This YA novel is similar to The Hate U Give in many ways--a black high school student, working hard in a private school with mostly white classmates, has run-ins with police that end in violence. In Dear Martin, Justyce studies the words of Martin Luther King Jr. and writes him letters, hoping for clarity in how he can stand up to injustice in a nonviolent way. As in The Hate U Give, Justyce finds himself torn between his black family and neighbors and his white friends, many of whom are convinced that black people have already achieved equality. Justyce, meanwhile, finds that just walking or driving while black can get him killed, and the smallest bit of evidence taken out of context--a photo, a conversation--is enough to label him a thug in both a court of law and the court of public opinion. This is a powerful, quick read, told mostly through dialogue and Justyce's letters to Martin. I sometimes have trouble with fiction audiobooks, but this was excellent.

I was blown away by Hillenbrand's Unbroken--the storytelling, the research, the detail--and after resisting Seabiscuit despite all the raves, I finally gave in and read it, hoping for a similar experience. I'm sorry to say that I didn't love it. I'm still impressed with Hillenbrand, but I wasn't able to overcome my overall disinterest in horse racing. While I loved Seabiscuit's personality, as well as those of the people surrounding him (and wow, the life of a jockey is tough!), it started to feel like just one race after another. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost, sometimes there were injuries. Hillenbrand did succeed in building the suspense in moments--tense races in particular--but I just had a hard time getting invested in the overall arc of the story of Seabiscuit.

A passenger goes missing on a small luxury cruise liner in this claustrophobic thriller.

When Tess moves to New York, she is seeking something that she can't quite define. She finds answers when she lands a job at a famous high-end restaurant: belonging, experience, and identity. Both the insular world of the restaurant and her fellow employees with their singular areas of expertise quickly have her in their thrall--an attractive bartender and a worldly server in particular. This book started out strong for me--the organized chaos of the behind-the-scenes machinations in the restaurant was richly drawn and I could feel Tess's confusion, headiness, and determination to master the secrets of this new world--even as we sense that it's a place where one could, but should try not to, get stuck. As the book progressed, however, it often veered into pretentiousness and a frustrating lack of growth or progression in the relationships of the characters, who we mostly saw through the haze of Tess's heavy drug and alcohol use. I wanted to love this, but it unfortunately fell flat.

I picked this up after reading several raves. The marketing--and I--wanted this to be an empowering story of an almost-40-year old who is single and childfree by choice, pressures and opinions be damned. Instead, Andrea seems to have drifted through her life, waiting for "real life" to happen to her, until suddenly she wakes up at 40, alone, in a job she hates, and uncertain how she fits into the lives of her family and friends. Her flailing is relatable--I think most people have moments of doubt about their own adulthood--as is her frustration with her own safe choices and abandonment of her drive to create. Still, I didn't love this. The driver to move Andrea from self-centeredness to a committed, adult member of her family didn't feel fully developed, and because she spent so much time avoiding the situation, I didn't feel invested either.

If I'd read it in time, Beartown would have made my best of 2017 list. But it was worth the wait and was the perfect wintery read. In the declining Swedish town of Beartown, hockey is the one bright spot. The talented junior team--and one player in particular--have the potential to win it all and revitalize the town. But a brutal event at an after-game party could be the downfall of the team, the players, and the future of the town itself. As the residents grapple with their loyalties and their own morality, each one is forced to answer for themselves how much they are willing to sacrifice for the love of a town and game. Backman veers away from the quirkiness that readers loved about A Man Called Ove, and instead brings sharp observations about small town relationships, family, and the saving grace of team and sport. I'll repeat many other readers on this point: you don't have to love or know hockey to love this book.

Melody is an eleven-year-old girl who has never walked, fed herself, or gotten herself dressed. She has also never spoken a word, though her head is filled with them. Melody has cerebral palsy, and many of the most basic aspects of her life present a challenge. But what she longs for most is the ability to communicate and show the world that the person inside is smart and feeling.

Her world is changed when she learns of a machine that can help her communicate, in much the same way we've all seen Stephen Hawking speak. When she starts to show her smarts in school and in a high-stakes trivia competition, will her classmates allow her to become a full-fledged member of the team? This book wasn't perfect, but it was inspiring, insightful, and emotional. I especially recommend it for any children who may have classmates with cerebral palsy or other disabilities.