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This read is like walking through rooms of a labyrinthine southern mansion, alone and unnoticed by its inhabitants, witnessing random bits of random lives at what turn out to be pivotal moments. By the time the last paragraph of "Greenleaf" is taken in (the 21st of 31 stories), Flannery O'Connor is some kind of writer's goddess, and the present world is colored by these stories which are somehow equally representative of a projected idea of the 1950's and 1960's in the southern United States, as well as Flannery O'Connor's interior life, famously short-lived. Amazing, disturbing stories.

The stories that comprise "Ocean of Words" seem to make all sorts of interesting things appear from below the still surface of the pond that contains them; what at first glance seem to be meditations on one facet of one plain, round stone are in fact studies of what is born in the muck and how it ascends toward the light differently than what is born right next to it. The differences in these stories are as various as the obvious and unapparent differences between siblings. Who would have thought, side-by-side on the Russian-Chinese border, early 1970’s, thinking Communist thoughts, so much could be so funny. Damn if Ha Jin can't make us laugh, over and over again, breaking the surface (from below) of the very pond these stories bloom within and giving us a good splashing.

Perhaps "The Rider", from Dutch chess champion/writer/cyclist Tim Krabbé won’t make a smart addition to the legion of work in the staunch institution that is Literature, but it does a superb job of diving into the head of a cyclist (Krabbé himself) from start to finish in a defining race (the Tour de Mont Aigoual). The book moves through mountains and valleys of energy, from a confident bravado to morale shot full of holes; from full empowerment to reasoning and justification when minor decisions have major outcomes. As Krabbé points out, no journalistic telling will ever truly capture what goes on in a bike race (or, one can conclude, any athletic or intellectual competition). Krabbé perfectly conveys the idea that it is not necessarily the best competitor who crosses the line first, as in, "the journey is the destination". He also perfectly conveys exactly how random and uncontrolled the mind can be while the body is performing under ultimate discipline. The pacing of the writing seems to rival the pacing of the race itself, achieved with perfect edits, Krabbé's mind-body-chatter, and brief, pertinent chronicles of Krabbé's previous races, moments from which have all led to this pinnacle point. This is a must-read for any avid cyclist or racing fan.

Read the first half (down and out in Paris) of "Down and Out in Paris and London" in your favorite café or restaurant, and you might lose your appetite. Read the second half (down and out in London) on an empty stomach, and you might be better able to relate to the day in, day out hunger chronicled therein. This short read is labeled a novel, though it truly seems more an accounting, a diary—or a memoir of a time of extreme poverty in Orwell's own life. I would not call his portrait of those times "Orwellian", as its publisher, Harvest, does. Rather, as an avid reader and thrice-read student of "1984" ("'Oranges and lemons,' say the bells of St. Clemens…"), I was pleasantly surprised by the comme ci, comme ca position of the book's narrator, which comes through both in its obvious resentment of poverty's conditions and in its powerfully retained joy for living. It is this very mixture that allows the novel to read as if Orwell has laid his head on the pillow next to yours and is telling you, just you, this (unfortunately) timeless story. A mellow, marvelous piece of writing.

This slim volume on perpetual travel is equal parts practical advice and you've-only-one-life-to-live inspiration. Having already quit my job, sold my condo, and put everything else in to storage, I was already three or four chapters down the road with Potts before I'd ever heard of him or of "Vagabonding", but the true excitement and pure love that he conveys for a life of wanderlust is enough to give me all the extra confidence (a boost up and onto the horse) I needed; because indeed, I've done a great thing by pitching my whole daily routine with all its attachments in favor of the road for awhile. If well-placed in your days, this book may work the same magic on you.

As with virtually any collection of 100 stories by one writer—"The Stories of Ray Bradbury" has its highs and lows, but those seem based on personal connection (or lack of), rather than in the quality in the writing. At times, Bradbury conveys the timelessness of the human condition in perfect combination with plotline, producing some of the finest short pieces of science fiction ever written ("The Veldt", "I Sing the Body Electric!", "The Long Rain"; "Kaleidoscope"…), and, every now and then, ("The Wonderful Ice Cream Suit", "The Anthem Sprinters") there's not a bit of science in the fiction, which can stand on the same literary shelf as Highsmith, Hemingway, or even Joyce. I've had my copy of this book since I was twelve; twenty years and a full cover-to-cover read later (finally, and in only ten days!) I've fallen even harder for Bradbury. He's less an acquired taste (meaning a writer you're told you should know, as most of us were, in school, with "Dandelion Wine" or "Fahrenheit 451") and more a screening of a favorite old movie: life seemed simpler, characters seemed like characters, and story seemed just an inch deep. Comforting. Of course, once we tack a few years onto our lives and find out we didn't know the half of it, Bradbury becomes just as complex as any great "literary" writer. Either way—Bradbury entertains while his ideas provoke.

