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Children's & YAYA FictionYA

For She Is Wrath

Review by Tami Orendain

Dania is in prison for a murder she did not commit. She spends every day plotting her escape and listing off the people responsible for her imprisonment: Vahid, the cruel emperor; Darbaran, the loathsome head of the palace guards; and Mazin, Vahid’s ward and Dania’s ex-lover. After a failed attempt to break out, Dania is surprised when Noor, a fellow prisoner, tunnels into her cell. When Noor reveals that she has a plan to escape, as well as a way to access hidden djinn magic, Dania sees a clear way to get her revenge.

A fantasy-fuelled retelling of The Count of Monte Cristo, For She Is Wrath takes the tension and mystery of Alexandre Dumas’ classic novel and transfers it to a lush, exuberant, Pakistan-inspired setting. Emily Varga’s narrative drops readers straight into the action from the very beginning: A prison escape, dark magic power and secret identities set up heart-pounding action that remains present throughout the entire tale.

But For She Is Wrath is not just about getting revenge. It’s also about how shaky the path to it can be. Dania’s growing desire for retribution is a force that not only drives her forward, but also compels her to look backward. As they work together to achieve revenge, Dania and Noor must come to terms with the price of vengeance—and decide whether that price is worth it. The book is not shy about the impact of Dania and Noor’s actions, asking them to sit with the repercussions of their schemes. Is violence ever warranted? Is it all right to harm others in the pursuit of justice?

This is a fresh story with bold heroines and a unique, vibrant setting. For She Is Wrath has the intrigue of The Count of Monte Cristo, but is ultimately sweeter, with wholesome characters and nuanced themes about justice, healing, and forgiveness. Readers, especially fans of Dumas, are sure to appreciate Varga’s multilayered twists and turns as Dania and Noor uncover world-altering truths about their imprisonments, their backgrounds and the empire in which they live, and learn what it is they truly stand for.

A fantasy-fuelled retelling of the Count of Monte Cristo, For She Is Wrath takes the tension and mystery of Alexandre Dumas’ classic novel and transfers it to a lush, exuberant, Pakistan-inspired setting.
FictionPopular Fiction

Bluebird Day

Review by Carla Jean Whitley

Former competitive skier Wylie Potts is trying to find a new identity. Her mother and coach, World Cup and Olympic medalist skier Claudine Potts, put so much pressure on Wylie that she began to experience panic attacks and, eventually, walked away from the sport. She’s found a career she loves at an art museum and a boyfriend with athletic interests of his own, Dan.

Wylie and Dan have been training for the BodyFittest Duo competition in Berlin. She sees it as a chance at redemption after quitting skiing, a decision that fractured her relationship with her mom. But when an injury sidelines Dan from the two-person competition, Wylie turns to her mother in desperation.

As it happens, Claudine, whose bad knee ended her own ski career, is in Switzerland, trying to find closure for a secret shame of her own that she can’t allow Wylie to uncover. Wylie joins her on the way to the competition, and the two women are faced with their own insecurities, bad behavior and opportunities for redemption. Together, perhaps they can win and reclaim both Wylie’s pride and their relationship.

In Bluebird Day, journalist and author Megan Tady (Super Bloom) takes readers on an alternately hilarious and touching romp through Zermatt, Switzerland. Switching between Wylie’s and Claudine’s perspectives, Tady delves deeply into both their psyches, and with the patience of a gifted therapist, she uncovers the wounds that fractured their relationship. Their interactions are sometimes painful to read—just as a mother-daughter argument can be difficult to witness. But Tady knows when to pull back. She offers just enough pain for readers to understand the characters’ plight.

Throughout the Potts women’s adventure, Tady tosses in references to Swiss icons and ski history, introduces an entertaining supporting cast—a “motley crew that’s sworn off extravagance in the heart of a luxurious town”—and includes conversation about climate change. Bluebird Day is the ideal read for anyone looking for a fast-paced, lighthearted novel you could enjoy equally beside a crackling fire or at the beach. Tady delivers a cozy tale with layers as numerous as midseason snowpack.

