization under Communist regimes led to environmental destruction. But Albertus is optimistic. Better policies, he insists, show the power of land as “a tool for forging a more just and sustainable world.”

  • Art work of Helen of Troy.

    Helen of Troy, 1993

    by Maria Zoccola (Scribner)
    Poetry

    This exuberant début poetry collection recasts the titular heroine as an Appalachian housewife reckoning with the tyrannies of beauty, domesticity, and small-town gossip during the late twentieth century. Zoccola’s Helen is neither femme fatale nor damsel in distress; here, the “face that launched a thousand ships” belies a person with a teeming, tenacious mind and implacable appetites. She catalogues her pregnancy cravings—“corn chips. sliced watermelon. microwave pizza rolls”—and pursues an affair. Defiant, Helen sings of her rage against “a life of small mercies and small choices,” illuminating the perennial struggle between a unique yet universal woman and the world that would confine her.

  • An illustration of a woman writing.

    After Lives

    by Megan Marshall (Mariner)
    Nonfiction

    In this slim volume of essays, Marshall, a Pulitzer Prize-winning biographer, turns inward, reflecting on her discovery of old personal paraphernalia, including letters and photographs. She writes of her grandfather, Joe Marshall, who oversaw photography and film for the American Expeditionary Forces during the First World War, and of Jonathan Jackson, a Black high-school classmate, who was killed at seventeen when he tried to free his older brother, a Black Power activist, from prison. The book also contains anecdotes about the death of her partner and revelations about her mother, a gifted painter who sacrificed her art in order to help raise her family.

  • Photo illustration of parachutes over an icy landscape.

    The Riveter

    by Jack Wang (HarperVia)
    Fiction

    Set in Canada, the U.S., and Europe during the Second World War, this historical novel explores the life of a Chinese Canadian man, Josiah Chang, whose romance with a white woman, Poppy, undergirds his drive to prove himself. Tracing Josiah’s trajectory from lumberjack to shipyard riveter to ambitious serviceman, Wang offers a protagonist of unflappable morality and decency. Despite racially discriminatory laws barring him from enlisting (and gaining citizenship), Josiah nonetheless joins an élite parachuting battalion and intervenes to prevent war crimes. Nodding toward this Odyssean journey, Wang’s novel presents a familiar tale of war and homecoming, rife with correspondence, death, and pangs of yearning for a beloved back home.

  • A blurred image of a person in the background and a red-to-white gradient design.

    The Secret History of the Rape Kit

    by Pagan Kennedy (Vintage)
    Nonfiction

    In the Chicago metro area of the nineteen-seventies, about two thousand rapes were reported to the police every year—and, unsurprisingly, many thousands more went unreported. A nonprofit executive named Marty Goddard came up with an idea for a forensic kit that could be used in all rape exams. Soon, Chicago became “the first city to widely adopt a standardized sexual-assault forensic kit,” Kennedy writes. DNA evidence in rape kits has exonerated the innocent—including many Black men who were falsely accused of assaulting white women—and cracked decades-old cold cases, among them that of Joseph DeAngelo, known as the Golden State Killer. But, as Kennedy makes painfully clear, the rape kit has also become a paradoxical symbol of systemic indifference toward rape and its victims. Every few years, a scandalous news report emerges about one municipality or another that either hoarded or destroyed unprocessed kits. Despite efforts to clear the backlog, hundreds of thousands of kits sit untested nationwide, and ten states still have no tracking system for them.

    A collage of a gavel and various items like a comb, gloves, and cotton swabs
    Read more: The Frustrated Promise of the Rape Kit, by Jessica Winter
  • A page with gray words and some words highlighted in purple.

    Shattered

    by Hanif Kureishi (Ecco)
    Nonfiction

    On Boxing Day, 2022, Kureishi, a novelist and screenwriter, experienced an accident that left him tetraplegic. The diary entries that constitute this book, dictated from hospital beds in Rome and London, offer an unflinching look at Kureishi’s affliction. Interspersed throughout are recollections of his boyhood and his family: he reminisces about his father—a civil servant from Bombay who named his son after a cricket player—and broods about his mother. Amid the monotony of hospital routines and physiotherapy sessions, writing becomes Kureishi’s anchor: “I am determined to keep writing, it has never mattered to me more.”

