Talking to Ourselves, a sad little tale from Argentina, is told in three distinct voices: a mortally ill man, his adoring son and his adulterous but loving wife. The three narrators are all vulnerable, flawed, likable people who both hurt and love one another.

Mario's life is waning, but he's determined to go on a road trip with his son. His son, Lito, is convinced awesome things start happening when you turn 10, like this long-promised trip, making deliveries to remote villages. Deceived by his father's cheerful lies, the boy has no idea the man is dying. Young Lito is having the time of his life, drinking Fanta in a motel with hookers and using his magic powers (he believes) to make the weather change. Elena is not happy about her son going on this dangerous trip with her ailing husband. Though she loves Mario deeply, she no longer desires him. When she confronts his doctor to find out how sick her husband really is, the doctor asks her out to dinner and they begin a savagely passionate affair.

The main voice belongs to Elena, but the rapport between father and son is the heart of the novel--their exchanges are so full of loving humor that the joy of the episodes bleeds into the rest of this melancholy meditation on losing a loved one. It's excruciatingly sad stuff: honest, simple and non-manipulative. Neuman's novel has the double-edged emotional impact of all true loving--the joy of connection and the equal and inescapable anguish of saying goodbye. --Nick DiMartino, Nick's Picks, University Book Store, Seattle, Wash.

The title of Leah Hager Cohen's novel is both a quote from philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who believed in education through experience, and a nod to the long shadow cast by patriarch Neel Robbins. Neel, the charismatic founder of an experimental school inspired by Rousseau, insists that his own young children rely on their experiences for guidance, which has profound consequences in their lives. Ava was fiercely protective of her younger brother, Fred, whose difficult but undiagnosed behavior suggested autism. Fred's outbursts often mixed innocence with a calculated cruelty, and Ava's best friend, Kitty, frequently served as the catalyst. Years later, Ava married Kitty's brother, Dennis, and distanced herself from Fred to forge her own life. When she receives word that Fred has been arrested for the murder of a young boy, though, she sets out to discover what happened and, most of all, to defend him.

Ava, Kitty, Dennis and Fred alternate in telling the story, a technique that highlights the limitations of any one person's perspective, how little we know the interior world of even those closest to us and how our deepest beliefs offer truths beyond the realm of empirical knowledge. Cohen is an observant writer, and Ava's relationships with Dennis and Fred are especially sensitive. Kitty and Neel's self-involvement can seem at odds with Ava's loyalty, and Cohen's long descriptive flashbacks that foreshadow the present crisis sometimes dilute their emotional impact. But Ava's gentle introspection makes her a sympathetic guide to the novel's central questions, deserving of its suggestion of grace. --Jeanette Zwart, freelance writer and reviewer

The fictional realm of Discworld is a treasured and many-storied place, with 40 novels set within it by author Terry Pratchett. Someone had to create a compendium, and it fell to Pratchett-phile and dramatist Stephen Briggs, who has now revised the impressive tome (first published in 1994) for this fourth edition.

Turtle Recall: The Discworld Companion... So Far is updated to include information through Snuff, the penultimate volume in the series, and restores much of the original content that was excised from the last two editions. The book reads as an encyclopedic volume, with entries on everything mentioned in the Pratchett books (and then some) arranged in alphabetical order.

Far from a dry read, each entry sparkles with Pratchett's wit, including the following description of Ankh-Morpork, the main city of the Discworld novels: "Population: 1,000,000 (including the suburbs). Chief exports: manufactured goods, most of the processed animal and vegetable produce of the fertile Sto Plains, trouble. Main 'invisible' exports: banking, assassination, wizardry, trouble. Imports: raw materials, people, trouble."

The thoroughly researched book ends with an insightful and charming interview with Pratchett himself, reprinted from the first Companion, showing the whimsical author fully at play.

