Novels from new and familiar authors

Our Summer Book Guide had some major new titles from big-name authors: David Sedaris, David Foster Wallace, the late John Gregory Dunne.

Our Fall fiction roundup doesn't have quite that level of star power, but that's not to say it doesn't have some treasures. Russell Banks' "The Darling" and David Gilbert's "The Normals" came in for high praise, as did Joshua Braff's "The Unthinkable Thoughts of Jacob Green."

As the weather grows colder and night falls earlier, there's nothing like snuggling up with a good novel. Below, we supply the titles. You supply your own cozy chair and mug of something hot.

Full ‘House’
From Alice Hoffman, author of the best-selling novels “The River King” and “The Probable Future,” comes “Blackbird House” (Doubleday, $20), a collection of linked stories. The stories are woven together by their setting: a Cape Cod house that various families inhabit over the course of about 200 years.

The stories center around loss and love, and the mystical thread that runs through most of Hoffman’s work is still here, but it's subtle. Women are at the center of every story in the collection. Characters we meet include Emma, a little girl who survives leukemia only to have her blond hair grow back black; Ruth Blackbird Hill, who wears red shoes and names her daughters Ruby and Garnet; and Cora Hadley, the first resident of the house, who worries when her family goes off to sea.

Scenery takes on a major role, because while the characters may change, the setting — with its sweetpea blossoms, pear tree that bears red fruit, magical white blackbird, and ponds deep enough to swallow a horse in winter — are always present.

In the first story, “The Edge of the World” Hoffman writes of the house, “Wood for the building was hard to come by, so John had used old wrecked boats for the joists, deadwood he’d found in the shipyard.” Through the different stories, readers watch the house change and get to see what lasts: the applewood floors, an old outhouse, and even the original turnips planted by Cora Hadley. This passage of time and the chance to see the different families who take comfort in, or want to escape, the house help the separate stories come together as one cohesive whole.

There’s nothing earth-shattering about the world Hoffman creates, the stories have a delicacy and a quiet quality as though you’re eavesdropping on the inhabitants of Blackbird House. The stories themselves may not stay with you, but those visions of fields of sweetpea blossoms will.    —Paige Newman

Oh ‘Darling’

In his novels, Banks writes poetically about loss. Here there is more to lose, and with the mirror image of the genocide in the Sudan, it's more poignant than ever.

Russell Banks is not afraid to take on big ideas. In one of his early novels, “Continental Drift,” Banks tackled the idea of the American Dream and the notion that people could better whatever circumstances in which they found themselves. Instead, through his characters and their stories, he showed that every choice we make has consequences and how sometimes things just turn out badly. In his new novel, “The Darling” (HarperCollins, $26), Banks takes a similar tack, but this time he tackles idealism and the notion that if our intentions are good, it somehow excuses our actions.

Hannah Musgrove, a former member of the Weather Underground, finds herself living underground in 1975. She decides to disappear into Africa, eventually ending up in Liberia. There she begins to build herself a life, finding solace among a sanctuary of chimps — her “dreamers,” as she likes to call them — and even finding love with a minister in President Doe’s government. Banks does a great job of weaving the real history of Liberia and its rebellion into Hannah’s story. Liberia itself becomes a complex character in the novel, with all the complications and contradictions of any good character.

Banks is a fan of the historical novel, having already taken on the story of John Brown in the novel “Cloudsplitter.” He has a way of making history feel immediate, as if the outcome actually could change. When Hannah makes a key decision that will not only affect her own life but an entire nation’s well-being, this reader’s stomach churned. In his novels (“Affliction,” “The Sweet Hereafter”), Banks writes poetically about loss. Here there is more to lose, and with the mirror image of the genocide in the Sudan, it's more poignant than ever.   —P.N.

‘School’ days
Muriel Spark is best known for 1961's "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie"; in 2004, she is still writing about education, this time in the sly, witty "The Finishing School" (Doubleday, $17). The institution of the title is a somewhat low-rent operation run by frustrated novelist Rowland Mahler and his cool, indifferent wife Nina, who teaches etiquette and art and tolerates her husband's erratic creative rhythms.

‘The Finishing School’ is an especially nifty read for creative types, as it offers an unsentimental examination of the similarities between artists and lovers when it comes to jealousy and, ultimately, losing your marbles.

Rowland is utterly undone by the arrival at the school of young Chris, an arrogant, charismatic 17-year-old novelist working on a potboiler involving Mary, Queen of Scots. Chris's appearance at a time when Rowland is stalled in his own work makes Rowland first politely intrigued, and then stiffly irked, and then completely consumed with bitterness. As Rowland's mind darkens and his behavior follows suit, the characters maintain a cruelly polite manner in their dealings with each other, making the story feel almost like a Merchant-Ivory period piece and the odd appearances of laptops and the like a little anachronistic.

