The Moon Papers by Emmalea Russo, which came out in the summer of 2026 is the sequel to her 2024 debut novel Vivienne, both published by Arcade Publishing, New York.

Although I highly recommend reading Vivienne, it is not imperative to follow the plot and connect to the characters in The Moon Papers. Russo has managed to write two novels which are complete on their own but deepen each other’s meaning and power when read both.

Personally, I was washed over with surprise and relieve and joyous anticipation when I opened the book and read the name Vesta, the granddaughter of Vivienne, whose name titles Russo’s first novel.

The Moon Papers’ plot revolves around the latest project of the controversial art collective CCC (Center for Constant Creation): the launch of a second moon, MOON2.

Society is split in two groups: the sympathisers are impressed by the CCC, its visionary, collective approach to art and science. The other group is suspicious, questioning the funding of the CCC and the effect a second moon will have on all life on earth. With this, Russo has captured the effect bigger problems/changes/challenges have on society: everyone has to pick a side—and with that, reject everyone and everything the other side is representing.

Russo reflects on art’s role in society and how capitalism and corporate interests are bleeding into the art world, effecting artistic practice and shaping the meaning of art.

Russo’s writing is perfect without trying to do so. Her background in poetry shines through every now and then, at least that is how I explained myself such unique, delicate and original sentences like “As the young man spoke, she could feel his syllables infusing the yard, mixing with the greenery.”

That is what you get yourself into when reading Emmalea Russo: you enter a place in which syllables infuse a yard, while Russo’s words infuse your mind. At times it feels like dreams are creeping into reality while some scenes are so absurd, they seem like dreams.

Throughout the book, something uncanny is lingering which I could not put my finger on. Suspense builds naturally as the story is unfolding, and with the last pages, you get a relief, you understand why you felt this unnameable tension dwelling.

Smoothly switching between a love story, a family epic and a tale about art, Russo subtly ponders on fundamental antonyms such as the real and the fake, the strong and the weak, the natural and the constructed, the conventional and the rebellious, the eccentric and the normal, the rational and the otherworldly.

The family epic is remarkable, because Russo focuses on the female family members, Vivienne, her daughter Velour and Velour’s daughter Vesta, while the men are representative for the male energy in general and how it alters a female-dominated family dynamic.

Russo’s deep knowledge of art, astrology, psychoanalysis and the occult creates the authenticity you feel on every page.

In summary, The Moon Papers are a poetic family saga, a love story and a tale about art.