This book exceeded my expectations. Full disclosure: I lived in the East Village/Alphabet City, then the West Village, then back to the East Village in the years that iO is writing about, so I recognize the settings and, if not the specific characters, the types of people with whom she and her mother interacted in many of the vignettes that form so many of the chapters. If they weren't all exactly "Darling Days," those times in the 1990s were so much more experientially interesting than what goes on in the sterile, gentrified atmosphere that pervades so much of the East Village today. The book made me nostalgic and regretful at the same time, reminding me once again that New York has become safer yet somehow less livable in the 21st Century. The author calls us back to those edgier times, and gives us an enjoyable read while doing so. She explores (but not pedantically) such themes as gender fluidity and mother-daughter relationships. She does bring things up to 2008 by book's end, but I admit to having enjoyed the chapters dealing with the earlier period much more. I believe the book will appeal to many different types and generations of readers.

The story is both terrifying and fascinating. In Naomi Ragen's own words, she "wishes to explore through fiction the wider implications of how people seeking spiritual guidance can naively wind up in horrific cults led by psychopaths, particularly cults that abuse children."

The horrific physical abuse of children by a charismatic yet psychopathic Kabbalah-studies leader is at the core of this novel, which is based on true events. The work of dedicated detectives and a "child interviewer" psychologist to get to the bottom of what happened makes for an absorbing story. That parents could be so captivated by the leader, and that the other children in the family could be so terrified, contributes to the reader's emotional response to the novel. While we keep paying rapt attention, we can't help being appalled, and we hope for justice for the two little boys and for repentance on the part of those who perpetrated and those who were complicit. Ultimately, only one of those hopes is satisfied.

Days after finishing "The Devil in Jerusalem" I find myself still thinking about it and analyzing my reactions. There are many true and novelistic accounts written about religious cults, but this one may become a classic.

This book left me with so many conflicting and complementary emotions that I hardly know where to begin. Mimi Baird's quest to uncover the mystery of her father's life and illness was a multi-year project the completion of which should bring her much satisfaction. At times sad, funny, thought-provoking, enraging, tragic, horrifying, exhausting, and dare I say therapeutic, this is a book that must be read by anyone who cares about the history of medicine, the trajectory of mental health care, and less academically, family history. One of the tragedies of this bio-history is that Dr. Baird's early research into a biochemical cause of manic depression/bipolar disorder was stymied by his own illness; one can only speculate how much sooner the connection would have become widely known if he had been able to continue uninterrupted.

Alternating among Perry Baird's own words, his medical records, and Mimi Baird's narrative, the book employs a different typeface for each, so that the reader is never confused for a moment about who is speaking. That's a novel approach that I wish more publishers and editors would employ.

I can't begin to imagine what it must have been like for Mimi to be deprived of her father at the tender age of six, not by death, but by an illness of which her mother refused to speak. That she finally came to the decision to find out more, late in her adulthood (she's currently 75) and spent so many years researching and writing is a gift to her father, her family, herself, and her readers.

This novel has so many different themes--family tragedy, hoarding, "late-blooming lesbianism," incest, quasi-incest, drug-dealing, extra-marital affairs-- to say nothing of the three different time frames and multiple physical settings interwoven,that if I were just reading about the book, rather than having read it, I might wonder how it can hang together as a cohesive narrative.

But Jewell makes it work and keeps the reader caring about the characters and story lines. It would be hard to summarize without "spoilers," but I would note that ultimately, there is a redemptive quality to this novel. A family torn apart by a singular tragedy comes to rebuild itself with new structures and new interrelationships over the course of twenty years. Late in the novel, one of the daughters (Meg) says:"This is the real world. We are real people. This is real life. And things sometimes happen that don't fit in with how we think the story should go, but we just have to take a deep breath and get on with it, not sit in the corner sulking because it's not what we were hoping for." That about sums up what the reader will find in "The House We Grew Up In."

