Deftly written with a compelling plot that is populated with fully-realized and colorful characters, "Manhattan Beach" is one of those rare books that succeeds on every level. The imaginative and suspenseful storyline will grab you on the first page.

Eddie Kerrigan of New York City is just trying to make his way in the world, doing (mostly) what is right. His wife, Agnes, and daughters, Anna and Lydia, utterly depend on him. Beautiful Lydia suffers from a congenital disorder that leaves her crippled. Anna is precocious and accompanies her father on his "errands" of work. But one day, Eddie disappears and with it the family's stability. Did he run away or was he murdered? Then war breaks out in the South Pacific and Europe, and Anna gets a boring job at the Naval Yard. Through sheer spunk and determination, she figures out how to realize her dream job as a diver to repair ships—something that is absolutely unheard of for a woman. But she also gets mixed up with an older man…and trouble abounds. When change comes to our lives in irrevocable ways, who do we hurt along the way? Is there hope for redemption, love and forgiveness—of ourselves and others?

Author Jennifer Egan did her homework, adding incredible and intriguing historical detail that makes this book one of those rare works of fiction that has so much factual information tucked inside that the reader actually learns something. In this case, it's about the World War II divers, including the awkward 200-pound diving dress, what it felt like to dive and the work they did underwater. Fascinating!

"Isn't it fun to be with your tribe?" author Joyce Carol Oates asked the assembled 1,000 who had gathered to hear her speak at the 2016 National Book Festival in Washington, D.C. Indeed. As an avid reader, I had never before thought of those sitting around me in this auditorium as "my tribe," but the description fit. Suddenly, I felt more fulfilled and happy. My tribe!

As humans, we are programmed to be part of groups, or tribes, for survival. Modern society is the antithesis of tribal unity. We live lives that are separate from one another. And that is why so many of us are sad, anxious or even clinically depressed. This extraordinary book by Sebastian Junger—which will only take you a few hours to read--explains in an eye-opening way the incredible value of tribal behavior and the resulting danger when it disintegrates.

When we think of tribes, most of us think of American Indians, and that is an excellent example of a group of people each taking care of the entire group's needs—from food to fighting. In today's world, tribes only form in times of distress: soldiers on the battlefield, civilians in Sarajevo who were under siege for years during the Bosnian war, Britons during the Blitz and survivors of natural disasters. We Americans became a tribe after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, and that feeling of unity lasted for about two years. Mind you, no one is advocating war and violence, but it is only then that we revert to tribal behavior for survival. The divisive, contemptuous language that characterizes the United States today—liberals vs. conservatives—is dangerously undermining, seriously weakening and distressingly dividing our American tribe.

Here is the takeaway from Junger's thesis: It is only through tribal behavior that we humans feel a true sense of loyalty and belonging, and this could very well be the key to our mental health and wellbeing.

I give this book my strongest recommendation, and while I encourage everyone to read it and talk about it, I think it should be required reading for all U.S. elected officials. It is a truly remarkable book.

Priceless. Perfect. Phenomenal.

Eleanor Oliphant is one of the most refreshing characters to ever inhabit the pages of a book. She is literal and direct in everything she says, using perfect English at all times. She is confident and quite self-sufficient, thank you very much. But Eleanor has no filter and is totally clueless socially. The result is that much of what she says and observes about every day life is hilarious, absolutely on target and something most of us would never dream to say out loud—even if we silently think it. Eleanor's point of view is unique, mystifying and downright inspirational.

This book made me laugh out loud (literally!) more times than I can count. But it also made me cry so many times I am embarrassed to admit it. How many books do both? So many books are either farcical comedies quickly forgotten or oh-so-sad stories—but not both at the same time. With biting humor and a tender heart, author Gail Honeyman has written a captivating and totally quirky first novel.

Thirty-year-old Eleanor Oliphant is lonely. Very lonely. She lives by herself, has a boring office job and no friends or family. Her only companion is a plant. But two events conspire to slowly and painstakingly bring her out of her shell and into the world: She and a co-worker assist and elderly gentleman who has fallen in the street and she develops a secret crush on a rock singer.

While the backbone of the story, which is set in Glasgow, Scotland, is tragic and heartrending, Eleanor's character quirks make the plot, including one stunning plot twist at the end, psychologically bearable. Woven through it all is the magic of love, friendship, kindness and happiness and the extraordinary things quite ordinary people will do for one another.

