Literary agent Catherine Cho (Inferno) considers family, legacy, and fate in The Devoted, a deft debut novel of subtle questioning with a fast-accelerating plot.

Eunha is raised by her Korean grandmother in a village in Hong Kong, alongside her older brother, Solomon, and a single occasional visitor, a boy named Kai. It is a life of isolation, purportedly for safety's sake; the children's father is a Dragon Head, a powerful leader in organized crime. In adulthood, Eunha believes she's found that different path, but marriage to "a man who had never loved me" and a life of proper lunches at the Palm Club with other wives leaves Eunha no less lonely. Then her three-year-old son is abducted, and that shell of a life is upended.

The child is returned to his mother, apparently none the worse, but Eunha learns yet again that her life is not her own. She begins to push in earnest against the powerful men who have always surrounded her: her father and her brother. In the upheaval, she reunites with Kai, now a Dragon Head as well, both the sensitive, magnetic boy she knew in youth and a frighteningly compelling leader.

Much of The Devoted unfolds at a contemplative pace, but as Eunha starts to exert her own will, secrets and betrayals reveal themselves, and the novel gathers speed into an electric tale of intrigue, many layered and consistently surprising. Cho's first novel is at once a family saga, a narrative of identity and belonging, a love story, and a tale of suspense. Eunha's struggles are softly spoken but pack a wallop. --Julia Kastner, blogger at pagesofjulia

In The Mortons, wife-and-husband team Justine Larbalestier and Scott Westerfeld create a complex, riveting character in 20-year-old narrator Jessica Morton, who's been raised by her family to steal and murder without detection.

Each Morton child must name and care for a rabbit--and then kill it. Jessica killed hers when she was eight. Their family motto is "fides sine cura" (loyalty without care); they demand devotion, but detachment is their aim. All the Mortons have attended Helshire, an Ivy League-style school, where the Mortons and three other legacy families hone skills such as accounting (for money laundering), history, and "No Drama" (the art of blending into crowds).

In the opening scene, Jessica is in the midst of "culling" her sophomore cousin Peter, who adores her. Other than her rabbit, this is Jessica's first kill. The authors hone Jessica's thoughts to tuning-fork perfection. She models clarity of purpose--cold, sharp, and strong of body and constitution. Whatever she sets her mind to doing, she does. Nothing affects her. That is, until her family assigns her to work in her uncle's New York City gallery to seduce artist Hiromi Kennedy. Jessica gets pulled into a dark tangle of personalities and desires more complicated than any she's known before. Her laser-focused concentration falters, clouded by possible feelings for her "prey," and she feels like she's cracking open.

Larbalestier and Westerfeld render the constellation of family members with sensational details. The plot unfolds at breakneck speed as the authors immerse readers in a world of "loyalty without care," so it's all the more impressive how worthy of care Jessica turns out to be. --Jennifer M. Brown

Summer sun illuminates a moving and magical narrative in Ashley Poston's novel The Someday Garden. Sophie Drear, a horticulturalist in New York City, takes a temporary position at Lilymoor, an extraordinary cliffside estate with expansive gardens overlooking the coast of Maine. To Sophie, who is escaping the grief of losing her best friend almost a year earlier and the uncertainty that has followed, Lilymoor is more than a summer job. It's the place where her once-in-a-lifetime friendship with Harriett was sparked, but its peculiar gardens are also said to be magical, possessing the ability to reveal the voice of one's true love.

When Lilymoor's eccentric owner shares her plan to retire at the upcoming bicentennial celebration, the question of who will inherit the estate worries the quirky, lovable staff. Sophie's dedication to restoring the gardens only grows stronger with every setback: the arrival of the owner's distractingly handsome grand-nephew, inexplicably appearing vines, an untraceable water source that's dampening the wildflowers, and an enchanted door that leads to a grumpy man trapped inside an unfinished garden.

Fascinating twists and turns reveal the supernatural elements of Lilymoor as Sophie attempts to figure out the secrets of the mysterious garden. The strength of Sophie's passion for gardening and those she cares about cultivates an inspiring story of grief and self-discovery. Through fun characters and a whimsical setting, Poston (Sounds Like Love; A Novel Love Story) celebrates determination, belonging, and the strength of true love. --Clara Newton, freelance reviewer

Japan's Gengoroh Tagame, revered globally for his erotic gay manga, went mainstream with My Brother's Husband, published in the U.S. in two volumes. He continues to entertain general audiences with Fish and Water, translated again by writer/musician Anne M. Ishii.

