Death On Earth by Jules Howard (Bloomsbury, £9.99)

Having already written on sexual reproduction in animals, zoologist Howard examines the cornucopia of life around us through the lens of death – which, among other issues, raises the tricky question of how to define life in the first place. Rather than a single argument building to a conclusion, this is more a series of essays grouped around a theme. Still, some questions loom larger than others. Why hasn’t evolution produced creatures that can replenish themselves indefinitely, thus giving them more opportunities to reproduce? What really triggers ageing: cell damage, telomeres or free radicals? Are the ravages of old age, as evolutionary biologist George C Williams suggested, no more than undesirable side-effects of processes that help animals reproduce earlier in life? Encompassing 500-year-old clams, naked mole rats, undertaker bees and, naturally, the Immortal Jellyfish, this book is a lot livelier than its title suggests. Howard’s chatty, anecdotal style makes it an approachable, as well as thought-provoking, work of popular science.

The Fortunes by Peter Ho Davies (Sceptre, £8.99)

Divided into four sections spanning 150 years, The Fortunes examines the Asian experience in America, evoking the sense of alienation that led to diverse peoples uniting under the banner “Asian-American”. We meet Ah Ling, sent to America at 14 by his brothel-keeper “uncle”, who comes to understand the realities of cheap Chinese labour from his vantage point as valet to a railroad tycoon, and then Anna May Wong, the first Chinese-American film star, a stoical and pragmatic woman forced to watch white actresses get roles that should have been hers. A section set in 1982 is by an unnamed narrator who is haunted by the fact that he ran away when a friend was beaten to death by disgruntled Detroit car workers. Finally, the mixed-race John Smith, who goes to China with his wife to adopt a baby, brings it to a somewhat metafictional close. Each novella-length section stands up on its own, lending weight and substance to a superbly crafted whole.

The Red Parts by Maggie Nelson (Vintage, £8.99)

In 1969, before Maggie Nelson was even born, her aunt, Jane Mixer, was murdered on her way home from university. It was always assumed that her killer was the convicted Michigan serial murderer John Norman Collins, although this was never proved. A full 35 years later, DNA evidence led police to charge Gary Earl Leiterman, and the lifelong sentence endured by the family entered a new phase as Maggie and her mother, Jane’s sister, chose to attend every day of his trial. Written with searing intensity in the aftermath of the trial, this meditation on trauma, grief and the myth of catharsis is a dark book that digs deeply into the collective psychology of Nelson and her family, while showing acute awareness of the violent, sexualised culture which made the trial just another spectacle to be consumed. It’s as unsentimental as the photos of her aunt’s corpse displayed in the courtroom, but as intimate as only a first-person memoir can be.