Most Anticipated Books of Fall 2025

This year, hot girl summer will give way to old white guy fall. New novels from Dan Brown, Ian McEwan, Thomas Pynchon, and John Irving are on tap. Can someone get The Franzen on the horn? He's missing the party!

But beyond the old white guys, this fall is absolutely loaded with great new books: A sequel to Mona Award's Bunny, a new novel by the HILARIOUS Patricia Lockwood, and new essays by Zadie Smith. I can't wait! 

Here's my list of most anticipated fall books. (Please note -- all links are Bookshop affiliate links, so when you preorder any of these books from these links, not only do you help these authors, you also help me!)

Katabasis, by R.F. Kuang (August 25) -- I read Yellowface earlier this year and LOVED it. So I've definitely wanted to try to take on some of Kuang's speculative fiction, and this novel about two friends descending into hell is perfect. 

Buckeye, by Patrick Ryan (September 2) -- This debut novel is a multigenerational tale set in a small town in Ohio. I am myself a multigenerational tale formerly set in a small town in Ohio. Let's go! 

The Secret of Secrets, by Dan Brown (September 9) -- I'm not going to lie to you, I did the laugh-out-loud-deep-sigh combo when I learned the new Dan Brown -- his first since 2017's Origins -- is 688 pages. That's a whole lot of Langdon! 

The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny, by Kiran Desai (September 23) -- It's been 19 years since Desai's The Inheritance of Loss captivated readers. This new novel "is the sweeping tale of two young people navigating the many forces that shape their lives: country, class, race, history, and the complicated bonds that link one generation to the next." This is definitely a winter read for me. 

We Love You, Bunny, by Mona Awad (September 23) -- For many readers, this sequel to Awad's 2019 campus horror hit Bunny, is THE most-anticipated novel of the fall. The way people in the crowd gasped at an event last year when Awad casually dropped into her remarks that this novel was forthcoming...

Will There Ever Be Another You, by Patricia Lockwood (September 23) -- There is not another writer working who is sentence-by-sentence funnier than Lockwood. This new one sounds like a mix of humor and harrowing, though. It's about one woman's descent into...well, not madness, exactly, but something Lockwoodian kind of like it? 

What We Can Know, by Ian McEwan (September 23) -- A love poem and a catastrophic nuclear disaster are the apparent tentpoles of this new novel from McEwan, who has been a bit uneven in his past several offerings. But I'm optimistic about this one. 

One Of Us, by Dan Chaon (September 23) -- Woohoo! Dan Chaon does an early 20th century carnival novel! Come one, come all! 

Shadow Ticket, by Thomas Pynchon (October 7) -- One last foray into Pynchon's mind before he heads off into the great Gravity's Rainbow in the sky is an absolute gift. This novel is set in Milwaukee during the Depression. This is my most anticipated book of the fall. 

Dead and Alive: Essays, by Zadie Smith (October 28) -- I will follow Zadie Smith anywhere, and I'll love it: Obscure artists, movies I've never heard of, poets. This collection apparently includes a piece about Philip Roth, so that's fun. 

Tom's Crossing, by Mark Danielewski (October 28) -- There were some odd social media posts from Danielewski (are there any other kind?) late last year teasing...something, and leaving people to speculate that because this is the 20th anniversary of House of Leaves, something related to that was coming this fall. Instead, it's a 1,232 page novel about two friends who set out to save some horses. I'll be honest, I may never read this, but I'm anticipating it anyway. 

Queen Esther, by John Irving (November 4) -- Like Pynchon, every new Irving novel feels like an absolute gift. This one sounds like sort of a prequel to The Cider House Rules. 

Honeymoon Stage, by Julie Fine writing as Margaux Eliot (November 4) -- A story about early 2000s reality TV? Oh hell yes! 

I'm sure I'm missing a bunch. Tell me about your most anticipated books! 

The Antidote, by Karen Russell: Sparkling with Life and Originality

Karen Russell's new novel The Antidote is absolutely freaking brilliant. It's a novel about injustice, which though set in the 1930s Dust Bowl, sparkles with life and originality. Truly, only Karen Russell could've written this novel. 

But let me back up a second: I set sail on this novel with some trepidation. Honestly, when this novel came out, it wasn't one I was seriously considering reading. And despite the many glowing reviews, despite other writer posting quotes from the novel online and breathlessly explaining that this book was blowing their minds, and despite the fact that I've loved Karen Russell's short stories, I still wasn't sure if a 400-plus-page novel about a small town in Oklahoma in the 1930s was a wise reading choice. (Also...Swamplandia! -- Russell's first novel -- was reading agony for me.) 

I present all this simply as a peek inside the mind of a sometimes very indecisive, risk-averse reader. 😅 But...it was a risk that paid off immensely. 

