Bakewell brilliantly extracts principles for living from Montaigne’s life and letters; this is a biography which is transparent about its purpose.
The title is cheeky, the subject is not: Solnit’s explorations into the power structures that underlie violence against women, rape culture, marriage equality, and, yes—mansplaining—is both scathing and hopeful.
Cole’s second work of fiction maintains the line of his first.
“I never set out to write this book,” Mary Ruefle begins. And yet, she did write it, and that contradiction is the first of many.
Harkaway’s fiction occupies an extraordinary space between evocative sci-fi dystopia and Hollywood action-adventure—in other words, it is completely irresistible.
An important and infuriating book. The authors describe in detail the methods by which a few scientists successfully manipulated public opinion about tobacco, DDT, the ozone hole, global warming, and more.
Teju Cole’s first novel is uneventful, but don’t let that deter you.
A playful novel, part Kafka, part Borges. Reminded me of Terry Gilliam’s films (in the best possible way).
Publishing the hard way.
Adichie skewers racism and sexism in America in a story that is both affecting and hilarious.
Escaping into Ledgard’s language is itself a kind of submergence—the book has a vaguely liquid quality as it moves between its characters and between the surface and the lower depths.
In Scatter, Adapt, and Remember, Annalee Newitz argues that humans will need to build cities on the Moon and elsewhere if we are to survive. Octavia Butler’s fiction repeatedly turns to that potential future, and nowhere more provacatively than in this collection of novels.