YESTERYEAR – Caro Claire Burke

“This is the last day of the life I imagined for myself.”

Caro Claire Burke’s Yesteryear (Knopf 2026) is certainly one of the buzziest books of the year. Buzzy books can be hit or miss for me, so I was already approaching it from the standpoint that it probably wouldn’t live up to the hype. Then I read a scathing review that said it was horrible, and only middle-aged women would enjoy it. I guess I am indeed a middle-aged woman because I thoroughly enjoyed it; this is a book that begs for scholarly articles to be written about it AND a book that would make a fantastic poolside summer read. I literally read it in one sitting. What Burke accomplishes in her character development of Natalie and in the political, religious, and social commentary in this satirical thriller about a “social media influencer” more than elevates this novel into the lit fic realm, while also clinging to a familiar, commercial lit element. I can’t believe this is a debut. Burke is extremely talented or extremely lucky – either way, I’ll likely read her next novel.

Natalie is a tradwife influencer whose life isn’t exactly as she depicts on Instagram. (She has nannies and a producer, and there are workers on the farm.  I’ve not read interviews, but I have to think the drama around Ballerina Farms tickled Burke’s muse.)  One morning, Natalie wakes up in what seems her house, just different. She finds herself truly living the “olden days” way of life she had depicted on social media, with children she doesn’t really recognize (to be fair, she often didn’t recognize her children before she wakes up in the past) and she’s convinced she’s either been kidnapped or is being filmed. (Think The Truman Show but darker.)

I don’t want to spoil the novel, and you’ve likely seen summaries everywhere you turn, so I’ll just say that the book 100% lives up to the hype.  Don’t feel bad if you don’t like Natalie – you’re not supposed to.  If you’re going to read a buzzy book this summer, make it this one.

THE SEVEN DAUGHTERS OF DUPREE – Nikesha Elise Williams

“Everything don’t need to be voiced. Everything don’t need to grow wings, ride the air, and visit folk you don’t know with stories they got no stake it.”

“She knew some deceptions deserved the dirt.”

In the vein of The Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois comes Nikesha Elise Williams’s The Seven Daughters of Dupree (Scout Press 2026) , a sweeping multigenerational, matrilineal epic. Jumping around in time, the novel travels from 1860-2024, following the matrilineal line of an enslaved woman named Sarah by her captors; her true name remains a mystery, her story before the slave pen mostly unknown, another stolen life, but for the root magic and the braids of shells and seeds that remained.

The woman bore the child of the white man who purchased her that day, a child named Emma that would be raised by Evangeline, a childless “mammy” who served as a midwife for Zephaniah Foster Dupree’s plantation. When Dupree dies, he leaves everything to Evangeline and Emma, death and guilt finding him at the same time. And so begins the Dupree line, the name of the slave-owner a mark forever a reminder.

The women are cursed by the woman Dupree called Sarah, cursed to bear only one girl child – no boys will live. Despite all the efforts to appease Spirit, she takes the boys. Emma has Jubilee, a woman who grows up and crosses the tracks, white passing until she gives birth to a child dark as the woman they called Sarah had been. Her husband kicks them both out, pretending to bury them and erasing them from the white side of town. Jubi names the baby Ruby. Ruby gives birth to Gladys, the pale skin returning to the line. Gladys gives birth to Nadia (before breaking the curse) and Nadia births Tati. It is Tati who tells the story of their line.

The emphasis on root magic, especially as related to the women’s “crowns” is beautifully done. Additionally, the use of braids as a map to freedom is depicted extremely well here, even with its horrific outcome for the woman they called Sarah.

It’s a remarkable novel, especially in how the secrets unfold and overlap and scream.

Read this book.

THE FOUNTAIN – Casey Scieszka

“She touches the barrel to her chin, to her temple, back to her chin. She braces herself for the shock of it. She hopes for the thousandth time, millionth time, for some relief.”