A play made of selections from the journals and emails of American activist and "human shield" Rachel Corrie, who was killed in the Gaza strip at the young age of 23, "My Name is Rachel Corrie" achieves what the best words and stories out of war and conflict achieve: a human connection out of chaos, a reality out of a passionate belief, and inspiration for the rest of us to go beyond our passivity. With the potential growth that can come from such horrible, continuing situations, there's also an overwhelming sense by the end of this short read of our inability to get anywhere beyond the current situation—and a sadness over the extreme waste of irreplaceable lives. Rachel Corrie proves that we do yet live in a time when there are still people willing to use their voices for those who have no voice—and her voice is quite unique, at that.

What is great about this book is not all the information it gives, compactly, on how the digestive system works and how to eat so it will function optimally (treat the stomach like a garden, not a compost heap and stop eating before you are full are both obvious offerings rarely observed), but the fact that the book ends in a minor treatise on the idea of truly enjoying your food, whatever it is you are eating—since enjoyment goes a long way in good digestion. "Food Combining and Digestion" is a serious and irreverent little book on the inner workings of eating, digesting, and how we feel before, during, and after this intimate act we experience many times over daily. If you've never thought about digestion or eating, this book could open the door to another world, right inside your body, with the potential to change those poorer everyday habits for the better.

We've all read, heard, or seen versions of Andersen's stories, in the same way we've all read, heard, or seen versions of stories by the Brothers Grimm, etc. Disney couldn't exist without them. After reading the originals, I wanted to find out if the translations in "Stories and Tales" were true to Andersen's voice—not because I questioned the translation, so to speak, but because the stories were often much more compelling, layered, and raw than I was prepared for them to be, and I hoped that the language as well as the plots were as true to Andersen as possible. Of course, I knew they wouldn't be sanitary—but Andersen is, wrapped in one: pretty, unexpectedly funny, wise, pretentious, tangential, compact, magical, unnecessarily sprawling, and innovative. The truest thing I can say of Andersen's tales is this: often when I read one right before turning out the light, I dreamt of distant, foreign, magical places; and flight. What a gift it'd be to read these to children instead of some other writer's (or corporation's) interpretation.

"Blue Eyes, Black Hair" is the story of a love affair between a man and a woman who resembles a man whom the man once saw and is forever in love with. As in her other novels and plays, Duras treats the subject of love with specifically colored, broadly rendered strokes, evoking emotion as emotion (not represented emotion) better than any other writer. Reading "Blue Eyes, Black Hair" is like examining with nerves, eyes, fingers, and tongue the underside of a massively painful blossoming bruise.

It seems nothing new can be said about Nabokov's masterpiece "Lolita", because if it hasn't been printed, surely it has been uttered by someone, somewhere. With so many different angles and aftertastes on so widely-read a novel, I almost feel the need to be careful in this silly little reader's review rather than off-the-cuff about my first acquainting. With that in mind, I'll say then that I'm sure I'll read it again, and possibly yet again, to scour and scratch at the layers, the innuendo, the objective, the subjective. Beyond initial gasps and shocks, beyond the equally wicked thrills of meeting Humbert Humbert (whose voice is a much sharper, smarter, bigger and more refined Truman Capote) and Dolly (Dolores) "Lo-Lee-Ta" Haze, the prose is razzle-dazzle, the plot is a hell of a ride, and the range of emotions invoked while traveling through these 300-some pages are all over the map. If it's on your shelf, read it. If it's not, buy it, and then actually read it. My first thought after turning the last page: I'm glad I lived long enough to have read this book. Prior, and unbeknownst to me (as with all discovery), I was missing a piece.

I experienced these stories inside their underivative detail of language: scene, character, and plot. It may be incorrect to say that it doesn't matter what the stories themselves mean or represent, as we are taught that meaning and representation are fundamental and inherent to any good fiction—but to be able to truly experience another lifetime seems to be an accomplishment that would surpass assigned meanings: the closest thing to being written about is feeling another's story deep inside. Immediately, I could see this collection working as a collection of short films (why is this not done very often?) by, say, Jim Jarmusch. Excellent, excellent, excellent.

A play closely related to "The Vice-Consul", this reading felt like a way to remember the reading of that novel, although Duras is careful to point out that "India Song" should not be taken for a stage representation of "The Vice Consul". This book was made into a film at one point, directed by Marguerite Duras— but I'd like to see another adaptation by Kar Wai Wong—his cinematic sensibility seems suited to the coolness in the written direction and the heat in the narrative's language. It was upon reading this play that I had the sense, more strongly than ever before, that all of Duras's stories are of Duras in a fundamental way. As with the reading of any good play, I longed to sit in a theatre and watch it instead.

"The Book of Illusions" is so well-told it's as smooth, precise, and electric as an arrangement of dominoes falling. And once they're all down, we wonder alongside protagonist David Zimmer if things would have wound up the way they did were the sequence of events slightly altered. All themes and veiled connections aside—this is a story about living through an important chain of circumstances and having the rest of life to try and figure it all out. After a certain age, perhaps, that's the ungenerous, normal nature of life.

