Through space and time

When Hatch is offered governorship of a remote tropical island, he seizes it as a chance to escape the court and its reminders of how he failed to win over the woman he loved. Upon arrival, however, he soon discovers this position is far from a cushy job. A political rival is intent on sinking his island. And Myah, the daughter of the previous governor, is not only peeved about his arrival; she’s also keeping secrets of her own.

In several key ways, the political plot of Megan Schaulis’ Rebuilder (WhiteCrown Publishing, 316 pp.) takes its inspiration from the story of Nehemiah. This novel is a spinoff from the author’s previous duology retelling of Esther, though this installment can be read as a standalone. Readers may enjoy catching the allegorical allusions. The heart of the story, though, deals less with themes drawn from Nehemiah and more with the blossoming relationship between Hatch and Myah as both face the broken trust and dissipated dreams that plague their pasts. The story offers some powerful reminders about the folly of looking to people to solve our deepest insecurities.

Fans of sci-fi romance will appreciate the book’s exploration of facing regrets and finding our confidence in our Creator.

Legend says that 10,000 years ago, five cosmic beings created five planets and set them on an eventual collision course. Now, the five planets are nearing their inevitable clash, and each has been tasked by the gods to destroy the other planets first. Five heroes from each world—a reluctant warrior, disobedient robot, ambitious slave, disinherited queen, and zealous pilot—are intent on saving their planets. But what if destroying other worlds isn’t the right way to save themselves?

Clint Hall’s Worlds Collide (Enclave Publishing, 330 pp.) sets up an ambitious trilogy, and with five point-of-view characters, readers may feel the constraints of its relatively short page count. But the vibrant world-building keeps each setting fresh and unique, and Hall generally succeeds at keeping the number of characters from feeling overwhelming. The protagonists’ competing ideologies further invite readers to grapple with how to live virtuously in a universe dominated by political factions. While much of this story serves to set up future books, it concludes with a tantalizing glimpse into the upcoming trilogy and the promised interactions between each protagonist.

Space opera readers will appreciate the novel’s moral complexity and expansive world-building.

Time travel enthusiasts, on the other hand, will find plenty to ponder in Karyne Norton’s action-packed novel, The Things We Can Change (First Light Publishing, 364 pp.).

Rae lives in a world decimated by a deadly virus, burdened by the loss of her husband. So when she’s offered the chance to go back in time to stop the virus before it’s released, she seizes the chance. Sure, going back in time will also wipe her memory. But forgetting the trauma of her past feels like a feature, not a bug. Upon her arrival in the past, she discovers her task is more complicated than the agency told her. More than 100 agents have already been sent to accomplish this mission. Not only have they failed, but an anti-time travel agency is also working to stop her every move. Can the future truly be changed—or is she doomed to try to change the unchangeable?

The Things We Can Change revels in the loopyness of time travel and the various kinds of paradoxes that can pop up when this mechanic is introduced. Norton does an admirable job maintaining internal consistency to the extent that’s possible in time travel fiction. At a deeper level, though, the story uses its premise to interrogate the theme of regret. When is it wise to move past our emotional scars, and when does growth require us to face them? The prospect of saving the future while escaping traumatic memories feels like a great promise to Rae, but the story asks what cost we may pay when we erase the past.