Emma Straub called Casey Scieszka’s debut novel, The Fountain (Harper 2026), “like Tuck Everlasting for grown-ups,” and that perfectly sums up this delightful novel.  It’s an easy read, a comforting familiarity in the story-telling that is reminiscent of books, including Tuck Everlasting, that framed my child and young adulthood. It’s the type of book that reminds me that I will always take a good story over literary tricks and books that think they are “smarter” than they are.

The year is 2014, and Vera Van Valkenburgh has returned home after 188 years. Something happened to her, her brother, and her mother when Vera was 26 and now, they cannot die.  She hasn’t seen her mother in decades, and she only speaks to her brother once a year at this point. Vera has returned to her family’s homestead to find the source of their immortality in the hopes of reversing it.  Imagine her surprise when her brother and another immortal who had known her brother’s wife show up as part of Fountain of Eternal Youth, LLC. They are also looking for the source, but not for the same reasons.

The book has whispers of a thriller that made me unable to put it down, but it’s the family and mortality of it that gives it its heartbeat.  The pacing gets a bit off at the end, with a rush to action and quick resolution, and there are certain “twists” that are spelled out plainly long before the twists, but I still loved everything about this book except for the cover (I like the cover – just not for THIS story.)

Read this book.

PARADISO 17 – Hannah Lillith Assadi

“Sufien had always been afflicted with this desire – no, it was a call, a call to fly, a call to fall.”

Recently longlisted for the Women’s Prize, Hannah Lillith Assadi’s Paradiso 17 (Knopf 2026) is a beautiful portrayal home, family, and exile.  While the second half seems a bit more rushed and distant than the first, the writing is absolutely beautiful.  Based on the author’s note, she was inspired by her own father’s story, and we see that relationship loosely structured in Sufien and Layla.

Sufien’s story starts in Palestine in 1948. He spends the rest of his life trying to get back there, to go home to a place that only exists in his dreams and in death. 

This is Sufien’s story, but it is also the story of those that weave in and out of his life.  There are jinn and ghosts the venture forth with wisdom or beauty or hope. The women who come to meet him when he dies, the character of Tarique… it’s just so well thought out and beautiful. There is a lovely scene with Sufien recalling how his mother had brushed his forehead with her hand when he was ill – a familiar gesture that was recreated between him and Layla, and between Layla and her children.

I’d recommend this one.  I think it would be a fantastic book club book.

NONESUCH – Francis Spufford

“Tell me where all past years are…”

Francis Spufford’s Nonesuch (Scribner 2026) was one of my anticipated releases of 2026. I really enjoyed Light Perpetual (a novel that rewrote history, allowing five children killed in the 1944 London Woolworths bombing to survive and live through the 20th century), and I was looking forward to another “historical” novel. Spufford delivered and then some. I didn’t realize Nonesuch was the first of a duology until the last page, but I’m not mad about it – I want more Iris. Beginning in 1939 and going through the London Blitz, Nonesuch follows Iris Hawkins, a financial secretary who loves sex, pretty things, and the economy. She’s sarcastic, shrewd, and wicked smart. Often underestimated because she’s a “pretty girl,” not much slips by her unnoticed. Through a series of events, she ends up at a party where she meets Lall Cunningham, a beautiful, blonde fascist. The two have a near instant dislike for each other, which only grows when Iris leaves the party with Geoff, the young man previously enamored with Lall.  The decision to leave with Geoff ultimately leads to Iris being tasked with thwarting  a plot by magical, time-traveling fascists to change history to serve their purposes. With all the men rounded up, the Order is led by none other than Lall and these two women keep crossing paths. Meanwhile, Iris is also fighting falling in love, keeping her employer afloat during the chaos, and working as a firewatcher to protect the buildings as the Germans continue to bomb the city.

Nonesuch is a fantastic bit of historical literary fantasy, and I couldn’t put it down. At 481 pages, I was sad to see it end – that is until I saw “to be continued…” The follow-up, Arcady, is rumored to be published in 2027.

Read this book.

TRANSCRIPTION – Ben Lerner

“You call this fiction, but it is more.”