Ha Jin's novel "In the Pond" is as restrained and as alive as a first-rate short story. Its perfect economy and quiet, pulsing humor thread the fabric for a fable about the shades of grey within morality. It moves so quickly all you need is a pot of tea and a couple of hours. "In the Pond" is an engrossing, visional debut from an astute writer.

A memoir that blends a writer's life: past, present, and on the page, all at once. A life-affirming read, but not in the traditional sense. Pure poetry, if that's all that can be said of Duras—a writer for whom words could be invented all in the attempt to describe what should just be read.

This collection is as essential to understanding American history as any factual chronicle: these 55 stories lay out a landscape from the start of the 20th century to the end of it that, while it wouldn't be considered appropriate material for a masters course in 20th century American history, it should be. Wonderful, wonderful collection of short "fiction", and the perfect introduction to many writers some readers may have only heard of....

This short read was akin to taking a master class in writing and reading, the classroom dialogue replaced by the intensity of listening closely to the book. Milan Kundera's vision of his own writing, its construction (story, theme; motif) and its context in European history, means as much to the art of the novel in Europe as it does to the art of the novel world-wide, as well as to the writers who continue to nurture a fictional landscape that begins way back and extends far beyond the page. Unexpectedly, deeply thought-provoking.

"The Long Valley" is a collection of short, memorable stories by the inimitable John Steinbeck that begins with the often-assigned "Chrysanthemum" and ends with the often-required "The Red Pony". While this collection isn't as pitch-perfect as some of Steinbeck's longer works, its flaws are few and its stories are both enduring and very often endearing. "The Red Pony" is especially wonderful, as is "Saint Katy the Virgin" and "Johnny Bear". These stories are read and reread through the generations for good reason. If you've never read any Steinbeck, these stories are a wonderful introduction. But don’t leave off here—his novels are of the same ilk, yet even more illuminating.

Never have I read a novel that explores the nature of relationships between men and women with such an astute straightforwardness. Doris Lessing's "The Golden Notebook" is a masterpiece because upon a first read it will undoubtedly change each reader, although its brilliance demands multiple readings; it is a masterpiece because it's a complete portrait of a woman of depth (main character Anna Wolf), and it is a masterpiece because it reveals, through Anna’s story, the sum of our knowing that we live hard in our present moments, entrenched—heels dug in—but life will always continue to fly forward, uprooting and changing us into someone new. Sometimes we forget there's always another corner to round until that final corner. "The Golden Notebook" is a must-read.

Riveting, agonizing, and cutting—a meaningful and effectual accounting of life in Nazi-occupied Paris and just after; one has the idea that Duras has built this book out of actual pieces of her body and soul—and one wonders what was left of her after these notebooks were written in 1941—what was left again after they were finished and published forty-one years later. Reading this memoir brings forth real emotion: Duras puts the horrors of humanity—both entwined and unraveled—perfectly on the page.

An enlightening study on the link between diet and disease—and a compellingly comprehensive read. My own diet history includes being raised as an American Omnivore (a lot of meat, dairy, and processed foods), becoming a vegetarian at 18 (for ten years), adding meat back into my diet for two years as a competitive mountain biker, and once again removing meat, gradually, from my diet. Reading this book has helped me take my diet into the territory of veganism (finally removing my beloved eggs and cheese!), and has allowed me to feel comfortable and excited by my decision. See if this book doesn't challenge your notion of what is truly healthy for your body, our heart-and-cancer-diseased societies, and our larger environment.

The warmth of Kingsolver's life, home, and kitchen is wonderfully translated to the page, as is the notion that if we choose to care, we can reconnect to our bodies, our communities, our families, and yes, the sources of our food. And while the majority of people reviewing this book tend to say something along the lines of… "we don’t expect Kingsolver thinks we'll all start gardening and raising chickens…" I would have to say that I think Kingsolver hopes she has at least ignited our hopes that we could if we wanted to. She, her husband (Steven Hopp) and her daughter (Camille Kingsolver) certainly give us enough inspiring narrative, sidebar snapshots of the current state of food in the world, and seasonal recipes from their year, to encourage action over defeated sighs of complacency. This is a very important book for everyone who eats: those of us with enough money to choose exactly what we want, and those of us on food stamps: we can all benefit from Kingsolver's experience and insight.

It has been said that this story, about two people who fall in love—a married man with his ailing wife's cousin—is about wasted lives—but isn't it true that we can only make decisions in the present, we can only want, need, and be effected by what moves us in the present? This is a tale of two people whose present lives cannot allow them a bliss-filled future together without causing pain to another; so they choose to bear this pain themselves in a failed double-suicide attempt that is supposed to end it all. As fortune would hold, they both go on to live in the same small house with broken bodies and broken spirits, the formerly ailing wife now in the part of nursemaid. "Ethan Frome" is considered by many to be Edith Wharton's masterpiece, and I'd agree. It is one of the supreme masterpieces of all of literature—wearing unassuming clothing. I did not, however, agree with the commonly ascribed adjectives that this story is grim, bleak, or depressing—instead, I found it haunting; a flawless portrait of our deepest interiors.

