Spring brings with it new growth. Those seeds cast into the yard last year begin to sprout. We shuffle into the front room, blankets wrapped around our heads, and peer out through the frost-rimmed windows to see buds blooming, birds singing, and mole hills mounding. In bookselling land, we get to see the first tentative offerings of the season. Will a new color palette prevail on covers? Will a new celebrity book club sticker start showing up on titles? Will authors try to game the subtitle field in a freshly ridiculous manner?
Well, the answer to the last question is "Yes," and the guilty party is none other than James Patterson.
The full title of James's new book is Countdown: Amy Cornwall is Patterson's Greatest Character Since Lindsay Boxer. Of course, if you were to look at the physical cover of the book, you'll note the phrase "She has five days to save the world," which could ostensibly be read as marketing copy, even though text on a book cover that isn't attached to a blurb is typically part of the book's title (or subtitle). It wouldn't be too out of form to think that "She has five days to save the world" is the subtitle of Countdown: Amy Cornwall is Patterson's Greatest Character Since Lindsay Boxer, which would make the completely complete and absolutely full title Countdown: Amy Cornwall is Patterson's Greatest Character Since Lindsay Boxer: She has five days to save the world.
Don't get us started on the double colon.
Anyway, it turns out that "She has five days to save the world" is just marketing copy. Fine. Whatever. But! If you pick Countdown: Amy Cornwall is Patterson's Greatest Character Since Lindsay Boxer off the shelf, the cover merely says "Countdown." If you open the book to the title page, it merely says "Countdown." When you shop for this book in the store, you have no idea that Amy Cornwall is Patterson's greatest character since Lindsay Boxer. It is incumbent upon us, as booksellers, to share that information—which is clearly critical to a reader's understanding of the book since it is the goddamn subtitle—with you.
And now we have. You're welcome, James Patterson.
Andrew H. Knoll, on the other hand, understands how the subtitle should be used, and we commend him on being helpful and informative with A Brief History of Earth: Four Billion Years in Eight Chapters. This subtitle tells us that Knoll isn't going to go on and on and on about the Earth. He's going to keep it tight and on-point (272 pages, in fact), and this makes us more inclined to check what he's got to say about the history of this blue marble. In fact, the only other text on the cover is a note from Steve Brusatte (who wrote a book about dinosaurs). Steve's note says Knoll has written an "engrossing, witty, and eminently readable romp." So there you go. Everything you need to know. Plan accordingly.
Meanwhile, Jacqueline Winspear has a new novel out this week: The White Lady. Departing from her series regular Maisie Dobbs, Winspear introduces us to Elinor White, a nice lady who lives quietly in a small Kentish village. It's a couple of years after WWII, and no one bothers the nice lady with secrets, until, of course, some of the locals run afoul of organized gangs out of London, and suddenly, the retiring Ms. White is revealed to have performed certain duties for the Crown during the War that—well, everyone was hoping to forget. Naturally, things get complicated as treacheries are revealed. Recommended.
And speaking of treacheries and mysteries, Garth Nix is back this week with The Sinister Booksellers of Bath. In Nix's world, booksellers are magical (well, okay, that's true in this world too), and this time around, left-handed bookseller Merlin and right-handed bookseller Vivien (along with an art school pal named Susan—who, we assume, knows how to use both hands), must venture through a magic portal in Bath to investigate an Ancient Sovereign intent on murder and destruction. We dug the previous book in the series, and we suspect that we're in for a similar ride here.
And speaking of books that are 368 pages long, here is Tehlor Kay Meija's Lucha of the Night Forest, which has dark forces, forbidden magic, and a heart-stopping queer romance. Dystopian fantasy! Sisterhood! Ancient peril! Lots of dark trees which hide all sorts of dark things!
And speaking of well-rendered fantasy settings, here is Moses Ose Utomi's The Lies of the Ajungo, a novella about a boy who leaves home to fetch water. Naturally, there's more to it than that, and Utomi's vision of the City of Lies is a world filled with danger and magic. As the boy ventures out of the city and into the Forever Desert in search of water, his life will be changed . . .
And speaking of life-changing events, Elizabeth Berg returns with Earth's The Right Place for Love, a coming of age novel about a couple of young folk growing up here on Earth. We've got Arthur, who is shy and compassionate, and Nola, who has a crush on Arthur's older brother, Frank. Naturally, there's a family tragedy and this and that and the other thing happens, and eventually, Arthur and Nola make eye contact and . . . Berg isn't reinventing the wheel here, but Earth's The Right Place for Love is definitely a warm and utterly satisfying read.
And here's a little something out of the ordinary. This is a story written by Zach Weinersmith and illustrated by Boulet, and it's about a bunch of kids who like to hang out at the tree fort, swilling juice and talking smack. But then one day, a monster appears—a sullen neighbor who does not like the sounds of mirth emanating from the tree house. He lays siege to the magical castle, and many of the kids suddenly discover themselves transformed into adults—grown monsters who have lost their sense of joy. Oh, this will not do! This will not do at all! Who will rescue the brave tree dwellers from this nefarious monster?
Who, indeed, but Bea Wolf.
And speaking of brave warriors rising up to fight against monsters, here is American Mermaid by Julia Langbein. It's the story of Penelope Schleeman, an earnest but eternally cash-strapped teacher, who writes a sensitive debut novel about a wheelchair-bound scientist who discovers her legs are actually the vestiges of a powerful tail. Naturally, Hollywood wants to transform Penelope's novel into a movie, but when Penelope arrives in La La Land, she learns that the studio wants to tart up her story a bit. And that's when weird stuff starts to happen.
Langbein has been writing sketch comedy and doing standup for a few years, and her acerbic wit and timing make American Mermaid a fish out of water story that skewers as readily as it delights.
And speaking of sharp objects, Laurell K. Hamilton has a new Anita Blake novel out this week. In Smolder, Blake is trying to get to the altar so she can marry Jean-Claude, the vampire king of America, and like all romantic comedies, all sorts of silliness gets in the way of the nuptials. There's a nationwide slaughter of vampires and humans (dubbed the "Sunshine Murders"); there are some among the vampire community that think their king has gone soft for this necromancer lady; and there are many among the human folk who think Blake has lost her mind. Oh, and some ancient evil has just gotten off the bus in St. Louis, intent on calling J-C out for the bloodsucker crown.
Usually, we'd wrap this up with "and then Anita kicked everyone's ass while wearing skin-tight leather," but come on, this is the wedding book, after all. It's love that is going to win the day here. Love. True Love.
And finally, here is something completely different. This is Flux, by Jinwoo Chong. It's the story of an eight-year old boy who loses his mother in a tragic accident. It's also the story of 28-year old Brandon who loses his job after a corporate takeover. Oh, and the story of 48-year old Blue, a key witness in a criminal trial against an outrageous tech startup. But it's also a story about grief, time travel, family, and some iconic '80s show none of us have heard of, but which is a critical element in how all these stories come together. This one moves sideways when you look at it, dear readers. Plan accordingly.
