Author: Tirzah Price

Georgina has such a perfect life, she knows she has to be careful not to come across as insufferable. She’s a successful lawyer and partner at her NYC firm, she works with her handsome husband, their marriage is great, and she has awesome friends. And then she walks in on her husband having sex with her mentee, and desperate to save her marriage, she decides to give swinging a try. She convinces her best friends Norah and Felix, both having relationship struggles as well, to join her. And soon they’re embarking on a wild adventure through sex parties and sex clubs, which lead Georgina straight back to her college boyfriend. Suddenly, swinging is looking like it might torpedo her perfect life.

This is a very smart and engaging book, and Hahn nails the voices perfectly. It’s a perfect balance of smug yet self-deprecating that really evokes that Emma vibe for me, and even though Georgina is a walking disaster (not that she’d ever admit it), I found her to be a fairly sympathetic character as she confronts her misconceptions and assumptions one at a time. The classic set up from Austen is here, and there are lots of parallels between characters, but this isn’t a super loyal retelling, which means that Hahn can play around with her contemporary setting a bit more. This is a breezy read, one you can easily pick up and inhale on a plane or by the beach, and I enjoyed being immersed in a completely different world from my own while sticking with a familiar storyline. I think this is one both Emma fans and those who aren’t familiar with Austen will enjoy in equal measure!

CJ isn’t really good at very many things, and she’s not the academic prodigy her mom hoped for. But she does love spending time in her family’s flower shop, learning about arranging flowers and the many meanings behind the plants her aunt sells. The flower shop is more than a safe haven — it is deeply meaningful to her family. Her grandfather was swindled out of the shop by the wealthy white MacAllister family when Japanese Americans were forced into prison camps during WWII, and CJ’s grandfather spent decades after the war saving to buy back the shop. So that’s why CJ is horrified when her mom, who disapproves of the shop, wants to sell to the McAllister descendants. CJ and her aunt leak this development to the news…and what comes next surprises even them.

I really enjoyed that this novel was about the tangible effects of the racist policy to imprison Japanese Americans in the 1940s, and that it goes beyond the story of imprisonment to show the longterm effects, even after the war. CJ is a very relatable character who doesn’t feel like she has found her thing or that she fully belongs in her family. She’s reckoning with a lot in her past — the absence of a father figure, her complicated family legacy, a sometimes contentious relationship between her mom and aunt, and her own romantic tribulations. But one thing she cares about is the flower shop and a sense of justice, and she can’t abide by the idea that her family business should end up back in the hands of those that cheated her grandfather. As the community rallies around her family, she learns that this fight is a lot bigger than just her family’s injustice, and she also has to navigate the sometimes fraught interpersonal politics that come with a group of very different people advocating for a cause together. CJ isn’t perfect, but she’s always sympathetic and her growth is gratifying to watch.

Definitely pick this book up if you want a well-written YA novel about friendships, family, and the importance of understanding history and correcting injustices in your community.

In a fantastical world where a witch’s carefully tended garden has yielded sentient vegetables and fruits that help her tend to the produce, we find Garlic, a fretful little bulb with a lot of anxieties. She is often late and has big questions about her existence and purpose. When a far away castle in the woods shows signs of inhabitants, the other vegetables and the witch become fearful the vampire has returned. Everyone knows vampires hate garlic — so who better to send to discover the truth? But Garlic isn’t so sure she’s cut out for such a big task.

I loved the illustrations of all of the vegetables, and I really enjoyed how Paulsen gradually revealed the world and the magic, hinting at the backstory and showing off the relationships between the vegetables. Garlic is very sweet and relatable, even as she struggles with anxiety and uncertainty and is afraid to face the vampire. She finds courage in the belief of her friends and the witch, and discovers that sometimes the things we’re most afraid of offer wonderful opportunity. The magic system and the vibes of this story are wonderfully cottagecore, with an earthy color palette, charming vegetable characters, and humor that is sweet. This is a lovely little story about friendship, bravery, learning to be open minded, and second chances! I could read many more volumes about the adorable Garlic, and lucky for us there is a sequel called Garlic and the Witch!

In a rural community in the near future, a 15-year-old girl is holding her family together after the death of her father. She cares for her young brother, Michael, while her mother, an artist, busies herself with her textiles and cheesemaking, and occasionally indulges in short-lived flings. But when her mother brings home the crane and insists that he be addressed as “Father,” our narrator senses trouble. Unlike the others, the crane doesn’t leave — and their mother begins to fade away, until the protagonist knows she must take action.

