When news reports are dominated by a certain country or region of the world, I’m drawn to related books, both fiction and non-fiction. Israel/Palestine: Ester’s Child by Jean P. Sasson. Afghanistan: Bookseller of Kabul by Asne Seierstad. So when I read the synopsis for Morgana Gallaway’s fictional The Nightingale, I knew I had to read it.

Leila al-Ghani, an independent-minded young woman in present day Mosul, Iraq, wants to become a doctor and the only way to peruse her dream is to take a medical assistant/translator position at the American base. Her father, a liberally minded judge during Saddam’s regime, becomes more conservative and anti-American everyday, forcing Leila to keep her job a secret. As the war escalates and life begins to fray around her, Leila’s loyalties are tested, and her life is endangered.

I read The Nightingale on the train into work and my commute flew. There never seemed to be enough time. I always wanted to finish just one more chapter. And when I was at work, I’d daydream about what Leila would be doing the next time I opened the book.

Ms. Gallaway lays a solid foundation, giving wonderful descriptions of people and places; everything is easy to visualize. She parses out details so that the images become more vivid and full as the story continues. The drawback to such details is that when I picked up on clues of how the book could end, I cringed. I wanted the characters I’d come to love to escape unharmed. In fact, I wanted them to steer far away from danger. But the book takes place in war-torn Iraq, so I knew the ending couldn’t be cheery and feel-good. I also knew that if no harm came to these characters, I would feel that the author had cheated by veering too far away from reality after sticking so close to it throughout the rest of the story. In the end, though, I didn’t feel cheated and was surprisingly happy at the outcome, even if I almost missed my train stop to get to it.

I’m a huge Janet Evanovich fan. My introduction to Ms. Evanovich was the first book in the Barnaby series, Metro Girl. I was hooked. I switched gears and read the whole Stephanie Plum series, one after the other. I recently had the pleasure of reading her latest Barnaby novel, Motor Mouth, which continues the Barnaby and Hooker escapades.

Alexandra “Barney” Barnaby works as the race-day spotter for NASCAR driver Sam Hooker. The book opens with Barney, a lip glossed, bleached blond wearing a pink lace thong under her black jeans, on the roof of the track grandstand watching Hooker lose the last race of the season. Trouble starts right then and doesn’t stop until the end of the book.

Sometimes you need to take a few hours and step away from the every day world, prop your feet up and grab a book for some laughs and a little sexual thrill. I was hoping to do just that when I read Charade by M.E. Ellis, but unfortunately I was disappointed.

Charade is a novella of the chick-lit variety that introduces us to Shirley Langford, mother of four and longtime wife. Shirley is a very unhappy homemaker. She spends her days playing internet quiz games, avoiding her gossiping neighbors and occasionally having sex with her husband.

I love spending time at bed and breakfasts (B&B's). Staying in someone's home adds the personal touch the big chain hotels are lacking, and a home cooked breakfast is just the icing on the cake, so to speak. The most interesting B&B I stayed in was actually only a B--bed, no breakfast, located over the local pub in a small town in Wales. The beds were comfy, and we enjoyed the music coming up through the floorboards as we fell asleep.

Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart, first published in 1958, is the ultimate classic of African fiction introducing the reader to the life of the Igbo people, from whom the Nigerian writer Achebe descended.

The main character is Okonkwo, a hard-working man and a respected fighter, who, from a poor boy, becomes one of the most important men of the community in his homeland, Umuofia. One day the uncompromising leader accidentally kills a clansman, a young boy, and he must leave the village and cannot return for seven years.

When the subject of abuse comes up in normal conversation, most people feel ill at ease, become uncomfortable, and will attempt to change the subject. It is easier for most to ignore the horrible things human beings do to each other than to actually face them. Everyday someone notices something not quite right about a child and yet does nothing. Maybe the person is a teacher who sees the child's not quite covered bruises or notices that the child wears the same soiled shirt more than one day in a row . . . and says nothing. Or perhaps it is the next door neighbor who notices the child never goes out to play or even hears the unmistakable sounds of abuse and yet draws the curtains...doing nothing.

In a world of obscene women, perfect crimes, and a man with just a little too much time on his hands, one wrong move can send him reeling over the edge-very quickly. Just don't miscalculate the "rubbing out" of a little mistake and the labyrinth of secret thoughts.

James Thurber's The Catbird Seat focused on the quintessential mundane man-soft-spoken and lifelong devotee to "wearing a look of studious concentration" and to, of course, nothing other than filing cabinets. Mr. Martin's the man with nary a vice to his name, the one person people thought they had all figured out. But how much about him did anyone really know? Never underestimate the lengths a man like Mr. Martin would take to preserve the quiet monotony that had been managed for so long. For when Mrs. Barrows, a loud, "braying" woman-just the kind that would upset the delicate balance of a commonplace existence-nosed her way into the picture, the quiet man furtively plotted his revenge; but it's not quite what you thought. Instead, echoing the futile cries of Mrs. Barrow, it's really too perfect!

In 1963, Angelica "Jelly" Ryan was in her senior year of high school in Love, Oklahoma. She lived in the age of bobby socks, the civil rights movement, the Vietnam War, and college being considered "wasted on women, who'll just up and get married." Jelly's father, Jake Ryan, was the town sheriff, and he did his best to raise his daughter alone. He wanted only for her to get married so that he wouldn't have to worry about her "running around"-and so that he could marry his long-time lover, the friendly beautician Velta. College for Jelly appeared to be out of the question from the beginning.

Anthea James, national talk show host and political activist, appeared to have it all. Underneath her surface perfection, however, lay a past fraught with scandal and heartbreak.

After the death of her mother, Lenore Hamlyn was sexually abused by her drunken father. After his death, Lenore was taken in by her kindly Irish landlady, Nan Reilly who, unbeknownst to Lenore, ran the most notorious brothel in Sydney. Nan came to love Lenore as her own daughter, but while never asked to prostitute herself, Lenore became an unwilling accomplice to the sex trade through helping Nan run the business. Despite the protective shell built up against any man, Lenore fell in love with wheelchair bound David Kershaw who broke her heart. In a fit of shame over his disability, David left Sydney without saying goodbye. After losing David's baby, Lenore was sent overseas by Nan to become educated, networked and empowered. So she did-and became the beautiful, successful and powerful Anthea James.