There’s magic at work in this new batch of books

There is magic at work in this week’s batch of new books. Not just the old literary sorcery by which words summon worlds for readers, but also literal, honest-to-goodness magic: angels, conjurers, otherworldly attractions and dances of mysterious power.

Don’t mistake these phenomena for miracles, though. In American history, as in war fiction, short stories or sumptuous slow burns, this brush with the supernatural tends to bear a price — and I don’t just mean the one on the back cover.

Angel Down, by Daniel Kraus

Never one to shy away from an ambitious premise, Kraus has studded his back catalog with audacious opening gambits. On his dust jackets, you’ll find themes like resurrection, teddy-bear sentience, merman romance — even, in 2023’s Whalefall, a desperate escape from the belly of a sperm whale. Now the novelist has embarked on another great leap of plot, using just one very long sentence to lend momentum and immediacy to his gory tale of World War I soldiers who find a fallen angel among the bodies littering No Man’s Land

Beasts of Carnaval, by Rosália Rodrigo

Seriously, folks, please beware of the isle of hedonistic delights already. We’ve heard enough public service announcements — from luminaries like Homer to Zoë Kravitz — that even the most innocuous paradise ought to elicit a raised eyebrow by now. At least Sofía, the character leading Rodrigo’s debut novel, doesn’t need those kinds of warnings — her brother went missing on Isla Bestia years ago, and the enchanting Caribbean island holds dangers that invoke the region’s real-life colonial past. But expecting is one thing, experiencing is another, and after all, how bad can those lavish — and only a little creepy — parties really be? Partaking in just one or two of the isle’s delights surely couldn’t hurt … could it?

The Conjuring of America: Mojos, Mermaids, Medicine and 400 Years of Black Women’s Magic, by Lindsey Stewart

A philosopher and professor at the University of Memphis, Stewart brings scholarly rigor and literary sensibility to a lesser-known part of American history: the role played by conjure women, matriarchal figures of magic and healing, in Black history and American culture writ large. Stewart traces the influence of the concept, and the Black women who experienced it, along branching paths through seemingly distant — yet surprisingly linked — historical landmarks, such as the Civil Rights Movement, VooDoo and even Vicks VapoRub.

An Oral History of Atlantis, by Ed Park

Although this is his first short-story collection, Park told Lit Hub that the stories were actually written over a span of about 25 years. No surprise, then, that readers of his previous two novels will recognize the same playful wit and eclectic, occasionally challenging style that animate his two novels, including the 2024 Pulitzer Prize finalist Same Bed Different Dreams. But unlike that book, which pulls from Korea’s past for a grandly wrought alternative history, the stories in Atlantis live squarely in our own absurd present, a workaday wonderland where lives can be told in sleep-medication side effects and Internet login passwords.

The Dance and the Fire, by Daniel Saldaña París, translated by Christina MacSweeney

Set in Cuernavaca, Mexico, and split between three 30-somethings with a complicated past, this triptych of a novel takes its title literally. There is indeed a cluster of wildfires casting an ominous pall over the city, and there’s also a dance, dreamed up by one character who is a choreographer. But don’t expect things to stay straightforward. Some unexpected, borderline surreal turns await in this one, which was first published in Spanish in 2021 and brought into English by a translator who has worked with Paris’ previous novels.