This fast-to-read psychological thriller is the perfect book for a cool autumn evening. Light a fire and get comfortable because this novel by Thomas Christopher Greene is so riveting you won't be moving for a while.

This is an astonishing read, and about halfway through the book, the story will knock you between the eyes--and you'll never see it coming. It is an astounding and unexpected plot twist that left me in tears at the end.

Since this book is all about the plot, to tell you more than this is to give away spoilers: It is a story about Arthur and Elizabeth Winthrop. He is the headmaster at an elite Vermont boarding school. She is the headmaster's wife. The book opens as Arthur is walking naked in New York City's Central Park during a snowstorm. The police bring him in for questioning, and he explains everything. This a novel that fully celebrates the joy of love and embraces the tragedy of death and the harrowing effect both can have on the human psyche.

I first read this book in 2014. I am rereading it now because it's a selection for my book club. Knowing what happens made this second read even more powerful because I was looking for the clues.

And do note this: Even though the title makes it sound like ChickLit, it's not. Men will enjoy this as much as women.

There is only one word to describe "The Headmaster's Wife": Extraordinary.

Elizabeth McCracken may very well be the queen of the short story, and this collection is why she deserves that crown. Each story is a little gem with a solid plot, interesting and fully developed characters, and an underlying theme, which is often about the bonds of family—the ones that tie us with love and the ones that break us with sorrow.

When I read this, I felt like someone who was granted a wish. The first story is titled "The Irish Wedding," and it was such a wonderful little read with two characters, Jack and Sadie, I really enjoyed. I wished this were a novel, so I could spend more time with Jack and Sadie. Well, guess what? Four more of the dozen stories in this collection are about Jack and Sadie. Wish granted!

Some of my other favorites:
"Robinson Crusoe at the Waterpark": A gay couple, one of whom is much older than the other and fast on his way to becoming a grumpy old man, take their young son to a waterpark in Galveston where the older man has a revelation caused by intense fear that will forever change their lives for the better.

"It's Not You": A young woman decides to spend the night alone in a garish hotel to heal her broken heart. The plan is to drink, cry, and soak in the tub. At breakfast the next morning, she meets an older man who is a radio psychologist. The two go up to his room, and what happens next is most unexpected.

"Mistress Mickle All at Sea": A 49-year-old woman who plays a villainess on a children's TV show, visits her brother in Rotterdam for New Year's Eve and returns home on a ferry where she encounters another children's performer who is entertaining the young travelers, but this time she's part of the audience.

Beautifully written with diverse settings and wide-ranging plots, this collection of short stories is simply wonderful.

The "Outlander" series is my bookish guilty pleasure. What a delight! Although each of these nine books is very well written by master storyteller Diana Gabaldon, there is minimal literary value. It's all about suspending your sense of reality and just going with the impossible, coincidence-laden, very romantic, and very sexy time travel storyline. Oh, and enjoy every minute!

This is the ninth in the series, and the books must be read in order for two reasons. If you skip around, you won't understand the continuing plot developments, which build on what happened previously. Worse, there will be spoilers. Begin with "Outlander: A Novel" and proceed from there.

The basic premise is that in 1945, war nurse Claire Randall was wandering in the Scottish Highlands and accidentally traveled through a standing stone in one of the ancient circles and ended up marooned in 1743 with nothing but her wits to survive. She meets and falls passionately in love with Jamie Fraser. And the story moves on from there…

In book No. 9, it's 1779 and Claire and Jamie have returned from Philadelphia to Fraser's Ridge, North Carolina. Much to their surprise and delight, Claire and Jamie's daughter, Brianna, her husband, Roger, and their two children, Jem and Mandy, travel back in time and join them with a harrowing story to tell. Life is unsettled as the Revolutionary War comes to the Southern states, and all residents must choose sides to back the rebels or the king. This naturally pits neighbor against neighbor, and Fraser's Ridge is no exception. There are multiple plotlines in this novel—so many it's a little dizzying. Bri and Roger head south to Charles Town and Savannah at Lord John's request and decide to do something dangerous and illegal on the way. Ian and Rachel head north to New York state to check on Ian's first wife, a Mohawk Indian. William Ransom, Jamie's son and Brianna's half-brother, shows up in Savannah, with dire news. Of course, the plot points all come together in the end, leaving a nice cliffhanger for the next novel in the series. (And presumably there will be one, as Diana Gabaldon has repeatedly promised to make the story come full circle with an important scene that happened very early in the first "Outlander" book in which Frank Randall sees the specter of Jamie Fraser dressed in full Scottish regalia.)

This book has it all—heroes and villains, and one villain who will knock your socks off (so pay attention!), extraordinary plot twists that keep you reading late into the night, colorful descriptions that place you in the middle of the action, complex and interesting characters, and sex. Lots of sex.

The "Outlander" series of books is the ultimate reality escape. They are long books with convoluted, not-quite-believable but ingenious plots, and are an absolute delight to read.

Oh, I just want to hug this book!

