Lusty, outraged, and so over-the-top it can see your house from up there, Shallman’s horned-up satire of war and sex, American style, has been crafted to shock, offend, provoke, and—from those open to its spirited sex and spearing of taboos—stir laughs and maybe insights, too. Shallman (author of The Tyranny of Desire) announces his audacity from the go-go get-go, opening with a burst of Iraq war-era Top Gun pastiche that quickly process to be the most homoerotic action parody this side of Philip José Farmer’s A Feast Unknown. Sex, torture, and official commendations follow, until Shallman moves the action to the Obama era, with protagonist Rod Solo now suffering PTSD (that’s “Post-Traumatic Sex Disorder”), spending his days piloting murderous drones and his nights unable to rouse himself for his wife.

Soon, Rod’s vigorous workplace sex with fellow drone jock Honey results in the accidental bombing of a Karachi school, and he and Honey are dispatched to Pakistan to kill the target they missed the old-fashioned way: undercover as Canadian DJs eager to discover the local talent. Shallman’s novel is a proudly take-it-or-leave-it affair, though the prose is crisp, the outrages inventive, the sex scenes vigorous, and the surprises, when they come, legitimately surprising, especially an of-the-moment third section in which Rod, from the vantage point of 2024, announces he’s had enough of Shallman and will tell his story himself.

As in the work of Chuck Tingle, the sex is vigorous, graphic, and explosive but always tinged with clever absurdity, though Shallman’s scenes involving torture and his explicit linking of Rod’s desires to “waves of enemy infantry strafed into oblivion” ensures the book repulses more often than it arouses. Witty prose and the wilder twists reward readers on Shallman’s wavelength. One jawdropper: Rod’s unexpected connection with a woman who witnessed the school’s destruction and an audition from a Pakistan man whose talent is the “silent scream” of the vestigial twin visible in his bare chest.

Takeaway: Proudly scabrous and sexually graphic satire of 25 years of American war.

Comparable Titles: Chuck Tingle, Philip Jose Farmer’s A Feast Unknown.

Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A-

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Internal medicine doctor Sidhartha debuts with a refreshing approach to understanding the intricacies of the human body. “This is a story of secrets - about your body’s inner workings” he writes, urging readers, through nine interconnected stories of fictional individuals, to pay more attention to their bodies’ cues, to “course-correct our behavior to maintain health and wellness.” The stories—constructed from Sidhartha’s years of experience with countless patients—are rooted in spirituality and recounted with special emphasis on self-care, healthy diet, and holistic healing, seamlessly weaving conventional medical knowledge with a deeper understanding of the mind-body connection.

Though unusual, Sidhartha’s format lends an expressive air to the text, where meditation transforms into a dialogue with the body and readers are encouraged to slow down, listen to their bodies, and embark on an ever-changing journey of self-discovery. Sidhartha probes Hindu precepts, as well as Greek and Roman mythology, for spiritual parallels throughout, delving into specific health concerns in each of his nine stories—concerns that range from weight management to chronic diseases like cancer, diabetes, and heart conditions. From the outset, readers are prompted to wholeheartedly commit to self-care, and Sidhartha’s holistic perspective promises the robust lifestyle that is possible when diet, exercise, and mindfulness become the focus.

Sidhartha’s approachable style makes the transition to a healthier lifestyle feel attainable for all readers, and he includes recipes at the end to help readers integrate his principles into everyday life, transforming healthy choices into sustainable habits. Each of Sidhartha’s nine stories illuminate the healing influence of meditation for a host of physical conditions, highlighting the immense, untapped knowledge our bodies hold: “communication between the body’s inner workings and the person living in that body is fundamental to maintaining a healthy relationship with the body” he writes. Readers wishing to take control of their health and pursue overall wellness will embrace this.

Takeaway: Empowering concepts for a lifetime of health.

Comparable Titles: Deepak Chopra’s Quantum Body, Justin Glaser’s Sweat.

Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A

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Jakal’s debut sets a historical melodrama of love, betrayal, and bombings in the Argentina of the first decade of the twentieth century, a time of political unrest, anarchist newspapers, government corruption, and shifting social norms—“Respectable ladies can’t dance Tango in Buenos Aires,” one character tuts. The brothel at the novel’s heart is the unexpected new home of 24-year-old Sofia, a woman of bourgeois background but radical political leanings, brought into the country by her uncle, an Argentine senator, after the murder of Sofia’s parents. Senator Hugo Montserrat realizes that Sofia’s cleverness will be a problem for his plans to secure inheritance of her parents’ ranch, especially as she becomes suspicious about the circumstances of her parents’ deaths, so he sends her off to Madam Josefina, where Sofia quickly becomes a bookkeeper tutored “through the Machiavellian ways of a brothel madam.”