In Bluebird Day, Megan Tady delivers a cozy tale with layers as numerous as midseason snowpack, delving into the psyches of mother and daughter competitive skiers Claudine and Wylie.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

Windsongs

Review by Deborah Hopkinson

Artist and poet Douglas Florian has created numerous award-winning picture books over the years, including Dinothesaurus and Insectlopedia. A book by Florian is often destined to become part of family lore, lovingly passed down from child to child to grandchild. And that’s certainly true of his newest title, Windsongs: Poems about Weather. 

Each poem in this appealing collection appears in white lettering on a bright page, opposite illustrations rendered with gouache paint, colored pencils and rubber stamps on primed paper bags, giving the volume a cheerful, homespun feel. Weather, of course, fascinates everyone, and after reading this book, kids and parents alike might find themselves creating their own poems, inspired by Florian’s poetry about the dew, drought, thunder and frost, among other topics. 

Some of the poems here are silly, others playful or evocative. A poem entitled “Fog” begins: “The fog is just a cloud that’s lost. / A cloud that’s gone astray. / It woke up in a hazy daze / and slowly lost its way.” The collection concludes with a poem about climate change, including a reminder that “Mars is too cold, and Venus too hot. / Our blue planet Earth is all that we’ve got.” Back matter includes a glossary and weather websites for kids. Windsongs is a gift for the whole family!

After reading Windsongs, kids and parents alike might find themselves creating their own poems, inspired by Douglas Florian’s poetry about the dew, drought, thunder and frost.
FictionSatireLiterary Fiction

Woo Woo

Review by Arlene McKanic

It’s curiously refreshing to find a good book whose main character you despise. Such is the case with Ella Baxter’s Woo Woo. It’s evidence of Baxter’s talent that you stick with her self-obsessed and often mean-spirited protagonist, Sabine Rossi. At first, you just want Sabine to get her comeuppance. By the end of the book, less so.

Sabine is an artist, specifically a conceptual artist. The story follows her in the days before the opening of her gallery show, titled “Fuck You, Help Me.” It features puppets big enough for her to wear. She stages happenings with these objects that she photographs and livestreams for fans with social media handles like Pignut666 and KibbleJoy. People in her inner circle, from the gallery owner to her put-upon husband, Constantine, are not merely supportive but worshipful. But Sabine’s dramatics are nonsensical. Woo-woo just about describes her.

Consider that Sabine is mentored by the ghost of body artist Carolee Schneemann. Even more troubling, she thinks she’s being stalked by a personage she calls the Rembrandt Man because he reminds her of a portrait by the great Dutch master. A crafty writer, Baxter makes you wonder whether this man is real or not; though this reader concluded that he’s not, another reader may disagree. Whether he’s a genuine threat or another figment of her psychosis, Sabine nearly destroys her house fighting him off in one harrowing scene. She livestreams this too.

Woo Woo deftly sends up a subtype of conceptual art that is, as one critic writes of Sabine’s work, “contrived, boring, and egotistical.” It’s a world where people say things like “The tapestries of her internal and external diaspora are more evocative than your whale cakes,” with a straight face. One feels compassion for Sabine because she and her loved ones can’t see how ridiculous she is even as the rest of the world does. It matters that each chapter is headed with a quote or title of a work from artists as varied as Ovid, Chekhov, Cindy Sherman and Lana Del Ray. Art, even bad art, is essential. And so the Sabine Rossis of the world persist.

Woo Woo tells the story of self-obsessed conceptual artist Sabine Rossi’s brush with a stalker, while deftly sending up that subtype of conceptual art that is, as one critic writes of Sabine’s work, “contrived, boring, and egotistical.”
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

Work

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

In London, Nate Macabuag designs and builds prosthetics for people with limb differences. “To be able to give someone something that they didn’t have access to before—it’s a good feeling,” he says. At Chicago’s Field Museum, Lauren Nassef helps care for specimens used in scientific research. And in the Bronx, shopkeepers Dan Treiber and Reina Mia Brill spend their days surrounded by toys. “We sell things that bring people joy,” Dan says. “We sell happiness!” 

Those are just a few of the 28 professions depicted in Shaina Feinberg and Julia Rothman’s fascinating and inspiring Work: Interviews with People Doing Jobs They Love. 

The duo, who write and illustrate the New York Times’ popular Scratch column (about “money—and the people who deal with it”), previously teamed up for How We Got By, a collection of 111 personal accounts about getting through hardships. This time, they wanted to create a book for kids in the vein of their newspaper column. 

