10 books you should read in September, including Stephen King's Fairy Tale and Alex Ross' Fantastic Four: Full Circle

Stephen King’s latest is not horror but “dark fantasy,” and it’s just as full of magic, adventure, and the temptations of treasure as the title implies. High schooler Charlie Reade, narrator and protagonist, feels he owes the universe after his alcoholic dad finally gives up booze. Repaying that cosmic debt—by helping a mysterious neighbor who, it turns out, has a doorway to another world—sets Charlie on a quest to save his beloved dog and defeat evil in a cursed land. In Fairy Tale, King takes tropes and twists them, making for a highly entertaining read as Charlie fights to find his way home and earn his happily ever after.

Yes, that Stacey Abrams. Before she was a world-famous voting rights activist and candidate for governor, and even before she was a state rep, Stacey Abrams was a tax attorney who wrote fiction on the side under the pen name Selena Montgomery. Rules Of Engagement is her first full-length book, a story of international espionage shot through with relatively chaste romance. Feisty Dr. Raleigh Foster, chemist, spy, and virgin, is recruited by the International Security Agency straight out of school. She must resist her intense physical attraction to Atlanta billionaire and former secret agent Adam Grayson so they can carry out a mission of global import: Stop terrorists from acquiring a new weapons system. She’s also got her own plans to avenge the death of her mentor. But can she trust Adam—and can he trust her? The tension of the will-they/won’t-they dynamic amounts to literary edging. First published in 2001, this reissue from Berkley Books includes a charming new foreword from Abrams.

Betty Gilpin, star of GLOW and (and the upcoming series Three Women and Mrs. Davis), speaks her own creative language in this collection of thoughtful and often comic musings on identity, nonconformity, and what it means to make a living by pretending to be other people. Gilpin imagines her mind as populated by a gaggle of “brainwomen” (including Joni McLamb, the tender-hearted caretaker; Crags Garafalo, the thick-skinned tough; and Ingrid St. Rash, who is all about festering insecurities), an Inside Out-esque approach to navigating life and understanding herself. It’s not a traditional “actor memoir,” but Gilpin has plenty of wry advice for aspiring actresses (“Wear a lot of makeup to apologize for having an alive face”). After nearly a decade of scraping together work, the decision to show her breasts for a recurring role on an acclaimed TV series was purposive—a necessary “toll” to be paid to reach the next level. She wrestles with self-doubt and self-hate and, sometimes, self-love. Take the time to decode her metaphor-rich parlance and unique terminology, and you’ll find she has much to say.

The original superhero squad is back in this new iteration of an early Stan Lee/Jack Kirby storyline. Journeying through dimensional portals into subspace and the psychedelic Negative Zone, Marvel’s first family confronts an old foe—one who isn’t what he seems—in this fast-paced tale undergirded by wholesome humor and gorgeous art. Alex Ross, well known for his work as a comics artist, takes on writing duties here as well—his first foray into long-form written storytelling. Full Circle is also the first offering from Marvel Arts, a promising collab between Abrams ComicArts and Marvel Comics. If ’s brief turn in Multiverse Of Madness whet your appetite for the Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase Four Fantastic Four film, this 8.5-by-11-inch, full-color 64-pager may be just the thing to tide you over. Here’s to hoping the movie will be anywhere near as good as Ross’ graphic novel.

Angie Cruz’s latest novel blazes with brilliance, from its first-person character development to its structure to its deliciously slow reveals. Cara Romero fled the Dominican Republic with her baby to escape a violent partner, settled in Washington Heights, and became the heart of her community. After losing her factory job in the Great Recession, she must now attend mandatory job counseling sessions; it’s through these meetings we get to know the inimitable Cara, her story unfolding episodically, not unlike the juicy telenovelas she enjoys. But beneath the surface of her confident personality run deep concerns about losing everything she’s worked for—her longtime apartment in a gentrifying neighborhood, the ability to support herself as an immigrant with no insurance or green card, the love of her family and estranged son. Despite her flaws, or maybe because of them, you can’t help but root for Cara.