This is a book without concrete literary resolutions—a mirror of life as it is—we never seem to really know what motivates each of the three characters, not truly, and they don't seem to consciously know themselves. Do things happen by design or at random? Deceptively simple, "Sputnik Sweetheart" can be read in a day, but would likely be best understood revisited through the seasons and years. Is anything as it appears in a world constructed (translated) by Haruki Murakami?

No other novel has quite the same punch as it draws its reader to the realization that we are all, really, the fifth business (see "Fifth Business" for an explanation), at least, at some point in life. Either that or I was at that exact point myself as I was reading "Fifth Business", feeling sorry for myself that Davies has actually led me to this understanding. This stand-alone novel (the first in Davies' Deptford Trilogy) spans almost the entire lifetime of its narrator, protagonist, and extremely interesting fifth business: Dunstan Ramsay. His story is dense, his narration intelligent and satisfying. I felt as if I was, in part and at turns, transported into select scenes of the film "Citizen Kane", lovely little bits of Katherine Dunn's "Geek Love", the canon of Steven Millhauser's works, and the deepest part of my own clouded and innocent memory of childhood; and then, there was Canada, the surface world, the below surface world, and two great wars. And such a sense of winter! Only Wharton's novel "Ethan Frome" could make a reader feel the chill more deeply. Davies' canvas is so vast, and then at turns just as minute as the fears we carry around inside ourselves regarding what our lives will actually amount to when all is said and done. Bravo! I am happy that there are more Robertson Davies books to read; I won't think about the fact that he's been gone for twelve years until, like my sister who recommended this book to me, I have only one of his books left to read, which will have to be saved for the primary joy on the rainiest possible day.

There are many levels of guidance and understanding in His Holiness The Dalai Lama's "How to Practice the Way to a Meaningful Life", making it more than practical. Since it is brought to us by HHTDL, this volume is also at turns as playful as the Dalai Lama himself, and, by his instruction, we couldn't possibly take it all too seriously and upset the balance of the nature of human spiritual practice. Even if you're not going to commit to a path toward enlightenment, this book offers, in steps of clarity, meaningful action that would improve anyone's existence.

Murakami is a reader's writer, a writer's writer, and above all a master storyteller. One of his ardent readers once told him she preferred his short stories to his novels, and, at the very least, this most recent collection gives any one of his novels a run for its money. Each story is completely absorbing: a broad landscape of the variety of humanity's interactions with happenstance. Murakami can translate the very air of a breath to the page and the page will breathe for us; he is a magician. The career-spanning stories in "Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman" are like a gathering of shells, stones, houseplants and forests out of Murakami's head. It would be a hot (silly) debate as to whether his short stories are actually better than his novels; it'd be like comparing apples to four-star meals (both extraordinary); it all depends on what you have room for.

It's entirely possible that teenage angst and adult uncertainty could be borne of never being able to fully unravel the puzzle of the parents we come from. Surviving the loss of a parent, no matter what the relationship was like, can alter life and create a sentimentalist where one did not previously exist. Paul Auster's story, a touchstone to those of us who have lost our fathers (cleaning out his house, going through his private things, making speeches at the funeral), is made ever more interesting when a family acquaintance reveals why Auster's father and uncles never had a straight story to tell about the death of their own father—a tale this intriguing could have had a home in Auster's fiction, and yet, since it's the true life of Paul Auster, we have his autobiography. "The Invention of Solitude" is a perfect short read: make sure you have enough time to finish it in one sitting, you won't want to put it down.

Beautiful, heartbreaking, intimate stories from Post-WWII Japan, "The Laws of Evening" has so many sublime details that I've randomly recalled later, in the filler moments of my own life, that I do believe passing this book on to a friend was a mistake, as I probably won't get it back.

Marguerite Duras has a power over words truly unlike any other writer, and it even bleeds through translation. If her book "The Lover" is outlined in broad lines of charcoal, delicately blended and shaded with pastels, "The North China Lover" is a watercolor: no broad strokes, but somehow the impression it gives is more. More of what? Everything that compelled Duras to write and the reader to read. This book should be included on all such "100 Must Read" lists.

Good poetry is alive and well.

What a wonderful book—we could always use more stories from what seems like simpler times, especially to read to our children. The age range for this book is 9 – 12, but I read it aloud to my 8-year-old niece, and while I had to explain a few things, she loved it. That was refreshing since she's mostly into someone called Hannah Montana these days. "A Year Down Yonder", its sequel, is what "Empire Strikes Back" is to "Star Wars". Surprisingly better! Both are great books to read as autumn turns to winter (after all, the Great Depression is the story's backdrop). A recommended read.

