The quick review: This is now one of my favorite books…ever. It is nearly perfect because of the brilliant way author Elizabeth Strout crafts the story. It is truly a masterpiece.

This is a tale about the Burgess family—three kids: Jim, Bob and Susan. They are grown now. Jim is a hotshot and famous attorney, who is married to Helen and living a life everyone envies. Bob, who is divorced but still best friends with his ex-wife, is also an attorney, but he has so many emotional issues and conflicts from a childhood tragedy that he is a low-power version of his big brother. Both live in New York City, having fled their home state of Maine. Susan, Bob's twin, is bitterly divorced and still lives in their small hometown of Shirley Falls, Maine, which is no longer the white enclave it once was. Somalis have been immigrating en masse, and many in town are having trouble adjusting to this significant population change. Susan's son, Zach, is 19 and troubled. Very troubled. He commits what he thinks is a prank, but others consider the act so evil it could be a hate crime.

While the plot—a classic us vs. them—is definitely engrossing, the genius of the story is rendered in the characters, the Burgess kids, their spouses and friends, as well as one of the Somalis in town. Each has his or her own subplot going on and together become a kind of mirror image of the themes of the main story: In so many ways, we are all strangers to one another. We are all in turmoil and distress. We hurt each other, sometimes on purpose and sometimes not, but we are all in need of welcome and love.

This beautifully written book is not only profoundly moving, but also an emotionally searing tale for our times.

Oh. My. Goodness. Yes, all the hype is true. This is an incredible book that broke my heart, made me laugh out loud, made me shake my head in wonder, made me cry real tears several times, and made me oh-so-sad when it ended. (Book hangover!)

Ingeniously plotted, the story begins in 1952 when the lead character, Kya, is six years old. And while the story is told chronologically from the 1950s to the early 1970s, it bounces ahead in time to 1969-70 and then retreats to the 50s-60s until the two merge. While at its core, this is the story of Kya's lonely and alarming life in North Carolina's primitive and untamed coastal marshes (the '50s and '60s), it is also—around the edges—a murder mystery (1969-70).

Kya, the youngest of five children, lives in a dilapidated swamp shack with her impoverished parents and siblings—until one by one, they leave. Shy and terrified, the abandoned Kya does what no child should have to do: survive on her own. This is the story of not only her survival, but also her triumphs and redemption. It is a story about prejudice, evil, abuse and hate, as well as a story of the transformative power of love.

Bonus: This is also a love story to the coastal marshlands. The descriptions of the flora and fauna are so detailed and the imagery so vivid, that the reader can totally visualize the lush land and teeming waterways—if not actually feel the need to scratch at nonexistent mosquito bites! The book is filled with facts that are presented in such a fascinating and utterly interesting way, that I found myself wanting to know more about everything from female fireflies' bizarre and cruel mating habits to why seagulls have a bright red spot on their beaks and what creates the iridescence of a hummingbird's golden-red throat.

This is a must-read book!

This truly exceptional book by Hanya Yanagihara is a literary masterpiece. It is, quite possibly, a work of genius. It is also the saddest, most upsetting book I have read—perhaps ever.

This is not a book I would casually recommend to anyone. It is dense. It is intense. It is more about misery than joy, and it sucks the reader down into that misery like quicksand. It is desolate. There is (extremely) disturbing violence. More than anything, it is absolutely, totally heartbreaking. (See below for my reasons why you should read a book that is so melancholy and deeply sorrowful.)

This is the story of four college friends and roommates—Willem, Malcolm, JB and Jude—who presumably, although it is only implied, went to Harvard. The book begins soon after they have graduated and ends decades later. Brilliant and creative, each is flawed in some important way. Eventually, the story focuses more on Jude, the most damaged and broken—physically and psychologically—of the four men, who was abandoned as an infant and was severely abused, both physically and sexually, throughout his childhood. He shields and protects the dark and tragic secrets of his past from his three very close friends. We readers gradually learn the gritty, obscene and absolutely appalling details of Jude's past, but only in bits and pieces, until eventually all is revealed. And it is truly horrific. This is not for the weak-hearted. The one thread of hope that runs throughout the book is the salvation we find in the love of enduring and abiding friendship.