This is a very slim novella at just over 100 pages, but it seriously blew me away. I would have gladly spent 200 more pages in this world that Barnhill created, but the way she tells this story is so masterful that I didn’t feel like it was lacking at all. The storytelling feels really classic, so much so that I didn’t immediately pick up on the fact that this story is set in the near future, where farming conglomerates have taken over and drones and AI cultivate the fields. It was an interesting juxtaposition to the fairy tale elements and historical context of the story, and one I quite liked. I was intrigued by the character of the protagonist’s mother, who is a talented fiber artist who raises sheep and creates dazzling tapestries. She feels unreachable for most of the book, consumed with the crane, but there are moments where you get glimpses of who she was and who she might have been if she hadn’t fallen under his thrall. And the crane…oh, he’s menacing and harsh and he has a presence that looms in this story, even though he doesn’t fly into rages or actually hurt the children. He just hurts their mother and they’re forced to watch, which somehow feels almost worse. There’s the sense that if he did threaten the children physically, then maybe the mother would intervene…but no one intervenes, and it’s up to the daughter to take a stand.

This book is an allegory for domestic abuse, and how a parent can be so consumed by an unhealthy relationship that she could neglect to take care of her children. It’s uncomfortable and incredibly sad, but at the heart of this novella is a sister’s love for her brother, her will to protect him, and her love for her mother, even if she doesn’t understand her mother’s choices. This story has some interesting things to say about grief and family and art and sacrifice, and the ending wasn’t what I expected — but it’s one I’ll be thinking about for a long time.

Lydia Class is a Good Girl, from a Nice Family in her small town of Henley, Ohio. Bristol Jamison is her opposite in every way. But when they’re both screwed over by their guidance counselor and left short one history credit in order to graduate, Lydia senses an opportunity. She recruits Bristol and convinces the administration to give them a credit in exchange for doing a podcast on their town’s local history. By exploring the Long Stretch of Bad Days — a three-day period in the 90’s when the town was decimated by a tornado, a flash flood killed every dog at the shelter, and the town’s only murder victim was discovered — Lydia is hoping to impress the Ivy Leagues with her reporting chops. And Bristol will add just the right amount of grit and local color to her podcast to get them listens. But Bristol has no interest in being anyone’s pawn, and when they uncover a discrepancy in the tornado coverage, it leads to a decades-only cold case that no one is looking into.

Mindy McGinnis is really good at writing worn-down small towns with dark crevices, but she doesn’t vilify small towns either. As someone who grew up in a small Midwestern town, I appreciate the complicated mix of emotions she brings to a story like this — the yearning to get out, the stifling feeling that everyone is watching you, the entrapment of small town expectations, and also the grudging affection for the place you call home. Lydia and Bristol must confront all this and more, especially as Lydia reckons with how her position differs from Bristol’s as someone who isn’t rich, but considerably more privileged as a founding family member. The mystery in this book is a bit of slow burn, but that’s okay. There’s plenty of local color, interesting tension, and weird small town vibes to keep readers hooked until a darker story emerges. And once the girls see a mystery that has been overlooked, they can’t un-see it, and they’re compelled to investigate, even when forces seem to be pushing against them. Even when it seems like the case might dead end into nothing. McGinnis does a great job of making every element of their investigation matter, and the way everything comes together is extremely clever. If you’re a fan of gritty mysteries, but also reluctant friends, small towns, and unexpected twists, pick this one up!

Eilis is a young Irish woman living in a small town with her mother and her older sister Rose. Her father is dead, her brothers have gone to England to find work, and she has no future in her hometown. When Rose arranges for Eilis to go to Brooklyn, where she’ll have a job and a chance to study to become a bookkeeper, Eilis feels that she can’t say no to a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, even though she wishes she could stay. Once in America, she’s horrifically lonely and homesick, but slowly she begins to build a life for herself, and then she meets Tony, an Italian American. But just as her future feels certain, tragedy calls her back home to Ireland.

I’m not always a fan of literary fiction because I like plot and can get bogged down in too much description, but this book reminded me of why I find literary fiction compelling when I discover a book with apremise that really hooks me. The writing is gorgeous and moves fluidly from one moment to the next, not always lingering where you expect it might. I enjoyed that uncertainty and surprise, and even as I got to know Eilis, I always felt like there were new and interesting layers to her personality to discover. The descriptions about what life was like in the 1950s in both Ireland and Brooklyn were totally engrossing, and I appreciated how the author was able to paint a distinct picture of the various characters through dialogue and spare scenes. I found the relationship between Eilis and Tony compelling, in part because for much of their courtship you’re never quite certain how Eilis truly feels about him. The decisions she makes shortly before leaving Brooklyn and when she returns home to Ireland had me on the edge of my seat. It’s not quite the romance that the marketing of the book and subsequent movie adaptation promises, but the tension the author builds as you wonder which life Eilis will choose was truly excellent—so much so that I am still thinking about this book two weeks later.

Bonus: The movie adaptation is really lovely, with a few small but key changes from the book. Definitely don’t miss out on either.

Imagine a stage with a trap door. Beneath the trap door is a dark room, and in that room you’ll find all of the dead women and girls in Shakespeare’s tragedies. They are silent and alone in their grief and misery, until one day, Juliet begins to speak and Ophelia, Cordelia, and Lavinia all listen. Once Juliet shares her story, the others begin to open up, too. And once they’ve shared their stories, they begin to talk to each other — and challenge the Bard.