A sequel to Peck's "A Long Way From Chicago", "A Year Down Yonder" was a much better book than its predecessor. It isn't that "A Long Way From Chicago" wasn't a good book, it's just that, somehow, the soul of its sequel feels much more present on the page. Mary Alice is our first person narrator, and rather than telling us a series of stories over the course of several summers (as in the first book where her brother Joey is the narrator), she has moved (from Chicago) in with Grandma Dowdel (in rural Illinois) for a year to wait out the depths of the Great Depression. The stories are full of history, and rough-around-the-edges Grandma Dowdel is full of humanity (but always behind a facade). "A Year Down Yonder" is a great bedtime chapter-book read-aloud for ages 8 to 12. There's always a good place to stop to leave the kids hanging! "A Year Down Yonder" is a stand-alone book, but the reader's enjoyment is definitely expanded by reading "A Long Way From Chicago" first.

Truman Capote's unfinished novel, "Answered Prayers", may be in the cannon of great literature because of its author's reputation rather than by its own virtues. That criticism aside (purely personal opinion), it is a wickedly, laugh-out-loud, funny book. If Capote was capable of writing this kind of biting commentary in an alcohol and drug-induced haze, would a finished masterpiece have come closer to his conception of writing the American version of Proust's "Remembrance of Things Past" as he'd envisioned this book to be?

A quiet, violent story, like so many stories coming out of the Vietnam War and landing on the shores of America; fiction or non: a mystery of humanity and history tangled in the present. Perhaps "In the Lake of the Woods" is not Tim O’Brien's 'beyond compare' book of his life's work (Vietnam), but it is an engrossing facet nonetheless. "In the Lake of the Woods" is one story, the same story as all the stories in "The Things They Carried" made unrecognizable, and it's an absorbing read. Its narrative can’t help but point at what we might be facing in the aftermath of our wars in Iraq.

In a couple of days of page-turning reading, "The Winter of Our Discontent" fast became my favorite Steinbeck novel. Unfortunately, there’s nothing out of the ordinary here as the fully-realized protagonist (and antagonist all wrapped into one—Ethan Allen Hawley) goes through the minutes and days of his life a good guy… until his morality begins to shift in search of a slightly better life. There isn't anyone who cannot relate to what Ethan Hawley thinks; and possibly everyone would say they wouldn't relates to what Ethan Hawley does…. A straightforward, surprising, and very compelling read.

An entertaining read. It's almost as if Codrescu gathered his personal essays from across time and the open miles of America, affording us a glimpse into a private wealth of knowledge and experience unique to Codrescu's take on American city. Not always a page-turner, but interesting enough that I wished he'd intimately visited and wrote about even more great American cities.

Proof that the art of literature is thriving—proof that there are still pearls that appear naturally in the vast lakes and oceans of the world—proof that there are needles in haystacks, and they're worth searching for. The last book I read that lingered behind and affected me as much was "The Sea, the Sea", by Iris Murdoch. "Elizabeth Costello" is the first Coetzee book I've read, and I'm very much looking forward to reading more. Perfectly, exquisitely written; this is a book to be read through the ages. An essential read for anyone interested in reading today's compelling literature.

A better bathroom read than "Readers' Digest" or any gossip magazine. Jump into the world of a literary giant at the end of his days in bits and pieces. Bowles' journal entries are prose poetry, sans pretension. Lovely.

I enjoyed the first "Mary Poppins" more than the last. Written some 20 years after "Mary Poppins", "Mary Poppins in the Park" contains 6 long chapters, most which seem to consist of Mary telling the four children extra-length stories, all of which contain sublimely written morality (which can be refreshing in children's literature), but are sorely lacking in the magic of Ms. Poppins herself. I would rather read about Mary and the children going out and having an adventure than read about Mary telling the kids about strange happenings and unusual characters. Of course, some of those Mary Poppins magic adventures remain, and the last chapter of the book, about Halloween (the only day of the year that our shadows can detach and go off for a party in the park) is a very fun read. That chapter alone is worth at least a check-out from the library and a good read-aloud to the kids.

"Nonconformity" is an important book for all writers and thinkers to read and reread. Possibly and perhaps because it was written in the McCarthy era 1950's, and the very publishers who sought this essay declined to publish it at that time out of fear, it speaks just as clearly today of and to the place we're at in the evolution of the Republic that is America. The title of this book is perfect, as is the thought-provoking afterward by Daniel Simon. This book-length essay would be first-rate required reading in schools if we dared, in our schools, to forge individuals.

In "Green Hills of Africa", it seems that Hemingway perfectly captures the energies of a safari—the thrill of waiting and tracking, the blood-rush at the spotting of the prey, triggers pulled; clean shots, bad shots, long horns, short horns: it's all there in the story. The rhythm in this book is not always typical Hemingway. Long, running paragraphs are punctuated by the dialog he is known for writing. "Green Hills of Africa" is as much about being a writer and inhabiting the world as it is about hunting. A thoroughly enjoyable read.