For Work, Feinberg and Rothman interviewed people around the world about their skills, motivations, daily tasks and favorite aspects of their careers. The answers are varied and intriguing, presented in brief biographies that also include discussion prompts such as “If you could invent anything, what would it be?” Rothman’s art is detailed and vibrant, ranging from portraits of people at their jobs, to illustrations of a wildland firefighter’s helicopter and a cobbler’s custom shoes.

Those looking for answers to “What do you want to be when you grow up?” will delight in learning how youthful propensities might translate into grown-up jobs: For example, an artist who climbed trees as a child now paints murals on very tall buildings. They’ll also gain insight into Rothman’s and Feinberg’s own work via the final entries in this engaging, illuminating collection, as well as the “How We Made This Book” section that follows. 

Another nice touch: The duo note that many illustrations were based on photos, and include credits for each one, ensuring that, from start to finish, their book explores, celebrates and values work and the people who undertake it. Work is a helpful resource and entertaining read that’s sure to broaden horizons and inspire exploration.

 

From start to finish, Shaina Feinberg and Julia Rothman’s book explores, celebrates and values work and the people who undertake it. Work is a helpful resource and entertaining read that’s sure to broaden horizons and inspire exploration.
FictionLiterary FictionHistorical Fiction

Time of the Child

Review by Arlene McKanic

This reviewer has to wonder why an author as brilliant as Niall Williams, whose latest book is the resplendent, suspenseful Time of the Child, isn’t at the top of every reader’s mind. Few contemporary novelists create worlds and characters so amazingly alive and specific. Williams knows every nook and cranny of his Irish town Faha, from its weather, which is so damp that nothing ever dries out completely, to its farms and pubs and how it’s slowly losing ground to the estuary. His characters, even those we see only briefly, are unforgettable. Though the town is full of people, you’ll never mix up one with another. Even Faha’s animal citizens are memorable: Consider Harry, a dog who likes to nap in the middle of the street, making cars drive around him.

Time of the Child is a sequel to Williams’ other masterpiece, This Is Happiness, and is set around Christmas in 1962. Noel Crowe, the protagonist of that book, has moved to America, and our focus is now on the town doctor, Jack Troy, and his daughter Ronnie, who lives with him. In Faha, the doctor is a revered, stoic and necessary presence. He might as well be a granite plinth with a mustache. But within this pillar of rectitude, so many passions roil.

For Jack, like Faha itself, is a dour-seeming being who is full of love. He loves his patients in his brisk and discerning way. He pines for a lost romance, even as he pushes 70. And he loves his daughters, especially Ronnie, whose unmarried state he feels responsible for. When a local boy finds a baby in a churchyard and brings her to the doctor for care, the floodgates in Jack burst. Both he and Ronnie fall in love with the child, and as the unwed Ronnie can’t adopt her, he hatches a scheme so harebrained that it warms your heart even as you think, “Are you serious?” This is where the novel’s suspense comes in, as well as Williams’ genius for making you laugh out loud while he breaks your heart. Anyone who cherishes great writing should want more and more from Williams.

Niall Williams demonstrates his genius for making you laugh out loud while breaking your heart at the same time in Time of the Child, his follow-up to This Is Happiness.
FictionShort StoriesDebut Fiction

The World With Its Mouth Open

Review by Eric A. Ponce

The everyday lives of people are filled with drama, no matter where they live. But in a place like the Kashmir region, wedged between the conflicting political and cultural influences of India, China and Pakistan, that everyday drama plays out under a different, more intense spotlight. In his debut short story collection, The World With Its Mouth Open, Zahid Rafiq peers into the inner lives of 11 people illuminated by that spotlight. Readers will find these characters at various points of crisis, confronted with grief or gratitude, hope or hopelessness, and always the paralyzing freedom of choice.

Writing about drama doesn’t necessitate confessions of undying love or explosions. Rafiq chooses instead to tease out tension from brief, intimate interactions. In the opening story, the protagonist, Nusrat, runs into the brother of an old friend. She engages him in small talk and, as they walk the city streets, she is reminded of the life she lived as a young girl, a life filled with possibility and without the demands of womanhood and marriage. This brief exchange cracks Nusrat open, revealing a vast and paradoxical inner world. Meanwhile, in other stories, the narrators bare their hearts in unrelenting and unashamed grief: In “Flowers From a Dog,” the narrator visits the grave of an ex-lover who left to be with a wealthier man. Over the course of the visit, we experience the speaker’s loss in a poetic, existential lament.

