By all appearances, Thea Atwell lives a charmed life. A child of Emathla, Florida, "a stone's throw" from Gainesville, she rides horses and explores the lush land with her cousin and twin brother, insulated from the Great Depression by her family's citrus fortune.

But in July of 1930, at age 15, Thea is sent to a year-round camp for girls in the Blue Ridge Mountains, an idyllic enclave where Southern young women go to become ladies. Because as the headmistress says, "Becoming a lady is not simply a thing which happens, like magic . . . becoming a lady is a lesson you must learn." Turns out Thea has done something very bad, and the camp—far away from Florida—is her punishment.

Sensual, lush and surprising, this debut set in the North Carolina mountains is a story to savor.

The Yonahlossee Riding Camp for Girls, Anton DiSclafani's sensual debut novel, shifts back and forth from Emathla to North Carolina, building toward the "series of events" that leads to Thea's banishment. The story hinges on this mysterious transgression, something so terrible that the Atwells do not send for Thea at Christmas or visit when she falls ill at camp. In spite of this, the headstrong young woman is able to settle into life at Yonahlossee, where she quickly makes a best friend and establishes herself as a top equestrienne. However, home is never far from her mind, even when Thea has grown to like her world of "horses and girls, girls and horses." Readers who have experienced the joy of riding—the adrenaline of fearless jumping, the pleasure of grooming, the comfort of getting to know a horse—will appreciate the scenes of Thea with her animal.

DiSclafani unspools the drama slowly and seductively, tempting the reader with ominous letters from Florida and other hints from Thea's past. This pace allows the author to dreamily revel in lovely settings—the picturesque camp in the mountains or the wilds of the Atwells' land in Emathla—but at times the plot feels languid. Still, patient readers will be rewarded with a passionate climax. The Yonahlossee Riding Camp for Girls is a story to savor in the heat of summer.

Much buzzed even before it was bought, this debut is set during the Depression at the fictional Yonahlossee Riding Camp for Girls in Blue Ridge, NC, where the rebellious young heroine finds a chance to grow. Don't miss.

Young, beautiful, and privileged, Thea Atwell lives on a sprawling ranch in Florida. She loves her twin brother, her parents, and, most of all, her horses. But while she intuitively understands the equestrian life, social isolation and unusual family dynamics have left her confused. She yields to her youthful desires and ends up in trouble with a boy, with disastrous consequences that compel her parents to send her to a horse camp for girls in the Blue Ridge Mountains. There, Thea learns how to navigate a complex yet nurturing social environment, one that allows her to acquire the life lessons she so desperately needs. Even as the Great Depression compounds the shattering of Thea's once predictable world, she ultimately finds the measure of her own strength. VERDICT Engrossing, empathetic, and atmospheric, this debut will resonate with readers as the author eloquently portrays the inevitable missteps in coming of age. Highly recommended. [See Prepub Alert, 12/7/12.]—Susanne Wells, Indianapolis, IN

The setup for this debut novel is delectable: it's 1930, the country is tumbling into depression, and 15-year-old Thea has done something bad enough to get her sent from Florida to an elite year-round "camp" in North Carolina where, at least at first, the effects of the economy are kept at bay while affluent Southern girls become "ladies." DiScalfani, who grew up around horses, is at her best when recreating the intuition and strength of girls in the saddle. Otherwise Thea's narration feels flattened by history and the characters she encounters never achieve dimensionality. The build toward the revelation of Thea's crime is drawn out, sapping the reveal of drama, but the account of Thea's emerging sexuality provides meaningful reflections on the potency of teenage desire. Here too, however, DiScalfani seems distanced from her characters, relying on declarations such as "I was not weak," "I was angry," and "I was glum" when exploring the tension of conflicting feelings. Though there are many twists and turns, the prose numbs the pleasure of reading about even the most forbidden of Thea's trysts. Agent: Dorian Karchmar, WME Entertainment. (June)