Rosa Carr’s “Air Fay” tells the story of Aria, who finds herself transported to the world of Fairy without any memory of who she is or where she came from. Encountering Laredo, another Fairy with secrets of his own, she learns more about the world and begins to uncover secrets of her past and her destiny. Carr crafts a detailed world of Fae that can exist parallel to our own human world, though the writing is occasionally wooden and the conflicts occasionally feel forced to achieve a plot goal rather than the actions of well-rounded characters. Specifically, Laredo’s sullen moods read as clichéd efforts to create conflict or remove him from the story for ease of plot and his big secret is all-too-obvious for following well-worn tropes. Despite these weaknesses, Carr’s writing shines in the third act when her characters reach their central conflict. The action and world-building reads as much more believable while the characters’ actions feel natural. “Air Fay” will entertain middle readers who enjoy fantasy and is likely to find an audience among those looking for something new at the library.

James Sturm and Joe Sutphin’s adaptation of Richard Adams’ “Watership Down.” The story faithfully retells the tale of a group of rabbits who seek a new home following the destruction of their warren, encountering other creatures, rabbits from different warrens, and elements of the human world that take on monstrous forms in the minds of the rabbits. The rabbits have their own mythology, though the allegory of their adventures was inspired by Adams’ experiences in the Battle of Arnhem in 1944. Sturm and Sutphin’s adaptation uses the graphic medium to visually capture the scale of the rabbits’ world as well as their emotions. Their adaptation will serve as a nice introduction to new readers or a supplementary volume for teachers incorporating “Watership Down” into their classroom syllabi.

James Tynion IV’s “The Sandman Universe: Nightmare Country – The Glass House” collects the first six issues of the “Sandman” spin-off comic as well as “The Sandman Universe Special: Thessaly” #1 featuring art by Lisandro Estherren, Patricio Delpeche, and Maria Llovet, colors by Delpeche and Llovet, letters by Simon Bowland, and covers by Reiko Murakami. In the story, the new Corinthian and the cat that was Madison Flynn investigate the Prophet organization and its connections to a new club, The King of Pain. The angel Moroni continues to work to spread the life story of Madison in order to attain new power while the owner of The King of Pain, Azazel, seeks to tempt the Corinthian to embrace his old ways. Drawn into the investigation, Thessaly finds herself an unlikely ally of Lucien, Madison, and the Corinthian, though she remains at odds with the Dream King. The story reveals that all of these occurrances connect to the larger conflict between Dream and Desire, with Desire launching their plan back during the events of “Three Septembers and a January” from “The Sandman” #31. These additions to the Sandman Universe continue to expand the world beyond Neil Gaiman’s original epic, though Dream only makes minor appearances so as to leave his narrative largely intact should Gaiman return at a later date. Tynion ably adds to the larger meta-narrative than began in the 1990s with various “Sandman” spin-offs. This second volume resolves much of a story points from the first volume, though it leaves the door open to continue exploring Desire’s plans. The ending may strike some readers as abrupt, however. Hopefully the larger narrative of Dream and Desire continues to play out in future volumes.

Literally the worst book. The plot was all over the place with spelling and grammar issues throughout.

In Gene Luen Yang’s “Saints,” the second volume of his “Boxers & Saints,” he parallels the first story by focusing on the fourth daughter of a family who desperately seeks her family’s approval and love. Dubbed “Four Girl,” she believes herself to be a devil and contorts her face accordingly in public. Her family takes her to an acupuncturist where she first becomes aware of Christianity, eventually converting and taking the name Vibiana. Her work in the church shows her a different side of the changes occurring in China as a result of colonial interests. They bring her into conflict with Bao’s group. Yang ends this volume with an epilogue for both. Like the previous volume, he uses magical realism to show how the Boxer Rebellion was a clash between belief systems and how easily a movement can become subject to its most extreme members. “Saints” is a great introduction to the topic for newcomers and Yang includes a guide to further reading in the back, though it should be read alongside its companion book, “Boxers”.