Veteran war correspondent Luke Mogelson builds on his reporting as a contributing writer for The New Yorker (and to a lesser extent The New York Times Magazine) for this outstanding look at the growing loss of faith in democracy in America. The broad strokes of January 6 are known (white fear and rage fomented by a power-hungry president) but the details are remarkable. Mogelson was not only on the scene in the Capitol that day—“scene after scene of iconic, venerable settings transformed into circus rings of demented abandon”—but also at protests across the country and across the political spectrum in the months leading up to the attempted insurrection, often running into the same people. His man-on-the-ground, mostly primary-source journalism, with stacks of sources and reference books to inform historical context, provides a clear-eyed and chilling view. It’s the kind of book people will correctly label “important” for a long time, a must-read.

Kate Beaton’s first book-length work of nonfiction, Ducks is a moving graphic novel memoir and a big, bold departure from Hark! A Vagrant, the sharply funny webcomic for which she’s most well known. In 2005, 21-year-old Beaton graduated with two degrees, an ambition to work in the arts, and massive student loan debt. Unable to find a job in her field, she leaves her tiny hometown in eastern Canada for work far across the country in the camps of the oil-mining industry. The work is cold, remote, and dominated by men without sensitivity training. The difficult conditions begin to erode Beaton’s sense of self, leaving her to wonder if the camps permanently change people. There is next to nothing in the way of support. It’s a place where innocent creatures can get trapped in toxic sludge—like the hundreds of ducks killed after landing in the polluted wastewater tailing ponds. Inside this dreary situation, she somehow finds humanity and even humor. It took Beaton about two years in the oil sands to pay down her loans; processing the experience took longer.

Booker Prize winner Ian McEwan is back with the kind of sweeping epic novel to which rightly attaches the word “ambitious.” In focus, forward and back across more than 70 years, is the life of Roland Baines, a British pianist, tennis player, and poet manqué. Though dissatisfied with his lot, he’s a dedicated father after his wife abandons him to pursue her own literary dreams. Much earlier, at the age of 11, Roland had been sent to boarding school outside London. Alone, vulnerable, and a gifted musician, he soon becomes a target for the piano teacher’s lust and obsession; his ongoing reckoning with that imbalanced affair, years after its end, fuels the narrative engine, as world events, from Chernobyl to Enron to COVID-19, play out in the background.

Novelist Namwali Serpell follows her spectacular sci-fi/historical fiction The Old Drift with an undulating, enthralling tale of death and rebirth—the rebirth, that is, of those who survive a loved one. After 7-year-old Wayne disappears without a trace while out with his older sister Cassandra, she, her mother, and father all emerge differently wounded into their new, Wayne-less world: Cassandra knows her brother must be dead but isn’t believed; her mother insists he’s alive, forming a foundation to support families of missing children, and her father is caught in the middle. As they stumble forward, the past is a shadow that never dissipates in the sun. An unexpected perspective and plot twist near the halfway point reinvigorate the story with fresh tension and direction, with Serpell utterly unafraid to fuse and forge genres, turning up the levels of suspense, mystery, and even romance.

The title of professor and New Yorker writer Hua Hsu’s affecting memoir comes from a sign-off he and his friend Ken used in emails and letters, a way to say goodbye that arose from an inside joke. Sincere, funny, wistful—the phrase “stay true” reflects the tone of the book and also its goal: to honestly remember a lost friend. The two met as freshmen at Berkeley in the late 1990s, a time when teenage Hsu was building his identity, seeking connections over the bands he loved and the zine he published. They bond over smoking, thrifting, late-night drives around the Bay with mixtapes booming. Then, the summer before their senior year, Ken is killed in a carjacking, his death devastating Hsu and their tight-knit circle of friends. Grappling with the loss reshapes Hsu, changes him, as he deals with grief and guilt and the desperate need to never forget the sound of his friend’s laughter—to stay true to him.