This debut novel from short-story master Orringer reminded me of nothing so much as The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay -- as epic in scope, as loving in its depiction of a war-torn family, and as utterly satisfying to sink into.

In an alternate -- or not so alternate -- Manhattan, formal child star Chase Insteadman pines for an astronaut sweetheart and worries about the monster slowly destroying the city's foundation. His world is disrupted by the emergence of Perkus Tooth, a brilliant, insane, fierce savant of culture both low and high. Lethem's incisive portrayal of these characters, and numerous colorful others, is a fast-paced, hyper-conscious romp through a world that comes to resemble our own in all the ways that matter.

This novel is composed of brief, beautiful vignettes, each of which imagines a world where time works in a different way -- as a line, as a circle, as the high ground, as a bird. Comparisons to Calvino's Invisible Cities and Borges's Ficciones are made with good reason: physicist Lightman possesses the gorgeous prose, unique vision, and playfulness of those two masters.

One of the most memorable, most moving, most impressive books I have ever read. The Road goes straight through the skin to the heart, and it ripped mine out. Set in a stark, post-apocalyptic landscape, the love and humanity of the protagonists -- a father and son -- stands out as sharply as McCarthy's searing prose. Their trudge through the ashes of America becomes an epic quest, a struggle to maintain their lives and their morality, their role as "the good guys" in a world full of bad.

The movie "Field of Dreams" was based on this book, and Kinsella's writing possesses the same magical quality, rough-and-tumble characterization, and Americana twang of the film. A great book for baseball fans and fans of spectacular prose alike.

Each of the eight stories in this debut collection is whittled, sharpened, honed, yet somehow as wide as the Western sky under which they're set. There is heart and passion to spare here, seeping through the curt tones of Peelle's cowboy and cowgirl characters.

"How to Talk to a Hunter," the first story in this collection, epitomizes what I love about all of Houston's work: Sentences sharp as barbs. Astonishing insight into why we fall for those we fall for. A protagonist whose strengths and weaknesses (yes, often for cowboys) constantly battle for control. And scenes that won't easily leave your mind.

The title story in this collection is among the best in Carver's considerable oeuvre. His writing is delicate in its simplicity, as though the words themselves are aware of the fragile situations they describe. A necessary text for anyone studying the architecture of short stories or, for that matter, of human psychology in all its complexity of wants.

This stunningly eloquent memoir is an extended essay on, among other things, fatherhood, son-hood, falsehood, torture, photography, addiction, and swimming. As Flynn wrestles with his horror at the Abu Ghraib photographs and meets the men in them, he meditates on the problem of bringing a child into a world where the events captured in those photographs exist, and are not utterly condemned. Flynn's mind serves as his Proteus, the mythological creature whom we fear most and whose answer we most desperately need. the product of Flynn's self-wrestling is a beautiful book, full of hope and love and insight, despite all odds.

Krakauer brings his trademark talent for intense, evocative journalism to his own ascent of Everest in 1996 -- an ascent that would kill four of his companions. Though their deaths are mentioned on the first page, I remained unable to put this book down as it took me to the roof of the world and down again. There are characters to love and to loathe here, moments of beauty and of absolute terror, and Krakaeur renders them all with the sympathy and sorrow of one who was there.

Jamison's thoughtful, beautifully written memoir of living with manic depression is simply fantastic. A practicing doctor and acclaimed scholar, she trains her scientist's eye on the searing highs and unbelievable lows of her own life. Her journey of acceptance -- "I have appreciated more the springs, for all the winters" -- will resonate with many readers.

Psychiatrist and author Jamison infuses her scientific inquiry into that most delightful of states -- exuberance -- with anecdotal evidence of its pleasures and productivity. Her portraits -- of people like Teddy Roosevelt and Richard Feynman, as well as characters such as Snoopy, Peter Pan, Mary Poppins and Tigger -- brim over with the joy of their subjects, stuffed to bursting with quotes, stories, and the observations of a brilliant mind. While Jamison takes care to point out the danger of excessive exuberance and its potential to cross the border into mania, she nonetheless makes an excellent case for the importance of exuberance in the development of art, science, and civilization.

"This, then, is the extravagant landscape of the world, given, given with pizzazz, given in good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over." The land surrounding Dillard's home is populated by birds and insects, mammals and amphibians and plants, by wind and water and the storming sky itself. Dillard brings each of these characters to vibrant life in this detailed journal, while also delivering a searing self-portrait of the human living attentively amidst them.

Gilbert's pursuit of life's deep specifics begins in passion and results in wisdom. In an almost fifty-year career, he has published only five collections, making each one precious, whittled. He is, in my opinion, the greatest American poet alive, and his are the books that I take with me everywhere I go.

Bob Hicok's poetry is funny and quirky and lovely and sad and will stay in your head forever. No one else writes like he does. In This Clumsy Living, my favorites include "Her my body" and "The personal touch"; the second section of Words for Empty is an especially moving sequence about the shootings at Virginia Tech, where Hicok is a professor.

This second of Howe's three lovely collections centers on the death of her brother. Her grief drives the long, spare lines of her work, searching life for, as she says in the title poem, "more and more and then more of it."

Wright's road to redemption was not an easy one, but it makes for great poetry. Read "Year One" and "The Only Animal."