A hard-hitting novel set in South Carolina, Bastard Out of Carolina concerns a little girl, her mother trying the best she can, her abusive stepfather obsessed with her and her large extended family. The story is relentless, and not much hope is held out at the end for anything to really change, but the reader is still completely caught up with these characters and the rural, Southern, impoverished world in which they live.

Written in the first person, told by a loathsome, egotistical narrator who is blind to his many faults (but at the end becomes somewhat likable), this is a story of love and betrayal and words. You have to look beyond the narrator’s words to determine the truth of events, to see what he cannot, but in the end, you learn – as he so deftly points out to the invisible reader throughout – that he is no better or worse than you are.

This novel is amusing enough but ultimately unsatisfying. The characters, who are all in great need of making fundamental life changes, do not change at all, or else they change so slowly that the novel ends before their fates become clear. I ended up wanting more of some characters, particularly the three sisters who form the centerpiece of the novel, and less of others, particularly the “ladies’ man’s” girlfriend stranded back in California. The whole book felt a little askew, trying to say something but not quite succeeding. Disappointing.

Rereading this classic haunted house story does not disappoint. I found it just as chilling and engrossing as the first time around. Who can forget the subtle but unmistakably horrific images: the writing on the walls, the doors bulging inward, clasping hands with some unknown thing in the dark? And the ambiguity of it all – was Hill House truly haunted, or was it only the product of a fragile mind thinking that, at long last, it had finally found a home? Do yourself a favor. Visit Hill House again – or for the first time – sometime soon.

In this novel, King returns to his classic style of storytelling: an epic tale, a band of great heroes, a powerful child, parallel worlds and enormous stakes. The added bonus is that it returns us to the world of the The Dark Tower saga, adding another important piece to that super-epic tale. In fact, I find it hard to believe that Straub wrote more than the first 20 pages or so, since the style is so clearly vintage King.

Billed as a sequel to The Talisman,Black House doesn’t really continue that story so much as pick up the thread of its main character’s (Jack Sawyer) life as an adult. King aficionados will relish this novel as a full-force return to the type of story King tells best.

This book contains three novellas that marry the world of the classic ghost story with that of the academic ivory tower, seasoned by hefty doses of black humor. Each story features a main character who is fighting for tenure and his or her academic career, and who, directly or indirectly, is suddenly plunged into the realm of the weird and otherworldly. Although the stories may seem familiar to devotees of the genre, the author is such a fine writer, and so deft at characterization, that they are a pleasure to read. My favorite by far is the first selection, “Queen of the Jungle,” about a philandering professor and a cat determined to expose him.

Patty Hearst recounts the tale of her infamous kidnapping and “brainwashing” by the Symbionese Liberation Army in the early 1970s, explaining in a factual, unemotional tone how she was converted from a rich, naive heiress into a misguided revolutionary. Hearst is not a great writer, and I was often forced to skim large portions of the narrative that I found simply boring, but the bumbling efforts of the homegrown terrorist group are fascinating, and the book does give an interesting inside glimpse into one of the more bizarre events in American history.

O’Connor’s classic short story collection, featuring dark, pessimistic stories about Southern life, often with ironic twists at the end, really needs no introduction. My favorite is still the title story, about a family on vacation who meet with a very bad man. I don’t advise reading these stories if you’re feeling depressed, though. Their bleak outlook on life and human nature can leave you positively suicidal.

This is a wonderful recounting of how a slightly befuddled creative writing professor is hoodwinked by his more savvy, very talented student. What he thinks of as a bittersweet romance between the old guard and the up-and-coming talent she sees as merely a business transaction on her way to getting published. The novel is enthralling and well written with intriguing, very real characters. Anyone who has sat through a college creative writing workshop will wince and grin as they read those scenes in particular.

“A sort of travel book” is how this memoir bills itself. You do travel with the author to four different deserts in northern Africa, Australia and America, and follow along while he ruminates on the desert, the death of his father, his disintegrating marriage and his new girlfriend. This is a highly entertaining and readable book, one I would recommend as a companion for your own journey to the desert. (I took it with me to Sedona, Arizona.)