"The Finishing School" is an especially nifty read for creative types, as it offers an unsentimental examination of the similarities between artists and lovers when it comes to jealousy and, ultimately, losing your marbles. Spark's spare, straightforward style is also a welcome break from the kind of windy, self-consciously complicated writing that calls to mind the late Julia Child's famous line about nouvelle cuisine: "It's so beautifully arranged on the plate — you can tell someone's fingers have been all over it." You will never sense Spark's fingers on this story; it builds in a way that seems inevitable, despite eyebrow-raising ruminations on morality and the human mind.    —Linda Holmes

Strange ‘Fruit’
There are some books that are worth sticking with, even when they seem strange in the early going. "Fruit" (MacAdam/Cage, $23), the first novel from Canadian Brian Francis, is one of them.

It's not easy to write a sharp book about adolescence that's meant for adults, but that's what ‘Fruit’ aspires to be, and ultimately what it is.

An overweight 13-year-old boy who worries excessively about the behavior of his nipples is a nicely unexpected protagonist. Peter Paddington is not the self-aware, secretly brilliant and funny sort of hero of whom everyone has seen quite enough, either. He's genuinely strange and legitimately awkward, and something upsetting is stalking him, too — some great, overpowering Thing that he hasn't quite figured out yet. He has given up on trying to get his parents to understand, and does his best to stay clear of his unsupportive sisters. His only real friend is a neighborhood girl who isn't doing very much better than he is, and his attempts to make new friends tend to run aground when they provoke feelings he can't deal with.

Francis recounts Peter's numerous disappointments with an admirable lack of sugar-coating, and it is a relief to realize that the big moment in which he magically becomes gorgeous and popular and perfect just in time for a dance, date or the big game, is probably not going to come. Peter's situation is difficult, and Francis is comfortable allowing it to be so. Peter is also drawn to be witty and quite insightful — often unknowingly — about his family and his friends, without ever having an age-inappropriate level of world-weary wisdom. Peter is not a relentlessly smart-alecky comedian; he is a troubled but likeable kid. It's not easy to write a sharp book about adolescence that's meant for adults, but that's what "Fruit" aspires to be, and ultimately what it is.    —L.H.

Different kind of sleeping beauty
While not an entirely satisfying read, Sarah Shun-Lien Bynum's “Madeleine is Sleeping” (Harcourt, $22) is an ambitious first novel. Written in ethereal vignettes rather than chapters, at first the book seems to simply be an account of what Madeleine is dreaming. But slowly woven in, we also get what seems to be the story of her strange life. The fantastic elements include an obese woman who sprouts wings, a woman who makes herself into the viola her husband cherishes and a man who has turned his gift for flatulence into a stage show.

The book is at turns whimsical and sad. You may actually feel for the flatulence artist who finds that audiences are far too cynical to appreciate his work, and for Madeleine herself, who feels ostracized from her own family even as she lies sleeping in her bed.

While full of original characters and a fantastically loopy storyline (even a pedophile comes off slightly sympathetically), "Madeleine" is ultimately not that satisfying. The main character never seems like a fully realized character, so it’s hard to care that much about her plight — especially since we’re not sure whether what’s happening to her is real or a dream. Still, it’s hard not to appreciate this book's fairy-tale quality, and how Bynum is able to sustain her rare dreamlike tone. You definitely won’t read another book quite like it this year.    —P.N.

Better than ‘Normal’
One of the great joys of reading is discovering a new terrific author. Such a writer is David Gilbert, whose new book “The Normals” (Bloomsbury, $25) is the satisfying, smart, funny story of Billy Schine who, when convinced that the collection agency who’s seeking his student loan payments might resort to violence, decides to enroll in a two-week anti-psychotic pharmaceutical drug trial, giving him a chance to get out of town and earn some money at the same time.

One of Gilbert’s strengths as a writer is that while the novel’s characters are almost constantly bored (there’s nothing for them to do but take their pills, get their blood drawn and watch television), the book itself isn’t boring.

Most of the book takes place at the Hargrove Medical Center (referred to as HAM) and follows the exploits of the other drug testers and center staff. One of Gilbert’s strengths as a writer is that while the novel’s characters are almost constantly bored (there’s nothing for them to do but take their pills, get their blood drawn and watch television), the book itself isn’t boring.

