Adelaide Williams is drunk when she first meets Rory Hughes.

Late that afternoon, tipsy and tanned, she saw him.

He was wearing a scarf and a blue button-down and Adelaide loved him instantly – all brown curls and razor-sharp jawline. Like a young Colin Firth.

She is compelled to waltz right up to him and tell him that he looks “like a Disney prince.“

Nothing comes of that meet cute, but several months later Rory and Adelaide match on a dating app, something she has been using for casual hook ups. She figures that this night will be no different from the string of other nights she’s recently had. It turns out though that meeting Rory again upends her world.

Genevieve Wheeler’s debut Adelaide tracks the titular character’s time in London where she is first finishing her Master’s and then working. Their first date and first kiss lights a fire inside Adelaide and “in her memory, standing on that street corner, the sky was bright. Birds chirping, clouds parted, sun shining. It’s painfully clichéd, but darkness didn’t exist here, not in this little universe Adelaide entered when she first kissed Rory Hughes.”

At twenty-six, Adelaide is navigating young adulthood. She has her roomies, Celeste and Madison, and her stateside best friend, Eloise. Rory, perfect Rory, is – she is sure – her soul mate. Except, you know, he’s not. He’s got a lot of baggage and it turns out he’s not the best boyfriend. It’s one of those “all that glitters is not gold” situations; when he’s with her, it’s impossible not to feel the heady thrall, but he often disappears or breaks plans; he’s emotionally unavailable.

I am not 26, but I sure understood Adelaide. Her relationship with Rory mimicked many of my own twenty-something relationships which required a lot of work on my behalf, a lot of subjugating my own feelings in service to others, mostly because I was always choosing the wrong others. Adelaide’s fumbling wasn’t frustrating to me; it was relatable.

This is a book about loving someone else fiercely, but ultimately learning that the person most deserving of that sort of care and attention is actually yourself.

Loved it.

Kate Reed Petty’s debut True Story is the story of a high school junior’s sexual assault in the back of a car. Drunk at a party, Alice Lovett is driven home by two lacrosse players, Max and Richard, and the details of the assault spread throughout their town, destroying several lives in the process.

When the novel opens Alice is living in Barcelona and working as a ghost writer. Someone has asked her to tell the story of what happened all those years ago, but Alice is reluctant to even talk to this person.

The truth is I was embarrassed. You’ve always been the one who was brave – no, the one who was sure. You’ve always been so sure of the story you want me to tell. the story you’ve been asking me for since we were seventeen: the story about the things that happened while I was asleep.

Now, Alice hopes this person will accept the version of the story she is prepared to give.

Petty employs a variety of different formats to tell this story. There are movie scripts, college application drafts (complete with teacher feedback); there’s an account from Nick Brothers, a member of the same lacrosse team who was there when Max and Richard came back to the Denny’s and bragged about what they had done to Alice in the backseat of the car; there’s a whole series of email messages from Alice to Haley (the friend who has been encouraging Alice to tell her story); there’s the transcript of an interview Alice is trying to spin into a book for a client. There is nothing necessarily linear about the narrative and it doesn’t matter one bit.

I couldn’t put this book down.

But besides being a page turner, True Story definitely has something to say about rape culture and the way women’s stories are told. I found Alice’s college application essays a perfect example of this. She is trying to write about something that has had an impact on her life (the assault) and she attempts to get there through several drafts, before eventually landing on a benign story about shoes. Society has made it almost impossible for women to tell their own stories and you barely even know that it is happening.

True Story is a horror story, a mystery, a revenge story: it’s well-written and fast-paced and thoughtful and I highly recommend it.

In an effort to do something about my toppling Mount Doom of backlist books, I am going to read one for every newer release I read. Not sure it will help, but maybe I will luck out and the majority of books languishing on my shelves will be as good as Sweet Dream Baby by Sterling Watson.

In this book, 12-year-old Travis Hollister is sent to Widow Rock, Florida to live with his paternal grandparents and 16-year-old aunt, Delia. It is 1958 and Travis’s father can’t cope. Travis’s mother is convalescing because, as Travis explains, “One day, I came home from school and found Mom curled up under the kitchen sink.” This will be the break everyone needs.

Travis’s grandparents are two sides of a coin: his grandmother is an effusive women, given to retreating to her room with headaches; his grandfather, the town sheriff, is a hard man who demands respect. The real surprise for Travis is his father’s much younger sister, Delia, whose smile “is like a sunrise over the wheat fields back in Omaha.”

Delia takes Travis everywhere and Travis is soon privy to things he doesn’t really understand. Ultimately, it makes this novel more than just the story of one boy’s coming of age. I blame Delia. Delia’s super power is her ability to wrap people, particularly men, around her little finger.

When Travis first meets Delia, he can see the effect she has on her father after she speeds into the garage, music blaring.

Grandpa Hollister’s eyes change. They look like I never expected them to. They say he doesn’t care about the loud radio or the reckless driving. Nobody’s gonna get arrested. They say he can’t do nothing about how he feels right now. Nothing at all.

It seems that every male who comes into Delia’s orbit, from Princeton-bound Bick Sifford, to the the local James Dean wannabe Kenny Griner, wants something from Delia. And soon, Travis wants something from her, too.

Sweet Dream Baby captures the innocence of youth, and the sharp tang of sexual longing and sets it all to the soundtrack of the music of the period. The book doesn’t go where you expect it to and ends up being quite a bit darker, too.

I loved every second of it.

You don’t know me, but you’ll have seen my face.

At just fifteen, Lex Gracie escapes her family home on Moor Woods Road, flags down a car and thus rescues her siblings from what is soon dubbed by the press as the “House of Horrors”. She is named Girl A to keep her identity secret from the world. Her siblings, Ethan, Evie, Gabriel, Delilah and Noah, are similarly named.

Now, years later, Lex, a lawyer based in NYC, is off to the prison where her mother has just died. Lex has been named executor of the estate, which is comprised of the house and a little bit of money. Lex feels the right thing to do is to build a community centre where the house stands, but in order to do that she needs her siblings to sign off. Abigail Dean’s accomplished debut Girl A traces Lex’s journey through the trauma of her past as she locates and visits with her siblings in an effort to secure their signatures.

Wisely, Dean chooses to leave much of what happens in the house to the reader’s imagination. It’s more than enough, trust me.

Sometimes, in my head, I visit our little room. There were two single beds, pressed into opposite corners, as far away from each other as they could be. My bed and Evie’s bed. A bare bulb hung between them and twitched at footsteps in the hallway outside. It was usually dull. but sometimes, if Father decided, it was left on for days. He had sealed a flattened cardboard box against the window, intending to control time, but a dim, brown light seeped through and granted us our days and nights.

The disintegration of the Gracie family doesn’t happen all at once, although the father, Charlie, is definitely volatile. As he becomes more and more evangelical – even going so far as to start his own church – he becomes more rigid and violent. Lex and Evie finds solace in a hidden book of Greek myths and school is a safe place until Charlie forbids them to go. Lex’s mother shrinks into the background, often disappearing for days into her bedroom to care for the newest baby.

Lex unspools the story of her childhood as she visits with each of her siblings, all adopted into different families after the rescue. Thus, this is a story about the aftermath of trauma as much as it is about the trauma itself. What becomes of these children makes for compelling reading.

Highly recommended.