This is a must-read and perfect for book clubs.

This book, which is essentially a study of the imbalance of power in relationships, was brilliant…but boring. Philosophical…but perplexing. Intriguing…but incongruous.

Written by Lisa Halliday, it is actually three novellas, the first two of which have nothing in common and the third of which is a somewhat lame attempt to unite the first two.

The first story, "Folly," is a May-December romance between Alice and Ezra that some critics say is a roman a clef about Halliday's own affair with Philip Roth with lots of allusions to "Alice in Wonderland." The second story, "Madness," is about Amar, a young American man of Iraqi heritage, who is detained for several days at Heathrow Airport based (presumably) on ethnic profiling. The story flashes back and forth between the airport nightmare and his life story until then. The third story is a radio interview with Ezra, and in the answer to one of the many questions he is asked, he unites the first two stories. Sort of.

"Asymmetry" is high-brow literary fiction at its snobbiest and most pretentious, and I was totally underwhelmed.

I was in eighth grade when 1968 dawned, too immature and self-centered to fully appreciate the truly momentous, spirit-shattering and world-changing events—the effect of which is still felt 50 years later. And that is why I read this outstanding book by Mark Kurlansky. This is not an easy read; it is a history book, after all, and will demand your full attention. But it is so worth the effort and time because it offers perspective.

From Moscow to Mexico, Berkeley to Biafra and Prague to Poland, the year was remarkable because of multiple and varied cries for revolution—everywhere. Students protested in almost every first-world country, and in some cases lost their lives for their efforts. Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy were assassinated. Richard Nixon was elected president. Russia invaded Czechoslovakia. More military members died in Vietnam in 1968 than any other year of that war. Chicago police went berserk at the Democratic National Convention, beating innocent citizens. Mexico massacred protesting students weeks before hosting the summer Olympics with the theme of brotherly love and friendship. It was a summer of Black Power and boycotts, burning draft cards and burning bras. And television changed it all, bringing these perilous events far and wide into the privacy of our living rooms.

This prodigiously researched history book recounts all the year's events, focusing especially on the citizen protests. It was these activities that more than anything else made people realize they were not powerless and—even more important—could not be ignored by the powerful.

"Remember 1968" should be a rallying cry for everyone who feels repressed in any day and age, and this book is the how-to instruction manual.

What if you knew far in advance the exact date you would die? That is the premise of this exceptional book by Chloe Benjamin. In 1969 in the New York City, four siblings—Varya (age 13), Daniel (11), Klara (9) and Simon (7)—meet with a gypsy fortuneteller, and she tells them the date on which they each will die. How does that information change the way they live? The answer is: drastically.

The story follows each of the siblings as they grapple with something no one should know. All four handle the knowledge differently—and weirdly, they really don't question it—from fearless living to fearful living. Are we fated to live life a certain way, or can we make choices that change our destiny?

Superbly written with keen insight probing the meaning of life and death, joy and grief, this provocative book is a fascinating study into the human psyche and the abiding love of family.

I dare you to read the first sentence—Yes! Just the first sentence!—and not be hooked on this book. It is witty (as in, you will laugh out loud and want to read passages to others because they are so funny), wise and wonderful. This book will grab your heart and not let go.

This is the story of Cyril Avery, who is born in Dublin, Ireland in 1945 to an unwed, 16-year-old mother, who was forcibly banished from her small hometown because of her disgraceful condition. Cyril is adopted by a strange, but well-meaning couple, who have wealth and prestige but little love for this little boy. As a child, he realizes he is gay, which is not an easy thing to be ultra-conservative Catholic Ireland. The book spans all the decades of Cyril's life—the good, the bad, the unconventional, the tragic, the hilarious—as he learns who he is and the real meaning of love, intimacy and family. And as much as this is a book about Cyril, it is also a book about Ireland and the astounding and profound social changes the country underwent from 1945 to 2015.

Author John Boyne is nothing short of a genius in the way he has structured the story. The characters' dialogues are without a doubt the most clever, funny and poignant I have ever read by any author. (I mean it! This book is incredible.) The narrative is compelling, the characters are fully developed and the pacing is perfect.

Bonus: The epilogue is brilliant.

There is really only one thing to say about this book: I loved, loved, loved it. This is one of the best books I have ever read. Five stars does not even begin to describe it!

