"When we change our habits, we change our lives." The question Gretchen Rubin (Happier at Home) asked herself while crafting Better than Before: Mastering the Habits of Our Everyday Lives was not how habits affect our lives, but why we have so much trouble creating and maintaining positive habits when we're aware of the cost of doing anything else. After reading the latest scientific research on the subject of habitual behaviors and enlisting the help of family and friends, Rubin embarked on a journey to discover why some people appear to make and keep habits effortlessly while others struggle, and how we can all find a strategy to achieve the right routine.

According to Rubin, "The most important thing is to know ourselves, and to choose the strategies that work for us." In other words, she recognizes that wanting to form a healthy routine isn't enough; we must set ourselves up for success. Understanding motivation is the key to strategizing and, as in her previous books, Rubin relies on anecdotes from her own life to illustrate her points, many of them involving the loved ones who tested her theories and strategies.

In a world in which we are constantly reminded of the good habits we should follow yet simultaneously bombarded with temptations to do the opposite, Rubin's latest brainchild serves as a refreshingly sane touchstone. Smart, supportive and breezily honest about her own flaws, Rubin encourages us to get in touch with what we truly value, not impose challenging regimens in pursuit of unrealistic ideals. --Jaclyn Fulwood, blogger at Infinite Reads

Rust: The Longest War is an entertaining, quirky tour through the landscape of oxidation and other forms of corrosion. It's full of stories about decaying structures, heroic solutions and characters whose egos and short-sightedness made bad problems worse; Jonathan Waldman introduces readers to people obsessed with documenting, studying and circumventing rust's destructive effects.

At 3% of GDP, Waldman notes in his introduction, "rust is costlier than all other natural disasters combined." The Statue of Liberty is a textbook example of its unstoppable and malignant nature. The statue's restoration in the 1980s was prompted by the accidental discovery that its cast-iron frame was near collapse from catastrophic rust. The project triggered political battles, strange alliances and the most successful fundraising campaign in U.S. history.

Waldman's section on aluminum beverage cans is equally strong; his irreverent wit, nose for a good story and investigative journalist's need for answers are on full display. He enrolls in Can School, a program offered by the world's largest supplier of aluminum beverage cans, and is all but blacklisted when he asks troubling questions about can failure and the risks of using BPA, a suspected carcinogen, to prevent corrosion. His book is well researched and lively, mixing just enough science with human interest, while offering a case study in corporate business tactics.

Including the story of the inventor of stainless steel and a photographer who captures the hidden beauty of a shuttered and decaying steel mill, Rust is wonderfully told, full of little known facts, sly asides and heroes and villains alike. --Jeanette Zwart, freelance writer and reviewer

A Death on Diamond Mountain: A True Story of Obsession, Madness and the Path to Enlightenment by journalist Scott Carney (The Red Market) tells the story of Ian Thorson's journey from a typical American childhood to the pursuit of transcendence through Eastern religion.

Thorson's road mirrors that of many (for Carney, too, as he is the first to admit). But incipient mental illness, coupled with the intense physical and psychological demands of the meditative practice and Thorson's exposure to some particularly dangerous teachers was a recipe for disaster.

A Death on Diamond Mountain succeeds on many levels. It is a fine piece of investigative journalism, a short history of Buddhism in the United States, a study of a particular geographical region in Arizona and the chilling account of Thorson's descent into madness and death. Carney recounts Thorson's life with empathy and discernment, adding layers of crackling tension in scenes where his family attempts an intervention and cult deprogramming. Even though the reader is already aware Thorson will die, the what-ifs raised here are pregnant with grief and lost possibilities.

While his book is first-rate entertainment, Carney also wrestles with deep questions about religious faith, the chicanery of self-styled gurus and the American capacity to appropriate complex cultural forms in a haphazard manner. Carney is brilliant at exposing the thin line between healthy religious devotion and obsessive-compulsive strain that can lead to tragedy. But when the reward is transcendence maybe seekers while always be willing to pay the price, or as Carney states, "How much is too much to risk for a chance to pierce the veil of divinity itself?" --Donald Powell, freelance writer

Perry Wallace, Jr., was a quiet, respectful student from Nashville, Tenn., who excelled at school (especially in math and science), at playing the trumpet and on the basketball court. Though not a natural leader or revolutionary, when recruited by schools across the nation, he reluctantly "made the decision to attend Vanderbilt University not because of the fact that he would be a trailblazer, but in spite of it." When he enrolled in 1966, Wallace became the first African American to play in the Southeastern Conference, thus desegregating Deep South athletics. At Vanderbilt, he played in the same gym where Stokely Carmichael and Martin Luther King, Jr., participated in a speakers' symposium during Wallace's freshman year.

In his four years at "the Harvard of the South," Wallace was harassed, spat upon, called names and assaulted on the court in a series of "fouls" that went uncalled. (His coach told him to "learn to duck.") The away games in Mississippi were the worst, but even at Vanderbilt his classmates publicly ignored him, yet still cheered him on the court and furtively asked for his help with their homework.

Andrew Maraniss's Strong Inside: Perry Wallace and the Collision of Race and Sports in the South deftly reveals the nuances of Wallace's childhood, early education, groundbreaking career of torments and triumphs at Vanderbilt and the exceptional, well-rounded life that followed. A Vanderbilt alumnus, Maraniss shows great compassion and insight with a detailed narrative that is both broad and deep, covering the civil rights movement and college basketball with equal authority. Wallace's story is powerfully moving and deservedly, beautifully told. --Julia Jenkins, librarian and blogger at pagesofjulia

For those who haven't yet encountered his writing in magazines like the New Republic and the Believer, Kent Russell's I Am Sorry to Think I Have Raised a Timid Son serves as a convenient introduction to his distinctive voice and his work exploring some of the more remote reaches of American popular culture.

