My Friends

by Fredrik Backman, translated by Neil Smith

Every novel that Fredrik Backman writes immediately becomes my favorite. There is simply no one better at illustrating the human experience of love and friendship. In his latest, My Friends, he reminds us how deep childhood friendships can be, and how regrets can haunt you years later. A group of teenagers spends a transformational summer together, riding bikes, swimming, surviving trauma, lifting each other up while the world tries to tear them down. One of them puts all of these experiences and emotions into a painting that will later set the art world on fire. Years later, we learn in flashbacks what happened to each of these children. I cried, sad tears and happy tears, and am now inspired to reach out to some of my childhood friends to thank them for helping make me the person I am today.

The Three Lives of Cate Kay

by Kate Fagan

Broken Country

by Clare Leslie Hall

American Werewolves

by Emily Jane

Emily Jane’s first novel was about aliens, her second about sea monsters, and her third is about, as the title makes clear, werewolves. In each of her books, Jane uses supernatural beings to fully plumb the depths of what it means to be human and part of a community. American Werewolves is completely bonkers, in the best possible way. Shane, a young and successful venture capitalist, is invited to join his firm’s partnership ranks, which comes with privileges such as raw, bloody steaks and chasing prey through the woods. He meets a young woman whose roommate was viciously murdered in what looks like an animal attack. The two join forces and ... well, I won’t give any more away, but let’s just say American Werewolves provides a savage yet very funny perspective on wealth disparity in America, and how we can’t outrun our ancestors.