I was excited at the thought of "House of Bathory." The idea of weaving two story lines that happened 400 years apart, and adding in Jungian analysis and historical research appealed to my reading tastes. For the most part, Lafferty succeeds, but at times the shifting back and forth between plot lines gets a bit confusing. This did detract from my overall enjoyment. I liked the Betsy-Daisy (and its closely associated Grace line, that helps unify the other two story lines) better than the gruesome Countess of Bathory history.

I commend Lafferty for her research, and for the creation of Daisy, my favorite among the characters. It was also personally exciting for me to read the scene set in my beloved Rubin Museum here in New York City. To find that in novel mainly set in Colorado and Slovakia was a surprise. The novel is long, perhaps overly so, but fans of psychological drama and of historical fiction will find that their interest is held. I certainly did, in spite of my distaste for the Countess.

I have to admit that I have very ambivalent feelings about this book. While I did keep reading and felt some involvement with the characters, I found the plot overly convoluted, with almost too many characters and sub plots. I found Kevin and Hadley to be a much more sympathetic and believable " couple" than Clare and Russ,despite their secondary role in the novel. It also seemed to me, as someone familiar with upstate New York winters,rather unbelievable that the protagonists could have made all those long treks on foot during a major days-long ice storm. They seemed super-human at times. Far more believable were the traffic accidents and the way the weather complicated the police work.

Where the author excels, however, is in getting the reader to feel the terror and bewilderment that Mikayla feels as her stay among the kidnappers is prolonged. Ms. Spencer-Fleming obviously has empathy and compassion for children, but not so much for adults. She also did a good job portraying the evil among the drug dealers and Hadley's ex-husband. But I must say I was not left with the desire to read any more Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne novels. This one had a good premise that got bogged down in subplots and a surfeit of characters. It was at times difficult to keep track of who was who and why they mattered. Overall, while readable, the novel suffered from overly ambitious plotting with too many insufficiently developed or insufficiently sympathetic characters.

I had not read any of Linda Castillo's previous books, and I was frankly skeptical of the seemingly hyperbolic accolades on the cover. I was happy to be proven wrong. I started the book one morning and begrudged the time I had to be away from it. I did finish it that same day. The book opens with an incident so horrible that the sensitive reader may be given nightmares. Castillo moves the plot along skillfully as Chief of Police Burkholder unravels the mystery of the accident that was really a triple murder. Along the way, the reader learns a lot about the fascinating Amish culture, but not in a didactic fashion. The solution to the mystery caught me by surprise, and contained a really unexpected twist. I highly recommend "Her Last Breath". it is a book that will stay with you long after finish it.

I was a little hesitant to request yet another "lighthouse" book, having reviewed "The Woman at the Light" fairly recently; however, I'm glad I did. "The Edge of the Earth" is an engrossing tale, so that one almost doesn't notice the education that is provided about marine flora and fauna. The female characters: Trudy, Mrs. Crawley, young Jane, and the mysterious "Helen" are well drawn and memorable. The males, on the other hand, are weak, devious, or just plain unappealing. I don't know that Christina Schwarz deliberately set out to create a feminist novel, but the book can certainly be taken that way. The story starts and ends in 1977 with the now elderly Jane, but the bulk of it is set around 1898 and is really Trudy's, and to a lesser extent, Helen's. The remote outpost of Port Lucia, California serves as the isolated setting that brings out the best and the worst in the inhabitants who tend the lighthouse. I found myself drawn into the story and hope that other readers will too.

"The Woman at the Light" is an interesting read from the standpoint of dealing with a topic not often seen in novels, that of women lighthouse tenders in the pre-civil war era. I learned a lot from this book. The book's narrator, Emily, was one such lighthouse keeper, gaining the post when her husband disappeared. The narration is broken down by time periods, and some of the chapters are fast-paced and exciting. Others are slow-going. At times, I felt frustrated by Emily's lack of emotion when narrating events that would have inspired strong emotions in any person. At other times, the emotion was appropriate to the situation. Dealing with such weighty themes as miscegenation, interracial sex, family treachery, betrayal, piracy, and disease, there is of course the risk of melodrama; perhaps trying to avoid that pitfall accounts for the author's at times giving Emily such a dispassionate, almost off-hand narrative style while other times allowing her to express the expected human emotion. The book is worth a read for its insights into the historic period before and immediately after the Civil War, told from an unusual viewpoint, but don't expect to be blown away by "The Woman at the Light."