Akira, who works in sales, isn't sure what to do with a hefty box of fresh-from-the-farm cabbage he's given during a site visit. Remembering his culinary friend Koji, Akira calls him with an offer to share and happily accepts Koji's invitation for "something delicious" he'll create with the veggie windfall. Akira arrives at Koji's and immediately notices Koji's long hair. Koji admits, "I haven't been to the barber in a while. Pandemic lockdown." He encourages Akira to stay over so they can drink with dinner. His toothsome spread inspires Akira's gratitude: "I could eat like this every day," to which Koji quips, "In that case we should get married." Akira is quick to admonish him about saying things he doesn't mean, but he underscores his sincere appreciation by doing the dishes. When they part the next morning, Koji notices Akira has left his toothbrush in the bathroom, and Akira wonders why he made things awkward.

In meticulously drawn black-and-white inked panels (with a few R-rated glimpses) Tagame reveals a charming love story about which the readers quickly know more than the two single men, who are perhaps not quite ready to admit their attraction. The small joys of domesticity they increasingly share nurture both bellies and souls. Tagame particularly excels in capturing nuanced emotions and gifts audiences intimate access to a couple tentatively falling in love. Satisfyingly swoon-worthy fun indeed. --Terry Hong

In 15 diverse chapters, 15 anonymous artists grouped together as the Cartoonist Collective in Tehran explore, expose, and memorialize their shattering, intimate experiences of surviving war in the comics anthology I Won't Pretend These Missiles Are Stars: Life in Iran During the 12-Day War. On June 13, 2025, Israel bombed Iran; Iran retaliated; and the U.S. joined the conflagration on June 22. A ceasefire was announced on June 24.

Politics aside, the most pressing consequence for civilians was finding safety amid power cuts, shortages, communication loss, and endless disruptions to daily life: "What haunts me the most is that life still goes on," comments the author of "12 Days." One artist attempts to work while fleeing in "Deadline with Letters." Caring for her cat during a chaotic evacuation--like many others prioritizing their beloved pets--helps another artist cope in "Lappe Letters." In "Momento Mori," the creator's first reaction to the attacks isn't "to run or scream," but rather "to prep [her] own corpse like a mortician on overtime." Some confess wanting to "die with my family"; others try to stay away from "home" but can't.

While the subtitle attaches this collection to a specific time and place, what lingers beyond the historic details undoubtedly transforms the creators' specifics into universal testimony. Illustration styles differ, relationships vary, geographies are scattered, but uncertainty and fear unite the narratives. Survival, though, is not enough: "At least we still know how to create. We know how to turn death and life, our humiliation and our erasure from history, into stories. And if in the end, anything of us remains, it'll be these stories." --Terry Hong

The United States is an "oldigarchy" that is organized for the benefit of the aged at the expense of its youth, argues historian and law professor Samuel Moyn in his provocative study Gerontocracy in America: How the Old Are Hoarding Power and Wealth--and What to Do About It. Defining gerontocracy as "the empowerment of the old," Moyn explores this insidious form of "elder rule" that, combined with democracy and capitalism, has stymied the U.S. In three succinct parts, Moyn gives an overview of elder rule, the current faces of gerontocracy--in the form of old politicians, old constituents, and old money--and solutions he thinks will bring about a new "intergenerational political compact."

Moyn bemoans the "slow wizening of political life" and singles out the statespeople growing older who refuse to retire and allow younger politicians a place in government. He identifies older voters as the "elder power behind the thrones" who have captured the political system; as a result, with their higher incomes and narrower focus on the present,this bloc distorts the nation's priorities and closes off a collective future for a younger and a more socioeconomically and racially diverse generation. Most of Moyn's proposed solutions are common sense, but some may raise eyebrows, such as an abolishment of the Senate and a return to mandatory retirement.