Briggs, with the oversight of Pratchett, has tirelessly catalogued the unenviably huge amount of trivia and content that fills the Discworld novels in all its minutiae and has clearly enjoyed himself. Readers will dig into this volume time and again while reading the original stories, or as a satiating pastime of its own. --Rob LeFebvre, freelance writer and editor

In Afro-Vegan, award-winning chef, activist and educator Bryant Terry hopes to pay homage to the influence of the African diaspora on modern global fusion cuisine (especially Southern food) and "move Afro-diasporic food from the margins... to the center of our collective culinary consciousness." Most importantly, he hopes to prevent illnesses like heart disease, hypertension and type 2 diabetes caused by a meat-centric Western diet.

He begins with the foundation of Afro-diasporic cooking--spices, sauces and heat--by reinventing classics like Ethiopian berere, Cajun blackening and Creole spice blends. An entire section focuses on okra, black-eyed peas and watermelon, three ingredients Terry believes are emblematic of African-American cooking.

But Afro-Vegan covers everything from soups, stews and tangines to greens, squashes and roots, from breakfast fare to desserts (with no white sugar!) and beverages for all ages. Each recipe is accompanied by a song recommendation; many have suggested literary accompaniment as well, since Terry aims to celebrate the rich history of African-American culture both in and out of the kitchen. Near the end, welcome additions include menu suggestions according to the season, tips for starting an Afro-Vegan garden and an imperial-to-metric conversion chart.

Terry (Vegan Soul Kitchen) began his food activism with the mantra "start with the visceral, move to the cerebral, and end at the political." Afro-Vegan celebrates all three in a glorious celebration of cuisine. --Kristen Galles from Book Club Classics

Adam Begley's literary biography of John Updike comes about as close to perfection as a work of its genre can; he is comprehensive and undeniably sympathetic without succumbing to hagiography. Begley skillfully interweaves the narrative of Updike's life with close readings of many of his works. This seems especially fitting when assessing a writer whose fiction drew so heavily on his own experience, and Begley lauds the "particular brilliance with which he made his autobiographical material come alive on the page." He devotes ample attention to Updike's close relationships--the ones with his writer-mother, Linda, and his wives, Mary and Martha, the most noteworthy--and offers candid insights into his literary friendships (Joyce Carol Oates and Ian McEwan) and rivalries (John Cheever and Philip Roth).

Begley is generous in his appreciation of the books he considers Updike's best, highlighted by the Rabbit Angstrom tetralogy, a chronicle of four decades of American life. But even when lavishing praise on an early novel like Of the Farm ("a small, quiet triumph"), he doesn't hesitate to give fair billing to a critic like John Aldridge, who dispatched the same work in a savage review, concluding that Updike had "nothing to say."

As determined as Adam Begley is to deliver John Updike to what he considers his rightful place in the top rank of 20th-century American fiction, the man whose life and career are considered in these pages is fully human. This is a work Updike would have read with a wry smile, and one he likely would have admired. --Harvey Freedenberg, attorney and freelance reviewer

Eighties heartthrob Rob Lowe (Stories I Only Tell My Friends) has concocted another tasty memoir to follow the success of his debut book. For an actor whose excessive drinking and carousing (ahem... remember his sex tape scandal) and bad-boy roles in About Last Night and St. Elmo's Fire made him notorious, Lowe's penned a memoir that's surprisingly charming.

The Rob Lowe of this book has been happily married for more than 22 years, and he's clearly crazy about his two teenage sons. The only shocking thing going on in the book is how... well... normal this famous actor seems as he coaches kids' basketball teams, goes camping with his in-laws and bawls in the corner as his cherished first child goes off to college.

But Lowe is no normal family man. That's evidenced when he's on a field trip with his son's Boy Scout troop and a soccer mom he has no recollection of reminds him that they slept together many years ago. Besides offhand references to kicking it with celebrities like Matt Damon and Amy Adams, Lowe's memoir shares juicy Hollywood stories only an insider would know. One absurd encounter with a Playboy Bunny at Hef's place (she was, uh, with a professional athlete as she struck up a conversation with Lowe) comes to mind.