Tobias Wolff is a good writer. Not in the way that good is a B+ and great is an A; but in the honorable, exceptional, tip-top, 'good' is more sincere than 'great' kind of way. Each of these stories, one after the next, lifted a veil away from another of our human qualities. Sometimes, I caught myself holding my breath while reading "In the Garden of the North American Martyrs".

While not as sublime a novel as Ishiguro's masterpiece "The Remains of the Day", one can certainly see the seeds of that future book in this first effort. Pacing of story, restraint of character, and the expanse between the words are all familiar. It’s an interesting first novel from a writer whose body of work is often more powerful than his contemporaries'. A recommended read, although "Remains of the Day" is still the one to ponder through the ages.

Kawabata’s tales in "First Snow on Fuji" have a timeless sensibility, although they certainly take place in the just post WWII Japan. There is as much silence as there are happenings in these short stories, and the combined impression they leave behind is much like shadows in footprints in fresh snow. The stories within the stories are enjoyable, as are the relationships between characters. Kawabata seems to make his sketches with just the right lines. Yasunari Kawabata and Haruki Murakami seem to be cut from a similar cloth.

A concise study in how to greatly reduce nutritional stress by choosing easily digestible foods rich in nutrients, "Thrive" is an essential reference for any athlete, and a refreshing introduction to truly thoughtful nutrition for people who actually think about the food they put in their mouths. I look forward to future advice and recipes from Brazier.

Perfect bedtime stories! Perfect breakfast-time stories! Perfect noon-time adventures! What a thrill to go to Africa through a man in love with Africa. Haunting black and white photographs gorgeously layered with colored illustrations invite the most breakneck of readers to linger a long time within the pages of "Zara’s Tales". A resplendent, serious, and lively volume meant to have a permanent spot on the shelf.

I expected to be distracted, at most, by this novel. It was an "in-between" book for me—it was supposed to be just an entertainment. I was distracted, yes—and further—I was genuinely effected by its story, its prose, and the histories Erdrich's fiction draws itself from. Louise Erdrich is a master story-teller who holds her readers right in the palm of her hand. A gorgeous tale: winding and variegated.

My surprise read of 2007, straight from the early 20th century. A delight, a revelation. A history of tea that turns out to be a precise, lovely and wise book about the ways of the world, from ancestral Japan. If asked today, this is the book I'd choose to have on an island if I could have only one. It is ideal.

My surprise read of 2007, straight from the early 20th century. A delight, a revelation. A history of tea that turns out to be a precise, lovely and wise book about the ways of the world, from ancestral Japan. If asked today, this is the book I'd choose to have on an island if I could have only one. It is ideal.

This slim volume of true stories is a must-read for any Paul Auster admirers. Auster's fiction is often labeled with the word "illusion"; reading some instances from this book, straight from the writer's life, make his stories seem more reality-based than anything else. Magical? Certainly. Illusion? Only if its truest meaning includes every crazy thing that circumstance and coincidence can throw your way. And hey, if you don't even know who Paul Auster is, "The Red Notebook" is a great gateway book. Sheer head-scratching pleasure.

Story within story, this novel is like seeing one's self step into a painting. Sinister, mysterious, ordinary, and obscure, the tale of Mr. Blank could be the story of anyone who ever thought "how did I ever arrive at this day of my life?" Worthy of a thorough read, more than worthy of a secondary study if you've the need to dream a little about life's nature.

This book should be required reading in all of our public high schools. Dee Brown masterfully communicates the history of the American Indian as much from their perspective as possible—the battle accounts here are often horrifying, disturbing and frustrating to read. "Humans" and "dogs"; immigrants and natives—it's hard to understand how these disgraceful transgressions could have come to pass for so many years, and not all that far into our distant past. It's probably impossible for any book to make readers truly feel what it's like to be completely broken and undone—the power of chiefs diminished down to dust, the will of entire peoples torn apart; but Brown's record comes close. Hopefully, this book will remind us of how we felt as a nation on 9/11… the closest we've come to the depth of what the Indian nations of America experienced as the United States was born. Flying coast-to-coast over this land on a clear day is a very different experience after reading "Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee".

Woody Allen is a genius; I'm in that camp. This slim volume allows those of you from the same camp to practically watch a Woody Allen film even if you're trapped on a desert island without electricity and happen to have this book with you for some reason. The dialogue reads easily, and Allen blends NYC relationship reality with Kafka-like happenings slightly a la "Metamorphosis". The next best thing to this quick read would be to see these one-acts staged, directed by Allen himself. Pure pleasure with unexpected zest from a working master.