This slim work delivers hard truths about the outsize influence of the U.S.'s aging population in politics, while proposing a new road map for an equitable society. Gerontocracy is a surgical accounting of the damaging effects of prolonged elder rule that is sure to ruffle feathers. --Peggy Kurkowski, freelance book reviewer in Denver

The ease of using the Global Positioning System, or GPS, is something most people take for granted. Friends are confidently informed, "The map says I'll be there in seven minutes." Families track each other's locations using services like Find My Phone or the Life360 app. In Little Blue Dot, London-based journalist Katherine Dunn takes readers on an exploration of the creation of GPS, making it evident how recent the ability to accurately locate one another is.

GPS technology took huge leaps forward during World War II, when Nazi bombers used radio signals to guide them to London, and again during the U.S.-Soviet space race. During the Vietnam War, the U.S. dedicated specific attention to developing a location system after the frustration of their forces failing for seven years to accurately bomb a major Vietnamese bridge.

Little Blue Dot, Dunn's first book, is both an invigorating history and a glimpse into the future of GPS usage, including its roles in climate tracking, military conflicts, artificial intelligence, and the commercialization of space. A whole new set of challenges are emerging too, as "spoofing" (faking a signal) becomes easier and rivals such as Galileo (Europe) and BeiDou (China) undermine the supremacy of GPS.

Dunn is an excellent guide through this shifting landscape. Her book's complex scientific material is accessible and packed with fascinating details for any reader curious about the technology's past and future. Much has changed in the last half century thanks to GPS, and it remains to be seen how the next 50 years will be changed by location technology. --Jessica Howard, former bookseller, freelance book reviewer

Erin Maglaque, a historian and assistant professor, explains in Presence: A Hidden History of the Female Body, "I wanted not only to write a history of the female body, but a book that made the body into method. I began from the smallness of my own life."

The nine fascinating, flowing chapters, which cover early modern European women's relationships with food, pregnancy, abortion, birth, sleep, breastfeeding, desire, drudgery, and dying, frequently begin or end with Maglaque's personal reflection and memories. Her technique is quite beautifully intentional, since one of her concerns is showing the links between historical and modern female experiences. After Maglaque's introduction in the chapter focusing on food, she shares her encounters with her grandmother's self-starvation, and in a later chapter, she recounts the story of her son's birth, which included the use of forceps (a 17th-century invention). The chapters integrate many quotations, including from midwifery manuals and, often, from court documents kept during the Inquisition.

In many instances, however, Maglaque runs into the problem of the gaps in the archive, an archive that is overwhelmingly from the male perspective. These documents rarely capture female desire or the experiences of nursing or feeling "the quickening" (the detection of fetal movement). Maglaque probes why these circumstances might be unrecorded and how she's connected with them in her own life. Presence is a nuanced and multifaceted book, full of curious historical tidbits and an inquisitive personality. --Nina Semczuk, writer, editor, and illustrator

The visually euphoric YA graphic novel Salvage by debut author/artist Renée Nault (adaptor, The Handmaid's Tale: The Graphic Novel) features immersive world-building, memorable characterization, and sadly relevant social and environmental commentary.

In the aftermath of rising sea levels and mass "climate displacement," the characters of Salvage live in a coastal city divided into two neighborhoods: the glamorous, hilltop Uplands and the poverty-stricken, waterlogged Flats. Teenager Paolo, who lives in the Flats, earns a living diving to salvage objects from the ruins of a drowned city. On one particularly lucky dive, golden-skinned, red-haired Paolo finds a watertight suitcase filled with designer clothes that look like what "people in the Uplands wear." Paolo decides to dress up and visit the Uplands "just for one night." There, he meets rosy-skinned, white-haired Jules, the daughter of one of the Uplands' biggest movie stars. When Jules mistakes Paolo for an Uplander, he doesn't correct her and begins leading a double life, diving by day and building a romance with Jules by night.

Nault brings Paolo's and Jules's dissimilar neighborhoods to dazzling life with ink and watercolor illustrations. She juxtaposes scenes in the earth-toned, cluttered yet close-knit Flats with the neon-hued, chaotic, and decadent Uplands. Details such as signs, labels, and billboards organically reveal the current world and hint at the one now gone. Salvage's stark rich/poor divide and rising seas are a pertinent commentary on 21st-century life. Readers will likely root for Paolo's and Jules's emotional journeys as they struggle to remain true to themselves in a precarious world. --Alanna Felton, freelance reviewer

In the sharp, winning, and multilingual Offside, Christina Diaz Gonzalez's second graphic novel for middle-grade readers, soccer players learn to overcome language barriers and selfish attitudes to bring their newly coed team to victory.