  • An image of a person picking a lemon off a tree.

    The Dissenters

    by Youssef Rakha (Graywolf)
    Fiction

    This novel, the first written in English by one of Egypt’s leading authors, takes the form of letters from a man in Cairo to his sister, who lives in America. In the letters, the man interweaves their mother’s story—involving a failed first marriage, female genital mutilation, an affair, and transformations from secularism to religiosity and back again—with reflections on his own life, his experience of her recent death, and the wider history of his country. Designating himself “a truth-seeker, a lover, a revolutionary,” the man notes that he “could never be any of those things if I didn’t understand that I was an Egyptian woman’s son.”

  • Abstract artwork with a dark, textured background with white, distressed lettering.

    New and Collected Hell

    by Shane McCrae (Farrar, Straus & Giroux)
    Poetry

    In an allusion to Dante and his Inferno, this book-length poem follows a poet on his journey through an underworld that has been audaciously recast in a post-millennial context and vernacular. McCrae’s Hell contains a human-resources “bunker,” conducts intake interviews, shows the damned on screens that hang above gray cubicles sprawling endlessly in all directions, and communicates by fax machine only. The narrator’s guide says “It’s mostly assholes who think Hell’s where justice happens Hell / Is sorrow’s Heaven where it goes to live forever with / Its god the human body.” Unlike Dante’s narrator, McCrae’s neo-Virgil never gains any real clarity. The poem’s meticulous inventory of one person’s anguish stands alongside the equally emphatic impossibility of capturing the whole.

    A persons head cut open revealing layers of their heads and fire coming out
    Read more: The Poet Shane McCrae Goes Back to Hell, by Elisa Gonzalez
  • A grid of black dots with red dots interspersed.

    In Defense of Partisanship

    by Julian E. Zelizer (Columbia Global Reports)
    Nonfiction

    In this concise treatise, Zelizer argues that the solution to the dysfunction in American politics lies not in third-partyism, bipartisanship, or a strengthened executive branch but, rather, in an improved two-party system. He lays out the case for why such a system still represents “the best way to organize and direct the deep tensions that always exist within the electorate.” Tracing the Democratic and the Republican Parties from their births through the congressional reforms of the nineteen-seventies (which ushered in the era of intense partisanship we know today), Zelizer dissects what has gone wrong and provides a clear and accessible blueprint for further changes—including ending the filibuster and eliminating the debt ceiling.

  • A black-and-white photograph of people sitting in and around a covered wagon.

    Somewhere Toward Freedom

    by Bennett Parten (Simon & Schuster)
    Nonfiction

    In the fall of 1864, General William Sherman took sixty thousand Union soldiers some two hundred and fifty miles from Atlanta to the ocean, scorching a vast swath of the state along the way. The campaign is remembered as a path of destruction, a total war waged against the white civilians of the South. Yet to the many enslaved people across the state who left their homes and followed Sherman to the sea, the march meant freedom. This is the central narrative of Parten’s new book, “Somewhere Toward Freedom.” Parts of this story have been told before, in broader works about the Civil War or emancipation or the march itself. But Parten’s may be the first to make freedpeople its sole focus, and to claim that they were essential to the march’s meaning.

    View of Atlanta, Georgia, after the city was taken by General William Techumsah Sherman in 1864.
    Read more: The Other Side of Sherman’s March, by Scott Spillman
  • A clear blob on a yellow background.

    Blob

    by Maggie Su (Harper)
    Fiction

    In this slyly self-aware and gently comic novel, a twenty-four-year-old college dropout, Vi, who is stuck in a dead-end job and getting over a bad breakup, discovers a blob on the ground outside a dive bar. She takes the blob—which to her recalls “the slime I made as a kid”—back to her apartment and shapes it, golem-like, into her ideal boyfriend, whom she names Bob. Vi is chubby, socially awkward, and uneasy with her own “otherness” (she is the child of an Asian father and a white mother), and she seeks conventional perfection in Bob, who develops washboard abs and movie-star looks. But problems arise when Bob starts to feel desires of his own—a turn that both accelerates the novel’s sharp plot and enriches its examination of the complex relationship between longing and identity.

