Debut author Reyes offers a fictionalized account of how religions began during the Upper Paleolithic era.

In 40,000 B.C.E., Og is the oldest member of his tribe. Worried that he’s not agile enough to join hunts, he uses his experience to his advantage. For instance, he knows that an impending storm will pass on its own, but tells younger, anxious tribal members that the spirits must be appeased. Og does this with a made-up ritual, after which he becomes a much-respected priest. He also uses it to benefit the tribe; his accounts of a benevolent hunter spirit seemingly boost his people’s confidence in hunts. At first, Og’s greatest concern is Chief Olo, who fears that the priest will seize control. Then neighboring villages launch raids, apparently seething about the fact that Olo’s people are “better off.” The tribe goes on the offensive, inspired by spirits such as Ra, the war spirit (another of Og’s fabrications). As years pass, Og’s growing family comprises warriors and warrior-priests. His oldest son, Tor, discovers a village of people who are unlike any he’s ever seen before—less hairy, and with more advanced weaponry. His fascination with them soon turns into an alliance, and the tribes confront an aggressive enemy together. Reyes takes a somewhat cynical view of religion in this work, as Og believes in nothing he preaches. However, the author also makes sure that Og never uses stories of spirits maliciously, as he’s often striving to motivate or encourage others with them. He also effectively details the results of faith; for instance, Tor, who knows that religion stems from his father’s imagination, believes the afterlife is a possibility. The novel later shifts focus to inner turmoil within Og’s tribe and their befriending the village of “strangers.” Although the origin of religions oddly takes a back seat later on, Reyes adds some notable plot turns; for example, Og advocates for female warriors, as his granddaughter, Mina, grows into a powerful fighter. Although this book is short, the author’s simple but descriptive prose keeps it moving along.

A succinct but enthralling tale of progressive early humans.

A debut account of a remarkable young woman’s battle against leukemia, as told by her mother.

In 1981, Jada Petersen was a “willful fiery child” at the age of 12, so when she began noticing distracting pains and bruises, she initially thought little of them, hoping instead to continue with her many activities, including figure skating. But her visits to the doctor became more frequent, and she was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. The narrative, told in reminiscence by Jada’s mother, Santino, with names changed, follows the family as they faced the challenges of helping the young girl navigate rapidly shifting circumstances, including a slow loss of mobility. As the 1980s wore on, Jada learned to adjust, and briefly, it appeared that she had recovered; when the cancer returned, the author delves into the reactions of family members. Readers get a more complete portrait of Jada at 16, replete with letters drawn from the author’s memory. Elsewhere, however, the memoir sometimes tests its audience’s patience. Its meticulous detail has a tendency to slow the story down, as do the scant chapter breaks. The large number of family members’ and friends’ names becomes distracting, as well. Santino’s discussion of her relationship with her husband, and their ongoing struggles, serves as a functional counternarrative to Jada’s, though their concerns are often less compelling than their daughter’s tale. However, for readers who’ve gone through similar experiences, Santino’s narrative will be inspiring and provide comfort that they’re not alone in their struggles. Ultimately, as the work reaches its heart-rending conclusion, Jada’s courage will leave a lasting impression.

An often moving remembrance of health struggles that’s hampered by excessive length.