She Come by It Natural: Dolly Parton and the Women Who Lived Her Songs by Sarah Smarsh (Scribner). Not quite a biography, though much of her life is to be found in it and Dolly comes vividly to life in its pages, but a serious, not worshipful but something better, deeply respectful critical portrait—by a country girl, herself, though now a Harvard scholar among other things. And not only not worshipful, not patronizing (you heard me say “respectful,” right?). So, you won't love her any more—you couldn't, if you're like most of us—but you'll understand her better, and have a wonderful time, here, with both of them, and some other admirable people. And also a few less admirable, whom Dolly handles, handily. She really is as sharp and as complicated as we'd begun to suspect.

The Nightworkers by Brian Selfon (Farrar, Straus and Giroux). An accomplished, not just promising, first crime novel. A family of not comic incompetence, but not quite Rififi-level precision, specializes in laundering dirty money; they lose a significant bag of such. A bit of hilarity ensues, but much that's more serious, too. We'll eagerly wait Brian Selfon's next, for sure.

Invisible Girl by Lisa Jewell (Atria). Another dark psychological suspense novel—you'll remember last year's The Family Upstairs—by this author, who's relatively new to the column (and nowhere else, it seems). Jewell was first established as a romance novelist, and if the characters in her romances are as deeply realized as those in these intense and intricate thrillers, they're worth a look-in, too. Here, she's also fully committed to both plot complexity and tension.

Still Life by Val McDermid (Atlantic Monthly Press). A new number (6, that would be) in her well established Karen Pirie series, and especially intricate in the plotting, with two quite distinct cases at once. As always, wonderfully worked out, and full of people to like or not, but to believe in and care about one way and another.

The Orphan's Guilt: A Joe Gunther Novel by Archer Mayor (Minotaur). And another column favorite at the top of his game. As always, a police procedural that shows again the novelistic richness that can be achieved in that structure. Layers of history, of this Vermont town and of a family, unfold; not all crimes are defined in the law books.

Sentinel by Lee Child and Andrew Child (Delacorte). Jack Reacher, as goes without saying. What may bear saying is that the coming retirement of the great Lee Child and the assumption of the series by his brother (an established thriller writer, too) need not be dreaded, judging by this transitional collaboration. If anything, a great series receives a jolt of new energy while losing not a thing.