If you're a big Amy Tan fan, this book is a must-read. But if you're not a Tan fan, skip it. Read her novels instead.

In chapter after chapter, she pulls back the wizard's curtain not only on her own life, but also on the (sometimes bizarre) ways she conceives of story ideas and then writes them.

Amy Tan did not have an easy childhood. Her mother's early life reads like a horror story, and those experiences affected her mental stability as an adult—and in turn impacted the kind of mother she was to Amy and her brothers. Her mom figures heavily in several of Amy Tan's novels, so she has done what many writers do: mine their own pasts for story ideas.

This is a difficult book to read. Some of it reads like stream-of-consciousness. Some of it reads like an academic treatise. Some of it so random that it's downright bewildering. While parts of the book were so fascinating I couldn't stop reading, other parts were so boring I had to force myself to keep reading. Still, it took a lot of courage for Amy Tan to write this, and I applaud her for that.

Bottom line: I would rather read her novels.

This is a well-written, intelligent book with a clever little plot and a colorful main character. Of course, it is. It won the 2018 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. But something is missing.

Written by Andrew Sean Greer, the book tells the story of 49-year-old (about to turn 50!) Arthur Less, a gay man who has had a series of love affairs. Just weeks from his 50th "over-the-hill" birthday, he receives a wedding invitation from one of those former lovers—the one he truly loved. He can't bear to attend the nuptials, so he accepts a myriad assortment of invitations to speak and teach and embarks on a several-months-long journey around the world. Poor Arthur. Nothing seems to go right for him. Or, if one looks at it differently, maybe everything goes right for him. Attitude and perspective count!

So what is missing? It took me a while to figure it out. It wasn't until the very end of the book that I felt real empathy, sympathy and compassion for the main character, and without that, I couldn't get attached to the book in the way I usually do with novels. Still, it's a good book—just not a superb one, in my opinion.

Lauren Groff is an artist. But instead of a paintbrush she uses words, and she does it with such amazing talent that those disparate syllables and sentences come together to create daring, brilliant images of Florida (and other places) in this collection of imaginative and often heartbreaking short stories. Because of her word artistry I saw the black snakes slithering in the swampy land. I could almost touch the Spanish moss hanging from the trees in dense clusters. I feared the alligators beneath the placid, shimmering water. I scratched at nonexistent mosquito bites. I felt the force of a hurricane's ravaging winds and dangerous, destructive floods.

Each story is about both the external and the internal. The external is the raw brutality of nature in this swampy state. The internal is the human heart—be it good or evil, happy or enraged, beautiful or ugly. This is as much a story about the human state as it is the sunshine state.

But be forewarned: Each of these stories is intense, much like little emotional explosions—so much so that I could only read one at a time and then had to close the book for a while before starting the next one. And that speaks to the power of the writing and the subsequent need for contemplation.

One of the greatest joys of reading is being transported to places I could otherwise never go. While I could easily travel to San Diego or La Paz, the primary locations of this book by Luis Alberto Urrea, there is no way other than reading that I could become (albeit virtual) part of a loud, boisterous, opinionated and sometimes scary--but always loving--Mexican-American family. And since I'm a 60-something white woman from the 'burbs, this was one heck of a trip I got to take!

This is the story of Big Angel, the 70-year-old patriarch of a large, extended Mexican-American family that lives in San Diego—some of who are there legally, some of whom are not. Taking place over a single weekend with the funeral of Big Angel's mother on Saturday and Big Angel's 70th birthday on Sunday, the plot swings back and forth to quite effectively tell a multigenerational saga involving a lot of characters.

There are three things that are absolutely precious about this book—as in, all made me tear up and laugh at the same time: Ookie, the mentally-challenged neighbor who steals Legos; Lily, the blind girl who appears on only a few pages; and (most of all) Big Angel's gratitude journal. I know. This makes no sense until you have read the book. But these are three (more) reasons to read it!

Yes, I felt like a stranger in a strange land, especially with the numerous Spanish slang words, (thank you, Google!) but this story expanded my world view. And that is the greatest power of a book.

While this may not win an influential literary prize, this book by Beatriz Williams is incredibly entertaining and will likely keep you up reading well past your bedtime. Beautifully written and brilliantly plotted, this is one of those books that will stay with you long after you finish the last page.

