Annalisa Quinn

The former presidential candidate's latest book is just what you might expect from this genre: His platforms are presented but not interrogated — and there is little self-reflection.

Oyinkan Braithwaite's wry, sly debut novel follows two sisters, dowdy Korede and gorgeous Ayoola — who has a habit of killing her boyfriends. Korede cleans up her sister's messes, but for how long?

A new collection the author's essays spans art, nature and autobiography — taking aim at people he meets in daily life but also exposing his own vulnerabilities.

Sarah Perry's new novel isn't subtle — it's full of ominous birds, guttering candles and mysterious figures in gloomy windows. But there's something satisfying about its emotional flamboyance.

In her memoir, the porn star lures readers with salacious details of her alleged time with President Trump, then insists that those "two to three minutes" are the least interesting part of her life.

Told from the perspective of Achilles' concubine, Briseis, Pat Barker's The Silence Of The Girls brings new life to the women of Homer's Iliad.

Sharlene Teo's debut novel is a shimmering story of three women in Singapore, but its plot gets washed away among the grotesque and stomach-churning detail.

The Shadow President looks like a book, but belongs firmly in the world of partisan TV. There is plenty to uncover about the "real" Mike Pence, but readers won't find it here.

Nell Stevens's new memoir is an uneven but pleasant book that braids her story of doing a PhD amid an uneasy love affair with imaginary scenes from the life of her 19th century research subject.

The former Trump press officer intelligently dissects the reward structure of viral Twitter and gives a valuable sketch of conservative politics, but he seems to have written "The Briefing" to an end.

Caitlin Moran's new novel, the second installment in the adventures of teen rock critic Dolly Wilde, is a dirty, jolly, book-length defense of teenage enthusiasm — for music, sex and life in general.

Helen DeWitt's new story collection seems less like a book, and more like a series of notes from some vast, alien intelligence, capable of picking apart human habits with startling precision.

Curtis Sittenfeld's new collection gives sustained, compassionate attention to the inner lives of women — middle-aged, middle-American, moms — who are often dismissed and devalued in fiction.

Memoirs now tend toward the unique and superhuman, recounting experiences most of us will never have. But Meaghan O'Connell's wry new book is brutally honest about something commonplace: pregnancy.

Madeleine Miller's lush, gold-lit new novel is told from the perspective of Circe, the sorceress whose brief appearance in the Odyssey becomes just one moment in a longer, more complex life.

Author Leslie Jamison's new memoir of her years of alcoholism walks in the paths of drunken icons like Raymond Carver and John Cheever, describing the effects of intoxicants with gorgeous, exact care.

At the start of Meg Wolitzer's new novel, a young woman is groped at a fraternity party — and her question, "Why is it like this, and what are we supposed to do about it?" echoes through the book.

Alissa Nutting's new novel has a deviant instinct that makes it fascinating at first — but after a promising start, it falls back on shallow sex slapstick rather than authorial skill.

Anne Helen Petersen's new book is a thoughtful consideration of several public women — from Nicki Minaj to Hillary Clinton — who've run up against the invisible expectations our culture has of them.

Sarah Perry's historical novel is gloriously alive, teeming with bugs, moss and marsh, unconventional spirits and a darker undercurrent of fear about a legendary monster haunting the Essex coast.