THE SACRAMENT by Olaf Olafsson (Ecco). Don't be misled by the unmistakably Icelandic name of the author—this is not a “Nordic thriller,” in any usual sense, but singularly beautiful literary novel. There is a crime, and corruption, and a bit of detection at a distance in time—and a startling surprise withheld. But this is also a story of unfulfilled love, and still other things. Its story is told chiefly by an elderly nun who has been, over her long life, a pretty complicated piece of work. We experience key events of it with her as the deftly managed timeline shifts levels as needed. Her voice, calm, just slightly formal, seems perfect—it's certainly perfectly representative of a sensibility that combines serenity gained over years of life with deep uncertainty about the meaning of key events. The author is cosmopolitan, actually; born in Iceland, but has been mostly an American since childhood and lives here, now—this is his third novel.

COUNTRY by Michael Hughes (Morrow/Custom House). A literary novel of a different stripe—beautifully made from very rough materials, set in Northern Ireland during the “troubles”—near what was being promoted as their end, in 1996. It was, in fact, a time when a generation had grown up knowing no other life but this all-permeating violence, not just grim history but its relentless presence in their lives. So it's not a fun read, jolly Irishers making jokes, but as serious as—well, as James Jones, say, or, better, Hemingway. Not so long-winded as Jones, not as self-consciously artistic as Hemingway, line for line—but framed as a pastiche on the Odyssey, and unmistakably seriously meant, and exhilarating to read. Living through hell with serious people and an artist to make them alive is challenging but invigorating.

DEAD BLOW: A HORSESHOER MYSTERY by Lisa Preston (Skyhorse/Arcade). The second, even better entry in this terrifically promising series. The farrier in question, also a private investigator and our narrator, sounds like nobody else—maybe a little like a Walt Longmire or Bill Crider character, but sharper and wittier. The books are classic mysteries, in structure and execution, and very well managed, complex enough to keep you off balance, but only just. But the detective is a delight to listen to as she sorts out her own thinking, only a little ahead of the reader.

BEATING ABOUT THE BUSH: AN AGATHA RAISIN MYSTERY by M. C. Beaton (Minotaur). The thirtieth of this favorite series, which the column has mostly just trusted her loyal readers to keep up with. Seems worth a special mention now. It's as good as ever—Agatha's as much a rip as ever—but also time to call your attention to her TV series. British, of course, on streaming services, and just a few each season, but very well cast and well made.