The eponymous Antidote in this novel is a character -- her real name is Antonina Rossi, but she also refers to herself as The Prairie Witch. She's what's known in the world of this novel as a Vault -- she takes "deposits" of people's memories, and stores them until they're ready to withdraw them. This helps people sleep at night, basically. But the problem is that during a huge dust storm at the beginning of the novel, somehow The Antidote's vault has been cleaned out. She doesn't know why, and she doesn't know how to get the deposited memories back. This is a big problem, to say the least. 

Why this is a big problem for The Prairie Witch is the meat of this story, which is also about a farmer named Harp Oletsky whose crops are the only ones in the area growing (why!?), and Harp's niece Dell who loves to play basketball ... oh, and a possibly sentient scarecrow. There's a shady and corrupt sheriff (who might remind you a bit of a corrupt contemporary leader for whom justice is a punchline), a possible serial killer, and a Black photographer from Washington, D.C. who finds herself all mixed up in the small-town doings. 

Russell alternates between the points of view of these characters, seamlessly intertwining (hugely important) backstory with present plot, into a story that examines injustice related to Native American land, police authority and overreach, racism, immigrant treatment, and so much more. My go-to line about historical fiction: The best historical fiction echoes clearly in today's world, and this novel certainly does that. 

I've been thinking about this novel for more than a month now, thinking about what to write about it. It won't leave me, and I'm still not sure I'm thinking coherently about it, except for this: I'm pretty sure this is my favorite novel of the year so far. Possibly a new classic. Watch for this on the end-of-year awards lists for sure. If, like me, you have been on the fence, I wholeheartedly implore you to give it a shot. 

Shelf Lives, Vol 3: Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn

In the spring of 2012, as a fledgling books website called Book Riot was just getting its legs, one of its leaders, Rebecca Joines Schinsky, began evangelizing for a yet-to-be-published thriller titled Gone Girl by a little-known writer named Gillian Flynn. Rebecca repeatedly professed to the Book Riot team and anyone who would listen on Twitter that Gone Girl was destined for greatness.

Was she right, or WAS SHE RIGHT?! Gone Girl published on June 5, 2012, and absolutely exploded. Rebecca is VERY RARELY wrong. 

But here's another strand of this story: Book Expo America, the book industry's (now defunct) annual gathering, was held in New York City June 5-7 that year, and I got to go. It was the first time many of the Book Riot contributors got to meet in person. I remember walking into Javits that first time with my press pass for Book Riot, looking around, and thinking, man, this is the life for me. Surround by writers and books. Talking with book people. This. Is. IT!

But so, Gone Girl was the absolute belle of that ball -- both at the BEA conference generally, and for all the Book Riot contributors specifically. The buzz was palpable. Everyone was talking about it. 

As soon as I got home from that trip, I bought and read Gone Girl my first free moments. (Here's my full review, and here's one quote from that piece if you don't care to read the whole thing: "When I finished this book it felt like my brain had curled up in a ball, mewling, like a kicked puppy.") 

That's my original hardcover copy I'm holding in the photo above. It IS a first edition. Anyone know if that's worth anything? 😅

For the rest of the summer, I couldn't shut up about Gone Girl either. No need explaining here how successful that book went on to be, or how it launched its own cottage industry of copy cat book titles and thrillers with alternating perspectives of unreliable narrators.

Recently, as I began thinking about these books on my shelf that have stood the test of time, I realized how crucial both Gone Girl, and Gone Girl Summer, have been in my life as a reader, writer, and general book nerd. That book and that summer were a turning point for me. Writing for Book Riot, and being surround constantly by book people, was what I knew I wanted to do. The worst advice someone ever gave me was don't do what you love professionally because it'll ruin it. That summer is when I realized how absolutely asinine that idea is. 

It took a minute, but now here I am: Working at StoryStudio Chicago, a nonprofit where I'm constantly surrounded by talented writers and amazing books; working as a bookseller at a local indie; and working as a daily editor at the Chicago Review of Books. Life is good, man. Always good to remind yourself of that when it's true. Thank you, Gone Girl Summer. 

Support Indie Presses That Lost NEA Funding: Open Letter Books Edition

Last week, The Chicago Review of Books published a tremendous tribute to indie publishers and literary journals who lost their National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) funding. 

If you hadn't heard, a few weeks ago, the Trump Administration summarily canceled millions of dollars in funding to dozens of arts organizations -- money that had already been awarded, and that these organizations had counted on as part of their 2025 budgets. Why were these grants canceled? No good reason, really, and certainly not fiscal conservativeness -- the NEA's budget represents 0.003 percent of federal spending, basically a rounding error. More likely, the grants were canceled because fascists hate art. Art reminds them of how unimaginative and joyless their lives are.

Anyway, now, there are dozens of extremely worthy literary organizations doing amazing work that need our support. Americans for the Arts has a great page explaining what you can do to help.

But I wanted to highlight one of personal favorites indie publishers here: Open Letter Books. Open Letter Books is a nonprofit that publishes works in translation from writers from all the world. The organization actually recently sort of merged with Deep Vellum Books, though Open Letter continue to operate as its own entity. 