  • Illustration of a falling star over a city.

    Everything Must Go

    by Dorian Lynskey (Pantheon)
    Nonfiction

    Lynskey, a British journalist and podcaster, has assembled a host of biological, geological, archeological, literary, and cinematic permutations of apocalyptic finales, leaving no stone unturned. Popular culture complements literary culture; Lynskey fearlessly juxtaposes Skeeter Davis’s song “The End of the World” (about heartbreak) with Mary Shelley’s “The Last Man.” This multilayered narrative pays respects to Saul Bellow, Norman Cohn, Richard Hofstadter, and Susan Sontag. A recap of the Y2K scare, which now seems quaintly innocent, reminds us of simpler tech times; Lynskey also dwells briefly on the possibility of malicious rogue A.I. The author allots space to all sorts of apocalypses—sudden infertility, rising seas, nuclear war—but, for the most part, “Everything Must Go” relishes the opportunity to ruminate on our apocalyptic obsessions: doom without the gloom.

    A park scene mixed with humans and monsters.
    Read more: What We Learn About Our World by Imagining Its End, by Arthur Krystal
  • Illustration collage of a woman's face, plans, and people.

    Black in Blues

    by Imani Perry (Ecco)
    Nonfiction

    This cultural history of the color blue, and how it threads through Black lives and “the peculiar institution of slavery,” opens with the indigo trade in the sixteenth century. The dye’s production by enslaved individuals was, Perry writes, “an early and clear example of a global desire to harness blue beauty into personal possession.” Touching on a range of historical, artistic, musical, and literary references—from the color’s significance in Yoruba cosmology to the blue candles used in hoodoo rituals to the “tremor” of the “blue note”—Perry illuminates how the color has been variously associated with mourning, spiritual strength, and forces of freedom and oppression.

  • Cartoon man holds a sign.

    Make Your Own Job

    by Erik Baker (Harvard)
    Nonfiction

    Mantras like “do what you love,” “bring your whole self to work,” and “make a life, not just a living” can seem like a distinctly modern phenomenon, but Baker, a lecturer in the history of science at Harvard, argues that the imperative to imbue work with personal meaning is part of a long-standing national preoccupation. His new book, an exercise in intellectual history, is concerned less with the chronological development of American entrepreneurship than with the idea of it. Baker aims to track the anxieties and desires of a society undergoing epochal transitions and the promulgation of what he calls “the entrepreneurial work ethic”: an orientation that is highly individualistic and competitive.

    Image may contain: Person, Face, Head, Dynamite, and Weapon
    Read more: The Insidious Charms of the Entrepreneurial Work Ethic, by Anna Wiener
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    My Darling Boy

    by John Dufresne (Norton)
    Fiction

    In this novel, a sensitive portrait of parenthood, a divorced, retired newspaperman named Olney, now working part time at a miniature-golf course in Florida, embarks on a quest to save his son from opioid addiction. Along the way, he encounters a host of Florida-gothic figures, both comic and tragic, including a reverend with a cable-access show and blind octogenarian twins. His relationships with these peculiar characters contribute to the novel’s emotional power, even as the devoted Olney finds little respite or reason for hope: “He thinks of all the people who have come and gone in his life, and how once they start going, they don’t stop.”

  • Illustration of a road at night.
    From Our Pages

    The Vanishing Point

    by Paul Theroux (Mariner)
    Fiction

    The eighteen stories in this new collection look toward the “vanishing point”: in some cases, the end of life; in others, a different kind of ending. “I know exactly what is coming for me,” one character says. “This is not clairvoyance. It is the bleak certainty of a private promise.” In the stories, which jump from continent to continent, a man realizes, to his dismay, that his anger can be mysteriously weaponized; another comes up with a twisted way to resist his wife’s plan to move to assisted living; a boy in Massachusetts weighs the pleasure of transgression against the state of his immortal soul. All the narratives look at life at an angle, shining unfamiliar light on both its sweet and its bitter offerings. Two of the stories, including the title story, were first published in the magazine.

