Meg Wolitzer

Kazuo Ishiguro's latest novel is set in a mythical Arthurian England. Though the premise was promising, the book is too vague to make much of an impact.

Anjelica Huston's memoir is all Hollywood, all the time. It's full of anecdotes about Jack Nicholson and other stars. But these stories of excess, fame and money lack feeling and subtext.

In her latest collection, Margaret Atwood takes on death, dreadfulness and the use of fantasy. Though these stories are strange and wild, they all somehow ring true.

The Children Act by Ian McEwan is about a judge whose ruling decides the fate of a teenager in ways she can't imagine. It's written with McEwan's trademark gracefulness and control.

David Mitchell's new novel might span five perspectives and six decades, but he brings this complex mix together with signature elegance. The combination makes for a thrilling read.

Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki, about a young man looking for closure, offers Haruki Murakami's trademark blend of fantasy and reality. Some moments fall flat, but many others are intoxicating.

The stories in Stuart Dybek's latest collection concern themselves with strong feelings, and sometimes with crazed longings. Reviewer Meg Wolitzer finds them "a little alarming, a little wonderful."

Edward St. Aubyn is no stranger to losing out on awards. In 2006 his novel was shortlisted for the Man Booker. But in 2011 he didn't even make the longlist. Now he's getting his revenge.

In Teju Cole's newest, elliptical novel, an unnamed narrator visits his native country, alarmed at what has changed, and at what hasn't.

Akhil Sharma took over a decade to write his novel, Family Life, a mostly autobiographical account of an immigrant family and an accident that shatters their dreams for the future.

Meg Wolitzer says All Our Names, told in the alternating voices of two lovers, is a subtle masterpiece. It tackles huge themes — relationships, violence, identity, racism — but never overreaches.

In 2008, Clark Rockefeller kidnapped his daughter and led police on a weeklong chase. Turned out he wasn't a Rockefeller at all; he was an impostor who happened to be friends with writer Walter Kirn.