Agrippa by Robert Harris

Published by Doubleday on September 1, 2026

Fiction that adheres closely to history is a fun way to learn about the past. Agrippa is consistent with my sketchy understanding of ancient history, making it both a useful refresher and a source of new knowledge. The story indulges in a bit of speculation about events of the past, but even that is grounded in the educated guesswork of scholarship.

The book purports to be a memoir penned by Marcus Agrippa as he nears his death from a festering wound. Agrippa’s mother died giving birth to him. Raised by his father in Rome, Agrippa was befriended at school by a weak boy named Octavius after Agrippa protected him from bullies. Agrippa discovers that Octavius is the nephew of Julius Caeser, “the mighty conqueror of Gaul.” For the rest of his life, Agrippa will be a loyal friend to, and living in the shadow of, Octavius.

Familiar names litter the text, including Cicero, Cleopatra, and Mark Antony, but this story belongs to Agrippa. Still, I could not help but compare Caeser to a current but less successful wannabe dictator when Agrippa explains that “the Senate enacted a law declaring [Caeser] a god," a law Caeser celebrates with gold statutes, including one of Cleopatra in the Temple of Venus. I guess self-veneration and a love of gold are common to authoritarian rulers. It was nevertheless heartening to read that the failure of sycophants to warn Caeser of his declining popularity is “how power destroys itself.”

Agrippa and Octavius “grew to maturity together, the years passing to the distant drumbeat of Caesar’s victories.” Although Agrippa’s father is no fan of Caeser, he encourages Agrippa to ask Octavius for a favor. Agrippa’s brother Lucius served in the Republican Army and was taken prisoner in one of Caesar’s endless wars. Agrippa’s father wants Caesar to show mercy to Lucius, a request that Caesar unexpectedly grants. Yet Agrippa breaks with his father because of his admiration for Caesar and devotion to Octavius. Agrippa promises Caeser that he will protect Octavius, whose frailty prevents him from being the warrior that Agrippa is destined to become.

The first significant event in Agrippa’s life is the death of Julius Caeser on the Ides of March. Octavius inherits three quarters of Caeser’s estate but accepting that inheritance means Octavius can never rest. If he does not continue to acquire power, his rivals will catch up with him and put him to death — and Agrippa with him.

Octavius embarks on a plan to become a ruler to rival Julius. Octavius is a cunning politician who uses Agrippa’s military skill to help him assemble the legions he needs to conquer his rivals. The story speeds through a number of Agrippa’s military campaigns, often waged with soldiers who were loyal to Caeser, soldiers eager to avenge his death.

Marc Antony is Octavius’ most dangerous rival, particularly after he gains control of the state treasury. The novel highlights Agrippa’s role in military battles against Antony’s legions, as well as Octavius’ political machinations. I thought it was particularly interesting that soldiers often followed the leader who paid them the most money rather than the leader they thought would be best for the Roman Empire. Robert Harris also makes clear that the citizens of Rome are tired of endless wars and of the leaders who wage them — not that Octavius cares about their concerns.

Harris details the political machinations of Octavius and his advisers, the military triumphs of Agrippa, the shifting alliances that bring Marc Antony and his legions into and out of the service of Rome, the formation of the Triumvirate that will rule the Empire, and the harm caused to Antony’s reputation by his dalliance with Cleopatra. The accomplishments that give Agrippa the greatest pride are not military conquests but civic improvements, from public baths that give the public a chance to relax to aqueducts that deliver fresh water to various parts of Gaul. Octavius, on the other hand, thinks the public would benefit from more statues of Octavius. That’s apparently how authoritarian leaders think, then and now.

On a more personal note, Agrippa writes about his marriages and divorces, some dictated by Octavius to better cement political alliances between families. Over time, Agrippa becomes Octavius’ greatest general yet comes to resent the credit Octavius takes for Agrippa’s achievements. Near the end of his life, when he realizes that his wife has been serially unfaithful to him and that he will have no legacy of his own, he wonders whether it has all been worth it. The story accordingly has a bittersweet ending.

Harris’ take on ancient history is entertaining, but its greater worth may lie in the lessons Agrippa imparts. The general understands that “wars would not occur unless they were fought by men too young and reckless to understand the risks they are taking.” The populace will always tire of endless war, no matter how righteous the causes appear to be, and will eventually recognize the difference between a righteous war of defense and a war that is waged only to further the ends of the powerful.