This is a lovely, heartfelt, deeply endearing story about the Covid lockdown as experienced by one of Elizabeth Strout's most beloved characters, Lucy Barton. And while each of us has our own unique story to tell about this unsettling time, somehow Lucy manages to speak for many of us about the isolation, fear, uncertainties, anxieties, disruption, and political unrest, as well as the newfound friendships, love, and personal growth that defined 2020 and 2021.

It's March 2020 and this strange, fearsome virus is making its presence known. Lucy is still reeling from the death a year ago of her beloved second husband, David, when her first husband, William, calls her and tells her in no uncertain terms that he is whisking her away from New York City to the wilds of coastal Maine to save her life. Lucy is confused. Figuring that William's odd trip to Maine with her in tow will last a few weeks at most, she packs only one small suitcase. The two rent a house and set up platonic housekeeping, while also trying to rescue their two married daughters, who live in New York City.

The heart and soul of the story is how Lucy and William adjust to the isolation, make new friends, and discover new things about themselves as individuals and each other as a couple. In addition to dealing with grief for those close to them who die of Covid, Lucy wrestles with being the mother to grown-up daughters who don't particularly need her, as well as horrifying memories of her terrible, abusive childhood.

But the most brilliant parts of the book are how Strout addresses the disparities of the lockdown—the ultimate haves vs. the have nots, as well as the vast and stark political differences of the country. Her prose should be read by everyone for a greater understanding of how "the other" thinks—no matter who "the other" is for you.

Written in Lucy's first-person voice, this ingenious novel reminds me of two friends conversing about the details of their day. It is filled with both joy and sorrow, and at times it is brutally raw with human emotion.

A really fun bonus: Characters from other Strout novels make appearances big and small, including Bob Burgess from "The Burgess Boys" and Olive Kitteridge from the "Olive Kitteridge" and "Olive, Again." While you can totally appreciate "Lucy by the Sea" as a standalone book without having read any of the others before it (it is fourth in the "Lucy Barton" series), it's a much richer experience if you know what comes previously.

This novel resonates with wisdom, insights, and a deep, almost visceral, understanding of what it means to be fully human. Reading this book is the literary equivalent of a soft, comfortable blanket. It will make you feel warm and good all over, knowing that even though we all felt so alone and lonely at the beginning of the Covid pandemic, we are not alone and lonely. We still have each other. And we still have Lucy Barton.

There are two types of readers: Those who finish a book—no matter what—just because they started it and those who give a book a few pages—10, 20, 50—and then give up if it's not that good. If you fall into the latter category, be cautious reading this novel by Juhea Kim. It's very slow-going until about one-third of the way through. That's about 135 pages for something that can feel like a slog at times. But then, almost like magic, the story picks up. While I wouldn't describe this book as "riveting," it is still very good.

This is a love story, mostly about the heartbreak of unrequited love. This is a story about the cruelty and vagaries of the most basic kind of human survival. This is a story about family bonds and tests of loyalty. This is a story about patriotism and honor. But most of all, this is the story of the Korean independence movement after decades of suffering under Japanese rule. Throughout the book, author Juhea Kim cleverly weaves into the story abundant symbols of the tiger—for courage, ferocity, strength, and ambition.

Taking place from 1917 to 1965, the four main characters around which the story revolves are:
• Jade Anh and Miss Lotus, who are little girls when they first meet in Pyongyang at a school for training courtesans. Lotus was born into it, while Jade's mother sold her into it and then told her to never return to her family because she would forever be a disgrace to them.
• Nam JungHo, an orphan who migrates to Seoul with two pennies in his pocket and two mementos given to him by his dying father: a silver ring and a silver cigarette case. He survives by joining a gang.
• Kim HanChol, a desperately poor rickshaw driver who is trying to better himself against almost insurmountable odds.

This is a profound and haunting novel that is exquisitely written and cleverly uses the seemingly unimportant lives of the characters to tell the bigger story of history and politics. Just know that when you start this novel, it will probably take a while to really get into it.

Historical novels, by their very nature, offer facts, but this novel by Alan Brennert far exceeds that basic standard. Painting a vivid, colorful picture with words, Brennert takes the reader on a fictional journey to Kalaupapa, a leper colony located on the remote island of Moloka'i, Hawaii. He presents not only fascinating information about Hawaiian history and culture, but also the startling medical facts about leprosy when it was still a greatly feared and incurable disease that left its victims horrendously deformed and likely to suffer an early death.

Even so, this is an uplifting and inspiring novel about the human spirit—both our need to survive and our even greater need to love.

It is 1891. Rachel Kalama, the youngest child in a family of four children, is only 7 years old when she contracts leprosy. Although her parents do their best to conceal her terrifying condition, she is discovered and summarily banished to Moloka'i where she will never see her family again. There will be no escape from Moloka'i. Filled with drama and suffering, as well as joy and courage, this is the heart-wrenching story of Rachel's life as she grows from a child to a rebellious teenager to a beautiful young woman who finds romantic love in a most remarkable place. The cast of characters is brilliant—from the troubled and doubting Sister Mary Catherine, a young nun who cares for the children, to Leilani Napana, a fashionable and gorgeous woman who has a deep and shocking secret. Most incredibly, there is a happy ending.