So…why read a book like this, a book that is nothing but depressing and will make you feel absolutely wretched? One simple reason beyond the fact that it is truly incredible literature: It will make you a better person. It will give you empathy and understanding for those who are suffering unimaginable curses of their past. If you love someone who is depressed, suicidal, or engages in self-harm, this may give you more understanding so you can perhaps help or comfort—even if it's only in a small way.

This is definitely not a book that I can say I enjoyed reading. Quite the opposite, in fact. But I am in awe of it. And that counts for a lot. (Near the end of the book is this line: "What he knew, he knew from books, and books lied, they made things prettier." NOT this one!)

Told with remarkable perception of the human psyche, this elegiac work of art will haunt me for a long time to come.

If you read this book, you will never hold a dime—yes, a simple 10-cent coin—in your hand again and think of it in the same way. No spoilers here! I won't tell you why, but trust me that it is worth reading the book just to find out.

The Civil War has ended. The wilds of Texas are unruly, to say the least. Captain Jefferson Kyle Kidd, age 72, is old and tired. Widowed with daughters who now live in Florida, he earns his meager way in life by traveling from town to town setting himself up in auditoriums reading selected articles from newspapers—the news of the world. And then an old friend, who is a freed slave, presents him with a 10-year-old white girl, Johanna. When she was six-years-old, her parents and sister were brutally murdered by the Kiowa, while Johanna was kidnapped by the tribe. Four years later she has been rescued. Would Captain Kidd return her to her nearest kin, an aunt and uncle living on the other side of Texas? Because he is an honorable man, he does so. Johanna is not your typical 10-year-old white girl. She has been totally brainwashed by the Kiowa and is fighting her reunion into civilized society every step of the way. She speaks only the Kiowa language, having forgotten every word of English she ever knew. The two set off on what can only be described as an adventure…a highly emotional adventure.

Bonus: Author Paulette Jiles prodigiously researched this era in Texas's history, so as the story springs from the page, so do many facts and figures about life in what can only be described as the wild west of the 1870s.

While the story is slow-moving and occasionally cumbersome early on, it is ultimately engaging in a way that will grab your heart and make you cheer. It is both tender and tough.

Warning! This book will induce a book hangover.

This is a story about family. Everyone's family. The family in which we are born and the family we create. The expectations for our life others have for us and the expectations for our life we create ourselves. This beautifully written book by Jean Thompson is for anyone who "left home" to build a life independent of their birth family—be it in a place far away or just down the street—but it will especially resonate with those who were born in the mid-1950s and were teenagers in the early 1970s.

Beginning in 1973, the book follows three generations of the Erickson family of Grenada, Iowa. Of solid Norwegian descent, they are tall, blond and Lutheran. They farm the land, but even if they have other jobs, it really all comes back to the land and their place in it, a place that has been carved out for generations. But their baby boomer children have other ideas, ideas of change that cause upheaval and heartbreak.

Randy and Audrey Erickson have four children, all of whom are born at the peak of the baby boom years. Anita is beautiful and eagerly embraces the path of an early marriage and children—until she realizes she is missing something important. Ryan is smart, albeit confused, and has one goal in life: get the heck out of Iowa. Blake is happy living in his hometown, happy to just go along. Torrie has big goals like her brother, Ryan, but something horrific happens that ends those dreams…until a new dream takes its place. Their older cousin, Chip, a misfit if there ever was one, has recently returned from Vietnam.

While the plot moves the story along, it is definitely secondary to the characters, who really drive the narrative. This is not a page-turner; in some ways, it's the opposite because it is the kind of book—with its keen observations and remarkable insight—that will make you stop reading and just ponder for a minute or two.