Agrippa realizes that the notion of sharing power is nice in theory, but the concept that a leader will “hold power for a limited period, sharing it with others, and then be obliged to surrender it or face prosecution” is “no longer operative” when “force rules all.” That lesson too has relevance to modern America. Backbiters like Cicero — “brilliant and duplicitous and entirely self-interested” — have counterparts in any number of modern politicians. Even the notion of blockading a port to deprive an enemy of resources has its current parallel.

A book based on history (that is not an alternative history) holds few surprises — unless we count Agrippa’s speculation that he is the illegitimate son of Julian Caeser (Harris credits an historian for that theory while acknowledging the absence of strong evidence that it is true). While Agrippa may therefore lack the dramatic tension of strong fiction, it recreates the drama of one of history’s most eventful periods, while adding convincing characterization to one of history’s most important (but lesser known) characters.

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Children of Wolves by Lawrence Osborne

Published by Simon & Schuster/Summit Books on August 25, 2026

Children of Wolves echoes the rhythms of a classic spy novel. The protagonist, Tyler Sedgewick, is not a government agent, but his mundane career as a private investigator for Cyclops Eye has largely involved spying on unfaithful spouses. He prefers international assignments — he traveled to Brazil for an insurance fraud investigation and to Monaco in a case that involved an illegitimate American love child — but his stagnating career has focused on work near Chicago.

Tyler gets his wish for work with international intrigue when James Arthur Knight Jr., a wealthy businessman, asks Cyclops to assign Tyler to find his daughter Chana. “Chana was the fruit of Knight’s marriage to a wealthy Turkish society girl and as a result she had grown up both in Turkey and her father’s country.” Knight believes Chana has traveled to Turkey. He knows that Tyler attended Groton at the same time as David Meltzer, the American consul in Istanbul, and believes that connection might help Tyler find Chana. Tyler barely knew Meltzer but he’s willing to pretend otherwise if the deception scores him an international assignment.

Knight wants Tyler to befriend his daughter and “find out what is making her embrace her own disappearance.” Knight wants information about his daughter but doesn’t seem particularly interested in intervening in her life. He was something of a hands-off father as his troublesome daughter was growing up, having sent her to a therapy boarding school, “one of those places where problem children of the rich go to have some discipline beaten into them and to get out of their drug addictions.” While there, Chana used her trust fund money to buy a dilapidated house so that her friend Adam could burn it down.

The third person narration initially shadows Tyler as he hangs out in Turkey, using his expense money to visit bars and beaches while keeping a half-hearted eye out for Chana. He eventually encounters an American woman named Aylin who is the right age to be Chana. Although he is more than a decade older, Tyler befriends Aylin and her friend Adam.

Another couple, Diane and Marco, have been traveling with Aylin and Adam. Tyler realizes that they are “old friends living an opted-out alternative existence far off the American radar – but with enough private money to make it interesting to themselves.”

Adam is in the business of selling sketchy artwork to Russians. One of his clients was invited to a party that Meltzer will attend. Adam uses that connection to get Tyler back in touch with Meltzer. They hit it off and Tyler eventually gets his four young friends invited to a banquet at which Meltzer will be giving a speech.

All of this is interesting, but it isn’t clear where the story is heading. At the midway point, the narration begins to follow the younger characters. We learn that they share a radical philosophy and firmly believe that an act of violence can change the world. The story leads to that violent act, one that seems to place Tyler in the middle of a conspiracy to commit a political assassination. It appears that the heart of the story will explore the pickle that Tyler is in when a Turkish intelligence officer believes him to be at the center of a crime, but Lawrence Osborne takes the story in a different and less interesting direction.

I enjoyed Children of Wolves despite its shortcomings. I became a quick fan of Osborne’s straightforward prose style: just enough description to create strong characters and a convincing atmosphere without slowing the story’s pace. Osborne creates an admirable sense of intrigue, but I was disappointed that he failed to deliver the dramatic climax that seemed to be the novel’s endpoint. The story follows a couple of secondary characters to their demises but fizzles out as to the central characters. I appreciated Osborne’s effort to avoid a trite or predictable ending, but the ending he settled upon is dissatisfying.

While Osborne took great pains to build credible characterization, he succeeded only with regard to Tyler. I never quite bought into the notion that four rich kids would respond to their parents’ emotional neglect by deciding to become anarchists. And even if all four embraced the same philosophy, I never believed they would convince themselves that a random act of political violence would change the world in a positive way, or that they would put their own lives at risk to make that change. Notwithstanding the novel’s faults, the story’s gripping nature and strong atmosphere sufficed to earn my recommendation.