While there are graphic and somewhat gruesome descriptions of the bodily impact of leprosy, Brennert never uses this to exploit the story. I give him a lot of credit for this. When he does use such depictions, they are not only warranted to further the story, but also they are written so the characters maintain their dignity.

Advice: Do read the "End Note." At least in the Kindle version the last chapter and the "End Note" are separated by critics' praise of the novel. The "End Note" should be the final chapter as it ties together the last loose ends of Rachel's life. It would be easy to miss it because of how it is arranged in the text.

The captivating—albeit sometimes appalling—subject matter keeps the book moving even when the plot drags out a bit. Some tighter editing would have been helpful in a few areas, but overall, this is an intriguing, intelligent story told in an imaginative way that is rich in historical detail.

Best of all, the story continues in "Daughter of Moloka'i: A Novel.

This is a scary novel. Very scary. And it's not because author Celeste Ng has suddenly written a horror novel. It's frightening because this cautionary dystopian tale of what could happen in the United States has just enough shreds of possibility in it to maybe someday be real. (If it isn't heading that way already.)

It's an unknown date in the future. A Crisis (yes capital "C") has happened in the United States, but the details of what that means are not offered until midway through the book—so no spoilers here. But the Crisis has upended the country. The most startling results are twofold: In addition to many, many books being banned from libraries and bookstores that are either burned or recycled into toilet paper, everyday people are spying on one another and reporting what they think as suspicious activity to the government. If this happens to parents, the children are summarily removed from their custody, never to be seen again. Books are banned so people won't be damaged by dangerous ideas. And shrouding all of this is a deep-seated hatred and fear of all Asian people, a fear that is enforced by PACT, which stands for Preserving American Culture and Traditions. PACT is supposed to strengthen and unify the nation. People watch what they say. They watch what they do. They watch each other.

But not everyone agrees with this repressive, authoritarian government. Some are willing to risk everything to speak out loud—even their children.

Ethan Gardner and Margaret Miu are happily married and living in Cambridge, Massachusetts with one child, a little boy they named Noah but nicknamed Bird. When the story opens, Bird is 12 years old. Bird's mom is Chinese-American and a poet. A single line in one of her poems—and not even her best poem!—has become a rallying cry for protesters against the government: All our missing hearts. Margaret was long ago targeted, and when she and Ethan feared Bird would be removed from them, they decided that Margaret would leave and essentially disappear. Ethan would renounce her. It's three years later, and the plan has worked if you don't count the fact that both Ethan and Bird are broken people, who desperately miss Margaret but can never speak her name or share their memories—even with each other. Then one day Bird receives a mysterious drawing of cats from his mother and later finds a strange New York City address. Could he find his mom three years after she has disappeared? Bird's head is filled with the many fairy tales his mother told him as a child, and he realizes he must embark on a similar quest, becoming the hero who endures an ordeal.

This is an unputdownable novel where librarians are the quiet heroes and everyday people inflict the most awful violence and injustice on the unsuspecting and innocent. Hmmm…that sounds a lot like where we are today. And this is precisely why this deeply disturbing book is so scary.

Oh, what a book. How should I describe it? Superior! A masterpiece! Extraordinary! Brilliant storytelling! A literary work of genius! (I could keep going, but you get the point.) This is a 10-star book in a five-star world. And best of all, everyone will love it—men, women, young, old.

Exquisitely and perfectly written by Amor Towles, this novel is an adventure, a testament to the power of friendship, and a coming-of-age story all wrapped up in an unputdownable tale that continued to surprise me at every turn.

There are four main characters, three of whom met each other while in a juvenile detention center in 1954 in Salina, Kansas: Emmett, Duchess, and Woolley. Added to this mix of 18-year-old boys is eight-year-old Billy, Emmett's precocious (and precious) little brother. Each has a fascinating backstory, which is gradually revealed throughout the novel. Emmett has been officially released from Salina, but his old life is forever gone. His mother disappeared soon after Billy's birth, his father has just died, and their Nebraska farm has been foreclosed. Emmett and Billy decide to drive to San Francisco by way of the Lincoln Highway—Emmett to start a new life for the two of them and Billy to find their mother. But surprise! Duchess and Woolley escaped from Salina by hitching a ride in the trunk of the car being driven by the warden to take Emmett home. One thing leads to another, and Duchess and Woolley "borrow" Emmett's car and money to drive to New York on the Lincoln Highway, while Emmett and Billy ride the rails with the hobos to chase after them. Their escapades are hilarious, heartbreaking, and unexpected. Each is on a quest just like the heroes of legends past to realize a special ambition. Oh, what a tale this is!

The book takes place over 10 days, and the chapter numbers (which, at first glance, are confusing) begin at 10 and count down to one, indicating a climactic progression. This is storytelling at its very best.