Though politics is never directly discussed, the history and culture of Kashmir set the stage for these poignant tales. “Crows,” finds a young boy who hates studying being beaten by a tyrannical teacher. Knowing the poverty experienced by this boy and his family, and seeing their desperate hope for a better life for him, one can’t help but feel torn: Why should the boy suffer, being abused for not wanting to learn things he doesn’t care for? His naivete and pure longing for joy are heartbreaking. All these stories are, because people are.

Zahid Rafiq peers into the inner lives of 11 people living in Kashmir in his debut short story collection, The World With Its Mouth Open.
NonfictionSocial ScienceNature

The Serviceberry

Review by mónica teresa ortiz

The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World is the latest offering from botanist Robin Wall Kimmerer, an enrolled member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, one of the great Anishinaabe peoples of the Great Lakes. This slim but powerful volume continues the work of her previous books, including Gathering Moss and the New York Times bestseller Braiding Sweetgrass. Here, she draws from the traditional Anishinaabe economy for her understanding of reciprocity and gift economies, ones where, she writes, “a system of redistribution of wealth [is] based on abundance and the pleasure of sharing.”

Through vivid descriptions of the heartbeats around her—cedar waxwings, bluebirds, neighbors sharing garden-grown zucchini—Kimmerer immerses readers in her kinship and connection to the land. Moving between Western science and her own Potawatomi knowledge, she illustrates an accessible model for building reciprocal relationships with both nonhuman and human life around us through the harvesting and sharing of a fruit known as Amelanchier—or serviceberry, “Saskatoon, Juneberry, Shadbush, Shadblow, Sugarplum, Sarvis.” Kimmerer writes that “ethnobotanists know that the more names a plant has, the greater its cultural importance” and informs us that serviceberries are medicinal fruits that also synchronize “the seasonal rounds of traditional Indigenous people, who move in an annual cycle through their homelands to where the foods are ready.”

Kimmerer breaks down how an extractive economic system like capitalism, which focuses on individualism, competition and exploitation of resources, impacts our spirits; she does so in a language and tone that is generous, even toward the violence of such a system. Indigenous people, she explains, change themselves to suit the land’s changes of harvest, whereas Western methods of farming attempt to make the land suit a population’s desires and consumptions. “We force the food to come to us, at considerable financial and ecological costs,” Kimmerer notes, “rather than following the practice of taking what has been given to us, each in its own time.”

“The land is the source of all goods and services, which are distributed in a kind of gift exchange: one life is given in support of another. The focus is on supporting the good of the people, not only an individual.” The Serviceberry is a kind reminder that we would do well to restore the sovereignty and practices of Indigenous peoples for the present and future of our world.

Botanist Robin Wall Kimmerer, author of Braiding Sweetgrass, returns with a powerful meditation on economics rooted in abundance and sharing.
Children's & YAPicture BookChildren's

The Smell of Wet Dog

Review by Alice Cary

With nearly 50 books under his belt, beloved author and illustrator Barney Saltzberg turns his attention to canines in his latest zany offering, The Smell of Wet Dog: And Other Dog Poems and Drawings. He proclaims his love in the first poem, “I Love Dogs,” followed by the title verse, which describes their odor as “Imagine moose and skunk perfume. / An odiferous stench, a paint-peeling plume.”

Young readers will relish these often rip-roaringly funny short poems, with lines like “A long stretchy / drizzle of slobbery ooze / dribbles and splats / on my favorite shoes.” Kids will readily identify with lines like “It’s hard to sit. / It’s hard to stay. / Who makes these rules up, anyway?”

This is a celebration of all things dog—the good, the bad and the smelly—that adult dog lovers will enjoy as well. Saltzberg’s endearing spot illustrations complete the package, with big-eyed dogs of all shapes and sizes cavorting, rolling around in messes, leaping into the air and staring pleadingly at each other and the reader. How can you not fall in love? There are poignant moments as well, with poems about a lost dog, an aging pet and the undying adoration that dogs have for their owners—and vice versa. (Cat lovers: a sequel is likely in store, as the last page features a cat saying, “You forgot . . . / the cat!”)