The novel bursts with life and culture. As the masterpiece Teatro Colón opera house is raised in Buenos Aires, and Sofia falls in love with a man and the tango, the powers that be—including commander of the investigative division of the Police of the Capital—jockey for power and wealth, willing to do anything to secure their positions, right up to staging the kind of anarchist violence that they inveigh against. Despite the cruelties of its owner, the brothel affords Sofia an education, disillusioning her in ways that her dabbling with secessionist editorials in anarchist newspapers couldn’t. Her love of the tango inspires the richest prose, and her wiliness powers the plot.

Jakal’s storytelling favors ruminative flashbacks and colloquies that edge toward the explanatory. Scenes and key moments of action tend to be understated, while musings about them later—such as a murderer rationalizing that, since he kills in fits of rage, he “lacked full knowledge of his actions” so they couldn’t be “mortal sin”s. The pacing is uneven, but the politics and culture are vividly drawn, and Jakal lays bare his characters’ hearts.

Takeaway: Historical melodrama of 1900s Buenos Aires corruption and the politics of dancing.

Comparable Titles: Carolina De Robertis’s The Gods of Tango, Lloyd Jones’s Here at the End of the World We Learn to Dance.

Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: B+
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: B
Marketing copy: A-

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McHugh’s emotive family narrative unfolds through multiple perspectives, showcasing the far-reaching, multigenerational effects of family secrets and trauma. Australian Joe Keneally, whose troubled and abusive mother, Alice, died when he was a baby, was raised by his father, Frank, and grandmother Winn—along with his adopted sister, Dot, a First Nations woman whose connection to Joe is much closer than either realizes. As Joe’s conscripted into the Australian Army to fight on the Vietnam front, and Dot tries to navigate home life without him, McHugh follows the Keneally family through several decades, charting their devastating life changes, loss, and enduring family bonds against the backdrop of World War II through the aftermath of the Vietnam War.

Blended families, mixed race heritage, and devastating secrets with the power to destroy families punctuate this compelling debut. The Keneally family is richly drawn, their individual narratives bolstering the idea that family is what you make it, as McHugh probes the prejudice, PTSD, and mental illness that haunts their bloodlines. The heavy material is delicately handled, portraying trauma’s ripple effect with a gentle voice, as McHugh writes, when POW Frank returns home at the end of World War II to Winn’s attempts to nurse him back to health, “Mother and son were in need of each other’s love, but the scars of recent years remained for both of them.”

McHugh’s reunions are emotional and moving, while still relatable, and the characters’ family struggles and personal awakenings will engross readers, whether it’s Dot’s mission to protect and empower the First Nations Peoples or Joe’s reflections on the violence of Vietnam: “I believe there is a certain spirituality that transcends death and our understanding of it.” Amid the family saga, McHugh crafts an intriguing mystery centered on war-driven PTSD alongside a reckoning between Dot and her family that, though readers may see it coming, still resonates.

Takeaway: Moving story that interlaces trauma, loss, and family bonds.

Comparable Titles: Claire Lombardo's The Most Fun We Ever Had, Candice Carty-Williams's People Person.

Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A-

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Frost’s rousing Gen X-minded followup to KABOOMER: Thriving and Striving into Your Nineties offers hard-won practical guidance to strength training, nutrition, “sexercise,” and other aspects of a healthy lifestyle for an audience whose members he encourages to “Think of yourself as a real-life action figure born between the calendar years 1965 and 1984.” That phrasing exemplifies Frost’s upbeat tone and approach, as Strong to Save balances his playful inspirational exhortations to become “great” through developing strength (“A great GenX has a very good chance to become a healthy centenarian. Yup.”), easy-to-follow explanations of exercise techniques, ample “Flex Alert” pointers for more effective training, and illuminating breakdowns of what health-minded Gen Xers should know about the sciences of muscles, kinetics, and more.