The characters in this book are like few that ever populate the pages of a novel in that each one is unique and each one is so real I felt like I really knew them. If nothing else, read this book just to meet the character of 8-year-old Billy. He will charm and delight and weave his way into your soul. If I were ever to make a list of my favorite book characters, Billy would be No. 1. Yes, Billy alone is worth the price of the book.

One final thought: Most authors have a kind of literary signature. That is, their books are similar in tone, style, and substance. Not Amor Towles! His three books to date could not be more different than if three wildly different people wrote them. Might this be the sign of a truly great author?

This is a biology book like no other you have ever read. It is a serious book that is packed with information, much of it highly scientific, but it is always readable and understandable. And here's the secret sauce that makes it so much fun to read: It is often irreverent, frequently hilarious, and repeatedly snarky. Translation: It's fun to read!

Prodigiously researched and written by travel writer Bill Bryson, this is a deep dive for laypeople (no medical degree needed) into mysteries of the human body from head to toe. This is a book about you! Chapters cover everything from the brain to the guts to the nerves. You'll learn not only how our various pieces and parts work, but also what happens when things go wrong.

But it's not just boring fact after boring fact after boring fact. For example, in the chapter on skin, the body's largest organ, you'll find out such fascinating revelations as:
• When you touch something, your brain not only tells you how something feels, but also how it ought to feel, which is why a lover's caress induces a sigh and the same touch by a creepy stranger could make you shudder.
• Sweating is activated by the release of adrenaline, which is why you break into a sweat when you're stressed.

Oh, and the very accurate biological description of sperm in chapter 18, "In the Beginning: Conception and Birth" is so funny I laughed out loud. Meanwhile, other parts are only for the strong of stomach, such as the description of what is likely the most extraordinary story on record of appendectomy survival and a recounting by the patient herself in a letter to her sister of the first mastectomy, performed in 1810 without anesthesia.

Why read a book about your body? Not only is it interesting to learn what makes us tick, as well as sick, but also it could help you to live a healthier and longer life. Understanding how your body works can make you appreciate and care for it better instead of taking it for granted.

It's not often that a nonfiction book can be described as witty, amusing, and highly entertaining, but that's exactly what this is.

This book is a seemingly impossible dichotomy: It is a somber, melancholy, and very dark story that deals with the trauma and despair of rape, as well as the anger, hatred, and violence it often spawns. But it's also a feel-good tale that will make your heart swell. As I said, it's seemingly impossible to be both at the same time, but it is.

Written by Fredrik Backman, this is the second in a three-part series about the boys' hockey team in Beartown, a small village nestled deep in a wild forest of Sweden where the people work hard and don't expect things to be easy or even fair. Hockey is king here. Everyone plays or cheers. And everyone hates Hed, the village on the other side of the forest. The story picks up where "Beartown: A Novel" left off, and you absolutely must read it first or "Us Against You" won't make much sense, since you're essentially starting in the middle of the story. The anger and violence that dominate this book are twofold, both external and internal: against Hed and their hockey team, but also against themselves as they recover from what they euphemistically call "the scandal," which is the brutal rape that shook the village to its core. Added to that agony comes a shock: One of their own is outed as gay. Things get out of control quickly. Many suffer. Some die. But at the same time, this is a story of love, loyalty, friendship, courage, and compassion—the qualities we all need to live happy and productive lives. We are all residents of Beartown.

Oh, and the last 50 pages or so are really, really intense. Translation: Unputdownable! The ending is superb. It gave me goosebumps.

And as with the first novel in the series, the charm, heart, and soul of the book are squarely in the varied cast of characters young and old. It is through these characters that Backman offers spot-on life advice and universal truths about parenting, marriage, just getting along with each other, prejudice, shame, and the real meaning of loyalty and love.

The writing: Backman has a special writing style in this Beartown series that can feel preachy and whiny. I found this to be especially so at the beginning of the book, but once I adjusted to the style, I appreciated what it did for the form and function of the novel, propelling it forward in a special way.

I give Backman enormous credit. I don't know a thing about hockey. I have never been to a hockey game, and I have no desire to go to one. But this book that is on the surface about hockey, is a book that is really about human nature, community, and family. You don't have to be a hockey fan to enjoy this book. You just have to be human.

This is a good book. But it is not a great book. It's all about plot—plot, plot, plot. While the plot is riveting (it really is hard to stop reading at times), there just isn't the depth of story, character development, and conflict that is needed to make it a truly great novel.

Written by Gabrielle Zevin, it is a love letter to friendship, collaborative work, and (most of all) video games.

Sam and Sadie are 12 and 11 years old respectively when they meet in a Los Angeles hospital playroom on the pediatric ward. Sam was in a horrific car crash that left his mother dead and Sam disabled for the rest of his life. Sadie's sister has leukemia, and Sadie spends her days in the hospital with sister Alice. Sam hasn't spoken a word to anyone in the six weeks since the accident, but he's talking to Sadie as they play video games. This is the beginning of a lifelong friendship—with a few sputtering stops and starts in between, such as the six years when Sam is too angry to speak to Sadie. Eventually they reunite and join creative and technical forces to write a video game while they are both students in Cambridge, Massachusetts. (He's at Harvard. She's at MIT.) The story continues as their video game company expands and becomes a huge overnight success, forcing Sam and Sadie, along with Marx, who is their producer, caretaker, and office manager, to figure out who they are now both personally and professionally.