This extraordinary novel by Geraldine Brooks tells the biblical story of King David in such a compelling and riveting way that you will wish she would do the same for all the holy scriptures! Told in the first person by the prophet Natan (Nathan), who spent his entire life by David's side as his trusted visionary, the book presents this towering figure in a way that will truly resonate.

David was the king of two combined kingdoms, Israel and Judah, and his life story is rife with tales of love and lust, heroism and hatred, war and peace. He famously fought and killed Goliath. He waged many deadly battles and commanded a people with his charm, charisma and good looks. He was an extraordinary musician with many of the Bible's psalms credited to him. And while the Bible only hints, albeit very strongly, at the true nature of the relationship between David and his best friend, Jonathan, this book spells it out very clearly.

While remaining true to the scriptures, Brooks has vividly colored outside those lines to create characters, settings and action that flesh out the stories so they just pop off the page. You'll never read the Bible the same way again!

Advice: If you aren't familiar with or only have a vague memory of the biblical story of David, I highly recommend that you read 1 Samuel 16-31, 2 Samuel, and 1 Kings 1-2 either before or while you are reading this book. It's a fascinating way to see how closely the author sticks to the narrative of the Hebrew scriptures but also fills out the story in such a lively and readable style.

Oh, this book broke my heart. But in a good way, because the powerful and profound message it delivers speaks the truth. It is raw. It is brilliant. It is deeply affecting. It is impossible to read this book and not feel stunned by it.

Niru is 18 and in his senior year at an unnamed elite high school in Washington, D.C. that is located on the grounds of the Washington National Cathedral. (St. Alban's School, obviously, but it's not named as such.) His best friend is Meredith, who goes to National Cathedral School (again, not named). She loves Niru…actually, she is in love with Niru. Life is good. Both come from incredibly wealthy, successful and powerful families. Niru has been accepted to Harvard early decision, and he is a star on the school's track team. But he is harboring a deep secret, one that is tearing him apart. He confesses it to Meredith: He is gay. When his very strict, very conservative Nigerian parents discover his secret, Niru's world is shattered. His parents, who are deeply appalled and genuinely distressed, do everything they can to "correct" what they perceive as a deep-seated character flaw. And then tragedy strikes and changes everything. Because no matter how brilliant, kind and talented he may be, Niru is still a scary black man in the eyes of so many.

Written by Uzodinma Iweala, this short book's strength is twofold: vivid, true-to-life characters and mesmerizing storytelling. I was completely immersed in the story, almost as if I had crawled inside the book and become a part of it. The result is a treasure that will stay with me for some time.

Bonus: Read the acknowledgements at the end—totally worth your time.

I liked this book! And it would appear that based on many of the reader reviews this is distinctly a minority opinion.

Granted, it's not great literature, but most definitely it is not as awful as so many are depicting it. Written by Cynthia D'Aprix Sweeney, this is a story about well-off New Yorkers and their bad boy (or bad girl) ways. And it's fun to read, even though the plot is fairly—but not entirely—predictable.

The four Plumb siblings, Leo, Beatrice, Jack, and Melody, have known for decades that when Melody, the youngest, turns 40, they will inherit what their eccentric father thought of as nothing more than a small nest egg. A bit of extra money in midlife to pay down a mortgage or put a kid through college. Nothing life-changing. But their deceased daddy didn't count on a runaway stock market that left the little nest egg hurtling toward $2 million. Then their equally-eccentric mother, who is the fund's trustee, is forced to use "the Nest," as the kids call it, to bail out one of the sibs after a scandal and keep the family name out of the gossip pages. The problem is that the others were totally counting on this money—as in, they could each be financially ruined if they don't get it. But the book is so much more than that. The four are each having a life crisis—the kind that money can't fix. And that is the heart and soul of the story.

The book is an interesting examination of the power of money—actually, just the idea of money—for good and evil and how that power can take over and distort an otherwise good life.