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God's Country by William Kent Krueger

 Published by Atria on August 18, 2026

Henry Meloux, the wise old Midewiwin who counsels series protagonist Cork O’Conner, is fond of aphorisms like “Every falling leaf comes to rest where it was always meant to be” and ““In every moment, the world becomes a different place.” Cork finds himself in need of aphorisms to understand the duality of his nature. Cork has had such internal struggles before, but I appreciate William Kent Krueger’s effort to instill moral doubt in the mind of his protagonist as opposed to the self-righteous anger that motivates so many thriller heroes.

God’s Country blends a wilderness adventure with a crime story. The action takes place in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness in northern Minnesota. Series fans know that Cork is a former sheriff who closely aligns with the Native American population in that area, including his wife Rainy.

The story begins with Cork’s son, Stephen, and his grandson, Waaboo, sharing a vision of Cork being eaten by a wolf. Cork consults with Henry, his spiritual adviser, to learn the meaning of the vision. As usual, Henry gives Cork a cryptic answer, finally settling on “maybe you are the wolf.”

Cork takes a canoe trip into the boundary waters with two of Cork’s sons and their sons, as well as the former priest Mal Thorne. Cork learns that Cordell Bishop, a guide, was hired to take some white men on a camping trip. Cork worries when he comes across a campsite that hasn’t been returned to pristine condition, as that is something Cordell would never permit. When Cork later finds a dead body, he sends his fellow campers home and takes off in search of Cordell.

Cork eventually discovers that the men are the children of a criminal who hid something of value in the boundary waters. Cordell guided their father years before. They take Cordell hostage and force him to recreate their father’s journey. As Cork follows them with the intent of freeing Cordell, he is taken hostage himself. Murders ensue.

The plot is entertaining and more plausible than those found in the typical modern thriller, but the story is noteworthy for two reasons. The first is William Kent Krueger’s reverent description of the wilderness, including its timeless beauty and its dangers. Wolves make their customary appearance, perhaps in an effort to communicate something to Cork, perhaps because they view him as a potential breakfast.

The second is Cork’s struggle between his desire to believe that the two criminals are capable of redemption and his desire to punish them with death for their crimes. While that struggle leads to extended discussions of religion and philosophy, none are heavy-handed. The story recognizes that few people are wholly good or wholly evil, that evil is not necessarily intrinsic but the product of how we are raised, and that most of us struggle to overcome temptation and allow our better natures to control our behavior.

God’s Country is a perfect fit for lovers of wilderness adventures. The story has enough action to satisfy thriller fans, but its heart lies in Cork’s fight to overcome his own evil desires rather than his fight with the novel’s villains.

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Preaching to the Choir by Adrian Tchaikovsky

Published by Solaris on August 11, 2026

Adrian Tchaikovsky created two earlier series of novellas that fall under the “Terrible Worlds” umbrella. Preaching to the Choir is the first of a three-part “Terrible Worlds: Transformations” series that explore the consequences of change. Each can be read as a standalone.

Preaching to the Choir is an old-fashioned horror story with a modern twist that takes a not-so-subtle shot at British aristocracy (and by extension, oligarchs and tech billionaires). Perhaps inspired by Ursula LeGuin’s “The Ones Who Walk Away” (a story to which the novella refers), this is the story of a gift that requires beneficiaries to make a moral choice. To accept the gift, they must inflict harsh consequences upon others to feed their power.

Elena Mendes is studying medicine at Johns Hopkins. Her boyfriend, Ross Enderbough Junior the Third, invites her to his family reunion in England. The Enderbough family is stinking rich, but they avoid the public limelight. They are the power behind the throne, the advisors and movers who get things done — things that benefit the wealthy — without seeking the kind of political power that might expose them to accountability.

The family is divided into three groups (they dine at separate tables): “old as balls,” middle-aged, and relatively young. They get together for a ritual reunion every 87 years for reasons that Ross and Elena come to understand as the story develops. Outsiders are not invited and the older and middle-aged members of the family are quite distressed that Ross invited Elena to tag along. Before her stay is over, Elena will learn the family’s secret.

The horror lies in the true nature of the Enderbough clan. I won’t spoil the surprise, but it explains the remarkable longevity and financial success of the family members.

Elena must eventually make a moral choice. Whether she will choose to benefit herself at the expense of innocent others or sacrifice power to preserve her good conscience is for the reader to learn.

I always enjoy Adrian Tchaikovsky’s storytelling ability. This novella is less creative than much of his science fiction has been, perhaps because he adheres to the conventions of horror stories. For that reason, I didn’t find it to be particularly frightening. I nevertheless appreciated Tchaikovsky’s view of aristocratic power as founded in greed by people who give little thought to the harm they cause to others. That, after all, is the true horror.

