This haunting young-adult novel weaves together two mysteries: an engrossing whodunnit and also the enigma posed by the young woman who could play a role in solving it: Maggie Warshauer, a budding scientist and keen observer of the natural world.

Maggie lives on a cramped and run-down houseboat with her father, Drew, who manages the marina where the boat is docked. Although Drew clearly loves Maggie, his struggles with alcoholism leave him unable to be fully present for her. So does his inability to let go of his relationship with his ex-wife (“my so-called mother,” in Maggie’s words). He writes to her regularly, begging her to come back to him and Maggie. But without fail, the ex returns the letters to him, apparently unread. Drew’s limitations as a parent push Maggie into the role of caring for herself, and often, for him as well.

This unsettling and absorbing play considers the dark powers of language—how it can be used as a tool of suppression and othering—and what freedom from linguistic rules and strictures, and perhaps from language itself, might make possible. The exploration of these powers and possibilities is both chilling and revelatory.

The play is set at the eponymous Kinderkrakenhaus, a hospital for children, “in an unknown time and unknown geography.” The newest patient, Gnome, has no idea why they’ve been hospitalized, although a more apt description might be imprisoned. Gnome and the other children are trapped within the grey walls of the institution, under the watch of a Dr. Dorothy Schmetterling, who is more interested in enforcing rules among the children than in offering them anything resembling care.

Although we’re long past the Victorian era, motherhood is still romanticized and idealized in much of the popular culture, and the myth that it’s a “sweet vocation,” and never anything more fraught or complicated, has persisted to a frustrating degree. Michelle Ross’s unflinching and unsparing new book offers a welcome corrective to this myth, tearing it apart and devouring it, story by perceptive story. The honesty of the tales is as refreshing as it is unsettling.

When it comes to seemingly impossible capabilities, two of the most wished-for ones must be time travel and the ability to meet notable figures from the past. In this engrossing novel, both of these wishes become a reality, delivering profound rewards and significant dangers, some of which could reverberate across time. The result is a gripping and thought-provoking read.

It’s fitting that this darkly funny novel of criminals hunting criminals is dropping in the middle of the Great Resignation, a time when burnout–among other factors–is prompting many workers to give their notice or just walk out the door. In Love and Bullets, the central characters have been ground down by years of being on the giving and receiving end of violence, and by staying on the run to dodge an ever-growing list of enemies. Consequently, they’re looking for a way out. But is it ever really possible to escape the outlaw life and its consequences? And what might a non-criminal future look like, assuming you live long enough to see it?

In this moving and perceptive collection of linked stories, characters are at uncertain and unsettled times of their lives–perhaps, in an unsatisfying relationship or situation that they can’t quite bring themselves to leave, or in a liminal space between their life as it is (or was) and what it might potentially be. Although the characters rarely find clear answers or resolutions, they make profound discoveries about themselves, and about life.