  • Illustration of four men feather and tarring another person.

    American Laughter, American Fury

    by Eran A. Zelnik (Hopkins)
    Nonfiction

    This sobering history tracks how humor, with “its double-edged nature,” was deployed on this side of the Atlantic between 1750 and 1850 to tear down old hierarchies and build up new ones, in the process helping the young United States become a democracy reserved for the benefit of white men. With examples including rebellious colonists’ proud adoption of “Yankee Doodle” as their anthem—the song was initially sung by British troops, to make fun of supposedly unsophisticated locals—and the emergence of blackface minstrelsy, Zelnik shows how white settlers used playfulness and humor to position themselves as the rightful owners of the land, to the exclusion not only of foppish Brits but also of Indigenous and Black Americans.

  • Illustration of Socrates in neon colors.

    Open Socrates

    by Agnes Callard (Norton)
    Nonfiction

    We often imagine the Socratic method as a kind of heightened Q. & A.: professors peppering their students with queries, fervent debates in which we poke holes in one another’s arguments. In fact, Callard argues, the philosopher’s intervention was more radical: he inaugurated a whole way of life. It involves the uncomfortable, even painful, process of questioning the basic ideas through which you’ve organized your existence. Crucially, this is a social process. “The standard approach to thinking privileges what is private and unvoiced,” Callard writes. Socratic thinking inverts this picture. Thinking, Callard suggests, happens when two people who see themselves as equals pursue a question together.

    Illustration of sheep eating a cursor
    Read more: Should You Question Everything?, by Joshua Rothman
  • Illustration of a woman with long hair wearing a crown.

    Too Soon

    by Betty Shamieh (Avid Reader)
    Fiction

    This début comic novel, by an accomplished playwright, stitches together the lives of three generations of Palestinian women as they search for personal freedom. Spanning six decades and told from alternating points of view, the story follows Zoya, who flees a besieged Jaffa for the U.S. in the nineteen-forties; her daughter, Naya, and her experience as the child of refugees in the seventies; and Naya’s irreverent daughter Arabella, who, in Palestine in the twenty-tens, endeavors to direct a gender-reversed production of “Hamlet.” As Shamieh balances her characters’ painful family history and their boisterously funny voices, the women navigate between the “push to be modern, radical, and free” and the “pull to find comfort in a community and identity” born of tradition.

  • A book cover with a cutout showing an illustration beneath.

    Gliff

    by Ali Smith (Penguin)
    Fiction

    Smith’s playful new dystopia follows two children as they navigate a heavily surveilled world in which tech is omnipresent, and oppressive. People who fall out of the system—people who, for instance, cannot authenticate themselves on their device, or, perhaps, don’t own a device—are deemed “unverifiable.” One day, the children wake up to find that a red circle has been painted around their house. When they move to a new location, it happens again: another red circle. It’s a warning sign that puts them at risk of being sent off to a brutal “re-education” center. Suddenly, they’re on the run. Part of the joy of “Gliff” is that, while it is set in a dark future, there are moments of genuine humor. The questions the siblings must answer while travelling are specific to the point of absurdity: what brand of toothpaste they use, and why, and whether they are a dog or cat person. At one point, one of the children says, “Yeah but a passport doesn’t prove we’re us. . . . We prove a passport’s it. We just are us.”

    A drawn portrait of Ali Smith with an orange horse.
    Read more: Ali Smith’s Playful Dystopia, by Anna Russell
  • An illustration of a desert with cacti in the foreground and a city in the background.

    American Oasis

    by Kyle Paoletta (Pantheon)
    Nonfiction

    For many Americans, the cities of the Southwest are beautiful but slightly terrifying vacation destinations. In this elegant book, Paoletta, who is from New Mexico, argues that these desert cities’ histories of survival make them ideal models for other American metropolises. Through a series of sensitive portraits of the region’s biggest cities—including Albuquerque, Phoenix, El Paso, and Las Vegas—Paoletta demonstrates how Southwesterners’ centuries of experience with extreme heat, water scarcity, and “stitching a complex social fabric” from groups of Native Americans, Hispanics, Anglos, and immigrants can impart lessons for other cities facing similar challenges.