This is the story of two very different women—Bianca and Miranda—told over the summer months of three years: 1930, 1951 and 1969. This may sound overly complex, but it is an ingenious and creative way to tell this page-turning story that is not only narratively compelling, but also emotionally searing. The action takes place on Winthrop Island, an exclusive summer enclave for the very wealthy in the Long Island Sound area. There is a natural conflict—usually quite trifling, but sometimes quite dangerous—between the monied families and the year-round islanders who serve them. The book has it all: love, romance, seduction, secrets galore, murder and lots of suspense.

Written like an intelligent and exciting soap opera, it will totally consume you. Yes, dinner will be late tonight!

From Shakespeare to Stephen Sondheim and Amos Oz to Joyce Carol Oates, this scholarly collection of more than 50 essays, mostly erudite literary criticism, is at times a delight to read and at other times a real slog.

Author Lorrie Moore has assembled essays in chronological order that she previously published from 1983 to 2017 in such prestigious publications as the New York Review of Books, The New York Times Book Review, The New Yorker, The Atlantic, Harper's Magazine and more. In addition to literary criticism, Moore opines on such varied subjects as the movie "Titanic," Barack Obama, her first job, the best love song of the millennium, the O.J. Simpson trial, Monica Lewinsky, the TV series "The Wire" and 9/11 ten years later.

Moore has a formidable intellect and an astonishing bucket of knowledge stored in her brain. Here is one of just MANY examples: When discussing the theme of water in Alice Munro's short story collection "Runaway," she compares and contrasts it with the ancient Roman poet, Ovid: "…in Ovid water fuses a couple's sexuality; in Munro it distinguishes and separates." This is not a fact that one can easily Google. Lorrie Moore just knows it, gleaning it from her prodigious literary background, education and admirable memory (she's 61!). Her depth and breadth of knowledge is truly admirable and something of which I am, quite frankly, in awe.

Still, while most of the essays are fascinating and truly inspired me to read (and buy) the books, some are so highbrow and cluttered with intellectual--and at times perplexing--drivel they are difficult to comprehend and a chore to finish.

Bottom line: If you enjoy reading scholarly literary criticism, this book is for you. If you would rather just read the novel or short story collection, skip this.

This is a work of fiction that is masquerading as nonfiction. Beware! You will learn quite a bit of history while being utterly absorbed in a spellbinding tale. It is the literary equivalent of tricking us into eating our vegetables.

Author Ken Follett has crafted an engaging—and often absolutely gripping—story about the violent and brutal birth of Protestantism in England, France, Spain and the Netherlands in the 16th century. The book, which is the third in the Kingsbridge series and preceded by "Pillars of the Earth" and "World Without End," is peppered with real-life people who actually shaped these events, as well as fictional heroes and villains. (A helpful list at the end of the book explains who was real.)

This is a prodigiously researched historical account of a truly perilous time in European history, as kings and queens mandated their subjects' religion—and woe to those who ignored those official edicts. But faith is quite difficult to regulate. People naturally fight for their God, and that leads directly to the fierce, vicious and horribly bloody conflict that characterized the 1500s as Roman Catholics and Protestants battled one another in the belief that the two could not coexist peacefully.

What makes this book a thriller is the imaginative stories of the big and bold fictional characters—engrossing and captivating tales of romance, adventure, conniving tricks and murder—so all that history sneaks up on the reader. And that, quite simply, is the genius of Ken Follett: He is both history teacher and storyteller. (My only complaint is that the retelling of the history sometimes—but not often—gets in the way of the story. When that occasionally happens, it can be a slog to get through it. After all, this is a novel. But the slog is always worth it.)

Warning! This book isn't for the fainthearted, and beware reading it while you eat lunch. There are several absolutely gruesome descriptions of the torture methods used for interrogating and killing prisoners and enemies. It can be raw and brutal, but it is true to the facts.

This captivating story of dear Arthur Pepper, grieving widower, discombobulated father and disgruntled neighbor, is a lot like a soft, warm shawl. It will wrap its way around you, and you won't want to let it go. It is a tale about life, love and loneliness—and the inescapable fact that we are never too old to change.

This is a feel-good book. There is no profound philosophical content that attempts to change the direction of the world, but this is just the book to have on your (electronic) bookshelf when you need it. It is what it is…and enjoy it just for that.

