"No human contact" was created because of two men whose separate crimes on the same day captured the attention of the Bureau of Prisons. This book tells their stories, before they landed in prison, and up to their final day. There are so many ways to look at these men--compassionately, as victims themselves, as they most certainly were, or as perpetrators. And what about rehabilitation? Is that always possible? And if it's proven to have taken place, can, or even should a sentence be reversed? Is there a case to be made that keeping someone away from other potential negative influences is the reason someone may have the time and inclination for introspection and change? There's no easy answer here, and the stories are just heartbreaking coming and going.

Sometimes "they" talk about cloning prehistoric animals, a la Jurassic Park, and I think we all heave a wistful sigh about the possibility of seeing a wooly mammoth roaming around in the local safari-style zoo. Who wouldn't love seeing a fluffy version of Babar? A whole new line of stuffies would be launched, and teams would start sporting a new wooly mascot. So much fun! But is all extinction really so bad? My opinion is not so, in the case of the megalodon, or "Big Meg", a super-sized shark that would make a snack of a great white. Authors (a dad and daughter team of Flannerys) will ruin your potential sleepy time with tales of how this behemoth (probably) attacked and killed its prey, and how the poor saps watching from the shore probably vowed to stay away from the water forever. Maybe that's why they found that land bridge. Horror aside, it was fascinating. But I'd suggest reading another happy book along with it, if you value your dreams, that is.

A prominent family is part of community fiber, seemingly with everything. They owned a successful tennis academy for decades, and are well-known on the circuit. Four grown children are forging their own lives, and the parents appear to be the perfect couple. One day, the mom disappears, and naturally, suspicion falls on those closest to her, exposing chinks in their glimmering facade. As the police and the "kids" try to figure things out, memories are cast back to a prior acquaintance to the family, Savannah, who was in need of shelter when the empty nesters were eager to continue parenting. Could she know something they don't? Liane never disappoints, and although I'd say this book has a slightly different tone than others of hers I've read, it's still delicious in its twists and surprises along the way.

Quietly captivating, this story set in the 1950s tells about a bereaved Native American family and their individual attempts to cope with grief, as much as people were allowed to in days past. A father and daughter (Kit) live unassumingly in a rural setting, she, fishing to augment their food and he, working long weeks and carving little wooden huntsmen on Sundays. As a change to their workaday life, a pretty and kind lady moves into a cabin along Kit's fishing route, and they become friends. When a busybody blares misinformation about the nature of their friendship, a series of events is set into motion that seems impossible to undo. Kit's sagacity is front and center as she plans a reversal of her family's plight. Tense and with constant eyes to the blatant racism of the time, it was riveting to the end.

We often see parole officers as harsh, unfelling, or at best, benignly neglectful, at least in TV shows. After reading this book, my feelings have completely changed. Landing in the job between other gigs, the author gives us a view of the tremendous dedication and personal commitment it takes to hold this position, and the hoops through which they jump to make things happen for their charges. There are stories of parolees who made it, against all odds, and some who didn't. It's not a job I'd want; I can't imagine the stress, burnout and daily frustration, but somehow they keep going. Somehow there are people who can do it. Were I newly out of prison, I'd want someone like this author or his co-workers in my camp.

This little book is best digested chapter by chapter, so as to ruminate a bit. The author gives historical references to illustrate his points, and you're left with the profound notion that people have a very hard time learning from their own, or others' mistakes. Snyder never mentions anyone by name, but I think we all know who is in question here. The real question is: Have we learned our lesson?

I really looked forward to this book. I'd read one other with the same premise (dead people speaking about their lives from the grave) and it was rife with community secrets and a long-ago mystery that gradually crystallized to clarity. I'd hoped for the same. Um, no. I had several problems with this book. 1. At times it just felt like an outlet for the author's stream of consciousness. Ugh. 2. The dead people curiously all spoke with the same "voice". Wouldn't that have been corrected at a 5th grade level or so? 3. There was really no closure of the circle of all the stories. Just meandering. He's not that good of a writer for that to be satisfying. Suffice it to say I won't be looking for other books by this author. Or rather, I will, in order to avoid reading them.

Lucy Cooke could write about taking out the trash and I'd read it. And enjoy it. So no big surprised that her torpedo of a book was a rollicking good read and educational to boot. Who knew there were "mean girl" animals? And that some species will morph between male and female depending on the need at the time? And what about female dominated species--particular some who engage in a little girl-on-girl action to break the ice? This book will turn the animal knowledge you thought you had on its head, and then spin you around for good measure. It gave me many spiderweb moments, in traveling from this fact, to that premise, to that speculation that maybe, all along, we've been sold a bill of goods about what's "normal" and what's not. It made me wonder about human evolution, and whether or not we're designed to be nice, or rather, hard-wired to be cruel, and it definitely led me to consider research, and the undeclared biases of the folks in the white coats. A thought-provoking, light-hearted, yet meaty book--I highly recommend it.

I bought this book because it was published in 1861 and written by a woman who was a former slave. Honestly, I thought the writing style would be a little bogged down like lots of books written in that time, but it wasn't. I was transported to her life, her place, her horrors. I could not believe the lengths to which this woman went to escape her lecherous "owner", and to ultimately secure her freedom. Harriet is a hero, an inspiration, and a testament to the ability of the human mind to transcend hardships physical and mental if one is sufficiently motivated. I even love the cover photograph of Harriet, with a wry little smile, seemingly saying, "I won.".

This vintage whodunit seemed to be simple--I thought I had it figured out, but I didn't! Definitely did not see the twist at the end coming at all. Of course there are some moments that wouldn't get past the editor these days, but if you disregard those, or maybe mentally swap other words/persons/sentiments you can get past them. All in all a tidy little mystery.

One morning, as author Lynne Cox was heading in from her daily swim in the southern California surf, she was alerted that a baby gray whale was swimming along with her. Had she swam to shore, the whale would have followed her and been beached. So she kept going, swimming much farther out in hopes to reconnect the baby, "Grayson", with his mother. She continued her swim for hours beyond the norm, while onlookers and locals tried to rally help. The story is heartwarming, and mom and baby do eventually reunite. Lynne's recollection of the events of the day are astounding, as is her obvious knowledge of ocean life she was pressed to notice on such an unusual day, with an unusual swim, with a most unexpected buddy. There's a lot of detail at the beginning of the book which was honestly a little excessive for me, but it all came together when the whale appeared. This is a feel-good book for those days when you just need something nice to think about. And maybe she'll inspire you, on an unusual day of your own, to just keep swimming, too.

This book took off like a shot for me, but as the story progressed, things definitely took a turn. I found the protagonist extremely sympathetic initially, only to end up really abhoring her. I felt her dramatic U-turn was implausible, which made her extreme actions then seem unlikely. The story is about an orphan who is taken in by an unlikely benefactress when all her other family can't be bothered. As tenuous as their initial relationship is, they eventually form a bond that seems to have possibilities. When her beloved, but morally questionable brother meets his sister's new guardian, however, things get more complicated. Love the beginning, but hated the end.