This is a stunning book that you almost have to go into knowing very little about it, because I admit when I first picked it up, I thought, How is this going to work? But I promise, just go with the flow. It’s part prose, part play, and mostly verse, and McCullough is a real master in how she not only retells three plays from the women’s perspective, but in how she composes three very different poetic styles to match the characters of Juliet, Ophelia, and Cordelia. I loved seeing their personalities come to life on the page, and when they start talking with each other they explore some hefty questions about the role of women in the tragedies, women’s suffering, agency, and what it means to tell a good story. I truly didn’t know where the book was going to go from there, and it was surprising, funny, maddening, insightful, and even — at times — joyful.

If you’ve read or seen Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, King Lear, and Titus Andronicus, you might be able to see the connections and understand the references a bit more easily, but I don’t think it’s strictly necessary to enjoy this book. Shakespeare has permeated so many layers of our popular culture, and this book really stands on its own. It’s easily one of my favorites that I’ve in 2023 so far!

Emilie Hornby is ready for the best Valentine’s Day ever. She’s finally going to say “I love you” to her boyfriend, and she’s got every romantic moment planned out. But things do not go as planned. She gets into a fender bender on the way to school, she loses out on the summer scholarship she desperately needed, and she catches her boyfriend kissing his ex. On top of that, her dad announces that he’s moving across the country with or without her. She goes to bed at her grandma’s house, but when she wakes up, she’s back at home, ready to repeat the same Valentine’s Day. As Emilie goes through the day again and again, she finds that many of the results may vary, but she can’t help but be drawn to Nick, whom she keeps running into no matter what she does.

Emilie is a really funny protagonist with laugh out loud dialogue and a hilarious insight on her world. She’s a self proclaimed book nerd and she likes things organized and in order, in part because of her lack of control in her home life, where she bounces between two feuding, divorced parents. Her plans for the Hallmark holiday are admirable even if they are doomed to fail, and while it might be a bit cringe to see her thwarted at every turn, it is super cathartic to see Emilie learn to let go — and when she decides to let loose and live like there are no consequences, well…that’s where the magic happens!

There have been a few time loop books and movies to come out in the past couple of years, and I admit to being a sucker for them all. (Blame it on my parents and the VHS tape of Groundhog Day we wore out when I was a kid!) This one is one of my favorites, ranking up there with the movie Palm Springs. What I love about this book is that Emilie rolls with the punches pretty quickly, and she had fun with scenario. She doesn’t get too bogged down in moral philosophizing or analyzing her way out, and instead shoots her shot(s), earning her some romcom movie worthy moments…and some unexpected consequences. I love the banter between her and Nick, and their challenges to overcome feel realistic, even in a lightly speculative setting.

Pick up this one if you want a YA book with hilarious dialogue, over the top moments, and “she had a marvelous time ruining everything” vibes!

In an alternate 1880s Colorado, where people are descended from the fallen angels or the virtues elite and orders of heavenly angels rule life, Celeste is just trying to survive as a half-fallen woman with her sister. Prospectors are excited about the possibility of a new element called Divinity, making their mountain mining community a boom town. When Celeste’s sister is accused of killing a man — a virtue — she knows that she has little hope of saving her, but that doesn’t stop her from trying. And soon Celeste finds herself turning to the last person she wants to go to for help: the demon lord Abraxas.

I loved this inventive world and was really intrigued by the combination of historical fiction, Western, fantasy, and mystery. The book is short, and Roanhorse manages to pack a lot of world building details in, leaving me wanting more. Celeste, as a half-fallen, lives in fear of being discovered and discriminated against, making her mission even harder to pull off…but not impossible. She’s lived a tough life and so she is naturally slow to trust and quick to judge, but no one can doubt that she’d do anything for her sister. In fact, the crux of the book rests on the question of just how far Celeste is willing to go to protect her, and what it will cost her in the end. The ending will leave a lot of readers debating, I think, but that’s sort of the beauty of these short reads. For me, Tread of Angels was an impactful novella that I thought about for a long time after finishing.

In this moving story, former best friends Noor and Sal have gone months without speaking to each other after Noor confessed her feeling for Sal and he rebuffed her. Now, Sal’s mom is on her deathbed, his family’s motel is about to go under, and Noor is trying desperately to figure out a way to go to college and leave their small California desert town for good. Tragic loss brings them together again, but the choices each of them make may drive them apart, too.

This novel does one of the things I love the most in YA, which is tell a multigenerational story. Tahir alternates between Noor and Sal’s points of view, but the story is also sprinkled with chapters from Sal’s mother’s point view, going back to Pakistan when she was their age. Her chapters provide history and context for the difficulties that Sal and Noor find themselves facing, and offer glimpses of a woman whose death has devastated them. The story is a little gritty, about survival and figuring out how to make ends meet and what to do when you’ve exhausted all other options, but it’s also beautiful. There’s a lot of love and hope within the pages of this story, and ultimately it’s about forgiveness — forgiving others, and yourself. I cried so hard at the end of this beautiful story, which balances hope and heartbreak in a magical way. This book is absolutely deserving of its many awards!