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Based mostly on his own experiences, Theophile Maher’s local color novel Cannel Coal Oil Days challenges many popular ideas about antebellum Appalachia, bringing it more fully into the broader story of the United States. Written in 1887, discovered in 2018, and published here for the first time, it offers a narrative of life between 1859 and 1861 in what was then western Virginia as it became West Virginia.

Cannel coal (a soft form of coal whose oil, when distilled, was competitive in the lighting oil business after overfishing reduced the whale oil supply) was at the center of one of Appalachia’s first extractive industries. Using the development of coal oil manufacturing in the Kanawha valley as its launching point, Maher’s semiautobiographical novel tells of a series of interrelated changes, each reflecting larger transformations in the United States as a whole. It shows how coal oil manufacturing was transformed from an amateurish endeavor to a more professional industry, with implications for Appalachian environment and labor. Then, Maher foreshadows the coming Progressive Era by insisting on moral and environmental reforms based in democratic and Christian principles. Finally, he tells the story of the coming of the Civil War to the region, as the novel’s protagonist, a mining engineer, works closely with a Black family to organize the local abolitionist mountain folk into a Union militia to aid in the secession of West Virginia from Virginia.

Can liberation be found in the unexpected corners of a Renaissance faire?

In a near-future United States, the government has just stripped away the protections of birthright citizenship, and eighteen-year-old Raven is facing deportation. Her best hope: finding her long-gone father, an off-the-grid Renaissance faire entrepreneur called Tom the Hunter. If Raven can convince Tom to affirm his paternity, she will be able to remain in the only country she has ever known.

But Tom is no easy man locate, let alone tell what to do. The charismatic leader of an underground resistance movement based at a Ren faire in Bristol, Wisconsin, he has spent his life agitating against the ever-increasing reach of corporate and government surveillance while avoiding its gaze. In a society overrun by drones, self-driving cars, and wearable devices that track mood and behavior, he sends messages by pigeon and trains hawks to attack invaders. The only thing from the “regular world” allowed to enter his self-contained realm has been Gwen, his new lover. Facing economic and emotional headwinds after losing her job, Gwen has fled her family and a home dangerously in need of remediation, and she dives headfirst into an affair with the passionate yet conniving Tom. But when Tom’s machinations threaten those around him, Gwen begins to question her choice to leave her children behind for a world that may not be as empowering as it seems.

As Raven and Gwen become enmeshed in the vibrant and insurgent community of Bristol’s Ren faire and Tom’s antics reach unsettling new heights, each must make a choice on where they stand—and with whom.

An experimental narrative by eco-fiction author and poet Patrick Lawler evolves out of the interactions between twenty-four extinct animals and those characters who struggle for significance in the face of their own extinction.

Patrick Lawler’s second novel, Conversations with Extinct Animal, is a dialogue between psychology and ecology—between poetry and story. A suicide note masquerading as a love letter, the novel transcends genres and keeps kaleidoscopically shifting: sometimes it is an elegy, and sometimes it is a therapy session—but always these are the field notes for the end of the world.

As a collection of characters associated with The Facility come to terms with an individual’s death, they must confront their own losses amid the colossal absence of the twenty-four extinct animals. All the characters float between various inexplicable, mystifying “syndromes” that call into question their identities and, ultimately, call into question the elements of story itself. “Looking at pictures of the Extinct Animals, I can’t help but wonder if it is too late to save the world—especially since there are so many different worlds,” observes the narrator of the novel in his efforts to save the unsavable.

A darkly comic descent into Arkansas’s surreal criminal underworld through the eyes of a hapless, debt‑ridden hypochondriac

Couch People is a feverish, darkly comic novel that captures the anxious intensity of a world obsessed with wellness and control even as life keeps spinning into chaos. Prince, a debt-ridden drug dealer on probation, clings to vitamins and homeopathic rituals while stumbling through a surreal Arkansas underworld filled with criminal volatility and sudden violence.

As Prince fights to stay out of prison, recover his stolen money, and hold onto a fragile hope for love, he moves through a landscape populated by unforgettable misfits and bizarre dangers, including a system where snitches are cremated, turned into diamonds, and set into convicts’ teeth. Will Burns blends his satirical bite with unexpected tenderness, creating a narrative that prizes raw interiority and absurd humor over neat redemption. Couch People becomes a propulsive fever dream about love, loss, and the impossible effort to impose order on a world that refuses to make sense, inviting readers to embrace the beautiful mess of being alive without a manual, a map, or mercy.

Rubem Fonseca's Crimes of August offers the first serious literary treatment of the cataclysmic events of August 1954, arguably the most turbulent month in Brazilian history. A rich novel, both culturally and historically, Crimes of August tells two stories simultaneously. The first is private, involving the well-delineated character of Alberto Mattos, a police officer. The other is public, focusing on events that begin with the attempted assassination of Carlos Lacerda, a demagogic journalist and political enemy of President Getúlio Vargas, and culminate in Vargas's suicide on August 24,1954. Throughout this suspenseful novel, deceptively couched as a thriller, Fonseca interweaves fact and fiction in a complex, provocative plot. At the same time, he re-creates the atmosphere of the 1950s, when Rio de Janeiro was Brazil's capital and the nexus of political intrigue and corruption. Mattos is assigned to solve the brutal murder of a wealthy entrepreneur in the aftermath of what appears to be a homosexual liaison. An educated and introspective man, and one of the few in his precinct not on the take from the bankers of the illegal lottery, Mattos suffers from alienation and a bleeding ulcer. His investigation puts him on a dangerous collision course with the conspiracy to depose Vargas, the novel's other narrative thread. The two overlap at several points, coming to their tragic end with the aged politician's suicide and Mattos's downfall.