I'm not spoiling anything by telling you that right out of the gate, this story starts with an attack. The woman in question is rendered stunned, and her little family is paralyzed as to how to help her. The protagonist here is her son, Joe, aged 13. You might think that a book that teaches us much we need to know about tribal rights, law, misuse of authority, and continued atrocities to Native Peoples would be tedious. Not so, in this case. That is the genius of Louise Erdrich. I had never encountered her before, but this book won't be the last of hers that I read. Joe is such a rich character that you feel you are walking around in his skin as the tale unfolds. He and his band of buddies navigate the fickle bridge between childhood and adult "freedom" vacillating between hormonal rebellion and a pining for the security of apron strings. The premise of this novel is somber and terrifying, yet real life goes on and it's not always weighty. While Joe and friends try to close in on the perpetrator of his mom's attack, we're treated to side-trips which make you gasp, laugh, and ponder. I found this book to be a combination of the light mysticism of Brian Doyle, the tomfoolery of The Sandlot, and Stephen King's ability to climb inside a child's head and heart, while giving us a lesson that's hard to hear and important to know.

More of Mark's forward-thinking observances of the human condition, racism, stereotypes, and the like. Not easy reading, but he was certainly ahead of his time.

Here's another dinger in the James Herriot series that will steal your heart.

Steinbeck's first published novel tells the story of the pirate, Henry Morgan. Interesting, part fact, part fiction--it's captivating in places and drags in others. But hey, it's Steinbeck. Worthwhile.

Despite its reputation, this book is about so much more than, you know, that. It covers class, loyalty, love, sadness, but does so wordily. If you like to settle in and ponder deeply (no pun intended), this could be the book for you.

A thoroughbred thriller to keep you reading!

Harriet's radical expose of slavery, greed and dignity under fire resonated then, and still does. If you haven't read it, you should. Imagine yourself living in the freaking 1800s and reading this. Or more horrifyingly, living in the freaking 1800s as a slave. If it doesn't cut you to the heart, we have a problem.

Oh my goodness. If you haven't read this series, you just must. They are feel-good, chuckle-mustering, universally appealing stories about a world in which none of us (or few, anyway) have lived, but love imagining. These stories about James, Siegfried, and Tristan, country vets all, are as good as a cup of hot cider. Taking place in the 1930s in Yorkshire, the times are lush yet charged with things to come. 1000 hos.

Although I love Chaim's work, this one fell flat for me. Go with The Chosen or My Name is Asher Lev instead.

Nancy tells a moving story about two disparate yet entwined families with simplicity and deftness. A worthwhile read.

For Gerrard, growing up in the home of loving parents in the bosom of the Bible Belt seemed secure and safe, until puberty kicked in. Then he knew something was horribly "wrong" with him. Identifying as a Christian, he wrestled with who he was for years, until finally being traumatically outed when he was in college. This is the story of what happened primarily after that event. Gerrard can write. There were many times I marveled at the turn of phrase he can produce. However, sometimes less is more--the guy could pen a page about the inside of a lampshade and sometimes his descriptions feel a bit like that. That wasn't the bad part, although editing might have been helpful there. Do you know anyone who, during a conversation, starts a topical thread, midway through is distracted by some other topic, follows that for a while, then leaves that, to continue in this vein until you think your head might explode from the effort to remember all of the dangling strings? Well, I do, and reading Gerrard's book is kind of like that. Apparently all of the wandering affects him sometimes too, because (here's a non-spoiler example) when he talked about his trip to the Peabody Hotel with his mom, he cited the famous ducks that spend their time either in the lobby fountain or on the roof. He noted that they must be on the roof, because they weren't in the fountain. Yet, a few pages (and many topics) later, the ducks were mysteriously marching back to the roof, dripping water all the way. I want to be clear that I think his story is pertinent, tragic, and so important. I believe that he is a kind and classy person who takes the high road. I'm sad that this experience has given him the feeling that he's distanced from God, and that is most certainly not his doing. Shame on the "ex-gay" ranks for damaging so many people who were never broken in the first place, and good for Gerrard for putting this down on paper. However, I think this could have been split into two books, and it would have been lots less rambly. I found myself having to double back so many times to remember where we were or what stage of this process we were in. I hope Gerrard finds his peace someday. But for me, one acquaintance with a flight-of-ideas conversational style is enough.

Some singers are known for their signature songs--think of Eric Clapton's "Leila", and "Dirty Laundry" by Don Henley. To me, authors are much the same. Ayn's tour de force is definitely this TOME. A treatise on capitalism, there's a lot of symbolism, but some ranting, too. I felt that although she had a message, it got bogged down with wordiness and some self-indulgence. The catchphrase, "Who is John Galt?" is the thing that stayed with me. And after 1000+ pages, I don't really care.