Poetry. Sheer, beautiful, pure poetry. But it's prose. Of course, it is. This is a novel. And. Every. Word. Is. Perfect. That is what makes it poetry. That is what makes the language sing. This book is worth reading just for the writing.

Jojo is 13, almost a man, but still very much a boy. Because his drug-addicted mother, Leonie, is aloof toward and neglectful of her children, Jojo becomes his baby sister Kayla's surrogate parent. Their bond infuriates Leonie. Her man is about to be released from prison in Parchman, Mississippi, and she is going to drive three hours to get him, along with her friend Misty and the two kids. Jojo and Kayla live with their grandparents, Pop and Mam, and this road trip, which is shrouded in danger, makes Pop very nervous—and for good reason. Pop can't make himself go with them, as he was once an inmate there himself. And he has some horrific, bone-chilling tales to tell about his time in prison.

What happens on the drive up and back, as well as in the days following make up the bulk of this novel as the story holds up the past and the present like mirrors to delve into the sacred meaning of family and love but especially grief, death, and the afterlife in ways both profound and passionate.

At its heart, this is a story about the South, of what it means to be white or black, of privilege and prejudice, but it is also just as much a story about America.

This is a short, but oh-so-difficult book to read. It broke my heart, but it also made me think—a lot—about all those grown-up problems from poverty to racial hatred to distant, bitter parents that endanger children and force them to grow up too fast. This is a book that will linger with me.

I admit it! I admit it! I bought and read this book by Balli Kaur Jaswal because of the title. While the book itself is only OK, the clever title should win an award.

Here's the short version: This book is so bad…it's (almost) good. Soap opera, anyone?

Nikki is 22, a recent law school dropout, and is trying to figure out what she wants to do with her life. Although she and her family live in London, she is of Punjab descent and steeped in that culture which is often repressive for women. Defying the expectations of her parents and her community, Nikki works in a bar and lives in a cheap-rent flat over the pub. She soon finds an opportunity to teach English reading and writing to older Punjabi women, all of whom are widows. While the women aren't motivated to learn English, they quickly commandeer the class time to orally share short stories they have created—erotic stories. Word spreads and the class size mushrooms, but all too soon they are threatened by a group of men who call themselves The Brothers and function as the moral police. Meanwhile, a running plotline throughout the book concerns the suspicious murder and suicide of two young Punjabi women as a backstory for the pressures for modern women of living a traditional, conservative Punjabi life.

Even if the premise and purpose of the book are sound, the execution is questionable. The plot is weak and somewhat predictable, the writing a bit flowery, and the characters are stereotypes. There is also a lot going on in this book—actually, too much. Better editing may have helped.

What does it really mean to be in a relationship? What does it mean to be in young and in love? With sparse but beautiful language, author Sally Rooney has written a (literary) love story for the ages.

Marianne and Connell grew up in the same small Irish town. She is wealthy, privileged, unloved by her family, and a social pariah. She is bullied. He is the son of a poor single mother, totally loved, athletic and popular. He is a really nice guy. They begin a relationship in their last year of school, but Connell insists Marianne tell no one; it would be too embarrassing for him. The book is the story of their multi-year, on-again, off-again love affair—one that is intense but anguished, passionate but tormented, and totally meant to be. (Or is it?)

This is a stunning, intelligent and accomplished work of literature with vividly-imagined characters and an engaging and evocative storyline, albeit thin on plot. It is tender, but also shocking. It is true to life. It is an emotional deep dive into the human psyche. After all, what does it mean to be "normal people," and don't we all struggle to some extent to be just that?

This book grabbed my heart and soul.

Part historical novel, part adventure story and part murder mystery, this intriguing book, the second in "The Hangman's Daughter" series by Oliver Pötzsch, is quite the page-turner. Underneath an intricate plot, this is also a none-too-subtle statement about Christianity—the succor and solace it can provide and the harm and injury it can inflict.