  • Dark tree silhouettes against a blue background.
    From Our Pages

    We Do Not Part

    by Han Kang, translated from the Korean by e. yaewonPaige Morris (Hogarth)
    Fiction

    In the latest work from the most recent winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, a woman, Kyungha, must travel from Seoul to Jeju Island before the end of the day, in order to keep her friend’s pet bird from dying of thirst; during the journey, she navigates the perils of an increasingly ferocious blizzard and contemplates the different ways that people endure pain, as well as the ways that they make life bearable and forge on. The novel was excerpted in the magazine.

  • An image of multiple Black artists within a cutout of Elvis Presley dancing.

    Before Elvis

    by Preston Lauterbach (Grand Central)
    Nonfiction

    This book considers the influence on Elvis Presley of Black musicians, especially the gospel and R. & B. pioneers of the nineteen-forties and early nineteen-fifties. Drawing from both existing scholarship and firsthand reporting, Lauterbach highlights the artists who originated the songs and invented the techniques with which Presley captivated white audiences, such as Big Mama Thornton—the first singer of “Hound Dog”—and the jazz guitarist Calvin Newborn. The book also chronicles the injustices Black musical pioneers endured, including withheld copyright credits and royalties, and the racism of machine politicians like Memphis’s E. H. (Boss) Crump and the censor he hired, who was determined to ban any material that showed Black people in a positive light.

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    The Sirens’ Call

    by Chris Hayes (Penguin Press)
    Nonfiction

    In the past fifteen years, an avalanche of literature has been published about how technology has ruined our attention spans. Hayes’s new book is perhaps the most sophisticated contribution to the genre. He openly acknowledges that technology panics—induced by everything from comic books to television—have a long history, but he argues that we are living in unprecedented times. Drawing on his own experience as an anchor at MSNBC, where he has observed thoughtful journalists debase themselves in their scramble to retain straying viewers, Hayes makes the case that “focus is harder and harder to sustain.” For this, he blames digital tools that capitalize on our psychological hardwiring; some things we pay attention to by choice, and others we simply find hard to ignore. “Our dominion over our own minds has been punctured,” Hayes writes. “The scale of transformation we’re experiencing is far more vast and more intimate than even the most panicked critics have understood.” And the painful twist is that the thing we really ought to focus on, climate change, “evades our attentional facilities.”

    Person controlled by robot arms.
    Read more: What if the Attention Crisis Is All a Distraction?, by Daniel Immerwahr
  • An image of a polar bear standing up on its hind legs.

    Going Home

    by Tom Lamont (Knopf)
    Fiction

    At the start of this brilliantly observed début novel, Téo, a traffic-laws instructor, is babysitting the two-year-old son of his childhood friend (and lifelong crush) Lia—not knowing that Lia, a single mother, will use the time to kill herself. When social workers dispatched after the incident deem the rules-abiding Téo to be one of the child’s “better bets,” he is tasked with serving as the boy’s caregiver until a permanent guardian can be found. A trio of unhelpful but well-meaning figures support him: his ailing father, their temple’s unpopular new rabbi, and a hedonistic friend. While teasing the reader with questions about the child’s paternity, Lamont’s story of a make-do family revels in the often comically porous borders of faith, home, and adulthood.

  • An image of the writer Mavis Gallant sitting in a chair, looking off into the distance.
    From Our Pages

    The Uncollected Stories of Mavis Gallant

    by Mavis Gallant, edited by Garth Risk Hallberg (New York Review Books)
    Fiction

    This volume includes forty-four previously uncollected stories by Gallant—a master of the form, who published more than a hundred stories in The New Yorker. Painstakingly tracked down and assembled by Garth Risk Hallberg, the stories span Gallant’s writing life from 1944, when she was twenty-two, to 1987, and are full of her pointed wit, her acute observations, and her profound understanding of the desire, terror, and loneliness that drive us. Twenty-nine of the stories, including “Up North,” were first published in the magazine.

  • An illustration of a block of apartments with lit windows.