In “The Vice President’s Black Wife: The Untold Life of Julia Chinn,” Dr. Amrita Chakrabarti Myers argues, “Lying at the crossroads of race, sex, and politics, Julia’s life illuminates how some Black women in the Old South utilized interracial partnerships to negotiate and acquire a modicum of power for themselves and their families while simultaneously highlighting the clear limits of that power: the farther away the Johnson women moved from home and their networks of privilege, the less authority they had” (p. 1). Dr. Myers thoroughly researches Julia Chinn’s family from the historical record, including what personal correspondence survive as well as contemporary letters and newspaper coverage, while also incorporating later popular historiography and family histories to contextualize Julia Chinn’s legacy. Acknowledging the gaps in the historical record, Dr. Myers acknowledges that “to reconstruct the lives of enslaved women, to write Black women back into the historical narrative,” she “must use materials created by white folks, white men, who never intended for their documents to highlight Black women’s voices” (p. 7). Dr. Myers argues, “Although sexual unions in the Old South between white slave owners and Black enslaved women were common, these ‘relationships’ were always complicated affairs, where enslaved women had limited options, none of which were good, and little choice in the matter because of the intersection of slavery, racism, and patriarchy” (p. 35). Julia Chinn’s narrative, then, should not be read as one of romance as there always existed a power imbalance between her and Richard Johnson while the society in which they lived inscribed its own rules on all relationships. As Dr. Myers notes, “The Johnsons’ relationship was…never a love story. Richard was always a slaveholder. Julia was always his property” (p. 85). Despite these constraints, Dr. Myers argues, “This was Julia Chinn’s main mission. Like Black mothers well before her and those who would come long after, every step she took was carefully planned so her descendants would rise up higher, and go much further, than she herself ever would” (p. 55). When Richard Johnson opened the Choctaw Academy on his property for Native American children, it revealed the complicated racial hierarchy that shaped the lives of white settlers, enslaved and free Black people, and Native Americans. Dr. Myers argues that the episode reveals “how settler colonialism and white supremacy warps everyone” (p. 88). Similarly, the liminal semi-public space of the church afforded another realm in which Julia Chinn and her daughters might enjoy an elevated position due to class within the confines of race due to the church’s place outside of civil governance (p. 91-115). Though most modern national histories may offer only a brief discussion of Richard Johnson’s political career, Dr. Myers reveals how his relationships played a critical role in shaping that career in his own time. She examines contemporary newspaper coverage and argues, “Having sex with a Black woman and fathering children of color hasn’t prevented other white men from running for political office in the United States… The problem for Richard, however, was that he… was open about his relationship with Julia. He never married a white woman for cover” (p. 132). Going public nearly derailed his national political ambitions. As it was, Johnson became the first – and only – Vice President elected under the Twelfth Amendment (p. 157-158). Even then, he could not secure a second term as Vice President. In death, his brothers sought to disavow his and Julia’s union as well as their children (p. 169). As a result, “National attitudes toward Blackness, slavery, and interracial sex all played a role in erasing Julia Chinn and her daughters, Imogene Johnson Pence and Adaline Johnson Scott, from US history textbooks as well as from the memories of their own families” (p. 189-190). Their descendants crossed the color line, though some retained an inkling of their family’s history. Dr. Myers’ book reveals the critical intersection of race and gender in U.S. history with a focus on local, state, and national politics. Julia Chinn’s connection to a Vice President of the United States makes this history all the more important as Johnson and Chinn’s connection was known in their own time, but has since faded into the mists of history. The Vice President’s Black Wife reveals the complicated narrative of U.S. history while recovering the story of a forgotten figure who helped shape that history. This book is critical reading for any historian of nineteenth-century America.

Erik Larson’s “The Demon of Unrest: A Saga of Hubris, Heartbreak, and Heroism at the Dawn of the Civil War” chronicles the last months of the Buchanan Administration and the growing threat of Civil War as South Carolina seceded from the Union and demanded the forfeiture of Fort Sumter. Despite all the bluster of various Southern officials, Larson argues that every contemporary knew slavery to be the true cause of the posturing and eventual conflict. He writes, “…For all the South’s efforts to blame the crisis on Northern tyranny in imposing tariffs, collecting revenue, and ordaining ‘internal improvements,’ the crux of the crisis was in fact slavery. This was obvious to all at the time, if not to members of a certain school of twentieth-century historiography who sought to cast the conflict in the bloodless terms of states’ rights” (p. 274). Further, other contemporaries similarly understood that any mention of other causes was merely a disguise for slavery’s place in the body politic as “a cancer whose inner damage was masked by the victim’s outward appearance of health” (p. 345). Larson employs his research background to dramatize historical events, alternating between different principals in the federal government as well as the southern states and even diarists and newspaper writers. Many soldiers left records behind so that Larson can share their insights and actions as well as those of the political leaders. He uses honor culture as his insight into the Southern mindset, with his work demonstrating the influence of Gerald Linderman’s “Embattled Courage: The Experience of Combat in the American Civil War” or Bertram Wyatt-Brown’s earlier text, “Southern Honor: Ethics and Behavior in the Old South.” The code duello further punctuates each section, helping to frame the conflict as a duel of sorts. Despite this framing device, Larson reminds readers that the conflict held deeper meaning as to the nation’s character. As an example, Abner Doubleday, part of the United States defense at Sumter, viewed the battle over the fort as a fight “for the survival of the United States. ‘The only alternative was to submit to a powerful oligarchy who were determined to make freedom forever subordinate to slavery’” (p. 429). Larson concludes, “Here lay the greatest of ironies: In thirty-four hours of some of the fiercest bombardment the world had ever seen, no one was killed or even seriously injured, yet this bloodless attack would trigger a war that killed more Americans than any other conflict in the country’s history” (p. 463). Amid our currently rising political tensions, Larson’s work finds an readership yearning to understand how a civil war begins. Readers should be wary of mapping sectional boundaries onto current events, but may look to Doubleday’s comments to draw comparisons to the class-based masculine posturing that inspires much of contemporary political furores.