Thanks to Nicky, an outspoken star player on the girls' soccer team, the Jackson Middle School boys' team has gone coed. Al, a Brazilian American team member, is furious about playing with girls because his father believes that comingling on the field makes a "mockery" of the sport. Nicky, for her part, wants the team to be coed so she can take advantage of the better resources allotted to the boys' team. Meanwhile, blond-haired, white-skinned Palmer, who is sidelined this season because of an injury, becomes friends with Spanish-speaking students Fabiola and Seba, who also make the team. Practices are uneasy as Nicky and Al jockey for their own interests. However, a proposal to get the city to turn an abandoned lot into a soccer field would allow both teams to have access to the same training facilities--if the kids can work together.

In Offside, Gonzalez (Invisible) deploys what has become a signature of sorts: the entirety of the text is bilingual dialogue that showcases people from different backgrounds working together. It is also a clever learning device for students practicing a different language. Artist Mari Costa (Forgive-Me-Not) impressively fits energetic illustrations into scenes overflowing with text bubbles. Colorist Lark Pien's punchy hues and detailed shading are especially effective. The diverse characters and their layered personalities elevate this graphic novel from a clichéd story of teamwork to one of understanding and empathy. Offside is right on goal. --Luis Rendon, freelance reviewer

In the creepy and electric School Bus Graveyard, Volume 1, a YA horror graphic novel by author/illustrator Red,the school loner teams up with her classmates to slay "flesh-eating" phantoms in a shadow dimension.

Sixteen-year-old, redheaded Ashlyn has always been prickly and friendless by choice. When a field trip takes Ash and five group-project partners to Savannah, Ga., an encounter with the unknown at the haunted Sorrel Weed House--deliberately arranged by the "tour guide"--drags the teens into "the rift." Now every night, the six teens enter a dangerous "demon dimension" where the skies turn red, "the world becomes lifeless and mute," and what look like monstrous grinning shadows stalk them. The exhausted teens (how does one attend school all day after fighting monsters all night?) must get serious about finding a solution before the shadows kill them.

This first installment of School Bus Graveyard transforms a group of average high schoolers from disorganized and fearful to determined and formidable. Red's illustrative style builds a horror dynamic by restraining the nighttime palette to a black background with splashes of red. She conveys a grim, apocalyptic tone using streaks of color, blurry figures, and a grainy texture, letting the horrors of the night hang over the tired teens' school day. Red also injects bits of light and humor in the form of memeable expressions and the occasional pop-culture reference. School Bus Graveyard should appeal to manga fans, horror aficionados, teens juggling too many extracurriculars, or any reader who has tangled with sleep deprivation. --Ari Mackoff, bookseller

Corpse de Ballet, author/illustrator Megan Kearney's first solo YA graphic novel, is a dreamlike, uneasy portrait of the insular world of ballet and one girl's struggle to stand out.

Rosamund Hammond arrives at Saint Anselmus Academy of Dance late in the first semester of her senior year, an "unusual" time for the prestigious school to have "an opening." The whispers start before Rosamund steps foot in a practice room: "Think she's any good?" punctuated by murmurs of "waitlist." While the girls prepare for a performance of the 1870 ballet Coppélia, Rosamund's charismatic roommate, Eugenie, begs Rosamund to help her investigate the disappearance of Eugenie's former roommate. As competitive tensions rise, Rosamund's understanding of the line between reality and performance unravels like so many pink ribbons.

Kearney (Swan Lake: Quest for the Kingdoms) draws fluently from the cultural cachet of ballet, including details such as pointe shoe fit and discourse around eating disorders; even the book's title is a clever play on the ballet term for the ensemble, "ballet corps." Kearney integrates the original plot of Coppélia and its dark journey to the stage into her text, expertly parallelling the themes of envy, manipulation, and sacrifice. She illustrates Rosamund's early days at school in a clean realistic style featuring an atmospheric palette of cool blues and purples. The art loosens with Rosamund's grip on reality--borders between panels degrade and surrealistic images explode past the boundaries of pages. This chilling YA graphic novel is an excellent read for fans of Darren Aronofsky's Black Swan, dark academia, or moody mysteries. --Mariel Fechik DesLaurier, librarian, freelance writer, and music reviewer