It is on an icy cold and snowy day in the winter of 1660 in a small village nestled in the Bavarian Alps that the local priest is found poisoned. And while he was obviously poisoned in the rectory, he managed to drag himself to the church where he arranged his dying body as a clue to a deeper mystery—one far greater and with more importance than just the name of his murderer. With that, the story is off and running as the hangman Jakob Kuisl (just as every town had a blacksmith and a tanner, it had a hangman), his daughter Magdalena, the physician Simon, and the priest's sister Benedikta search for a treasure hidden some 300 years ago by the Knights Templar. Of course, these four are not the only ones who are racing to find the treasure, and their opponents will stop at nothing—even murder and torture—to get there first.

Ingeniously plotted with characters that have real depth and personality, this is a captivating read. And while some parts of the story appear contrived if not actually a bit farfetched, it's all done to further what is, quite simply, a really good tale well told.

A picky historical error: Matches are prevalent throughout this story, which takes place in 1660; however, matches were not invented until 1805.

What happens when the world view you have always known inexorably shifts? Do you embrace the change as forward-thinking or fight it for all you're worth? If you simply deny that the change is real, will those words be enough to bring back the good old days? That is the fascinating premise of this remarkable novel by Barbara Kingsolver that is, more than anything else, a philosophical statement about the sociopolitical times in which we live now.

A beleaguered house in Vineland, New Jersey is the backdrop of this book that alternates between two families who have the great misfortune to live on that site. Thatcher Greenfield lives there with his family in 1874-1875. He is newly hired as the high school science teacher, but when he professes the new theories of evolution as espoused by Charles Darwin, his world is shattered when virtually everyone around him objects, insisting the Bible is the only valid reference for scientific thought. Fast forward to 2015-2016 when Willa Knox and Iano Tavoularis, both recently laid off, move into the home she inherited from her aunts. Their family's life is awash in tragedy and troubles, while they watch horrified as a man only identified as "the Bullhorn" appears destined for the presidency and global warming shifts from scientists' dire warning to real-life consequences.

The book is a fascinating exposition on the power of cultural change—change that feels uncertain and threatening, but is so deep-seated and long-lasting that it is called a paradigm shift—and how we as a society adapt to it or not.

Because Kingsolver is a creative genius, the chapters on Thatcher are written in the style of a Victorian novel, while the chapters on Willa are written in a modern-day tone. And here is fun tidbit that took me several chapters to notice: The last words of each chapter are the title of the next chapter.

Bonus: Iano Tavoularis very creatively swears in Greek, and translations are helpfully provided. Some of this is hilarious! (Beware, in case you are offended by such language in books.)

This is a deeply affecting and heart-wrenching book about forgiveness. And it's about the most difficult form of forgiveness: Forgiving oneself.

Violet Rue is the youngest of seven children in the Irish Catholic, blue collar Kerrigan family of South Niagara, New York. While there is not a lot of happiness in the Kerrigan family, there is security. But all that is rent asunder when Violet's two oldest brothers commit a heinous crime—and only Violet knows they did it. Terrified, confused and desperately unsure of herself, the 12-year-old blurts out what her brothers did when she is in the nurse's office at her school. Violet is branded a "rat" from that day on and sent far away to live with an aunt and uncle she barely knows. She is sent away for her own protection, but also because her family despises her and wants nothing to do with her. And so begins a life where she is always looking behind her, always worried, and desperately seeking something that seems so elusive: love.

Written with remarkable insight and raw candor, this emotionally-searing book by Joyce Carol Oates will stay with me for some time to come.

This book is deeply disturbing. And that is exactly why you should read it.

Written by Alexandra Robbins, the book follows four juniors, three seniors and one graduate of Walt Whitman High School in tony Bethesda, Maryland for a little more than a year during 2004-2005. As the title would indicate, these teenagers have it all and do it all. They are highly intelligent and deeply motivated. They not only excel at their schoolwork—be it AP English or AP physics—but also excel at athletics, art, and music. They participate in a dizzyingly high number of extracurricular activities. The only thing they don't do is sleep.

