Robert Wringham’s Rub-A-Dub-Dub slips neck-deep into the wet hot mess of middle-age angst. From the comfort of his bath, so to speak, he talks about it.
Girlfriend on Mars equips itself nicely on the climate change front, but subsuming that narrative and the tensions within it into the love story redirects the novel’s orbit.
With the same shocking specificity that sets apart her poetry, Ruth Madievsky’s All-Night Pharmacy brings us uncomfortably close to everything the narrator witnesses in a hospital waiting room.
Though her fiction retains elements of future conjecture and civilizational prognosis, like punk rock itself, Izumi Suzuki is more committed to the sci-fi genre as an edgy social and emotional analysis tool.
Like the death and black metal bands it includes, John Wray’s novel Gone to the Wolves is a full-on assault on the senses that doesn’t hold back.
The inner Frankenstein that informed Caroline Hagood’s non-fiction Weird Girls lurches through her new work of fiction, Filthy Creation.
With its focus on tellings, retellings, recreation, and the act of seeing Philip Jason’s Window Eyes takes poignant notice of the all-encompassing perspectives we create with the people we love.
With Boulder, Eva Baltasar lays bare with her incisive power of observation and blade-like prose the unpleasant realities of parenthood.
Emmy-winning actor Michael Imperioli’s debut novel, The Perfume Burned His Eyes seems at first a coming-of-age tale, but its tumultuous thralldom is a swift current.
Andy Davidson’s The Hollow Kind blends southern gothic, folk, and Lovecraftian horror to create a multi-generational tale about greed, grief, and familial love.
Jordan Castro’s debut The Novelist is a relatable and humorous study of the economy of plotting, ironic description, and the addictive nature of the self.
The uncontrollable violence of the natural and the supernatural in Celtic Legend take to the wing in Emma Seckel’s debut novel The Wild Hunt.