Gene Luen Yang’s “Boxers,” the first volume of his “Boxers & Saints,” tells the story of Little Bao from Shan-tung at the end of the 19th century and beginning of the 20th. He sees missionaries from Europe disrespect his people’s ways, destroying their local god and encouraging them to adopt Christianity with the threat of violence. Having grown up on operas about his people’s history and legends, Bao loved his culture and viewed the local god as a familiar, comforting presence. Feeling adrift and lost following floods, Bao learns kung-fu from a traveling merchant and channels his energy to help others. He begins to lead a movement across the country against Europeans and missionaries, initially sparing local Chinese that had converted to the new religion. With time, Bao and his followers become more fanatical and kill even those who follow the missionaries’ teachings, eventually burning down Hanlin Academy library in order to clear a path to the foreigners’ compound. Yang uses magical realism to show how the Boxer Rebellion was a clash between belief systems and how easily a movement can become subject to its most extreme members. He similarly demonstrates the plurality of Chinese culture at the time through the Kansu Braves, a Chinese Muslim group that was loyal to the Qing. “Boxers” is a great introduction to the topic for newcomers and Yang includes a guide to further reading in the back.

Paul Jenkins’ “Wolverine: Origin” collects issues #1-6 of the comic of the same name written by Bill Jemas and Joe Quesada with pencils by Andy Kubert, digital paint by Richard Isanove, and letters by John Roshell, Wes Abbott, Oscar Gongorra, and Saida Temofonte. Prior to publication, bits and pieces of Wolverine’s history had been revealed in Chris Claremont’s tenure on “Uncanny X-Men” and beyond, with Weapon X, Department H, Logan’s time in Japan, and some adventures in World War II being the most well-known. Jenkins, Jemas, and Quesada take Wolverine all the way back to the beginning, revealing that he was born James Howlett, the son of a wealthy Canadian family in early-nineteenth-century Albert. His family haunted by tragedy, James’ powers awaken the night his family dies with his claws appearing and his wounds healing quicker than normal in the following days. Taking the name Logan as he flees with his companion, a redhaired Irish girl named Rose, Jenkins, Jemas, and Quesada imply that his memory issues partly result from the early trauma of his powers manifesting in addition to whatever Weapon X and Department H did decades later. In addition to his powers and the name of Logan, his experiences on the run with Rose also gives him his nom de guerre of Wolverine as he digs in the mountains and mines of British Columbia’s northern frontier (part V). The story ends with more questions than answers, but it was bold in exploring Wolverine’s earliest years when previous writers had embraced the ambiguity of his past, casting him in a similar mold to the Man with No Name from Sergio Leone’s Dollars Trilogy. The success of this story coupled with Wolverine’s continuing popularity led to a spin-off, “Origin II,” and an ongoing series, “Wolverine: Origins.” The story itself is well-crafted and Kuberts pencils with Isanove’s colors perfectly evoke nineteenth-century images like those that accompanied Mark Twain’s writing, Mathew Brady’s photography, or the images in Harper’s Weekly. “Origin” is essential reading for any Wolverine fan and elements of the story even made it into the opening sequence of Gavin Hood’s 2009 film, “X-Men: Origins – Wolverine.” This edition also includes afterwords by Jenkins, Jemas, and Quesada, story and scripting discussions, and art breakdowns by Isanove.

David Stabler’s “What Is the Story of Captain Picard?” explores the fictional biography of the captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701-D as well as the making of “Star Trek: The Next Generation” and its place in the “Star Trek” franchise, past and future. Stabler notes how Gene Roddenberry and the “TNG” writers chose Picard’s name in honor of brothers Jean Felix and Auguste Piccard, Swiss chemists and balloonists, while basing Picard’s personality on C.S. Forester’s Horatio Hornblower. He explores the development of the other main characters on “TNG,” notable adversaries, and some of Picard’s greatest adventures. Pointing the way forward, Stabler discusses the character’s legacy and how it influenced spin-off series “Star Trek: Picard” in 2020, the second season of which was in production at the time Stabler wrote. He concludes, “Today, it is impossible to imagine ‘Star Trek’ without Picard” (p. 106). This book will appeal to young Trekkers looking for a convenient reference work as they learn more about “Star Trek” or to parents who want to introduce their children to the franchise. It also nicely compliments the non-fiction biographies in this series and would go well alongside books on science and aviation pioneers like “Who Were the Tuskegee Airmen?”, “Who Was Neil Armstrong?”, “Who Was Jacques Cousteau?”, “Who Were The Wright Brothers?”, and “Who Was Galileo?” or titles focused on entertainers like “Who Was Chuck Jones?”, “Who Was Lucille Ball?”, “Who Is Stan Lee?”, and “Who Is George Lucas?”. Another book in the “What Is the Story” series focuses on Captain Kirk.