This is what it feels like to be an overachiever:
• Getting a B is like getting an F.
• Cheating is perfectly OK if it means getting the A.
• Sabotaging other students' work is a legitimate way to compete.
• It's perfectly OK to take unprescribed ADD drugs for better focus.
• If you're going to play a sport, you absolutely must be a superstar. Or don't play.

While many of the students profiled in the book are highly self-motivated, some of them are pushed—relentlessly and (in one case) cruelly—by their parents. The students and parents truly believe that if the kids don't go to an Ivy League university or an Ivy-wannabe, all the effort, time and lack of sleep in high school was worthless. It's Harvard-Yale-Princeton or nothing. And that is a lot of pressure!

This book is nonfiction, but Robbins is so talented that it reads more like a novel. It was hard to put down because I wanted to know what happened next to Julie, Taylor, Sam, C.J., Ryland and the rest of the crowd.

I have only one quibble with this extraordinary book: Except for one student, those who are profiled all come from wealthy families. The cost of college is not a concern. So while the parents and students stress over an A- or a "low" SAT score of 1410 (out of 1600), at no point is there any discussion—much less worry or stress—about the outrageously high cost of these top-tier colleges to which they all aspire. There are overachievers at every high school in this country, but it is truly rare when parents can easily write checks to cover $65,000 a year. Most overachievers also have to lose what precious sleep they do get wondering how they will pay for it all.

Oh, what a huge disappointment! The publisher's plot summary is spectacular, and based on that this could have been a wonderful, compelling ChickLit book. But it wasn't. Why? The writing is stilted, the dialogue is strained and unrealistic, and the characters' actions are straight out of a mediocre soap opera.

Written by Lucinda Riley, the book is really two related stories, both of which focuses on Wharton Park, a large (think Downtown Abbey) ancestral home in rural Norfolk, England with side trips to Bangkok, Thailand. Taking place in modern times, the first story focuses primarily on Julia, the granddaughter of one of Wharton Park's gardeners who raised orchids in the hothouses, and Kit (Lord Christopher Crawford), who is being forced to sell his ancestral home as it pretty much falls down around itself. The second story takes place just before and after World War II, focusing on a family scandal and long-held secrets with generation-spanning ramifications.

The first story is weak, pitiful, and boring—when it's not totally preposterous. The second story, while far more interesting, is strangled by the second-rate writing. At one point near the end of the book, I actually said out loud, "Oh, come on! You HAVE to be kidding me!" (If you read this book, you will easily figure out exactly when I said this.)

What this book is: A fascinating, extraordinarily well-written historical novel on a young Abraham Lincoln, whose future wife, Mary Todd, was making eyes at him across the well-to-do parlors of Springfield, Illinois in the early 1840s, while at the same time the future president was sleeping in the same bed with a man named Joshua Speed, his closest friend and confidante.

What this book is not: "A page-turning novel" as the publisher describes it. Because of this description, I expected far more action and perhaps even a bit of suspense—something to keep me turning those pages and reading past my bedtime. Methinks, the publisher is overreaching in an attempt to sell more books. And that's a shame, because while the book is not "a page-turning novel," it is really good and this falsity does it and readers a real disservice.

Written by Louis Bayard much in the style of a 19th century novel, this is the tale of two people—Mary Todd and Joshua Speed—who were both essentially courting Mr. Lincoln. Lincoln and Speed lived together, ate their meals together and slept in the same bed. (Apparently, this was not uncommon for men to do in this time period and did not necessarily mean there was a sexual relationship.) Meanwhile, the beautiful Mary Todd, who could have had her pick of men, fell for the lumbering, somewhat uncouth, manners-challenged, disheveled, and penny-pinching poor Abraham Lincoln. But they shared one passion above all else: politics.