What I did like about the novel:
• The storyline is (mostly) fun and riveting. I was immediately swept into it.
• There are quite a few erudite and spot-on references to classical literature, which I really enjoyed, including the title, which is from Shakespeare's "Macbeth."
• The vocabulary used in the book is fabulous. I had to look up quite a few words, which doesn't happen often. I loved that!

What I didn't like about the novel:
• Even though this novel is all about plot, the one big plot twist toward the end felt contrived. It came out of nowhere, and it feels like it only happened to wind down the story.
• The characters seemed one-dimensional. They don't change or grow or learn from life's experiences. We meet the two main characters when they are children, and their personalities and the way they react to life's hardballs and to each other do not change very much over the 25 years the book takes place.
• The story sags a bit in the middle and then again toward the end, becoming a bit of a slog at times.

I think the book is overrated. Reading this book is the equivalent to eating only dessert. There isn't much substance and depth, and it's not particularly satisfying when all you have is pretty and overly sweet icing on the cake.

One of my greatest reading joys is being transported to another place just by opening a book. It's magic! That's the case with this extraordinary collection of short stories by Pulitzer Prize winner Annie Proulx that all take place in Wyoming, a state with hardscrabble land and sturdy, strong-willed people. You'll see the wind-blown bouncing tumbleweed, feel the eddies of dust coat your skin, hear the hordes of trilling grasshoppers, and marvel at the sight of redtails cruising across the gray, storm-laden sky. Welcome to Wyoming.

Each story features an odd and fascinating cast of characters unlike anyone I have ever met in my life. They are hardened ranch hands, daring rodeo bull riders, gritty cowboys, lonely but strong women, and even one former business executive from California who moves to Wyoming to await the apocalypse. None of them have much money, but all of them have ideas—some wackier than others.

But the genius of this book is Annie Proulx's writing. Her terse sentences, harsh descriptions of the weather and landscape, and the rough, course, and fierce characters she brings to life with their colorful dialogue truly make it FEEL like Wyoming. Using nouns, adjectives, and verbs, she magically takes her readers to this surreal, remote, and isolated environment. These powerful stories are rough, violent, tragic, and even a bit crude—just like the characters they depict. It all seems so real that you'll want to wipe the dust off your feet when you close the book.

Bonus: The last story in this collection of 11 short stories is "Brokeback Mountain," the inspiration for the 2005 film starring Heath Ledger, Jake Gyllenhaal, Michelle Williams, and Anne Hathaway. I think it's the best in the bunch.

This is an intelligent, deftly told story that I liken to a pot of water on a hot stove. It warms very slowly, begins to lightly bubble, and then breaks out in a furious boil. That is the pace of this novel by Ann Weisgarber. The writing style is slow, almost ponderous, and the plot moves very slowly. But it is riveting!

Taking place over a few bitter cold, snowy weeks in January and February 1888 in the uncivilized wilds of the Utah territory, this is the story of Deborah Tyler and her stepbrother-in-law, Nels Anderson, who are members of the Church of Latter-Day Saints. Deborah's husband, Samuel, is a wheelwright, who travels every year through remote Utah towns and villages from September to December, repairing and replacing wheels. Nels is Samuel's stepbrother. Samuel has been away since September 1, and he is now six weeks late coming home to Junction. One cold night with a snowstorm raging outside, someone knocks on Deborah's cabin door. She can tell it's a man. And she is all alone. With a paring knife in her pocket, she guardedly opens the door. It's a stranger, seeking not only refuge for the night, but also a guide to take him to the safe place known as Floral Ranch. He, and others before him, are on the run from lawmen because they practice "plural marriage," something that is now a crime in the Utah territory. The isolated, tiny village of Junction located on the floor of a canyon that is surrounded by steep cliffs, rocks, and mountains, is known for helping these desperate men. Against her better judgement—because these men with plural wives never, ever travel in winter due to the extreme danger—Deborah lets him in. It is from this place that the story spins out amid fear, anger, danger, violence, and trepidation. If Deborah and Nels are ever caught doing what they do, they could be executed for this crime. They will lie to protect the men…and themselves.

Each chapter is told in the first person from either Deborah or Nels's point of view with flashbacks to Samuel as he journeys through the Utah territory that previous fall. The descriptions of the land, the brutal winter weather, the cabins, and the people are detailed and bring it all to life, as harrowing and difficult as that life is.

Do pay attention to the wonderful symbolism of the gloves that Deborah makes and the rocks that Samuel collects. Deborah envelopes those she loves in warmth, while Samuel's fascination of rock formations symbolizes his quest for journeys into the larger world. It's a perfect contrast.

This is a story about the truth…and lies. This is a story about our perceptions…and reality. This is a story about what we will do to protect ourselves and those we love.

