For some time, I’d been looking forward to reading this forthcoming collection of stories, which were co-authored by Kim Magowan and Michelle Ross. Having finished an advance copy of the collection, I’m delighted to highly recommend it. With dark humor, wit, and a sharp eye for human foibles, the stories explore what makes every kind of human relationship–from the ones we don’t choose to those with siblings, romantic partners, and children–challenging. It also considers why we seek connections nonetheless, and how we try to make meaning from even the messiest and most complicated entanglements.

As is the case with many book lovers, my “to read” pile is growing way faster than my ability to keep up with it. That means that I’m late to discovering some true gems. One such gem is Donna Gordon’s heartrending début novel, What Ben Franklin Would Have Told Me. With compassion, sensitivity, and insight, the novel explores the potentially life-changing power of connecting with others, even though it may first seem that we have nothing in common with them.

The Last Whaler is a deeply moving novel that meditates on the grieving of parents following the loss of their son in an accident. 

The grief of the mother, Astrid, is profound.  To her lost child she says, “I long for those first blissful seconds of consciousness each morning when I wake to the thought that you’re alive, that any moment you and Birgita will run through the bedroom door and leap into bed with me and Pappa and snuggle under our warm down coverlet…. Oh, how agonizing that abrupt realization each morning that you are dead.” 

Following their son’s death, Astrid insists she accompany her husband, Tor, to Svalbard, a Norwegian archipelago in the Arctic Circle, where he has a whaling station. From mid-April to August the sun shines unceasingly, but in winter  darkness rules. There are many dangers, including polar bears, accidents, the brutal cold, ice crevasses, food insecurity, isolation, and the threat of sexual violence implicit in being a lone woman among men. 

For these reasons, Tor resists having Astrid accompany him: “‘The point is,” Tor says, “Svalbard can break you.” 

“Or heal me,” responds Astrid. “Heal us.” 

This insightful, darkly humorous novella starts in an unexpected place for a coming-of-age story: with a murder. But as the story unfolds, the crime itself recedes into the background as we learn how the events–and people–surrounding the murder come to affect both the protagonist, 13-year-old Zinnia Zompa, and her mother. The result is a haunting examination of how others’ choices and behaviors can affect us, perhaps indelibly.

Gerry Wilson is a seventh-generation Mississippian, and she says of That Pinson Girl, “In this novel I return to the myths of my childhood and the rural landscape of north Mississippi. I was born in Pontotoc, a little town nestled in the red clay hills of north Mississippi, thirty miles from William Faulkner’s Oxford and far from just about everywhere else.” Wilson’s prose style is straightforward, but the questions and complexities that run throughout That Pinson Girl will be familiar to those who have read Faulkner. It is appropriate that an early draft of the novel was a finalist in the Faulkner-Wisdom Writing Competition. 

Singing Lessons for the Stylish Canary is a beautifully crafted novel that blends elements of fairy tales, magical realism, and historical fiction. Set mostly in a small, nineteenth-century French town, it follows the family of Henri Blanchard, who craft a unique kind of musical device. The writing is lyrical and imaginative, bringing a fully formed world to life with vivid descriptions and characters, and the plot unspools as smoothly as thread from a bobbin.