Russell's vivid style is in full flower with his account of the Gathering of the Juggalos, a Woodstock-like music festival created by Psychopathic Records, the label founded by Insane Clown Posse. He has the same measured approach in a profile of Tim Friede. A truck plant worker from Fond du Lac, Wis., Friede has devoted his life to immunizing himself against the venom of the world's deadliest snakes, and Russell accords grudging respect to a man who "was born a freak of nature, being within it yet transcending it."

There are repeated interludes throughout the book recounting a visit Russell pays to his parents in California in the fall of 2013. Summoned there by his father, who hints that he may be dying, Russell writes essays that are part family history, part ill-matched buddy story. Above all, they're vulnerable dispatches negotiating the generational tensions between two men, one passing through late middle age and the other stumbling into early adulthood.

Whether it's hip-hop, venomous snakes or long-buried family memories, Kent Russell is the kind of writer whose sharp vision and lively prose have the power to seduce readers into paying attention to subjects they might never imagine were engaging. --Harvey Freedenberg, attorney and freelance reviewer

Aggressive and evocative language dominates this first published poetry collection by rapper and playwright Kate Tempest (Brand New Ancients). Hold Your Own relates the story of the blind prophet Tiresias, his childhood transformation into a girl by the Greek goddess Hera, subsequent womanhood and eventual reversion to manhood. A pawn in a quarrel between Zeus and Hera, Tiresias and his wisdom earn the violent, destructive scorn of the goddess and a "gift" of prophecy from the King of the Gods.

Tiresias's multiple metamorphoses (read: maturation and intellectual growth) provide fertile ground as each section recounts one phase of the prophet's life while simultaneously reflecting on modern life, human dislocation and mortality. "She is glass/ Amongst sand," Tempest writes of the girl Tiresias, forged through an intensity of experience like the heat of lightning, at once a part of her surroundings yet always separate, hardened and hemmed in.

Particularly poignant poems explore the duality of youth: the twin promises of vigor and inevitable decline. The young, exuberant in their power and potential, yet longing to be old; the old, scorning the ignorance and shallowness of youth but jealous, nonetheless, of what has been lost. The poetry contains much sympathy for the plight of the prophet, and of all living things. The reader is reminded that "[b]ecause the boy will grow up/ makes him no less innocent." Senescence and death are the tragedies that await all of us, no matter how wise or how naive, whether male or female, and the journey to these inevitabilities is fraught with much suffering and confusion. --Evan M. Anderson, collection development librarian, Kirkendall Public Library, Ankeny, Iowa

Alice Hoffman melds magic and realism in a way that makes nearly anything seem possible. As she did in Green Angel, in Nightbird the author again explores themes of nature, rebirth and renewal.

Twelve-year-old narrator Teresa "Twig" Fowler confesses, "The only thing I'm good at is running. And keeping secrets. I'm excellent at that." Gradually, readers learn the source of her family's secrecy: Twig's nearly 17-year-old brother, James, has wings--thanks to a curse placed on their family 200 years ago by Agnes Gate, when Twig's "four-times-great-grandfather" stood her up on their wedding day. Ever since, all the males of the Fowler family have been born with wings. One day, the Hall family moves into Agnes's abandoned cottage with a girl Twig's age named Julia and a 16-year-old beauty named Agate. Twig avoids them--until Julia tells Twig she's seen her brother through the attic window, and so has her beautiful sister. No simple star-crossed love story, Hoffman's novel layers on multiple meaningful connections and mysteries. The town's "Gossip Group" attributes petty thefts to a "Sidwell monster." Twig and Julia set out to solve the mystery--before a full-on search starts in which her brother could be discovered and made scapegoat.

Hoffman's woods are a place of wonder and magic, where James takes flight and Twig goes on adventures. While Twig's mother lives in fear and secrecy, Twig discovers peace of mind through openness and friendship, and a faith that she can reverse the curse and free her brother from his attic cage. --Jennifer M. Brown, children's editor, Shelf Awareness

In a fascinating survey of inhabitants of land, sea and sky, the husband-and-wife team behind My First Day takes readers to the encasement from which various creatures hatch.

Robin Page and Steve Jenkins begin with a variety of "egg layers," with the parent at the top; next, an image of its egg, often enlarged; followed, at the bottom, with the egg's actual size. Jenkins's collage images depict textures that range from the smoothness of a banana slug to the prickles of an echidna. The authors point out nature's contradictions: "The kiwi, a bird smaller than a chicken, is thousands of times larger than the egg of a giant squid." The number of eggs each animal produces varies wildly: the fish tapeworm can produce a million eggs a day for 20 years, while a royal albatross lays a single egg every two years. Children will delight in details tucked away on each spread. A mother splash tetra, for instance, is a fish that "leaps from the water and attaches her eggs to an overhanging leaf," and the gender of a baby alligator is determined by temperature ("Warmer parts of the nest produce males, cooler ones, females").

The thoughtful design allows for meaty captions and a variety of ways to display visual information. The predominant greens of the red-eyed tree frog's eggs contrast nicely with the red markings on the shell of the brine shrimp. Parallel time-lapse images depict developing eggs of a chicken and alligator, and detailed endnotes offer additional size and habitat information for each creature featured. --Jennifer M. Brown, children's editor, Shelf Awareness