Grounded in long-buried secrets, cunning lies, and scheming subterfuges, this spellbinding psychological thriller doesn't appear to be that at all until the book has you deep in its clutches. Oh, this novel by Claire Fuller is quite the page-turner.

It's the summer of 1969 on a remote English country estate—think Downton Abbey but a lot less opulent and a lot more dilapidated. The estate, Lyntons, has been purchased by a wealthy American, who has hired two experts to move into the house for a few months and survey the estate—from the considerable damage due to neglect, as well as to inventory the belongings that haven't already been confiscated.

The lead character is Frances Jellico, who at 39 finds herself at a crossroads. Her ailing, belligerent, and complaining mother, for whom Frances singlehandedly nursed for a decade, has died, leaving her basically nothing. Frances has never had friends or a boyfriend. Her social anxiety pegs very high. Coupled with that, she is overweight and doesn't know the first thing about clothes. But she does know a lot about garden architecture and so has been hired to survey the grounds, including an ornate bridge and various ornamental buildings, to determine their architectural origin. Also invited to the house for the summer is Peter Robertson, an antiques specialist whose job it is to survey the grand house's interior and its contents. Peter brings along with him his girlfriend, Cara Calace, who poses as his wife. They are dazzling, glamorous people, who seemingly have it all—at least in Frances's eyes. Add to all this, the possibility that Lyntons is haunted. Both Frances and Cara see, hear, and experience unusual and unexplainable things, much to Peter's incredulity, doubt, and disgust.

The three become fast friends, much to Frances's delight as she has never experienced before the joy of friendship, and she quickly becomes obsessed with Peter and Cara. (This obsession is fueled in part by a spyhole in her attic bathroom that peers into Peter and Cara's bathroom. Oh, the things she sees!) Instead of doing the work they've been assigned to do, the trio spend lazy, decadent days feasting on food, drinking wine swiped from the Lyntons' magnificent and extensive wine cellar, smoking cigarettes, listening to Simon and Garfunkel, and exploring the mysteries of the house and grounds, finding quite a few surprises.

But none of the three is exactly who they portray themselves to be, and as their secrets, lies, and subterfuges grow larger and stealthier, their carefully crafted deceptions and duplicities come crashing in with violence and tragedy—and the biggest deceit of all.

Interwoven throughout the story is Frances at the end of her life as she lies dying, recalling to her old friend, Victor Wylde, what really happened that fateful summer. In the summer of '69, Victor was the vicar of the small Anglican church near Lyntons and is now the chaplain tending Frances in the end-of-life unit in which she resides. It is through these brief interchanges that the reader becomes aware that all is not as it seems, that there is an undercurrent of wrongdoing and perhaps even evil shrouding Lyntons.

Best of all, the writing is superb, especially in painting through words the picture of the crumbling estate—the leaking downpipes, the moldy, swollen books in the library, the infestation of deathwatch beetles, the glassy appearance of a dead mouse and a dead blackbird.

The unsettling plot is carefully nuanced to lure the reader into this spellbinding tale of deception. Claire Fuller knows how to tell a story!

This book is a novel. I know that because it says so on the cover: "Secrets of Happiness: A Novel." Except it's not a novel. Not really. It's either a very disconnected novel or a closely intertwined collection of short stories.

Either way, it's brilliant.

Written by Joan Silber, this "novel" has seven chapters, each one titled with a character's name. We begin with Ethan, whom we quickly learn is the adult son of Abby and Gil, who have run into a bit of a rough spot in their marriage since Abby found out that Gil has another family on the other side of town. Oops. The story takes off from there.

Each chapter is told from one character's point of view in the first person. This is where the "novel" strays from the norm and becomes more like a short story collection: The character narrating each chapter is someone we readers may or may not have heard about previously. The second chapter is told from Joe's perspective. Joe is Ethan's half-brother—a member of that other family of his dad's. Then we have Mirabel. See if you can follow this: Mirabel is the illicit lover of Schuyler, the husband of Veronica, who was Joe's high school girlfriend. Mirabel is barely mentioned once in passing in the chapter narrated by Joe. Whew! Each of the chapter's narrators is like this, offering some far-fetched, remote connection to the overall story. The story comes full circle with the final chapter told from Ethan's point of view as he did in the first chapter.

But this is all you need to know: It works. And it works magnificently! This is a daring, radical way to write a novel, and I loved it.

While each character is obviously seeking happiness and love (refer back to the title), buried deep inside each story is one connecting theme that isn't in the title: Money. It runs like an underground river throughout the narrative. The good, the bad, the ugly of money. All that it can do. All that it can destroy. Who has it. Who doesn't. Who wants it desperately. Who couldn't care less. And all we will do to get it—even if it's not legal. And even if it hurts those whom we love the most.

The form and function of this unusual literary style shows how we humans—not only the characters in this novel—are so interconnected with one another. It's the "small world" phenomenon or six degrees of separation that comes to life in literature.