Through it all, Frost’s voice is engaging, informative, and funny, even punny—one section is titled “Good Things Come to Those Who ‘Weight’”—in the manner of an inviting trainer or Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson guiding tourists through a jungle cruise. Johnson, a “paragon of GenX performance,” is frequently cited throughout as a source of inspiration as Frost explains, with buoyant urgency, the essential health and aesthetic impacts of strength training, chief among them the promise of being a “vital second-half performer for up to fifty years.”

Helpful photo illustrations demonstrate some finer points of stretching, squats, planes of body motion, different types of lifting, while Frost offers clarifying insights into the carb and fat impact of energy bars, and much more. He’s crafted a host of mnemonic acronyms (WIFM, DEEP, FITT, MORNINGS) and fresh metaphors crafted not just to inform readers about healthy mindsets and habits but to make sure the info sticks—like any good coach, his voice gets stuck in one’s head. The advice is smartly targeted at men and women both, though the book’s organization is eccentric, with introductory material on the basics (including the advice to consult a doctor before heavy lifting) coming in later chapters.

Takeaway: Rousing guide to strength training for Gen Xers eager for high performance.

Comparable Titles: Wayne Westcott and Thomas Baechle’s Strength Training Past 50, Timothy Caso’s Weight Training for Old Guys.

Production grades
Cover: B+
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: A
Editing: B+
Marketing copy: A

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Williams’s spare, moving, and illuminating debut poetry collection is written with rare feeling for silence, blankness, and the blurred reality of caring for a parent suffering from dementia. “Who are we now?” Williams asks, often, throughout White Doe, the inquiry voiced at times by the speaker, but also her father, her mother, and their voices in unison. Williams uses the question to signify much, especially the loss of identity on the part of the father with dementia and a corresponding one experienced by the surviving family members. The collection asks, amid observations of caring for him (“a new language from// a black cave// bats batsb atsbats mba tsbats”) and affecting memory and nature poems (“we hear a crack in the field, birds rush/ from their branches”), who does the speaker become as she loses her father?

Absence is multi-dimensional in Williams’s collection; on the page, the use of white space allows the size and scope of this absence to expand and contract, all while emphasizing for readers silences and at times snowy landscapes. Crucial bits of language, like the mind of the speaker’s father, at times are missing, and some poems seem to be crumbling on the page, the words like rubble. But even on the metaphorical level, Williams makes absence a living presence: “that missing // painting on the wall // shines its own sun like dirt.” The power of White Doe, though, comes from precision of language and a surprising sense of hope, as Williams captures an awakening in the loss.

Birds, their feathers, and the seeds they collect, along with coyotes, deer, snow, and ice, appear and disappear from poem to poem, contextualizing the speaker and her ailing father in the natural order of life and death. “Word of your passing has reached the tree line,” Williams writes in “Don’t Be Afraid,” “now the animals // sing,” and the loved ones grieve, and the necessary, beautiful cycle continues.

Takeaway: Wintry, feather-soft poems of caring for a parent with dementia.

Comparable Titles: Margaret Atwood’s Dearly, Beth Copeland’s “Falling Lessons: Erasure One.”

Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A

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Arnold pulls from years of leadership coaching experience to deliver a sharp debut bursting with interactive advice for readers. “The next frontier of true success in the twenty-first century will be profound, lasting, self-generating peace,” she predicts, and that cornerstone of “rooted peace” props up this guide, as Arnold delves into the mind-body connection, how to limit negative and damaging self-talk, and more. Whether teaching the need for gratitude, ways to cope with “fiery” emotions, or exploring the role spirituality plays in inner peace, Arnold leaves little room for doubt that the cost of stress, anxiety, and burnout is far too high, but “consistently generating internal peace..[is] priceless.”

Placing the responsibility squarely on individuals for creating inner peace that sticks, Arnold addresses the stumbling blocks that can get in the way, tailoring her advice to those readers who want a “purposeful, authentic life, rather than merely getting through the day.” The counsel is direct, but supportive, gently challenging stagnant patterns and offering healthy replacements, as in her admonition that readers need to re-evaluate their “relationship with time” and get comfortable with a little friction if they want to grow. She covers the basics invitingly, offering a clear breakdown of her three separate spheres of rooted peace (internal, existential, and relational), but beyond that she supplies readers with an overflow of activities and custom-styled exercises to implement her advice.

