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In a broadening field of smart, comedic feminist essayists, Lindy West stands out for her authenticity, her vulnerability, and the clarity of her arguments. In Shrill: Notes From a Loud Woman (alternatively subtitled: Women Are Funny, It’s Okay to Be Fat, and Feminists Don’t Have to Be Nice), West uses memoir — much of it cringe-worthy — to illustrate social inequalities based on gender and body type. Shrill loosely follows a coming-of-age story arc, culminating in West’s emotional victories (self-acceptance and partnership) and professional success as a journalist for Jezebel and The Stranger. Each chapter begins with a breezy, usually hilarious series of anecdotes, a narrative device that allows West to save her political punches for the end, when she’s proven her point through personal experience. While raucous and relatable, West’s analyses of where women stand in American culture, especially fat women, are whip-smart and compassionate. As West notes more than once, she can “absorb blows — literal and metaphorical — meant for other women, smaller women, breakable women, women who need me.”

First off, ignore the hype. This book will not explain in full the staggering weirdness of the presidential election. What it does do — really well — is provide an in-depth portrait of the Appalachian demographic of the white working class. Drawing on his childhood spent in Appalachia and small-town Ohio, J. D. Vance explores and contends with the despair gripping his family and the larger community of Appalachian émigrés to the Rust Belt. Struggling to hold on to the middle-class lifestyles made possible by now disappearing manufacturing jobs, Vance’s subjects deal with poverty, domestic violence, and addiction within the unique context of hillbilly culture. Both sympathetic and alarmed, Hillbilly Elegy’s blend of family history and social criticism makes for an absorbing and timely read.

Unpacking what she calls the "Nordic Theory of Love," in which the state provides services like health care, paid family leave, high-quality daycare, and universal education to ensure equal opportunity for all members of society, Anu Partanen makes a persuasive case against America's outdated — and incredibly destabilizing — reliance on employers and private industry to provide access to basic amenities like medicine and childcare. In a series of clear, example-filled chapters, Partanen carefully debunks popular arguments against Nordic democracies, like the claims of socialism and the fear that taxpayer-funded social programming has a damaging impact on capitalist innovation. While Partanen does address some of the Nordic countries' shortcomings, she more often sets Nordic problems up as straw men to deliver resounding critiques of the American approaches to health care, education, taxation, and free enterprise. Although I found myself cheering her on throughout this fascinating, emboldening book, the major flaw of The Nordic Theory of Everything is Partanen’s failure to engage directly with the role corporations play in American policy development. Still, Partanen proves that putting social welfare ahead of private interests can and does lead to economic dynamism and greater social equality.

Evicted is a superbly written, often harrowing case study of eviction in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, that also shines a light on the income inequality and housing crises occurring in cities across the U.S. Matthew Desmond combines sobering research with fascinating portraits of the families and landlords trapped in a cycle of poverty and eviction, paying special attention to the plight of children. Given the growing conversation about Portland’s housing shortage and homeless population, and ongoing revelations about Wall Street’s ties to the predatory mortgage industry, Evicted qualifies as an election year must-read. It’s widely acclaimed as one of 2016’s best books: sad, maddening, beautiful, and necessary.

This is one of the most important, gracefully crafted works of journalism that I've ever read. Each chapter profiles the life of a child killed by gun violence on the same randomly selected day in America (11/23/13). Younge is quick to point out that this isn't a book about gun control, but a book “made possible by the absence of gun control.” Younge's 10 subjects are children and teens whose deaths would have gone minimally reported, if at all, and whose grieving communities would have been left voiceless if not for his reporting. Another Day forced me to confront my own stereotypes of inner cities and rural communities, and to look at the ways that economic inequality and structural racism rob millions of kids of safe, stable childhoods, leaving thousands of them victim to the lure and violence of guns. It really doesn't matter where you stand on gun ownership; none of us should be content to live in a country with so many young ghosts.

One of the things that has heartened me over the last few weeks is the number of people I’ve encountered who want to get more involved in community and national politics. I feel the same way! But where on earth do we start? For a fantastic introduction to social activism, I recommend Boyd and Mitchell’s slim, accessible Beautiful Trouble. Organized into sections on tactics, principles, theories, case studies, and practitioners, Beautiful Trouble walks the reader through introductory to advanced tactics with an emphasis on creative but effective means of protest (no drum circles). The handbook’s smart design makes it easy to cross-reference chapters, helping readers to craft unique responses to an unlimited variety of issues and audiences. Great for teens on up.