“I felt eight and eighteen and forty-five all at once, my grasp on reality was tentative, an extreme form of the effect his presence always had on me, a nightmarish form of what others so loved about him – how he seemed from the future and the past simultaneously, a gentleman time traveler…”

Ben Lerner’s Transcription (Farrar, Straus and Giroux 2026)is, without a doubt, the most “Bookery” book I’ve read in my preparation of the longlist announcement. It’s a slim volume of scholarship, technology, madness, memory, fathers & sons, and rivalries & jealousies.  It dances across timelines, both for the reader and for narrator (who shimmers into the author on occasion – “I call her Eva in this book” and “For the duration of this sentence, it was submerged.”)

The novel opens with the narrator at a hotel in Providence, Rhode Island where he is preparing to interview Thomas, his 90-year-old college mentor and father of a college classmates. He intended to record the conversation on his phone, put he dropped the phone in the sink prior to going. As such, there was no recording, only what the narrator recalled. Thomas is confused, blending the narrator with his own son, Max. Max holds the final section, detailing moments with his father wherein you realize Thomas has long been blending Max into the narrator and the narrator into Max. It is clear that both men loved Thomas, wanted his approval, and were jealous of the other.

The cover, a golden iPhone made to look like a relic of days long past, is perfect despite my initial comparison to Universality’s gold bar.

Despite this not being my favorite type of novel, I enjoyed Lerner’s prose and that shimmery break from reality that glitches throughout. It’s a smart little novel. I won’t be surprised not only if it’s longlisted, but shortlisted.

I LOVE YOU DON’T DIE – Jade Song

“It would be too painful to hold to every memory of every life we’ve ever lived.”

I would encourage anyone interested in reading Jade Song’s I Love You Don’t Die (William Morrow 2026) to first read the trigger warnings as the novel deals with depression and suicide, among others. If you need help or just someone to talk to, please dial 988 for the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. You can also contact NAMI and The Trevor Project. Stay another day.

Vicky has been obsessed with death for as long as she can remember.  She lives above a funeral parlor, she collects zhizha (miniature paper creations that are part of a beautiful Chinese tradition for the dead), and she works for a startup company for bespoke urns. Most days she can barely get out of bed.  Her best friend, Jenny, works for a wellness company. They’ve been friends since college. She loves her. Vicky knows she loves someone when she starts dreaming they will die.

Vicky meets Kevin and Angela on a dating app. She likes dating couples because it’s less work for her. Her and Angela immediately hit it off – they’re both “sad girls.” Vicky often thinks about the death of those she loves. Angela often thinks about her own death.  You can see where this is going.

The novel was delicate and gritty at the same time. I enjoyed it, but I would never read it again. (Is “enjoy” even the right word?) Song is a talented writer, and I Love You Don’t Die is an aching portrayal of love, longing, and loneliness. Call your friends.

THIS IS NOT ABOUT US – Allegra Goodman

“The flowers depressed her, especially those already wilting. When she looked at the mums, she felt like she wasn’t dying fast enough.”

Allegra Goodman’s This is Not About Us ( The Dial Press 2026) is a sprawling family saga, beautifully highlighting the meaning of family, the ties the bind, the jealousies, the pettiness – the sheer humanness of the relationships we are born into, we marry into, and we fall into. Told through interconnected short stories, the novel follows numerous members of the Rubinstein family and quasi-family (a divorced wife and the sister to the girlfriend of one of the sons), beginning with the death of Jeanne, the youngest of the three matriarchs. While Jeanne is dying, there is falling out between her sisters, Sylvia and Helen, that is all about apple cake while also being nothing about apple cake.  The fallout splinters to the rest of the family members, who are dealing with their own sibling rivalries, disappointments, divorces, ballet, being fired, faith, college applications, custody battles, etc.  There are several dogs, two of which show up in more than one story – Max the Samoyed and Rosie the Irish setter.

