This fascinating book was written by an undercover journalist cum guard at a private prison in Winnfield, Louisiana. He has a unique perspective in that he was a prisoner himself, for seven years. In four months he was able to see and experience much of what is wrong with our prison system, today and since its inception. Reads like a suspense novel, but you're burdened with that unfortunate knowledge that this isn't fiction.

Wow. Wanna learn about politics and race in Dallas? Well, this book will give you that and even something about why JFK met his demise in that city. Enlightening but sad and disheartening.

I wouldn't have thought someone could write a captivating book all about, well, the love story of a hypnotist. But apparently, it can be done. There is, of course, more to it than that, and many layers that will make you question what you thought you believed. It moves right along, and in true Liane Moriarty style, carries you completely.

I don't know how she does it. She claims to be just a writer of stories, but her books are always suspenseful and surprising. This one is no exception. So many sub-plots, but in her capable hands you don't get lost, and you're always wondering about the many ways they characters might be connected. And then you're wrong. A great read.

We're all gonna die. Here's a quote: "Peatlands, which represent no more than 4 percent of the earth's terrestrial surface, store twice as much carbon as all of the world's forests. They not only filter water that yaks, cattle, sheep and fertilized farmlands pollute, but they also hold back that water in times of flood and store it during extended drought." Every time that peat is removed, tons of carbon gets released into the atmosphere. So don't use peat pots or peat moss. Informative, for sure, but we're all gonna die.

The only reason you can keep reading is Augusten's breezy style, even in the face of the horror that was his childhood. It's gut-wrenching, but so, so captivating.

Get ready--Dominique pulls no punches in this kind but straightforward challenge to use the advantages that come with a lifetime of being white and make a difference. Back and forth examples between the Bible and current events tie examples of renowned people who did just that, and simultaneously smashes all the excuses that we hear so often. Well-structured and thorough, this is a must-read for many of us who need confirmation, a nudge, or maybe even a shove.

There's lots to wonder about in this book of interwoven stories, half-truths, and downright lies. A teenage girl goes missing, and everyone is suddenly a suspect. The driving instructor from downstairs. The son of the eccentric vintage clothing dealer. The parents themselves. There's a lot to learn about each of these characters and their pasts, and at varying points, they all look guilty. There is an answer in the end, but I had a hard time connecting with the main players. I kind of wanted them all to get arrested. Guess what? They all didn't.

If you liked Cutting for Stone, you know how talented Abraham Verghese is at writing. (Why do some people have all the talent? And brains?) This look back at his early days in Texas, trying unsuccessfully to salvage his marriage and finding an outlet seems so intimate that at times, I felt like I was intruding. In the midst of this anguish, Abraham meets David, a once near-great tennis player who is a medical student under his tutelage. An occasional game becomes a routine, and then a friendship, but a complicated one. David's past is gradually revealed and both tennis players evolve, for better or worse.

Jeepers, imagine a city of 20,000 people in our Midwest in the year 1050 or so . . . can you? It's mind-boggling. But there was such a place, and apparently it was quite the sophisticated metropolis with cited evidence of peoples from various locales around (what is now) the country having spent some time there. Of course not all the answers are provided; there will probably always be some questions. But it's sure interesting to learn of, read about, and ponder what brought about its creation . . . and its demise. Hmmm.

This beautifully researched book starts with an obituary. Very fitting, since the rest of the book is a complete autopsy. Layer by layer, the author peers into the patient to find the former life inside, and like all of us, there are things to be celebrated and there's a lot of other stuff which is, at best, shameful. One wonders about the assumed "separation of church and state" that is supposed to be woven into the fabric of our nation--seems to have been maybe a great idea and message but not so much a practice. Fascinating to read and ponder. However, it was written in 2016, and that's a while ago. His afterword addresses that election and although he predicted some of what ultimately happened during that presidential term, he skews more hopeful than, say, Margaret Atwood's interpretation of things. It would be so interesting to talk to him now. Another book, Robert?

Where should I start? Although I certainly sympathize with the author for her revelation that she, like the main character, lost her own brother at a young age, it felt as though this book was more a form of therapy to work through that loss than a well-thought out story. In this tale, set in 1938, Beatrice (the star of the show) and her philandering husband book a summer at a seaside resort, with the express purpose of hobnobbing with the rich and famous to whom they aspire to cozy up. I found the protagonist to be annoyingly inconsistent, unless we're talking about her self-centeredness. That was unchanging (and infuriating) throughout the book. Our "heroine" vacillated between utter vapidity and amazing self-awareness and brilliance. Highly unlikely. I never remotely developed any sense of concern for what happened to her, and frankly, wanted her to be killed off early on, but alas, no such luck. Furthermore, the writing felt forced, and why, oh why, was there an apparent ban on the word "pregnant" through the entire book? If I read "with child" once, I read it a million times. Eventually it became like nails on a chalkboard. Again, my sincere sympathies to the author, but perhaps this isn't the answer.