What can I say? A fast read, to be sure. It reads like a big-budget movie watches. I wished I could suspend my own disbelief long enough to care about this book, but, alas, I could not. I felt like Jasper Fforde was a tiny little excitable elf who'd clumsily reveal plot twists while winking at me. It reminded me of "The DaVinci Code" in that way. I'd take a Ray Bradbury story any day over this series. It was recommended to me by a voracious, trusted reader, but my copy will go in the train depot share-a-book rack. It'll distract someone on their daily commute well enough. I suppose every book has its place.

I read this book in a day—couldn't put it down. I picked it out of my ever-growing/never-ending "to-read" stack because I would have liked to visit New York City this fall. "The Brooklyn Follies" didn't disappoint. As with all of Paul Auster's novels, it’s filled with happenings that seem out of the ordinary—one might even say bordering on fantastical for everyday life. The characters' (and they're all main characters) jaunts and journeys are a step beyond the bounds of our "what did you do today?" and yet it’s all relatable. Really, it's just a story about interesting people living life at full tilt. There’s no magic or illusion beyond the usual magic and illusion life throws to us outside the pages. In "The Brooklyn Follies", the foreground is all story; the atmosphere is Auster's sublime writing. Highly, highly recommended.

I've read that David Foster Wallace has "Woody Allen Syndrome" (we either love him or we hate him). While I love Woody Allen, I was unimpressed with David Foster Wallace. As a matter of fact, I also had "The Girl with the Curious Hair" in my reading stack, and after forcing myself to finish "Brief Interviews…", I donated them both to the reading rack at the train depot. There were a couple of stories that made me ponder, but on the whole, Wallace’s language was more a maze of pretension than anything resembling clarity, communication, or precision. He mostly includes stories without points alongside structured narratives where the prose is so muddy it turns reading into an act of mental gymnastics. When the two combine (muddy prose without point), the book is especially frustrating. I would not recommend this book. There are already more books available than can ever be read in a lifetime.

Murakami has a gift for placing his characters in situations his readers can relate to. Usually it happens entirely in the details; perhaps most of his readers haven't been in a situation where coincidence, happenstance, randomness, and the surreal all seem to collide at regular intervals (or perhaps it just goes unrecognized by most of us in life off the page); however, within the shading of his writing, even the most unusual plot twists feel familiar. Murakami's writing alone makes him a worthy way to spend time reading: it is well-balanced music, as he was inclined to say of good writing (in a short story somewhere). It almost doesn't quite matter what the storyline is with Murakami; he has a deity's understanding of human nature, and to read any of his novels or short stories is both a comfort and a mirror. The narrative stands on its own, of course, but without Murakami's writing, it would not have the same lasting impact; it would not be classic literature. If it's your first Murakami, "South Of The Border, West Of The Sun" will surely lead you to other works; if you've read him already, it's only a matter of time before you reach each book in turn.

An obvious classic. Hemingway is less the "man's man" caricature in this book than he is a fully fleshed man: balanced, nuanced, and shaded into dimension. "A Moveable Feast" made me smile and nostalgic with memories that are not even my own. Of course it's a privileged thing to be able to read about Gertrude Stein and Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald from someone who knew them so well in certain years. What is most lovely to me, however, is Hemingway's Parisian Café. After reading this book, it seems I could live and die leading a life in little, foreign cafés.

It is true that readers of "Soul Mountain" will not lose themselves in narrative, and for a long book, this may make picking it up a daunting proposition. It has many charms, however. We are transported to a mountainside in China; I could nearly smell the earth and the clean air. From village to village we travel with Gao Xingjian as first person, second person (singular), and third person (male and female). At one moment we are in a small village shoulder-to-shoulder with the locals, drinking, dancing, laughing; the next moment we are alone together, thinking, among trees. Gao Xingjian has a way of laying words down: slipping what seems an easy thought right into the brain where it unravels and becomes profound. Perhaps he's always had such a gift; perhaps his gift arrived after a misdiagnosis of terminal lung cancer was discovered and he set off to find Soul Mountain. Not only did I find the novel worthwhile, but if I'm still around, I'd like to read it again in a few decades.

A highly improbable tale passed off as a recounting of a true event is a quick read that leaves its reader wondering if in fact it is a true story… and is it? The strength of the narrative and the layers of the protagonist, Pi Patel (both what we know as well as what we know as intuitive readers), create a world as real as the one we're sitting in (what a great novel does best). This book is a marvelous bedtime story. It's a survival story, a religion story, a life-is-full-of-sorrow story, and, in the end, it's the fable that becomes the real story when Pi's "true" account of ocean survival is told simply to reassure his audience that fables couldn't possibly actually happen. A thought provoking, well-written novel on many levels.

Deceptively simple language. Straight forward story-telling. Layers of actuality, written after the fact, looking back. Men. War. Boys. War. Home. Responsibility. Self. Idealism. Others. Geography. Wounds. Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow. This is the memoir of one of our most important writers. On par with great literature, this book will never fail to have something important to show us through the ages. Upon multiple readings, another layer will always be revealed. If I Die in a Combat Zone Box Me Up and Ship Me Home is a perfect book about an imperfect history.