In contrast to the guidance found in many self-help books, readers will leave Arnold’s doorstep feeling refreshed, respected, and renewed. From her ideas on “dancing with mortality” instead of ignoring it to never being “afraid to stir things up,” Arnold consistently loops back to our ability—and responsibility—to “shake up your world for the good.” We may never be perfect, she comforts, but that certainly doesn’t mean we should allow the status quo to go on forever—instead, we “can generate deep fulfillment and joy on [our] own terms.”

Takeaway: Hands-on, refreshing guide to building lasting inner peace.

Comparable Titles: Nick Trenton’s The Art of Letting Go, Brianna Wiest’s The Mountain Is You.

Production grades
Cover: B+
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A

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Knight masterfully balances the personal and the political in her young adult debut, an engrossing portrait of a Southern teenager who, in the midst of the social upheaval of the Civil Rights Movement, learns that he’s biracial. In 1966 Alabama, no one would have used that word to describe Mark Lawson. Instead, he’s called mixed, colored, and even mulatto, but the blue-eyed blonde so baffles racists that one dubs him a white n-word. With adroit first-person narration, Knight captures Mark’s amiability and thoughtfulness, even when he damages important relationships because of anger, fear, and a debilitating uncertainty. Knight is especially strong at dramatizing how it feels to grow up as monumental change happens in increments, with segregation making Mark’s search for identity a legal and moral minefield.

Mark’s family had moved from a tenant farming community to Montgomery after his father’s death, and his white mother allowed the 14-year-old’s appearance to determine their place in the segregated city. After the board of education expels Mark from a white school, they must relocate to a Black neighborhood, and his mother loses her subsistence job. Mark can deal with the privation—they’d always been poor—but his mother’s worsening porphyria is a constant worry, and while Frederick Douglass High School provides him with a heartening vision of Black community, he remains unsure of where he truly belongs.

Discussions about the drawn-out process of desegregation (an afterword provides helpful details) are deftly woven into Mark’s interactions with family, friends, teachers, and members of his integrated baseball team. Everyone knows they’re living through a major societal shift, and are trying to find—or regain— their footing. Through Mark’s experience on both sides of the racial divide, Knight shows the difference between having empathy and suffering the forced restrictions of segregation. In the process of reconstructing his fractured self, Mark gains the maturity to see that identity is forged from contradictions, and that struggle is another word for life.

Takeaway: Vivid and wise historical fiction about a biracial teen in 1960s Alabama.

Comparable Titles: Phillip Hoose’s Claudette Colvin, Kristin Levine’s The Lions of Little Rock.

Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-

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Writing with grace, poignant wit, and hard-won insight, Zarecki delivers a poignant and deeply personal account of her journey through breast cancer, intertwined with the echoes of past trials and triumphs, including the tragic death of her first husband years before. From the moment of her diagnosis, Zarecki finds herself thrust into a world of fear and uncertainty, haunted by memories of her mother's battle with ovarian cancer. Yet, amidst the darkness, she discovers a wellspring of courage and resilience within herself, plus, in her home with her kids and second husband, Mark, a “cocoon of comfort and healing.”

The narrative weaves seamlessly between Zarecki’s cancer experiences, and poignant reflections on the past, though at times the pacing can feel uneven. Drawing on the losses she’s endured, years of measuring up to the challenges of single motherhood, and the profound impact of her mother's illness, she offers readers a raw and unflinching portrayal of love, loss, and the resilience of the human spirit. Zarecki describes adopting a mantra to help push through: “I am the storm,” she tells herself when embarking on chemo treatments, but she frankly notes that, at the time, she wasn’t “convinced of that yet.” What sets Golden Scars" apart is that unwavering honesty and vulnerability.

Zarecki lays bare her fears, doubts, and moments of despair with a heartbreaking but candor, from the process of shaving her head with a beard trimmer, to the deeply human moment of beholding her body after surgery, to her struggle to give herself the “grace” to not feel impatient as her “body works to recover from the brutal treatment that coursed through my veins to attack the cancer cells.” Zarecki’s story, told with a confidence she admits not always feeling as she lived it, offers a reminder to embrace our own golden scars as symbols of our courage, resilience, and capacity for healing.

Takeaway: Frank, moving account of surviving breast cancer with love and support.

Comparable Titles: Cara Sapida’s Not the Breast Year of My Life, Terri Sterk’s Thrive After Breast Cancer.

Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: B
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A