Liane Moriarty is probably stuck forever is the "chick lit" subgenre, and that's a shame, because that's not what she writes. She writes good, contemporary fiction where the main characters and POV happen to be female. And if you're a dude and can't handle that, I don't know what to tell you. That said, The Hypnotist's Love Story is no What Alice Forgot. Sure, it's a nice way to spend a weekend. But it's not one of her better offerings.
With its bite-sized chapters and breezy style, it's an easy book to pick up and put down, then pick back up again. The humor and pop culture references are more of the chuckle-to-yourself variety than the laugh-out-loud kind, but it's plenty funny enough.
Julia Claiborne Johnson's first novel, Be Frank With Me, is the kind of book where "madcap hijinks" take place. It's meant to be a breezy read, a page turner, the kind of book you sit on the beach with. So, no, this is not great literature. The calamities are not terribly believable. But the book is fun.
Self-dubbed "The Interestings," they are talented and ironic and oh-so...well, interesting. But then, aren't we all at 14?
The Book of Strange New Things by Michel Faber is the worst kind of book: a bloated, tiring read that is somehow just interesting enough to drag you along to the next page. In short: don't start this book. You'll regret it.
Andy Carter is a mess. His wife left him, he lost his job, his best friend hates him for ruining his wedding, and he's moved a thousand miles away from his Omaha hometown -- to New York City, no less -- in hopes of starting over. So far, he's only managed to land a job tending bar and get adopted by a stray cat named Jeter.