Staff Picks: A great millennial comedy and an acerbic debut novel

I described Big Mood as “Girls if it were a two-hander” in season one, and it maintains that wit and boldness even as it fleshes out the rest of the friends’ world, including introducing Robert Lindsay as Maggie’s father. Niamh Cusack also has an expanded role as Maggie’s mother Gillian, while Robert Gilbert steals scenes as the well-meaning Will. Coughlan and West also find new notes with which to play Eddie and Maggie’s dynamic, and their repartee remains effortless. There’s a bit of a hand-off here, though; West is now the one more squarely at the center of Big Mood‘s exploration of recovery, which it pointedly depicts as a journey, not a destination. That marks an evolution, not just a change in focus, proving that, while Whitehill has yet to tease a third act, there’s plenty of story left to tell as the former-and-possibly-future friends try to figure out who they are with and without each other. 

Saloni Gajjar: Lost Lambs by Madeline Cash 

Lost Lambs cover art (Image: Macmillan Publishers)

Toward the end of Madeline Cash’s debut literary fiction novel, the villain states, “You must try navigating harsh realities with humor.” For 320 pages, Lost Lambs does exactly that in an acerbic, absurd tone that makes getting lost in Cash’s words a breeze. The book centers on the Flynns, who are thrown in disarray after parents Bud and Catherine open up their marriage. It wreaks havoc on them, as well as on their three young girls, who are growing up in an anonymous, conservative-leaning small town. The family has to grapple with judgment from neighbors, peers, and churchgoers alike while trying to make sense of the changes in their lives. And that’s before each one gets embroiled (intentionally and unintentionally) in a criminal conspiracy involving a sinister billionaire, who may or may not be spying on the residents.  

Through this setting, Cash dips her toes into many aforementioned harsh realities (without wading deeply into any of them): political and corporate corruption, online radicalization, the feeling of isolation in suburbia during the digital era, etc. But the book’s biggest asset, besides its witty prose, is the confident characterization to guide us along. At first, the protagonists come across as stock figures: Abigail is the beauty-obsessed older daughter, Louise is the forgotten middle child, and Harper is the precocious pre-teen. Cash also focuses on the parents’ existential crisis: Bud’s pushes him into the welcoming arms of a homely lady, while Catherine’s leads her to exploring her sexuality. Lost Lambs‘ polyphonic narrative allows us to live inside their heads, empathize with the dilemmas, and laugh at how they view their circumstances. 

I confess I picked up the book, which was published in January 2026, to understand why it was still garnering a lot of buzz. The media blitz around Cash (who co-founded Forever Magazine) caused me to start reading it, but Lost Lambs won me over with its cheeky and imaginative voice (that does get treacly by the end). What it lacks in hidden complexities, though, it makes up for in immersiveness, hilarious morbidity, and a deft pace. Now, Cash’s wordplay might not be for everyone, but “gnaturally,” it charmed me just the right amount. (If you know, you know.)