Set in Afghanistan in late 2002, No Space for Further Burials is a chilling indictment of the madness of war and our collective complicity in the perpetuation of violence. The novel's narrator, a US Army medical technician in Afghanistan helping to "liberate" the country from the Taliban, has been captured by rebels and thrown into an asylum. The other inmates are a besieged gathering of society's forgotten and unwanted refugees and derelicts, disabled and different, resilient and maddened, struggling to survive the lunacy raging outside the asylum compound. The novel becomes a powerful evocation of the country's desolate history of plunder and war, waged by insiders and outsiders, all fueled by ideology, desperation, and greed.

This astonishingly powerful story unfolds the tragedy of Afghanistan, as told by the captive narrator in hauntingly beautiful prose. While the characters try to cope with their individual destinies, the terrible madness of war is counterpointed with the poignancy of their lives and the narrator's own peculiar predicament—the "victor" now a victim, his ambivalence a metaphor for everything Afghanistan symbolizes.

A dam rises on the Yangtze, uprooting a million lives in a government-made, modern environmental and human rights disaster, and a poor salvager who has lost everything finds an abandoned baby girl. A tale of defiance, of a lost man finding his place—and a new kind of love—in modern China, and of a rich man reclaiming his soul and the woman he loved before the revolution tore them apart.

The effects of modernization and the battle between man and nature are the heavy themes Lovett tackles in this powerful first novel set in modern-day China…. A moving, compelling read about people fighting against both government and nature, which prove equally insurmountable and capricious. —Booklist, starred review.

When Anupurba comes back to India from the United States, reluctantly leaving behind a satisfying job as an art teacher, she does so with a sense of apprehension at this displacement from her comfortable, suburban American life. She never imagines that returning to India would turn out to be a profoundly transformational and life-changing decision. A chance meeting with an old college friend introduces her to Asha Jyoti, a school for children suffering from cerebral palsy. Overcoming her initial trepidation, she agrees to volunteer as a temporary art teacher. Anupurba teaches the children how to draw and paint but it is the children who teach her the real lessons—about suffering and survival, joyous friendship, love and laughter.

Children of a Better God is a deeply touching, tenderly written story about the agonizing challenges faced by children who have to live with lifelong disability, and the ways in which these very special children can powerfully enrich our lives with their grit, positive spirit and sheer courage.

It was a tense autumn the year Mayura came away from her husband saying she was never ever returning to that uncouth, lustful monster. Everyone in the family was affected by her presence to a greater extent than they had thought likely. A sense of collective guilt emasculated the men even while they lectured her on the moral duty of returning to her wedded husband. A sense of outrage mingled inexplicably with a sense of secret sorrow alienated women from themselves and from each other. No one knew what to make of her or of themselves. And meanwhile, she moved as though nothing, nobody, could touch her. And those who thought they had, retreated, scorched.

Using a deceptively simple and intimate style, Parameswaran explores the subtleties of love, marriage, sex, and family life in a changing Indian environment.