Much as I wanted to dislike the heroine of "The Borgia Betrayal," since she is essentially a murderer, I could not do so. Francesca is an engaging narrator, even when she is recounting how she has poisoned or stabbed someone. As the Pope's poisoner, she is also charged with ruling on the safety of all foods and other materials that come into the Papal household, so some of her doings are good rather than evil. Even when she is being "evil," it is for the protection of the Pope and the persons she acts against are depicted as pure evil themselves. The historical research into the period (the year is 1493) is impressive. i learned a lot, in addition to being captivated by the political/religious intrigue of this era. I had difficulty putting the book down, once I got past the first 50 pages or so. A must read for those who enjoy historical fiction.

The "Art of Saying Good-bye" runs a serious risk of descending into over-sentimentality or "Love Story"-like saccharine prose. However, it stops just short of that. By using one woman's death to tell the story of four other women's adult lives, Ellyn Bache manages to weave together five very different lives (more, if you count the spouses and children) into a cohesive narrative. I admit that I found the book slow-going for the first 100 pages or so, but read the final 200 in a single sitting. This is not to say the book is riveting; it is more a question of starting to care, in spite of myself, about what happened to Andrea, Iona, Julianne, and Ginger as they came to terms with Paisley's impending death. Don't come to the book expecting profound insights, but do keep an open mind about the human drama that unfolds. I can picture the film that could be made from this novel, but I can't picture either a male reader or a male film-goer finding much to identify with or enjoy, outside of a few pages devoted to stereotyped male characters.

This book is reminiscent of the best Spanish American magical realism novels. the experiences of the Jicarilla Apache, Hispanic and Caucasian residents of the barrio of Taos New Mexico are recounted skillfully by Sumner, who succeeds in capturing all three voices. The novel weaves in events that took place between 1986 and 2001, with the main events occurring over Easter Weekend of 2001. That symbolism is a bit heavy handed, but not enough to distract from this fine novel.

For those who lead reading groups, a set of discussion questions is included. But even without them, the mystical, magical, folk wisdom aspects of this novel give much food for thought and discussion. the more finely drawn characters are the two women, Ignacia/"Abuela," the Jicarilla Apache raising two boys, and Rocky, the gringa they both come to love. The tragedy between the boys when they become young men, Mister and Tomas, though foreshadowed, leaves the reader a bit shell-shocked. It's been several days since I finished "The Ghost of Milago Creek," but I'm still thinking about it and asking myself questions that don't have easy answers. Melanie Sumner is a writer to watch.

"An Eagle named Freedom" is a book that will make the reader laugh, cry, get angry, feel inspired, and be filled with amazement. This book came about almost by accident; it began as an 800-word e-mail to a friend of the author—an e-mail that was forwarded around the world and generated so much interest that the book just had to happen. Knowing its origin, I came to the book with very little in the way of expectations; maybe I was skeptically hoping it wouldn’t be another Jonathan Livingston Seagull. After all, one of those is enough for a lifetime. I was pleasantly surprised to find myself becoming involved with the human and animal (as Guidry calls them, the “wild ones”) almost immediately. The uncommon courage of both the caregivers at Sarvey Wildlife Care Center and their wild ones is awe-inspiring. It’s a tribute to the eagle of the title that the author never gets sappily sentimental, even when describing his successful fight against cancer, aided by Freedom, or the ultimately unsuccessful cancer battle of Kaye, the driving force behind Sarvey. The writing style is straightforward and direct. While not strictly chronological, the narrative has enough order to keep the reader engrossed and involved all the way through. In short, the book is a little gem.