This is an unusual novel that is beautifully written and ingeniously plotted with bold, vivid characters who speak in their own voices. Highly recommended.

This imaginative novel by Ann Patchett is a complex examination of the meaning of family, the secrets we hold to protect those we love, and what it means to do the right thing for others and ourselves—and it all takes place at that tricky intersection between privilege and poverty.

But most of all, it's just a really good story. I was mesmerized!

Bernard Doyle, the former mayor of Boston, lives in a beautiful, stately home in a well-to-do area of the city. A widower who still grieves the untimely, long-ago death of his wife, Bernadette, has three sons, two of whom were adopted. Sullivan, the oldest, is 33, and has caused undue heartbreak and scandal to the family. Teddy and Tip, the adopted Black sons, excel at what they do but are still a disappointment to Doyle, who had high hopes for them to go into politics. One night in January with a big snow forecast to hit Boston, Doyle drags Teddy and Tip to a lecture at Harvard given by Jesse Jackson. Afterward, the two boys want to go home; Doyle wants them to accompany him to a private party for Jackson. They argue on the street as the snow falls. And in a split second, Tip goes sailing through the air. An SUV was about to hit him when some kind of guardian angel shoved him out of the way. Not an angel, but a woman—and the SUV hits her instead. The woman is accompanied by her 11-year-old daughter, Kenya, who is a superstar on the track (hence, one of the meanings of the title of the novel). Kenya is devastated as her beloved mother, Tennessee, lies unconscious and bleeding in the snow. Over the course of 24 hours, the lives of these two very different families, one that has known nothing but privilege and the other that has known nothing but struggle, do more than intersect. They seemingly merge in a tale that is riveting, fierce, and tender.

There is a brilliant and totally unexpected plot twist about two-thirds of the way through the book. Only the reader knows the astonishing secret that is revealed; the main characters never discover it, which gives the rest of the story a haunting poignancy.

The novel's primary strength is in the characters, each one fully defined and distinct, and how they interact with each other. The powerful, aging Bernard Doyle, the sullen, scandal-plagued but highly personable Sullivan, the friendly, faithful Teddy, the studious, taciturn Tip, the delightful, precocious Kenya, and the big-hearted Tennessee. Add to the mix 88-year-old Father John Sullivan, brother of the late Bernadette, who is slowly dying but seems to have acquired the ability to heal the sick with his touch—something even he doesn't believe he can do.

I only have one quibble with the novel: These two Black children are brought up in the White Irish Catholic culture and are fully immersed in it, never exploring, much less embracing, their own Black culture. Something is missing because of this.

Still, the book shines brightly, as do all of Ann Patchett's novels and essays, because of the writing. It is magnificent with words that beguile and enchant. Sometimes I had to just stop reading and savor a sentence or a paragraph or an entire page.

Whine. Whine. Whine. It seems like that is all the characters are doing. And at 400 pages, that gets old. Fast.

But let's back up. This (overrated) novel by Charmaine Wilkerson tells the multigenerational story of a family from an unnamed island in the Caribbean, and the tale is woven by jumping back and forth in time and place and character. While this is a common literary technique, it takes real skill to pull it off. Wilkerson doesn't have that skill. The extremely short chapters—some just a paragraph or two long—switch topics and characters and timelines so quickly and at times so randomly that the effect is jarring and disorienting.

This is the story of Covey, short for Coventina, the daughter of Johnny Lyncook and Mathilda Brown. He is Chinese. She is Black. But Covey is soon heartbroken when Mathilda disappears one night. She runs away from a life she hated but leaves behind a confused little girl, who is raised by Pearl, the family's cook and housekeeper. Because of something truly horrific that her father does, Covey also disappears from the island, fleeing to England and eventually adopting the name Eleanor. She then leads a convoluted undercover life that is filled with tragedy and fleeting bits of happiness. The other part of the story is told after Covey's death, when her grown children, Byron and Benny, listen to a tape-recording Covey has made, explaining everything. This sends them into a tailspin because it has turned their supposed family history and identity into a pile of lies. And that's saying something because both are already filled with resentment and bitterness long before their mother even died. When the pieces of this long, dragged-out story finally come together, the ending is treacly sweet.

The novel is one big soap opera—and not a fun, sassy soap opera, but rather one that is melodramatic, overly sentimental, and very slow-paced. One horrible thing after another happens. Byron and Benny are consumed with so much anger toward each other that they don't speak, a classic TV soap opera ploy to limit critical communication and further the ridiculous plot. And when they do talk, they whine. Incessantly.

This is such a shame because the story Wilkerson is trying to tell is an important one. But the meaning, import, and historical significance of that story is lost in the amateurish structuring of the novel.

One clever part of the novel is how Wilkerson uses food, beginning with the traditional Caribbean recipe of black cake, a kind of plum pudding that takes months to make, to tell the characters' stories, hopes, and dreams. Unfortunately, the novel is as dense as the cake.

Creepy, goosebumpy, scary ghost stories aren't only for cool fall evenings. It turns out that the middle of January in remote Vermont when it's buried in snow is also the perfect setting for a psychological thriller filled with ghosts.