Deep Vellum is running a "replace our NEA grant" fundraiser and you can support them that way. Or, you can buy books! Need some recommendations? Here are six of my favorite Open Letter books!

6. Street of Thieves, by Mathias Énard -- This was the novel that kicked off my Open Letter love. I found this thanks to a bookseller shelftalker at an indie bookstore (57th Street Books) and I absolutely loved it. It's the coming-of-age story of a young Moroccan kid named Lakhdar, a lover of books, who, against the backdrop of the Arab Spring, begins to see the world as the oppressive place it is.

5. Zone, by Mathias Énard -- Full disclosure: I haven't read this yet, but it's the thrilling story -- told in one long sentence -- of a "spy" traveling by train from Milan to Rome and reflecting on his life.

4. American Fictionary, by Dubravka Ugresic -- Oh man I love this book from the fierce and funny Croatian writer Ugresic, god rest her soul. In these short essays "the comforting veil of Western consumerism is ripped apart as the mundane luxuries of the average citizen are contrasted with the life of a woman whose country is being destroyed." If you read and enjoyed Ambrose Bierce's The Devil's Dictionary, this is similar but much more biting.

3. Fox, by Dubravka Ugresic -- A episodic, dreamlike, possibly autobiographical meta-novel about a woman trying to escape her hometown. This book is filled with literary trivia, details about how stories become stories, and plenty of Ugresic's signature wit.

2. The Invented Part, by Rodrigo Fresán -- The first in a trilogy by Argentinian writer Fresán, this strange, post-modern, all-but-plotless novel consisting of a series of set pieces about the literary life, about inspiration for writers, about how readers understand fiction, and the Kinks, Fitzgerald's Tender is the Night, Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan, Wuthering Heights, and a lot more. 

1. Four by Four, by Sara Mesa -- From Spanish writer Mesa, this unsettling novel is a little like Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go, with a little The Secret History, and a sprinkle of the movie Get Out. There’s a sinister undercurrent of something nefarious happening, and everyone but the narrators seem to know what it is. 

Bleeding Edge, by Thomas Pynchon: To the World Wide Web...and Beyond!

My head hurts, and I'm tired. It's like I'm hungover. Pynchon-blitzed, as it were. Here's a thing I don't recommend: Reading 150 pages of Pynchon in one day. That's what I did yesterday, and I had the absolute strangest dreams last night, and as I write this the morning after finishing Thomas Pynchon's 2013 novel, Bleeding Edge, I'm not sure if I'm awake or still dreaming. 

Pynchon is a madman. A comic genius. A brilliant writer. Maybe a kook? (Did you ever hear the conspiracy theory that the notoriously elusive Pynchon is actually the Unabomber?)

Look, when you pick up a Pynchon novel, you have to expect to be by turns amazed, frustrated, immensely entertained, bored, confused, tickled, and awed. Thankfully, most of these are the reasons why I read, and that's why I picked up this book. 

Why now? Because Pynchon is publishing a new novel (and almost certainly his last) this fall titled Shadow Ticket, and I wanted to remind myself what he's like (and also maybe I'm just a little bit of a reading masochist). This is my third time reading Pynchon. I still have Gravity's Rainbow PTSD, but I absolutely loved Inherent Vice.

Bleeding Edge is definitely more Inherent Vice than Gravity's Rainbow. It's a zany caper about New York City in 2001, before during and after the tech boom and bust in Silicon Alley, and before, during, and after the terrorist attacks of 9/11. Pynchon seems to think these two are connected, though not in a conspiracy theory way, more in a thematic way -- that they both were the end of an age of innocence and excess (innocently excessive? excessively innocent?), and that they both resulted in fundamental changes to this American life. 

The story is actually about Maxine Tarnow, a fraud investigator, who is tipped off to some shady dealings by a start-up called hashslingrz and its tech bro CEO Gabriel Ice. Then a guy who was skimming money from hashslingrz's skimmed money winds up dead, and Maxine now has not just a fraud investigation but a murder mystery on her hands. Then Maxine gets a mysterious video of some guys on the roof of a NYC building practicing with a Stinger missile launcher. Then 9/11 happens. How the hell are all these things connected?

Or maybe they're not. Maybe everything is totally random. Who knows? At least there's some good Pynchon Puns.

Lemme give you an example. Maxine's son Ziggy is watching a movie when she comes back to the apartment one evening. It's the (fictional) 1990 film Scooby Goes Latin!, in which the Scooby-Doo gang travels to Columbia to bust a dirty DEA agent mixed up in a drug cartel. "And I would've got away with it, too," he complains, "if it hadn't been for these Medellin kids." God dammit, that's funny. 

Is the madcap plot and these puns and clever-alities (a Pynchon-esque non-word?) enough to keep you turning pages? Just barely, I think. Yes, I'm glad I read this but knowing what I know now having finished it, I'm not sure I'd read it again. This book is like tasting a whiskey you're not sure you like, but keep drinking anyway.