It has been one year to the day since Arthur Pepper's wife, Miriam, died. He has tasked himself with finally going through her things, and in so doing he finds a mysterious 18-carat gold charm bracelet that he has never before seen. But what do the eight charms—ranging from an elephant decorated with an emerald to a paint palette engraved with the initials SY—mean, if anything? Peering closely at the elephant, Arthur sees a telephone number engraved on it. So it calls the number…and it is answered by a physician in India. As far as he knows, his wife has never been to India. Or has she? Herein is the plot of the book as Arthur, so set in his ways and obstinately devoted to his daily routine, disrupts his life to find out the meaning behind each of the charms. As he takes on this strange, twisted and quite unusual journey, Arthur discovers much about Miriam's apparently secret life before their marriage—including something so utterly shocking to him that it has the potential (if he lets it) to destroy everything he cherished about her. And along the way, Arthur also discovers something else: Himself.

Beautifully written by Phaedra Patrick, this book offers a true appreciation of the human condition in all its foibles and frailties, and the double entendre of the title is just plain fun. It is a delight to be treasured.

Bonus: The ending is perfect. Just perfect.

This is a masterpiece—an original, imaginative, inspired masterpiece. That is the only way to describe this extraordinary Pulitzer Prize-winning book by Geraldine Brooks.

Published 137 years after Louisa May Alcott's "Little Women," this is the story of Mr. March, who was largely absent from Alcott's timeless classic as he was serving as a chaplain in the Civil War. The first part is written from Mr. March's point of view, while the second part is written initially from his wife's point of view when she is in Washington caring for her extremely ill husband and then switches back to him. (You will see a new and somewhat shocking side of Marmee!)

While Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy learn how to become kind, caring ladies while living in their small New England village—visiting the poor, mending their bonnets, taking walks, writing letters and playing small, harmless pranks on each other—their father is sent to Virginia to serve as a war chaplain where he witnesses horrific and gruesome brutality that will forever change who he is and how he views the world. This, along with some of his actions, will threaten his and Marmee's marriage in surprising ways no innocent reader of "Little Women" could imagine.

The contrast between the two books—"Little Women" and "March"—could not be more extreme. The one shows us sweet, genteel, mannerly girls who love greatly and seek to do good as they learn how to live moral, upright lives. The latter shows us the other side of life that is occurring at the exact same time but one that is brutal, dark, violent, cruel, vicious and evil.

And here is the sheer genius of "March": Brooks writes in the style and language of the 19th century, even though she is a 21st century author.

A Reading Recommendation: This is very much a companion book to "Little Women," albeit one that Louisa May Alcott never envisioned. I highly encourage you to read (or more likely reread) "Little Women" before reading "March." There are numerous nuances, details and references to the little women living in New England that will have far greater meaning for you as a reader of "March" if "Little Women" is fresh in your mind.

This is a creative and philosophical masterpiece. And it is also a really good book—as in sometimes it's hard to do anything but read.

Author extraordinaire Joyce Carol Oates has done the seemingly impossible: She has written a book about abortion from both sides of this volatile issue without denigrating either position. The characters are presented as fully human—well-meaning, basically good people who feel vehemently about this discordant issue. But this agonizing story is SO SO SO much more than a fictionalized account of the abortion debate. It is primarily a heartbreaking saga of two broken families, who are in many ways the ultimate victims.

Luther Dunphy believes Jesus has commissioned him to kill "abortionist-murderer" Dr. Gus Voorhees. He does so, shooting him point blank in the face in cold blood. That is not a spoiler. It is the basis of the entire plot. The genius of this book is not in the action, but rather in the emotionally-charged stories of Dunphy and Voorhees's wives and their children—especially two of the daughters, Dawn Dunphy and Naomi Voorhees—who are horrifically damaged by what happened. Most of the book focuses on how they pick up the pieces (or not) after this gruesome, violent act so they can continue living.

Eventually, Dawn and Naomi meet. And it is done in such a way as only Joyce Carol Oates could ever conceive. It is not only brilliant, but also highly disturbing—and considering the characters, it makes total sense.

The ending is flawless, thought-provoking and powerful far beyond the simple action that occurs.

Told from multiple points of view, this provocative narrative is sympathetic, realistic, utterly engaging—and very intense. This book will demand your full attention. This book will break your heart. This book will open your eyes. This book is truly a book for our times.

Genius. Pure genius. I will only say that once (well, twice). Because if I don't make that pledge now, I will pepper my review of this extraordinary literary fiction masterpiece with the word "genius." (Okay, three times.)