Written by Jennifer McMahon, this is two stories in one with the common factor the setting of an old farmhouse on a secluded road in the very small town of West Hall, Vermont. The stories alternate: One takes place in January 1908, including flashbacks about 20 years earlier. The other takes place in the present day, also in January. This thickly-wooded homestead includes an outcropping of giant boulders that looks so much like a hand, the area has always been called Devil's Hand. Wander too far into the woods, and you might not make it out alive. Something is going on here, and those who have seen it believe there are ghosts in this spooky forest.

It's January 1908. Sara Harrison Shea and her husband Martin Shea live in the farmhouse with their little girl, Gertie, who is 8 years old. One day she is found dead, having fallen 50 feet down a well. Sara collapses in grief, but writes her fears, anguish, and hopes into a secret diary. Sara comes to an untimely and gruesome death, which remains the stuff of legend in West Hall a hundred years later. She hid her diary in one of the hidey-holes in the old farmhouse, and many people want to find it because in it she supposedly left instructions on how to raise the dead to life.

Meanwhile in the present-day, Alice Washburne lives in the same farmhouse with her two daughters, Ruthie, 19, and Fawn, 6. Alice, who is widowed, has lived off the grid for about 20 years. No computer. No cell phone. No links to anyone in the world. Even in this small town, not everyone knows who she is. On New Year's Day, Alice disappears. More than anything, Alice dislikes the police, so Ruthie knows she shouldn't call the cops. (This is one of several plot points—some small, some big—that make the mystery work. If Ruthie did call the cops or someone didn't lock her cell phone in the car so she didn't have it when she really needed it, things would have worked out quite differently. A little cheesy, perhaps.) The two stories—past and present—converge as Ruthie discovers dark secrets about her own past and those surrounding this strange house.

This is one of the creepiest stories I have ever read, and while the plots from both time periods are rather farfetched, the book is a page-turner. It will keep you up past your bedtime, and if you read it then, you may very well have nightmares.

Oh, this book is sad. So very, very sad. I was so enveloped in the sadness that when I wasn't reading, I carried it with me. I had to wake up every once in a while and remind myself it was just a book. Not my life. But here's the thing (and this is really important): The writing is so extraordinary and the story so wonderful and the characters so real that the sadness is fine. It's part of the book. And what a book it is!

Written by Joyce Maynard, this is the story of a family from the point of view of the mother, Eleanor. Eleanor grew up an only child in an unhappy family with alcoholic parents. Even though it was the '70s and young women were actively seeking careers over motherhood, all she wanted was to get married and have babies. When this finally happens, Eleanor is ecstatic. She works as an artist and children's book author, while Cam, her red-haired, gorgeous husband, makes wooden bowls to sell at craft fairs. They live on an old and remote farm in New Hampshire where they quickly have three children—two girls and then a boy. Life is sweet. Life is everything that Eleanor ever hoped for…until suddenly Cam does something that results in a tragedy that she can never forgive. As the marriage unravels so do Eleanor's dreams. What does it mean to forgive? To have compassion? To move on? And what happens to those children in all the bitterness and rancor?

The vivid, bold characters are what make this book so wonderful. And while the plot is a gradual unfolding of an entire life of passion, emotion, feelings, and survival it can be slow-moving at times. It is written in envelope structure; that is, the first chapter is actually the beginning of the end of the novel, so it comes full circle. While the ending is sad, there is a sense of redemption—making it perfect.

This is not a happy book. But it is real. And there is power in that. Plus, it's just a really good read that is difficult to put down.

Bonus: On page 439 is the best parenting advice ever. Poetic and oh so real.

This is a very good book, but it is not a great book. There is far too much introspection and examination of feelings that is interspersed with far too little plot action, although what action there is is riveting and left me glued to the page.

Written by Eleanor Shearer, this historical novel takes place in 1834-1835 on various islands in the Caribbean, beginning with Barbados, moving on to British Guiana, and finally Trinidad. Rachel, who is a slave on a sugar cane plantation on Barbados, is the mother of 11 children, five of whom are still alive, but all of whom have been sold away. When the slaves receive word that England has freed them, they are overjoyed; however, their jubilation is short-lived because the master has informed them that they are now "apprenticed" to him for six more years. They are free, but they can't leave. So Rachel runs. This is the story of her quest not only for freedom, but also to find her lost children: Mary Grace, Micah, Thomas Augustus, Cherry Jane, and Mercy. Because this is a novel, Rachel does find all five of her now grown children on her emotional, harrowing, and courageous journey, but each of their fates is different—from joyful to heartbreaking to tragic.

Unfortunately, the successful search for the children seems too fantastical for belief, and it is drawn out far too long with all the introspection. Still, the writing is beautiful—even lyrical in parts, and Shearer brings to life important history, including the Demerara Rebellion of 1823.

But it is the complex, multifaceted concept of freedom and how each character has his or her own idea of what that means that turns this novel into literature. Again, it's a very good book but just not a great one.