The Smell of Wet Dog is chock-full of luscious light verse designed to draw in even the most reluctant of poetry readers.

The Smell of Wet Dog is chock-full of luscious light verse designed to draw in even the most reluctant of poetry readers.
NonfictionArtLifestylesArt

The Work of Art

Review by Laura Hutson Hunter

If you’ve ever been curious about how an idea turns into a piece of art, you’ll love The Work of Art: How Something Comes From Nothing. This visionary book’s first two pages lay out its thesis in surprisingly simple terms. First, there’s a sketch that looks like little more than a physician’s signature at the bottom of a prescription pad. Turn the page and you’ll see what that doodle became: the famous Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain. But how exactly did Frank Gehry’s messy sketch become the architectural masterpiece? That’s the process writer Adam Moss is concerned with; the “work” in his book’s title is a verb. Moss has been the editor of New York magazine and the New York Times Magazine, and his love for conversational, witty storytelling is clear here. The Work of Art collects conversations with some of the most lauded, interesting artists working—from Kara Walker, who takes readers through the creation of her 2014 public sculpture “A Subtlety,” to Gay Talese, who pores over the copious notes he took to write “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold” in 1966. No minutia is too small to examine. In fact, it seems like the smaller the detail, the more information Moss is able to extract. Alongside each story, Moss includes images of the works in various stages of completion. You see Twyla Tharp’s massive choreographic sketches, and the first stages of a Will Shortz crossword. The images elevate the book to a compendium of precious ephemera. It’s possible that Moss has invented a new literary genre that merges self-help, art history and journalism. However it’s classified, you’ll read it cover to cover.

The Work of Art is a visionary compendium of ephemera that makes visible the bridge between idea and artwork.
Mystery & SuspenseMystery

The Rivals

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

Fans of Jane Pek’s 2022 debut, The Verifiers, starring irrepressible, clever, bike-riding Brooklynite Claudia Lin, will be delighted to learn of Claudia’s return in The Rivals. 

While she’s still reeling from the dramatic events—including murder, alas—depicted in The Verifiers, Claudia’s also proud to be a new partner in Veracity, a Tribeca-based private investigation agency that discerns whether clients’ prospective partners are being truthful on dating apps. But Claudia’s also nervous about her new role, thanks to her ongoing internal conflict about the ethics of Veracity’s work (are they background-checking, or stalking and hacking?) and her conviction that, despite her hard-won career advancement, her mother will nonetheless stick to her favorite “look at my lousy Chinese daughter topic of conversation.” 

There’s the matter of her own love life, too: Sure, she’ll dutifully tail Amalia, the intelligent and gorgeous date of obnoxious new client Mason Perry (“His opinion of himself is so high, you can see it from outer space.”), but things get complicated when Claudia accidentally-on-purpose befriends her and starts wishing Amalia were her girlfriend instead. She’s also attracted to her mercurial co-worker Becks, but Claudia’s not sure if her feelings are reciprocated. Pek does an excellent job exploring the particular humor and suspense inherent in the mysteries of the human heart.

The author also delves into the gritty mysteries of the tech world as Veracity discovers a corporate conspiracy centered around dating apps, complete with manipulation via AI and the untimely demise of anyone who raises suspicions about the apps’ overlords. Even worse, Claudia’s brother, Charles, works for one of the “Big Three” matchmaking platforms, and she fears he’ll be harmed by their machinations: “He can’t even imagine how deep the deception actually goes, like a tunnel right to the molten center of the earth.”

It’s a lot for Claudia to juggle, especially on a bicycle. Anyone who appreciates a witty contemporary whodunit with a tech-y twist will enjoy the entertaining, thought-provoking goings-on in The Rivals as it explores the insidiousness of technology, the dark side of dating algorithms and the often amusingly complicated life of a dedicated amateur sleuth.