That said, this is a challenging book to read on several levels. Not only is the subject matter horrific in quite a few places and just plain heartbreaking in others, but also the writing, albeit it brilliant and even poetic at times, is dense. Very dense. Translation: It's slow going. But it is so worth the time, effort and emotional energy you as a reader must devote to this book. (Just don't take it to the beach.)

Written by Stephen Markley, the book takes place on a single summer night in 2013 when two men and two women from the New Canaan (Ohio) High School classes of 2003 and 2004 come home for a visit. This isn't a planned reunion. Just a coincidence. Their past lives collide with their present lives in ways that are emotionally charged to the point of almost being explosive. New Canaan is a fictional town, but the problems these kids are facing are not: a recession that stole jobs and closed down the big employers, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and the debilitating opioid epidemic.

In some ways "Ohio" reminds me of a modern-day version of "American Graffiti"—without the soundtrack. The action takes place one evening/night in the heat of summer, but unlike the seemingly minor worries of 1950s teenagers, these 20-something millennials have stories to tell that are bruising, anguished and dark. Oh, so very dark. As a reader, I sometimes wanted to close my eyes from the wreck some of them made of their lives, but at the same time I was irresistibly drawn to it.

This structurally complex book is nearly perfect with a bold, imaginative plot and vividly-drawn characters whose lives will haunt my soul long after I read the last page.

What is ordinary, everyday time? How do our memories of the past shape our reality of the present? Author Julian Barnes explores these and other existential questions in this Man Booker Prize-winning two-chapter novel that is short enough to be read in one sitting, but was way too intense for me to attempt doing that.

Anthony Webster considers himself to be average in almost every way. Now in his 60s, he is amicably divorced (he still has lunch occasionally with the ex) and retired. Suddenly—and in a rather bizarre fashion—his first girlfriend, Veronica, comes roaring back into his life 40 years later in a confusing and confounding way. Her sudden appearance causes him to philosophize about his past and present and reconsider who he is—and who he was.

Concise though it may be, the book is laden with great philosophical topics, arguments and points. The plot, such as it is, is there as a pretty frame to surround the author's erudite theories of life, love and death that are the real crux of the book. But it works! I found myself rereading many paragraphs because they were so insightful, complex and thought-provoking.

Remember how "Seinfeld" was the sitcom about nothing? That also describes this book. Sometimes, I thought I could hear Jerry or George or Elaine in the dialogue. And just like the writers of "Seinfeld" imaginatively did, Julian Barnes also brilliantly accomplishes: It turns out that "nothing" can be a very powerful and profound something.

Is love alone enough to heal a fractured family? That is the essential question of this truly magnificent novel by Fatima Farheen Mirza that unerringly examines the joys and sorrows children and their parents wrest upon one another—intentionally or not. It is a timeless story of all families. Also, just be forewarned: This is a powerful, intense story that will require quiet reading time to fully appreciate.

Rafiq and Layla are Indian Muslims. They marry in an arranged marriage, and Layla moves from Hyderabad, India to San Francisco to be with her husband. They have three children, and Layla becomes a devoted and loving stay-at-home mom. Hadia is the overachieving, first-born who does all she can to please (and never disappoint) her strict and stern father. Huda is the complacent, sweet second child. And then Amar, the only boy, tries so hard to belong but always feels like an outsider—even (and perhaps, especially) within his own family. Led by the parents, the family is devoutly religious, which serves as both a rock of resilience and hope, as well as a wedge that tears them apart.

This is also a book about American culture. Mirza deftly places the reader so firmly inside this family that we bond with them and feel great sympathy for them. That makes it all the more poignant when they experience the ugliness perpetrated against Muslims immediately following and in the years after 9/11. And that is the real power of great literature! No matter your race or religion, once you are inside this story, you will feel the psychic and physical pain of being treated and viewed as the outsider in your own country.

While the book begins on Hadia's wedding day, it quickly slips back to the deep past and then the near past and then back again to the present. I'm not even sure there is a word that describes the chronology of this story, but the author handles it deftly and expertly so it is never jarring or jerky. In fact, it is nearly perfect.

Told with candor and compassion from the points of view of various family members, this profound book reveals not only all that is good and solid and loving in any family, but also those things big and small that can be so hurtful and continue to hurt for years. It will break your heart for all that could have been but wasn't, and it will make you wonder in awe at the healing power of love.