Editorial reviews

An acute examination of life in a small New England town in roughly the decade after 9/11, it’s social realism or fictional sociology of the highest order.

From the murky perspective of here and now – summer 2017 – it seems clear that the so-called greatest nation needs to keep a close eye on itself in the mirror while considering its legacies, values and truths. Dee does precisely that. He deserves to be read.

Debut novelist Berry creates relatable characters who can laugh at themselves even when they fall down hard, but the gist of the book can be summed up when one of them approaches a problem by “produc[ing] a piece of writing about it and put[ting] it all behind her.”

Whether it's Nutting's swift, biting humor or wildly funny scenes like the one involving a drunken Hazel's awkwardly intimate encounter with Diane, she demonstrates a mastery of comic timing and an ability to pump unflagging energy into her plot.

The novel haunts on all levels, both in the reader’s desire for a hint of hope, and in the author’s refusal to console. Once read, this story is not forgotten.

Perrotta admirers will admire much of Mrs. Fletcher, though they may mourn the better version that’s visible in the margins.

Tedious, and unpleasantly so.

The City Always Wins is a tale of defeat and dashed dreams and of hope’s persistence told in a poetic prose. The style is at once pared down and highly expressive.

Mbue’s prose is mostly straightforward and unadorned but her characters are complex, with contradictory motivations, which provide the story with depth and quiet power.

“Goodbye, Vitamin” never minimizes the difficulty of caring for someone with Alzheimer’s. But it also shows how this care can be rewarding.

In the end, the author leaves the reader with many questions about contemporary parenting: What is real fear? And what is manufactured fear? How do we measure our own pain against the others? Can we truly understand other people’s suffering and grief? Meloy doesn’t neatly answer all of these questions by the conclusion of her suspenseful novel, but she certainly leaves the reader a lot to think about.

The women of “The Accomplished Guest” may be felled by inertia, whether self-imposed or a hazard of aging, but its men are losing control.

The novel’s pleasures arise from the jostling together of elements that vitalize and dimensionalize its story: the beauty and rhythms of the fabled city, its locals and visitors, seasons, festivals, food and drink, surrounding countryside and townships, art and architecture, and, never least, the music of the Italian language (a sprightly character unto itself, easily understood because of the deft way Chaffee sets it in context).

I defy anyone reading “Border Child” to feel anything but compassion for these people who crossed the border only because they wanted a better life for their family, and lost so much as a result of that hope.

Although Greer is gifted and subtle in comic moments, he’s just as adept at ruminating on the deeper stuff. His protagonist grapples with aging, loneliness, creativity, grief, self-pity and more.

Clearly, Freed had a blast zipping through the adventures of these spirited, droll women. She excels at their frank, snappy repartee. And she surprises readers to the end, with an epilogue launching the four friends on new escapades in their 70s.

For all the narrative pranks and pratfalls, the book is a moving account of the rich complexities of maternal love and the bewildering ecstasies of sibling rivalry.

Rich People Problems, the final act of Kevin Kwan's Crazy Rich Asians trilogy, is one of this summer's best breezy beach reads, an audacious satire that lifts the curtain on the jet-set 1 per cent of Southeast Asian multibillionaires.

Freed’s candor works to lift the veil off the misperception that life after 60 consists mostly of conversations about sciatica or ceaseless and slightly abject devotion to a tiny, shivery dog.