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Sunrise by Téa Obreht

Published by Random House on August 11, 2026

History belongs to those who write it. That familiar aphorism brings focus to the story Téa Obreht tells in Sunrise. The characters discover that history is subject to interpretation and constant revision, even by those who lived it. And the reader will discover that the line between history and fiction can be indiscernibly thin. 

Sunrise tells three stories, one set in the present, one in the recent past, and one in a past more distant. The story in the present belongs to a young woman named Nina Terzić. Nina’s story is structured around the legend of Anton Vargas. His story is presented from varying perspectives — none authoritative — as the story evolves.

The novel begins in the present with a plane crash. Nina is visiting Wyoming with her boyfriend Ben. Nina stays with Ben despite his abusive conduct, notwithstanding her mother’s warning that he will eventually kill her.

Ben is flying an old Cessna that develops engine trouble. Ben pushes Nina out of the plane and she splashes into a cold Wyoming lake before swimming to shore. Nina assumes Ben jumped out after he pushed her. When Ben does not appear, Nina explores her surroundings and stumbles upon a ghost town. Without cellphone coverage she cannot ask for help and without electricity she cannot keep her phone charged. Nearby streams give her a source of fresh water. She has some trail mix and ten energy bars, so she decides to take shelter in one of the town’s buildings as she awaits rescue or Ben’s arrival.

As Nina explores the town, she discovers a trapdoor in a cellar. Hoping to find a stash of food, she climbs down to the cellar and finds a skeleton. She also finds a coat. Written on the label is PROPERTY OF LT HAWLEY. She takes the coat and a satchel because “the corpse doesn’t need them anymore,” then realizes “this may be the most American thought she’s ever had.”

In the satchel is a binder full of notes, a manuscript, and a “photocopy of what looks like an old-timey book: An Incident at Greyrock.” The book is a dime novel that tells the story of “a noble gunslinger named Anton Vargas and his crew: Fred Kipley and Doctor Maclean.” Set in 1902, the story describes a plea for help that the telegraph operator in Sunrise receives from a telegraph station in Greyrock that has been “beset by bandits, who are, it is implied, after the whiskey and the women.” Vargas and his companions ride to Greyrock and save the day, dispatching the bandits with “one shot apiece” as Vargas “directs the action like a ballet choreographer. He quips and jokes, shoots, hits every mark.”

LT Hawley’s manuscript, dated 2003, retells the story with less melodrama and greater realism. Hawley has researched Vargas and has given him a backstory that is considerably less heroic but much more human. At the age of 45 and dying of cancer, Vargas has returned after many years on the road, hoping to find Doctor Maclean, either to clear the air or to submit himself to a quick death at Maclean’s hands. Maclean’s whereabouts are unknown. Vargas joins a search party for a boy who has gone missing and eventually learns the secret of the boy’s disappearance and Maclean’s current location.

A third story ties the past to the present. As part of her research, LT Hawley visited Sunrise, now a ghost town, and met Colin Yard, head of the Sand Draw Historical Society, an organization that keeps alive and glamorizes the legend of Vargas and the shootout at Greyrock. Colin prefers the dime novel version of Vargas — his historical society is meant to drive tourism, not to tell the unvarnished truth about the past — and he is not at all pleased with the revisionist take on history that Hawley is writing.

The Vargas story has no clear ending because history does not record how his life ends. Hawley could only speculate. In a rather melodramatic coincidence, Nina’s life ties in with Colin’s, providing some tense moments as the story nears its resolution.

Olbrecht’s characters are convincing and the stories she weaves together are fascinating. The novel’s greatest value lies in its different perspectives of history and its illustration of the preference that many have for a fanciful view of history rather than its less glamorous reality. We live in a time when some people are attempting to rewrite (or whitewash) history to make it more palatable to Americans who believe it is unamerican to tell the truth about our past. Perhaps it is that tendency that motivated Olbrecht to focus the story on the dire consequences of replacing an accurate view of history for one that is more suited to those who presently hold power.

Sunrise brings deft storytelling to a complex narrative. The novel combines an old-timey western with modern sensibilities, adds elements of a thriller as it nears its climax, and gives its sympathetic heroine a chance to remake her life. While Olbrecht holds back on the shining prose that made The Tiger’s Wife so memorable, and while Vargas’ true nature seems a bit forced, those criticisms are dwarfed by the skill with which she weaves together the elements that make Sunrise so hard to put down.

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