Editorial reviews

Kitses is a deft writer, capable of contrasting the mixed social fortunes of a small decaying town with the thrumming pressures of a metropolitan workplace, and the complicated fortunes of individual souls – workers, partners, offspring.

Tóibín is of course free to re-create ancient figures in our own image. Who would want to say such an artistic appropriation, especially one done so well, is off limits? So let’s instead acknowledge Tóibín’s brilliant version of this story — and then go back to the weird brilliance of the original.

The Chalk Artist is dedicated to Goodman's teachers — 20 of whom are listed by name — and on one level it is a lovely paean to teaching and the patience and passion required for reaching and awakening not always receptive minds.

It's not surprising that So Much Blue is such a perfectly structured novel; Everett is an author who started his career off strong and just keeps getting better.

Heiny’s characters – charming, flawed, relatable, tragic, hilarious – are faultlessly constructed, lingering long in the memory like family or friends.

. “Such a serious thing we are doing, and no one really knows how to do it,” Mary says of love, the closest this probing novel comes to a sure conclusion.

In the vein of Eileen by Otessa Moshfegh — an eerily similar work about an eerily similar character with an eerily similar name — the book makes you question your worldview. If you strip away social norms, what ultimate truth lies beneath?

Everybody's Son is an impressive undertaking that addresses complex issues. Umrigar has crafted an unflinching portrait of the human condition with its flaws and triumphs, creating a safe space for us to find our own truth.

You won’t want to take a cruise after reading DO NOT BECOME ALARMED.... Enjoy this scary trip vicariously.

Wry, unique, touching tale of the limits of parental and partnership pressure.

“Woman No. 17” is propulsive and moving, and considers vital questions with empathy and sly intelligence.

No One Can Pronounce My Name is essentially — and delightfully — a comic novel, the intertwined plots here are buoyant rather than blue.

Standard Deviation is fun, but like Audra, it goes on too long and starts to wear you down. By piling on too many episodes, it loses its delightful breeziness.

Louis' account of growing up gay and poor in a working-class village isn't only a story about France. Just released in a highly readable translation by Michael Lucey, this painfully insightful tale of entrapment and escape could've easily been set in Michigan or West Virginia.

As a window on a family shaken by death, it is The Royal Tenenbaums, polished up and moved across town.