Lowe praises his fellow actors and speaks graciously of his recent career success. Above all, this memoir is appealing because, despite Lowe's past addictions and notoriety, he seems like a stand-up guy you'd like to have over for a barbecue. --Natalie Papailiou, author of blog MILF: Mother I'd Like to Friend

The story of St. Josaphat--a prince who gave up his wealth to follow Jesus--was told throughout medieval Europe, but it was not until the 19th century that scholars noticed certain parallels between that tale and the life of the Buddha. Both figures rejected material comforts to pursue spiritual truth, acquired followers and were revered for the examples they set for living in the face of inevitable suffering.

The tales diverge in several ways: there is scant evidence of a "historical" Josaphat; the saint's father is often portrayed as his adversary in a way the Buddha's family is not; Josaphat is a follower of Christ and an adherent of Christ's teachings, while the Buddha is portrayed as a divine teacher himself. Yet the close parallels in the two figures' lives have encouraged scholarly investigation. In Search of the Christian Buddha maps the journey of the Buddha's tale from its roots in India and Persia through the eyes of the Jewish, Muslim and Christian authors who reinterpreted the story through the lens of their respective faiths. As the Buddha's life morphs into saintly devotion, similarities and differences between the foundational faiths arise, complicating subjects as diverse as the meaning of death, the place of women and the problem of desire.

A joint effort of University of Michigan professors Donald S. Lopez Jr. and Peggy McCracken, In Search of the Christian Buddha offers the rigor of scholarly analysis without the obfuscation of academic language. The various versions of the Buddha/Josaphat myth are beautifully told and their intersections revealed with luminous clarity. --Dani Alexis Ryskamp, blogger at The Book Cricket

Russell Gold, known for his coverage of the BP Deepwater Horizon oil spill, has compiled a comprehensive and fascinating history of this newest way to extract natural resources from deep within the ground. Prior to 1919, oil rigs were in remote locations or offshore, but when oil was discovered in and around the town of Burkburnett, Tex., the path of the oil drilling industry drastically changed. Suddenly, money was to be made by drilling anywhere, including next to people's homes. Vertical wells were drilled and peppered the landscape, but were often a hit-or-miss operation. Then engineers drilled horizontally across sheets of shale, ensuring a better chance at hitting the target. To open up more access to the cracks and fissures, drillers detonated bombs, including nuclear bombs, to open up larger cracks (and then wondered why the gas and oil were radioactive on extraction). This method evolved into injecting a variety of slurries into the well under extremely high pressure, including the modern method of using vast quantities of water mixed with sand and some nasty chemicals. Gold writes, "As of 2013, more than fifteen million Americans lived within a mile of a well that has been fracked in the past few years."

Although his main emphasis is on the historical development of this industry, Gold does discuss the impact fracking is having on ground water, aquifers and the environment, noting that released methane is "a more potent greenhouse gas than carbon dioxide." Gold leaves readers with the haunting feeling that profit margins are more important in this industry than the future of the earth. --Lee E. Cart, freelance writer and book reviewer

Elizabeth Fama's (Monstrous Beauty) latest book starts strong and never lets up. She sets her dystopian tale in the modern-day United States, but imagines a world divided after the 1918 flu pandemic into those who live by day (Rays), and those who live by night (Smudges). Rays run the world, and Smudges are mostly relegated to factory jobs or worse.

Sixteen-year-old narrator Sol, a Smudge who's spent her life in school and a factory, decides she's going to kidnap her newborn niece (a Ray), so Sol's ill father can see his grandchild once before he dies. Sol's brother, a technical wiz (and father of the newborn), was transferred to the Rays because he was useful to the government. She hasn't seen him since. Her plan is simple: at the factory, she'll mutilate her hand enough to be sent to the hospital, where she'll steal the baby. She's treated by a Ray medical assistant, D'Arcy, and things quickly go wrong.

Sol's sense of wonder as she discovers the outside world during the daytime coincides with her growing feelings for D'Arcy. The love story starts slowly and builds to a satisfying resolution with two people bound to each other before they even knew it. Fama does an excellent job of creating a world rooted in the now, but also convincingly alternative. Like the best of dystopian fiction, the author asks readers to look at society from a slight remove and draw inevitable conclusions about the world we live in. --Nan Shipley, literary scout