Amateur sleuth Claudia Lin delves into a dating app conspiracy in Jane Pek’s entertaining, thought-provoking The Rivals.
Science Fiction & FantasyFantasy

The Last Hour Between Worlds

Review by Jessica Peng

I’ll be honest—it took me a moment to understand this book. We are immediately thrown into an opulent “year-turning” party: buffets of food, swirling gowns, a mysterious grandfather clock slowly ticking down the hours until the new year. Our protagonist, Kembral Thorne, is at the party while on maternity leave from her job as a Hound, a police officer-esque position that specializes in retrieving people or objects from other dimensions known as Echoes. In rapid succession, author Melissa Caruso introduces Kembral and the rest of the guests at the year-turning party (including Kembral’s nemesis and obsession, professional thief Rika Nonesuch), the framework of Echoes and a series of specialized terms for the world and its sociopolitical system. If reading this paragraph was overwhelming, you can expect a similar reaction when you begin The Last Hour Between Worlds. 

But—but! If you’re a fantasy romance fan who’s been craving originality from the genre, this book is truly a breath of fresh air. Once you’ve gotten the gist of Echoes and more or less familiarized yourself with the characters, the storyline is a heady, bizarre rush of murder mystery meets Alice in Wonderland. Kembral discovers quite quickly that the year-turning party is being used as a chessboard of sorts, that a game is being played out between powerful interdimensional beings. Every hour, the party falls into a weirder, deadlier Echo, and it is up to Kembral and Rika to figure out how to stop the game before they’re trapped in an Echo they can’t escape from—if they don’t, everyone will die. 

Caruso has created a compelling heroine in Kembral, who is equal parts tough, resourceful and vulnerable. A full-blown adult and mother, there’s an element of maturity and caution to her perspective that is refreshing in a genre that is often full of young protagonists who dive headlong into peril. The heart of the novel is Kembral’s relationship with Rika: their history and their secrets, how they’ve leaned on each other and how they’ve hurt each other. Caruso’s writing is stunning as well, with lines like “trying to figure her out was like trying to hold the shape of fire in your mind.” Although I was skeptical when I started, by the middle, I was completely on board with Kembral and Rika as they tried to save their sinking ship—or, in this case, their dimension-bending party. The Last Hour Between Worlds isn’t a breezy read, but it will stretch your imagination and leave you thinking.

A heady, bizarre rush of murder mystery meets Alice’s in Wonderland, The Last Hour Between Worlds is an interdimensional fantasy adventure.
NonfictionEssays

The Memory Palace

Review by Deborah Mason

A memory palace is a memorization technique used by figures as diverse as Cicero, international memory champions and the late, great Sherlock Holmes. Practitioners visualize placing images representing information they want to recollect in a familiar setting that they can revisit whenever their memory needs a nudge. The Memory Palace: True Stories of the Past, by award-winning podcaster and screenwriter Nate DiMeo, however, is a more intimate and complex edifice than any mnemonic device. Instead of facts and figures, DiMeo’s memory palace is inhabited by the moving true stories that illustrate how human beings throughout history, whether famous, infamous or unknown, felt the same emotions and had the same imperfections that we have and humans will always have.

Like DiMeo’s podcast of the same name, The Memory Palace’s stories—numbering nearly 50 in this volume—are briskly told, varied, unexpected and often paradoxical, giving us a sideways view of human nature. William Mumler, a 19th-century con artist photographer who stumbled upon a technique to make “ghosts” appear behind his subjects, gave genuine comfort to spiritualist Mary Todd Lincoln as she grieved the death of her child. William James Sidis, a boy genius who, at age 11, gave a Harvard lecture on the implications of the fourth dimension, could have been an academic celebrity, but instead sought seclusion to pursue his passion: collecting streetcar transfers. Carla Wallenda, the last surviving child of the founders of the Flying Wallendas high wire troupe, witnessed over several decades the gruesome deaths of her father, husband, cousins, aunt and uncle—but until her death at the age of 85, never felt so alive as when she was on the tightrope.  

DiMeo ordered the stories in no particular way, and he suggests that The Memory Palace could be a “dipping book.” But there’s a benefit to reading it in order: In his final seven stories, he seamlessly interweaves episodes from his family’s lives in a way that illuminates both the individuals chronicled in his “cabinet of curiosities” and the project of the book and podcast as a whole. Readers will feel a shiver of recognition and understanding—making a second or third visit to DiMeo’s memory palace both irresistible and gratifying.

The Memory Palace collects stories from Nate DiMeo’s award-winning podcast about historical people—famous and unknown alike, all breathtakingly human.

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