The No. 1 reason this is not "a page-turning novel" is the format of the book. Sections, each with multiple chapters, are written first from Mary's point of view with many of the same events being replayed in the following section from Joshua's point of view. It's an interesting and effective way to tell the story, but it's hardly filled with page-turning suspense.

I admit it! I bought this book for the title. For me, wasting a single hour, much less an entire day, is an anathema, so I was fascinated about an entire book on the topic.

As it turns out, the book is not exactly an instruction manual for being a lazy bum.

Instead, it's a combination memoir/travelogue/scholarly essay on how author Patricia Hampl, an admitted workaholic, became enchanted with the innate and often underestimated benefits of daydreaming, retiring from the pressures of society, traveling (often alone) for self-discovery, and embracing the joys of solitude. She accomplishes this by exploring how men and women—some of whom lived almost 500 years ago—achieved this feat. And it is indeed a feat for those of us who believe in filling every hour with productive activity.

This is a thought-provoking volume, which was no doubt Hampl's intent. While parts of it are absolutely riveting, quite a bit of it is rather erudite and dotted with obscure literary references, which the author (for the most part) fully explains. That said, it is charming to contemplate "wasting time" from such a serious and academic vantage. In case you need it, this book gives you "permission" to take a walk and smell the roses.

This is the rarest of books. It is a story of loss and separation—the kind that is foisted upon us by death and the kind that is inflicted upon us by estrangement—but it is also a story about the abiding power of love and friendship. It is a riveting, can't-put-it-down novel. And while the book is heartbreaking, it is also deeply affecting.

Written by Rebecca Makkai, the book is essentially two separate stories, told in different times and places. The first story takes place in Chicago from 1985 to 1992 in a tight-knit gay community as the carnage caused by the new and mysterious disease called AIDS is just becoming known. Men are dying and men are terrified—and men are trying against the odds to keep on living their lives. The second story is set in 2015 in Paris as the sister of one of those first AIDS victims in that '80s Chicago crowd, is desperately searching for her estranged, grown-up daughter who has seemingly disappeared. There are several unexpected story twists that are truly masterful because they are subtle—but oh so piercing.

How these two stories merge is part of the author's genius and the book's brilliance—and the last page gave me goosebumps. Yes, the book is laced with tragedy and deep sadness, but the two stories are so compelling that I still wanted to immerse myself in them. I highly recommend this book!

There is always another side of the story.

Author Laila Lalami has taken this adage to heart in this searing and ingenious tale about the death of Driss Guerraoui, a Moroccan immigrant living in the small town of Mojave, California with this wife, Maryam. The couple have two grown daughters, Salma, a dentist who is married with two children, and Nora, a talented composer and musician. Driss, a Muslim who fully embraces the American dream despite the resentment and hatred so many have felt for him since 9/11, owns a modestly successful diner. One night after staying late at the restaurant he is run over and killed in a hit-and-run crash. Was it an accident…or murder?

The book is composed of dozens of short chapters, each told in the first person by someone connected to the case, including Maryam, Salma, and Nora, as well the African-American police detective, a white high school friend of Nora's who has recently returned from fighting in the war in Iraq and has fallen in love with Nora, the elderly white man who owns the bowling alley next door to Driss's diner, the bowling alley owner's grown son, and an illegal and terrified Latino immigrant who witnessed the hit-and-run.

This is the genius of the book: Even with so many diverse characters, each one is easy to remember and fully embrace, making the narrative arc—as told through so many varying points of view—riveting and absolutely brilliant.

This is so much more than a whodunit story. This is a story about people—be it people who are Muslim, Catholic, white, black, rich, or poor and the things they do to one another out of fear and distrust for "the other." This is a story about people—and the secrets they keep and the secrets that destroy. This is a story about people—be it people who are grieving, angry, happy, hopeful, resentful, or hurting with emotions that are often raw and always real.

This is a story about humanity. It is not about "the others" but rather about all of us.

After all, there is always another side of the story.