There is a reason Anne Tyler is one of my favorite authors, and this book is Exhibit A. Her novels speak to our quotidian lives, but instead of being boring, it's brilliant. Her characters are quirky, but their emotions are universal.

Taking place in Baltimore, Maryland, this is the story of the Garrett family beginning with a flash-forward to 2010 and then going back in time to 1959 when the Garretts went on their only family vacation, traveling to Deep Creek Lake on the other side of the state. It spans four generations, continuing for more than 60 years. It all starts with Robin and Mercy, two very different souls, who marry and have three children—two girls and then years later a boy. The girls, Alice and Lily, never get along, while David is remote and tries to distance himself from the family, much to their confusion. Mercy is an artist and once the children are grown, she does something radical, something that hurts Robin so much he tries to hide it from everyone else. It is here that the novel shines as it subtly and gently takes on what it really means to be a woman, a mother, a wife and still have a genuine life. The New York Times book reviewer (author Jennifer Haigh) called it "a quietly subversive novel," and that is a perfect description.

The title of the book is pure genius because of the metaphor of the French braid that is revealed near the end of the book. When a French braid is undone from a woman's hair, it leaves crimped ripples—just as the ripples our families imprint on us whether we like it or not.

As gorgeously written as all the rest of Anne Tyler's novels, this is a story that is defined by the characters. Plot is not the point. Instead, insight, compassion, sympathy, and a wry humor for the human condition is the point. This is a book about family…about life…about truth.

This book is like quicksand. It will suck you in and not let go until you finish it. Oh, it is GOOD!

Written by Bonnie Garmus, this is a novel that is both a riveting story and a feminist manifesto. It's 1952 and Elizabeth Zott, a brilliant wannabe chemist, is being stifled at every turn, prevented from getting a Ph.D. (and when you find out the reason, you will want to throw something) and unable to find a job suitable for her genius mind. She is forced to settle. Working at Hastings Research Institute in the fictional town of Commons, California as the only female scientist, she spends her days fighting obstacle after obstacle. Then she meets Calvin Evans, the boy genius who is a celebrity in the world of chemistry. The two fall deeply, soulfully in love. Each comes from a tragic background, and they truly find solace in one another until yet another tragedy happens. Meanwhile, Elizabeth is pregnant, which causes her to be summarily fired from her job. Madeline is born, and after a series of missteps, Elizabeth becomes an unlikely TV star, hosting a live afternoon cooking show in which she teaches her largely female audience not only what to make for dinner, but also the chemical reactions involved. And the underlying message of each show, in addition to the chemistry lesson, is the extraordinary value of women—even though in the early 1960s, many women felt they were valued only as glorified maids. Add to the mix an assortment of delightful minor characters and a charming dog named Six-Thirty.

Ingeniously plotted with big, bold, and delightfully quirky characters, an enchanting love story, and a resounding, insightful message, this is a book to be savored and recommended to your best friends.

I hope a lot of young women—those in their late teens and early 20s—read this book so they will appreciate how far women have come and what it (really) was like not that long ago.

Bonus: There are parts of this novel that are laugh-out-loud hilarious. Of course, other parts will make you weep. Kind of perfect!

Well, this was, um, interesting. And by "interesting," I really mean bizarre, peculiar, and even rather rude and crude in parts. This Booker Prize-winning novel by George Saunders is not an ordinary novel. Read with caution.

The plot, such as it is, is relatively simple. Willy Lincoln, the 11-year-old son of President Abraham Lincoln and Mary Todd Lincoln, died on February 20, 1862 of typhoid fever. The president was so distraught and wracked with anguish that the night of Willy's burial he twice visited the crypt in which the little boy was interred in nearby Georgetown. That's all fact.

In this highly imaginative, albeit horrifying, novel, Willy's spirit goes to the bardo, a kind of purgatory, where he is visited twice by his grief-stricken father, who is also distressingly haunted by the enormous death toll of the Civil War. Even though that's the premise, in some ways it's all background noise to the fever-dream thoughts and ramblings of the bardo's other ghostly inhabitants, who mingle with each other, complain, criticize, and argue. (This is where it gets particularly weird.) It's these souls—a Protestant minister, a lust-filled printer, a murderer, a rape victim, a closeted gay man, a pickle manufacturer, a professor, several slaves, and many more—who themselves are striving to stay in this strange limbo but engage in a mammoth struggle over the soul of Willy Lincoln, helping him to move out of the bardo, which they deem is no place for a child. In so doing, they find a new kind of freedom for themselves.

In addition to the action in the bardo, many of the chapters deal with life on Earth—specifically the White House during the Civil War—before, during, and after Willy's untimely death, thus anchoring the novel to a specific time and place.

This novel has been described as "experimental," which is an apt term. It's more like a play than a novel. The narrative in the bardo is just a series of spoken sentences, some as short as a single word and some as long as two or three pages, by the inhabitants. The narrative in the White House is a series of quotes from letters, journals, newspaper articles, and books about the Lincolns. Some of these citations are real, others are fiction, and there is no easy way to tell the difference.

In Buddhism, the bardo is an in-between or liminal state between death and rebirth where the consciousness of the deceased can still understand words and prayers spoken on its behalf. The point of the novel seems to be focused on grief and loss, not only President Lincoln's grief for his son, but also—and especially—the grief the bardo's ghostly inhabitants feel for their own demise and what they have left behind.

This is a difficult book to read at first, but once I got into the flow of the narrative it became much easier. This is a daring, highly imaginative, and genre-busting book that will leave many readers confused but no doubt in awe of George Saunders's talent.

And Louise Penny does it again! This is the fourth in the (now) 18-book series of murder mysteries featuring Chief Inspector Armand Gamache and the delightful Canadian town of Three Pines. And just like the three before it, this is a compelling, intelligent story that is also fun to read.

There is something else these books have in common: They are literary murder mysteries. From Greek mythology to classic poetry, you never know what Penny will throw into the mix of blood, gore, and detectives. Oh, and the food. Penny's descriptions of food—all gourmet and extraordinary—will have you rooting in your fridge. If you're not careful, you could gain weight just reading this book.

This novel veers from the first three in that it takes us to a new setting away from Three Pines. Gamache and his wife, Reine-Marie, are celebrating their 35th wedding anniversary in a remote, forested area of Quebec. They are staying at the Manoir Bellechasse located on the scenic Lac Massawippi and ideal for forgetting the worries of the world. Also staying in the inn are multiple members of the Finnley family, who are having a family reunion—and a contentious one at that. This fabulously wealthy family despise one another, but they have gathered to erect a statue of their late father and patriarch. But then the unthinkable happens: one of them is murdered. (Well, it's unthinkable for a family reunion but totally expected for a Louise Penny book.) Gamache swings into action, his anniversary getaway forgotten. Not a word more on the plot! No spoilers here.

Every Louise Penny book is a delight to read. The plots are complex enough that most readers won't figure it out too early, the pacing is perfect, and her words of wisdom about living a good life are sagacious and spot-on. Witty, wise, and wonderful! That's a winning formula that extends to all 18 (and counting) books.

Treat yourself, but you must read them in order, beginning with "Still Life," because subsequent books contain little—but important—spoilers about the previous books.