I really enjoyed this book. My favorite “chapter” was likely “Ambrose,” which is from the POV Lily, the youngest Rubinstein, Sylvia’s granddaughter, who is struggling with anxiety and insomnia, followed by “Days of Awe,” which is also about Lily. “Sheba” is a bit of outlier because Jamie is on the fringe – she walks Rosie, but the story isn’t about setter. Jamie’s also Heather’s sister, but we don’t meet Heather until later.

The novel is beautifully rendered – what it does with faith, family, frustrations, failures, and fulfillment is an achievement.  If you’re expecting this to be plot driven toward a positive resolution, you’ll need to let that go.  The novel grabs human nature by the throat and lets life (and death) play out. I really enjoyed it.

HOOKED – Asako Yuzuki (translated by Polly Barton)

“the one who caves first, loses”

I know I’m not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but a cover can certainly get a book on my radar that may not have otherwise shown up. Such was the case with Azako Yuzuki’s Hooked (translation by Polly Barton , HarperCollins 2026). I haven’t read Butter and was unfamiliar with Yuzuki, but when I saw that cover, I immediately added it to my holds. And I’m glad I did.

Eriko’s life looks perfect. She is from an affluent family. She has a good job. She’s ambitious. She’s beautiful. But she’s lonely.  She has a hard time making friends, particularly female friends, and a track record of obsessive behavior. She’s been following a popular blog, Diary of Hallie B, the World’s Worst Wife, for two years, her morning breakfasts consisting of the pastries “Hallie” features on the blog.  She decides that Hallie and her would be the best of friends and sets out to meet her.

Hallie, Shoko, is a laidback, go-with-the-flow sort. She’s the opposite of Eriko in nearly every way. She’s fabricated a stalker to make herself seem more important. The first time she meets Eriko, she believes it happenstance. Then Eriko starts messaging her, texting and posting comments on the blog. And then Eriko shows up at  her house, having used the blog to figure out what building she lives in. Eriko is obsessed, and Shoko doesn’t know how to shake her. Eriko’s obsession with Shoko leads to a spiral for both women.

I don’t want to spoil it so I won’t tell you what happens, but this is truly a novel of obsession, female friendships, and the hunger for connection.

THE HITCH – Sara Levine

“Some part of me found it pleasurable to be, at last, out of control.”

 Sara Levine’s The Hitch (Roxane Gay Books 2026) is hilarious, outrageous, mad, quirky, and positively bizarre. And I enjoyed every bit of it. Rose Cutler, a self-described antiracist, secular Jewish feminist eco-warrior, is a bit of a lonely, know-it-all neurotic dog woman. (The best dog people tend to be neurotic.  Trust me. I would know.)  Her first-person narration in this novel is PERFECTION – with every moment perfectly in character (including word choice and internal monologue). I did get a bit concerned that Rose would change as we steamrolled toward the ending, but I shouldn’t have worried – there was no neatly packaged resolution here, just more welcomed chaos and more unapologetically Rose Rose.  It was a fun novel.

Rose convinces her nephew’s parents to let her babysit him for a week while they go on vacation to fix their marriage. Long convinced she can parent Nathan better than them, Rose is eager for the time. But the day after they dropped him off, Rose’s Newfie, Walter, kills a corgi named Hazel while Rose, Nathan, and Hazel’s owner can only watch. (Hazel was on a flexi.  This could have all been avoided had the dog been on a regular lead… perchance I saw a bit of myself in Rose. Ha) As horrific as that sounds, Hazel’s spirit jumps over into Nathan, delighting the young boy.  He is so happy with his “inside dog,” and Rose hasn’t a clue how to proceed. He starts barking, talking to himself, telling horrible knock-knock jokes, and seems to know a lot of things. Rose realizes it is Hazel coming through. She encourages him to “be the alpha” while madly researching how to banish the dog’s spirit from her beloved nephew’s body before his parents get home.

At its quirky little heart, this is a novel about loneliness and the family we make. It’s about letting go and enjoying the ride. Not everyone will enjoy this one, but I found it fantastic palate cleanser of a hoot and a half.