There are no new insights here into male-female relationships. That’s OK, though – this could still have been just be a fun buddy story. However, the two male protagonists aren’t likeable enough, and they’re not even strongly drawn enough to be thoroughly unlikeable – which might have been more interesting, in a perverse way. They are just walking cliches in the hands of an inept, indifferent puppetmaster. The only spark of life in this book is that some of the cliches do actually rise to the level of being actively offensive.

The author seems much more intent on getting that screenplay deal than on actually crafting a decent book, as the dialogue has that “you can film me straight from the page” rhythm to it. (At least the movie version redeemed this pedestrian book.) I just wanted the Miles and Jack of the book to guzzle their pinot noir (Miles is a wine afficionado …?) and leave, please.

Stephanie Nolen has crafted a series of haunting, absorbing and deeply moving profiles of people from many walks of life and circumstances (from a truck driver to a doctor to a beleagured grandmother to Nelson Mandela), all dealing with the scourge of HIV/AIDS in their lives and communities. I anticipated that this book might be a depressing read, but the individuals profiled are engaging and inspiring, even as their stories wrench at your heart.

Still, the societal forces that continue to allow the disease to spread through neglect, fear, prejudice, ignorance and worse are infuriating, and *that* is depressing. What the 28 individuals exemplify and what Nolen exhorts at the end of the book is that the most vital thing we can all do to fight this pandemic is to fearlessly and persistently talk about it. She also details and personally endorses AIDS care and treatment organizations in Africa that probably deserve everyone’s support.

Although some might consider Northanger Abbey a slighter or lighter part of the Jane Austen library, I think it compresses an accomplished lot in a slim volume. It’s as great a cast of characters, with all their charms and foibles, and as diverting a comedy of manners and intrigues as any of Austen’s works. It’s also a great takeoff on Gothic novels, and even incorporates some incisive observations on the writing and consuming of novels in general.

The book “Master of Reality” has the intensity, humour and fierce optimism against all odds of a Mountain Goats song or a live, manic John Darnielle performance. You can’t help but root for the damaged soul who is finding angry, determined salvation through Black Sabbath and Ozzy Osbourne in this brief but powerful book. Darnielle’s assignment, as part of the 33 1/3 record review series of short volumes, was to capture how Black Sabbath’s “Master of Reality” album meant so much to him. He has done that with memorable, heartwrenching effect through the persona of a desperate, confused but still feisty and essentially good-hearted teenager named Roger, who is undoubtedly good portions both of Darnielle himself and of disturbed youth Darnielle encountered in an earlier career as a psychiatric nurse. Roger’s voice and desire to survive life on his own terms, with his own way of bolstering his spirits, is unforgettable.

Michelle Berry’s collection of short stories entitled “Margaret Lives in the Basement” is populated by a wide range of types of characters, but they all share variations of a deadpan, flat affect voice that suggests broken hearts and discouraged, downtrodden souls. Underneath that unhappy drone, there are hints of unspecified menace and sometimes revelations of depths of raw, yearning emotion. Most of the stories deal with misunderstandings, disappointments and disconnects between people and some, like the title story, unexpectedly resolve into celebrations of the joy of connecting when one least anticipates or thinks they deserve it.

This book is a deserving phenomenon and success story. A New York Times editorial no less (http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/14/opinion/14tue4.html?_r=1) capture well what the book’s essential construct is: taking the whole “mashup” concept that works so effortlessly in the digital realm, but applying it to two “data sources” that are a little more unlikely and challenging to integrate.

But oh, doesn’t Seth Grahame-Smith manage with breathtaking originality to bring zombies and ninjas into the world of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. It is a total and utter hoot from start to finish to see where the zombies will pop up next and to appreciate how surprisingly well they fit. Not only that, but shaking up the classic story in this fashion genuinely sharpens and gets you to consider afresh the themes of pride, prejudice and familial and romantic love and devotion. Really.

This book offers educational insights into the shameful history of slavery, in North America and in Africa. It would have been considerably more memorable and profound, however, if I could have felt an emotional connection of some kind to the main character, Aminata Diallo. She is more a symbol and didactic construct than a fully believable human being – could that all have happened to one person, physically and with historical accuracy? Unfortunately, because I could not suspend my disbelief for so central an aspect of this book, it was difficult for me to really warm to this book and its worthy themes.

Calling something a guilty pleasure suggests that while that thing is amusing or satisfying in a fleeting fashion, it is also superficial, not particularly well executed or not of lasting value. I’ve read all of Elinor Lipman’s books – of which her latest, “The Family Man”, is one of my favourites – and I realize that I need not think of them as guilty pleasures. The Jane Austen comparisons may be a tad overstated, but Lipman lovingly and elegantly crafts charming characters, foibles and all, along with engaging storylines and refreshing dialogue well within the realm of believability. Rueful Henry Archer and how he goes about forging a new extended family from fragments of his past, present and future are a delight to follow. Elinor Lipman’s work is a pleasure … no guilt necessary!