Book Group Recommendations

Don’t be fooled by the whimsical cover of this book-this novel packs a serious punch. It’s a novel in segments, and each chapter features a different character working for a failing newspaper in Rome. I was flat-out stunned by Rachman’s ability to turn an entire story on its head with one or two brutal lines. This book more than lives up to all the hype; I look forward to reading it again and again. —Kat

What if every pain you felt became visible? This is the premise of Kevin Brockmeier’s new novel. One day, across the world, suddenly and with no exception, people’s pains begins to emit glowing light. A headache becomes a pulsing low grade glow, a papercut a small jagged beam, an amputated limb, a torch. The phenomenon is dubbed “the illumination” by the media, and we watch as people react as the invisible becomes suddenly seen. Told from six different characters points of view ranging from a child to a homeless man, Kevin Brockmeier has written a grand reflection on empathy. This book is stunning in more ways then I can describe, but ultimately it calls to question the integrity we must find within each of us of when do we face pain, and when do we turn away? —S.M.C.

This is not a novel that can be sped up—its tempo and rhythm is an astounding tribute to music being captured in language. Telling the story of Michael Holme, a successful violinist who must face the choices he’s made to follow his dream, Seth captures the beauty and obsession that Michael has when playing classical music like Haydn and Bach; Seth parallel descriptions of Michael playing or thinking about music in such a way that the music lifts into and through his telling so we can almost hear it. The way that language is distilled and controlled, is something that begs notice and discussion from book groups, but so does the story itself. In simplistic terms this novel could be described as a romance, between Michael and Julia, a long-lost love that comes back to Michael with a startling secret. But at its core, this is a novel that expands and widens the concept of love—here is love in relationship with the thing we do best, here is love between a parent and a child and the way we cannot meet every need, here is love between a teacher and a student, between isolation and creativity, between object and owner, between the life we thought we would live and the life we ended up with. For fans of Michael Ondaatje or A.S. Byatt, this is a great book group pick. —S.M.C.

When Speak was first published over ten years ago, it won a record number of awards including a finalist for the National Book Award. While this novel was written with young adults in mind, this should be no deterrent to a book group. Anderson’s writing is stunning and she has structured her book in a way that begs discussion. The book tells the story of Miranda, a girl who slowly stops speaking versus giving voice to a truth she thinks no one will believe. The depth and beauty of this story are incredible and the way that outer dialogue gets transformed into inner-thoughts is breathtaking. An important book that caused a tide of response from all across the country, this is a wonderful choice for any book group. —S.M.C.

I first heard about this story on NPR and was overjoyed when Moore’s book finally came out, and upon reading it, I was not disappointed. Two boys named Wes Moore were born blocks apart and grew up fatherless in violent Baltimore neighborhoods. How did one grow up to be a Rhodes Scholar and decorated veteran, the other a convicted murderer? “The chilling truth,” writes the author “is that his story could have been mine. The tragedy is that my story could have been his.” Moore writes with grace and insight about the life of ghetto youth and the pressures that few are able to name—he probes beneath the pathologies to reveal the pressures—poverty, a lack of prospects, the need to respond to violence with greater violence—all what pushed the other Wes to make choices that landed him in jail. The end of this book is a haunting call to action, asking each of us what we can do to make a difference and what we are doing that is contributing to the problem. If you liked John Hubner’s Last Chance in Texas, this is your next book group pick. —S.M.C.

While I understand the need behind the question, I have to say that I have never been particularly fond of the question “Why do bad things happen to good people?” What I loved about Raynor’s memoir is she starts it by saying that that question simply has no good answer. Really what we’re wanting to ask is how can we help, or how can we heal? A Harvard Divinity School graduate, Raynor becomes a hospice chaplain (and a rather green one). In essays that are accessible and elegant, Raynor describes her journey of entering someone’s home at the moment of their passing, of attending to the Ground Zero workers (and the dead) in New York, and her own struggle with a cancer diagnosis. Raynor does not offer big answers to the hard questions; instead, she provides a steady telling that really is about a steady listening and the way that in itself is its own offering. —S.M.C.

Gabrielle Hamilton has lived a seriously interesting life. She grew up in a castle in Pennsylvania, lied her way into a restaurant job at age 15, traveled Europe on her own (completely broke), and opened a restaurant in New York City with zero experience outside catering and dishwashing gigs. And she can write. This is one of the best memoirs I’ve ever read, and I don’t even cook. Pick it up and see for yourself. —Kat

This is a memoir that starts with grief; Roger Rosenblatt’s daughter dies suddenly and leaves behind her husband with a full-time job, and three young children, the youngest still in diapers. In order to help, Roger and his wife move in and become the childcare for their grandchildren. In describing scenes of parenting or grandparenting the children, Rosenblatt weaves together intimate and sweet moments of a family pulling together. This memoir is tender and lovely, with a surprising amount of levity. In the end it is not so much a memoir about death, but rather one about life and all that is worth celebrating. —S.M.C.