Because Gilbert creates unique individuals, the interactions they have with each other and the ways they deal with their own boredom makes for compelling reading. Schine’s roommate, Lannigan, is an actor who’s constantly trying to shock the other testers by acting out faux symptoms. Rodney Letts is a homeless alcoholic who dries out by enrolling in drug studies. Nurse Judy has problems on the other side to worry about but her barriers are slowly broken down by Billy’s constant attempts at conversation. Almost every character you encounter in the novel is fascinating in his or her own unique ways; Gilbert stays away from writing types and instead writes real people.

Gilbert is also the author of a collection of short stories called, “Remote Feed,” which has now earned a  top spot on my books-to-read list. I can’t wait to see what he comes up with next.    —P.N.

Richly textured ‘Painting’
Nina Schuyler makes a fearless debut with “The Painting” (Algonquin Books, $24). Not only does Schuyler take on characters in 1869 Japan, she creates a parallel story of characters in 1870 France. And what’s more, each of the separate stories is equally compelling.

The Japanese storyline tells of Hayashi, a potter and government official who’s been disfigured, and his wife Ayoshi, a painter who pines for her former lover. Meanwhile, in France, Jorgen is a Dane who was paid by a Frenchman to take his place in the Franco-Prussian war. Natalia is the woman who helps him recover from his injuries and who longs to be a soldier herself. The two stories are connected by one of Ayoshi’s paintings, which Jorgen stumbles upon, thinking it's one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

There’s a lot going on here and amazingly enough, Schuyler manages to hold it together. Her use of multiple viewpoints within each section can be a bit dizzying — every character gets a say within this novel — but it’s hard not to admire the chutzpah it takes to even attempt that kind of complex narrative. Though the characters from the Japan sections never interact with the characters from the France sections, the stories themselves do mesh together thematically. Ayoshi and Jorgen long for love and have secrets in their pasts, while Hayashi and Natalia both strive to be noble and yet question what it means to serve one’s country. A surprisingly good debut from a promising new writer.    —P.N.

Muddled ‘Dreams’
Sometimes a book can be incredibly readable — a page-turner no less — without being particularly accomplished. In her latest novel, “Queen of Dreams” (Doubleday, $22), Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni piles melodrama onto what could have been an interesting story and almost drowns it in forced sentimentality. Rakhi is a painter and café owner living in Berkeley with her daughter Jona. Her mother, an Indian immigrant, is a dream reader — someone who can read the dreams of others and help them understand their meanings. Rakhi runs a café with her friend Belle and they worry about being driven out of business by the Starbucks-like chain that moves in across the street. The story is really about Rakhi discovering and accepting who she is and coming to understand her family — particularly her father and her ex-husband, Sonny.

The novel is divided into sections from the mother’s dream journals, sections where we get the story from Rakhi’s point of view and sections where Rakhi’s story is told from the third person. The switches from first- to third-person can be a bit jarring. Divakaruni seems to be using them thematically to show the character’s distance from herself, but it seems like there could have been a cleaner way to show this. The dream journals are the strongest part of the novel and it’s hard not to wish that we could have gotten her mother’s story instead of Rakhi’s — as, frankly, it seems more interesting. Sept. 11 also comes into play during the course of the novel and while it’s interesting to see the perspective Divakaruni presents, in some ways, it also comes off feeling a bit clichéd.

There are some really wonderful aspects to the novel — the character of the father is particularly well-written and more complicated and interesting than he first seems — unfortunately, the good elements are undercut by the melodrama.    —P.N.

It’s not easy being ‘Green’
It's such a cliché to bill a first novel as "heartbreaking and hilarious," but Joshua Braff's "The Unthinkable Thoughts of Jacob Green" (Algonquin Press, $23.95) is exactly that.

The eponymous Green narrates his early adolescence — primarily a story of enduring his father's volatility and perfectionism, but also of idolizing his older brother's rebelliousness (while crushing on the live-in babysitter, with humiliating results), and trying to survive the splintering of his parents' marriage.  It's familiar territory, but Braff's direct, deprecating prose makes it seem new; wry and poignant, but without the sense that Braff is trying too hard at either.

Even Braff's devices — an ongoing list of Green House Rules, for instance, as well as a running gag about thank-you notes — work wonderfully, seeming a bit cheap in the first act, but paying off in a big way later on.

Both Braff's dialogue and his eye for detail are crisp and natural, and as a result, the reader doesn't lose a single nuance of the family relationships. The bond between Jacob and his brother, Asher, which anchors the story without resorting sentimentality, is particularly well-drawn.  Jacob's needy father, Abram, dominates the book's focus at first, but the contrast (and the strong but subtle connection) between the brothers eventually emerges as the real story — and it's a heartbreaking and hilarious one.    —Sarah D. Bunting

Paige Newman is MSNBC.com's Movies Editor. Sarah D. Bunting and Linda Holmes are frequent contributors to MSNBC.com.

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