A good time to read this book is when it’s freezing outside and there are about four months of winter left. You might be miserable at that prospect, but lose yourself in the Oh family and you’ll realise you’re pretty well-off.
We come away from Dreadful frankly puzzled and more than a little frazzled, with no more insight into this obscure, even invisible man than we had on first opening the book.
That Ms. Abbott had her father’s own words to draw upon certainly adds traction to the work. But it is Alysia Abbott’s voice that is the more melodic of the two, the one that draws us in and bids us listen.
...a prolonged and unsentimental backward glance...
This novel, which includes not just real people but their emails and transcribed conversations, and dangles itself precariously somewhere between "real life" and "art" is, in the end, a meditation on ugliness rather than beauty...
These essays form a highly personal epilogue to "The Gospel Sound" and allow Mr. Heilbut to deploy a confessional mode that suits his elegy for a dying American art.
While many readers will admire her enthusiasm, a pronouncement of ultimate victory seems premature at best.
The volume will have particular appeal to readers of gender studies, but these stories ultimately prove that true partnership is gender blind.
Mr. Irving is unfailingly respectful and broad-minded in exploring these subjects...
This cri de coeur, which appears in a letter to her estranged daughter and grandchildren, suggests that Bornstein has made real sacrifices to follow her own advice, and can therefore dispense it with integrity.
Readers will eagerly await the second volume.
Her honest insights make this a potent page-turner...
Armistead Maupin's love letter to gay San Francisco.
It’s standard mystery fare, but with enough panache to be entertaining.
Picoult abandons her usual efforts to present an equal view of both sides of an issue—Max is a pitiful right-wing puppet; Zoe, Vanessa, and their attorney are saintly...
This book is rich in detail of both the essential normalcy and the difficulties of a young person with cerebral palsy.
If the narrative moves at a deliberately slow pace, it's rich with the rewarding contrast between the precise mechanics of magic tricks and the real possibility of magic in daily life.
James Baldwin captures the terror and the fear, but also the joy and the amazement of being gay in Giovanni's Room. Frank and urgent, the narrative voice casts a strange spell over the reader.