It almost doesn't matter what the details of Joan Didion's life were at the time she wrote this memoir, even if the writing spends much of its time in the details; what touched me most is her ability to convey what is, what isn't, and what yet remains unknown in life, love, loss, and grief. A life in mourning is one thing, but Didion reveals that true grief is something else. We can easily lose ourselves in details-- in daily life, it's when we find meaning that we find hope. At best, isn't that why we live? Isn't that why we read? There is a great amount of hope in "The Year of Magical Thinking". As heavy as it is, it is hopeful.

Where did Paul Auster get this story? I don't know, but I am glad he wrote it and gave it to us. There's not a thing that's easy about life, is there? Even for a dog. One mark of a good novel is narrative punctuated by profundity, and Auster always has that in spades. Here's a gem from Timbuktu: "...No one can ever amount to anything in this life without someone else to believe in him." Rich characters, story within story, and a certain undressed take on the world.

Very often, a professional review of any of Sherman Alexie's work to date will somehow say that it made the reader laugh through tears? (a.k.a., 'heartbreaking') and since Alexie is often cited for writing with that voice, I found the blunt honesty emphasized in the storytelling of Flight revealed a further layer of his writing ability. The language is easy but it never follows that the story is easy. Going beyond the thing inside a story that makes it literature, Flight smacks us upside the head with life as it is for somebody named Zits. All time travel and inhabiting of other people through history aside?is Zits really somebody else? This book is about common humanity. If the reader sees the character as separate from him or herself, Zits still holds the power to impact our lives. Some of us read about these things, and some of us live through these things. How ironic that, as Alexie toured this book, the Virginia Tech massacre took place. This is an important story for our time (and it includes time travel!), written by one of our best storytellers. Come on?it's Sherman Alexie. I can't give him an unbiased review; he's been one of my favorite writers since The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven. I'd consider moving to Seattle from Chicago so I could attend more of his readings. A timely, important, well-written novel.

By far and away this is the most compelling book I've had the pleasure to read in a long time. I couldn't put it down and I even called in sick to finish it. I never call in sick. Luckily, I live in Chicago, so I can explore the architecture and neighborhoods where these stories happened just over a century ago. Even Graceland Cemetery, where many of the people written about in this book now reside, holds new magic for me. Erik Larson is an extremely capable writer. Indeed, through the entire read, I could tell that Erik Larson himself was fully and wonderfully immersed in his subject. I am sure that he could make any subject more than interesting. We, in the city of Chicago, are grateful for his perfect effort!

With a family member serving in Iraq, I decided it was time to read some war narratives (outside of Tim O?Brien on Vietnam, who, I think, is one of the best and most important storytellers of all time). Not a Good Day to Die was recommended to me as a starting point. While there were times I had a hard time following what was technically going on, since I?m not educated in military language, maneuvers, etc.; overall, I was surprised at what a fluid read this was. I was also impressed by the narrative, since it goes so far beyond news headlines and gives readers an understanding (in as far as possible) of what modern warfare is really like. This was indeed an excellent starting point for a whole world of information on war and on war in the Middle East.

I recently saw a stage production of Dandelion Wine (the predecessor to Farewell Summer) at Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago. This production was aimed at children- it had been turned into a musical where songs were showboated like ?numbers? in bravado-filled performances. While Dandelion Wine never conjured that feel for me when I read it as a child, Farewell Summer seemed like it was born out of the same place as the musical version of Dandelion Wine, rather than out of the more delicate and personal novel of Dandelion Wine. In this, it was somewhat of a disappointment to me- a long-time reader of Bradbury. I can imagine that new, younger readers of Bradbury may like it, as the language remains simple and often poetic, but the meaning is still layered. I enjoyed the easy read for what it was, but Farewell Summer could not become my favorite Bradbury book. I was surprised to find that it was written at the same time as Dandelion Wine, and I do think the original decision to keep this material out of the final book of Dandelion Wine was a good one. Perhaps that?s the sentimentalist in me.

Astrid and Veronika is a compelling read; but not in the sense that the reader is compelled to keep reading as the plot develops and takes its turns; rather, the reader is compelled because the two characters, Astrid and Veronika, are revealed in steady, quiet detail. This book has a very visual sensibility and recalls an Ingmar Bergman film.... I can imagine that someday this book will become a film. Linda Olsson writes with language that leaves just enough space for the narrative to leave a deep, almost meditative impression on the mind.

I've read most of Truman Capote's works, so I was excited to find this collection of short stories, as short fiction has been my favorite form of writing to explore lately. The stories in this book appear in chronological order, and it's interesting to see how Capote's writing improved over the decades. There were a couple of early stories I struggled with, where the dense 15 page spaces felt like 30; but then there were the gems-- the stories that moved so quickly and said so much, so clearly. I've always felt that Capote was a genuine storyteller, and in this collection, the gems far outnumber the rocks.