    Another Man in the Street

    by Caryl Phillips (Farrar, Straus & Giroux)
    Fiction

    This finespun and structurally intrepid novel follows a West Indian man, set on becoming a journalist, who immigrates to London in the nineteen-sixties. As the novel skips around in time—touching down, among other moments, just before the Second World War and in Thatcher’s era—it tells the stories of the immigrant and of two people he meets in London. One is a white Englishwoman who becomes his longtime partner and must, in the run-up to the millennium, reckon with obscured parts of his life. As the three grapple with various dislocations, they weigh the notion that they “must draw a veil across the past and never again attempt to peer behind it.”

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    Rosarita

    by Anita Desai (Scribner)
    Fiction

    In this hushed, exacting novel, a woman from Delhi resettles in San Miguel de Allende, where she is forced to reckon with her past by an older stranger who claims to have known her late mother. The story follows the transplant as she skeptically trails her mysterious new guide across the supposed sites of her mother’s youth in a foreign land. Throughout their journey, the past’s influence on the present grows ever more pervasive, and the woman’s failure to escape her upbringing emerges as a failure to truly know it. The more she discovers of her mother’s life, the more haunting its opacity becomes.

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    Embers of the Hands

    by Eleanor Barraclough (Norton)
    Nonfiction

    This lively history of the Viking Age—which lasted from roughly 750 to 1100 C.E.—moves beyond tales of seafaring warriors to capture everyday people: women, children, merchants, healers, walrus hunters. Given the scant evidence of these histories in the written record, Barraclough seeks them instead in archeological artifacts, from a rune stick found in the rubble of a tavern in Norway reading “GYDA SAYS THAT YOU SHOULD GO HOME” to an amber figurine of a swaddled baby found in Denmark. If each individual artifact reveals relatively little, the enormous array Barraclough assembles—from Scandinavia, Western Europe, Newfoundland, and trading posts as far east as present-day Russia—adds depth to the traditional portrait of Viking culture.

  • An orange background with a yellow spiral design in the middle.

    Aflame

    by Pico Iyer (Riverhead)
    Nonfiction

    For more than three decades, Iyer, an essayist and a novelist, has spent several weeks a year at a silent retreat in a monastery in Big Sur, California. In this spare, delicately woven memoir, he combines portraits of the people he has encountered during his stays with crystalline descriptions of the natural setting and philosophical ruminations on the purposes of retreat. If Iyer’s ultimate goal is to illuminate a certain state of feeling—the incendiary sense of being alive hinted at in the title—his focus radiates outward: “It’s writing about the external world that feels most interior,” he tells a fellow silence-seeker. The result is a powerful work of observation in which deep truths seem to arise almost by accident.

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    Mood Machine

    by Liz Pelly (Atria)
    Nonfiction

    Pelly’s book is a comprehensive look at how Spotify, the largest streaming platform in the world, profoundly changed how we listen and what we listen to. Founded in Sweden in 2006, the company quickly distinguished itself from other file-sharing services and music marketplaces by tracking the listening habits of its users, allowing it to anticipate what they might want to hear and when. Spotify began curating career-making playlists and feeding them to subscribers. Pelly sympathizes with artists who must contend with superstars like Adele and Coldplay for slots in these lineups, but her greatest concerns are for the listeners. For Pelly, it’s a problem less of taste than of autonomy—the freedom to exercise our own judgment, as we often did when encountering something new while listening to the radio or watching MTV. Spotify’s ingenuity in serving us what we like may keep us from what we love.

    Music players connecting directly to a person's head.
    Read more: Is There Any Escape from the Spotify Syndrome?, by Hua Hsu
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    Playworld

    by Adam Ross (Knopf)
    Fiction

    Griffin, the teen-age protagonist of this engrossing coming-of-age novel, set on the Upper West Side in the early nineteen-eighties, is living an unusual childhood: an actor in a hit TV show, with parents in the performing arts, he longs to do normal-person things, like fall in love with someone his own age. But Naomi, a thirtysomething friend of his parents’, has other ideas for him, as does his abusive high-school wrestling coach. Onscreen, Griffin plays a superhero; if he has a superpower in real life, it is detachment. Things come to a head one fateful summer as, amid personal and family tumult, the maturing Griffin begins to inhabit his most important role: himself.