It's nearing Election Day 1984, and to support her husband David's run for the U.S. Senate, Danielle Christie represents him at a fundraiser where the alcohol flows. Driving home with Nick, their 16-year-old son, Danielle crashes the car, killing the boy--an event that clinches the sympathy vote and hence the election for David Christie.

This is hardly the only irony found in Nicholas Montemarano's third novel, The Senator's Children, which hosts a familiar medley of campaign-story tropes--adultery, love child, scandal--and literary fiction mainstays: broken marriage, psychic scarring, degenerative illness. Montemarano's trick is to work this well-trod ground in a quiet, particularized way. Adopting a roving third-person perspective that spans 1977 through 2010, he gives prominent voice to high-strung Betsy, who since her older brother's death has been visited by "the Nick-feeling." As a pregnant adult, Betsy moves into the Philadelphia brownstone where she grew up to be closer to her Parkinson's-suffering father's nursing care facility. Unbeknownst to Betsy, David has been receiving visits from college student Avery, his illegitimate daughter, although he doesn't know who she is.

As a senator, David made a bid for the presidency, and The Senator's Children can't help but call to mind the career-blighting scandal of John Edwards. Yet as its title attests, the novel belongs to the wounded offspring. When Avery sees newly elected president Barack Obama with Michelle and the kids on television, she thinks, "Let it be authentic. Let this family turn out to be okay." --Nell Beram, freelance writer and author

Quinn hasn't seen her sister, Nora, in months. When she shows up unexpectedly with a young girl named Lucy, Quinn is full of questions. They remain unanswered, however, when Nora hurriedly departs again, leaving the girl behind. Nora's last statements ring in Quinn's ears: "Promise me you'll keep her safe.... Don't let anyone know that she's staying with you, okay?"

Key Lake is a small, close-knit town where secrets are hard to keep, so it's not long before Quinn's mother, Liz, discovers Lucy hiding in the cottage Quinn and her artist husband are renting for the summer. Although somewhat distant and estranged from both her daughters, Liz becomes Quinn's reluctant ally as they race to discover the truth about the little girl with the stone-colored eyes and cornsilk hair who's landed in their lives.

In Little Broken Things, Nicole Baart (The Beautiful Daughters) shifts point of view among Nora, Liz and Quinn for a slow unveiling of the story behind Lucy. The tension continues to ramp up as more details about the women and the various men in their lives are added to the twisting plot line that spans a four-day period. Baart shows how these women have been affected and changed in subtle and large ways by the men, who carry the burden of some stereotypes, yet are distinguishable as individuals with their own sets of problems. 

Sweet, scary and sometimes sordid, Little Broken Things is filled with determined women tenacious in their love for a girl whose childhood has been anything but easy. --Lee E. Cart, freelance writer and book reviewer

Rhys Bowen (Time of Fog and Fire) has written a delightfully seasonal 17th entry in her charming Molly Murphy series. Molly Murphy Sullivan, still mourning a miscarriage a few months before, has returned to New York City just in time for Christmas. But then her mother-in-law, who is a guest at a fabulous house in the Hudson Valley, procures invitations for Molly, her police captain husband, Daniel, and their ward and son to join the party, too.

The Van Aikens, who own the estate, are an odd couple. Cedric seems friendly enough but is extremely controlling, and Winnie suffers from strange fits of depression. The source of Winnie's depression is that a decade earlier, the Van Aiken's toddler, Charlotte, wandered into the snow the week before Christmas, never to be seen again. When Molly discovers this, she becomes determined to find out what happened to the little girl. Daniel reluctantly helps Molly question servants and neighbors, but thinks it's a lost cause.

Then, shockingly, a teenager appears at the front door claiming to be the long-lost Charlotte. Winnie rejoices, but Molly remains firm in figuring out where the girl has been for the last 10 years.

With lots of appealing details about turn-of-the-century holiday traditions and interesting glimpses into the Sullivan and Van Aiken families, Rhys Bowen has aptly brought the characters and the season to life. The Ghost of Christmas Past is perfect for fans of Jacqueline Winspear, T.E. Kinsey or Charles Todd--anyone who enjoys historical fiction with a festive flair. --Jessica Howard, bookseller at Bookmans

As promised, the recipes in Smitten Kitchen Every Day, are unfussy and quick, yet "an escape from drudgery."

Deb Perelman (Smitten Kitchen Cookbook) launched her blog in 2006, and readers inspire her. "The stories in the comments and in my inbox are as much about the cooking as they are about the life around it." She notes, "these recipes don't just fit into our lives, they make us happy." She's committed to happy family meals, as photos of her children--Jacob, now seven, and toddler Anna--attest. Chatty recipe intros include personal and food history. Her Sizzling Beef Bulgogi Tacos emanate from memories of summer days at the Jersey Shore, home to her favorite Korean fusion tacos.

Among the more than 100 recipes in eight categories (breakfast to "Apps, Snacks, and Party Food"), many don't look "unfussy," but appearances are deceiving as they really aren't complicated. Perelman entices the home cook with Smashed Cucumber Salad with Salted Peanuts and Wasabi Peas, a quick, refreshing salad. "Bizarre," she notes, "if you've never had it, forever habit-forming once you have." Her affection for desserts is obvious. The Party Cake Builder offers manageable instructions so "you might actually have more fun at those parties"; follow detailed steps to bring this fabulous centerpiece dessert to your table. Magical Two-Ingredient Oat Brittle--stir, bake, cool, save indefinitely or eat now--exemplifies Perelman's promise of "triumphant and unfussy" fare. --Cheryl Krocker McKeon, manager, Book Passage, San Francisco

In her concise account of white supremacy, The Second Coming of the KKK: The Ku Klux Klan of the 1920s and the American Political Tradition, historian Linda Gordon dispenses with preconceptions of backwoods Southern racists and instead reveals a well-mobilized social movement sweeping across the nation.

With smart, lively prose, Gordon (Feminism Unfinished) reexamines conflicts of the past. From the outset, she declares, "I cannot and do not wish to discard my values in interpreting the past." In delving into the United States's painful legacy of racism, Gordon never sympathizes with the cause. She instead dissects the underlying social structures of the KKK to understand better its persistence in American culture. In the 1920s, Gordon explains, the KKK experienced a popular resurgence. Unlike the 19th-century Klan, which sought to subjugate freed blacks, the 20th-century iteration widened its antipathies to include Hispanics, Catholics, Jews, liberals and immigrants.

Gordon's expert research is disturbing on many levels. The 20th-century Klan used democratic methods to become a giant service club and political organization--a bastion of WASP identity--that found allies not only in right-wing Christian sects, but also in many labor and feminist circles. The rallying cry of white supremacy spurred a populist movement that cast white citizens as heroes trying to rescue their nation from insidious outsiders and moral polluters. At her incisive best, Gordon uncovers the spurious psychology behind this movement. The most troubling thing about The Second Coming of the KKK is its relevance to 21st-century American politics. The parallels are clear, though Gordon doesn't force any conclusions. Readers are left to draw their own. --Scott Neuffer, writer, poet, editor of trampset

Tortillas, Tiswin & T-Bones is Gregory McNamee's absorbing survey of the ever-evolving and infinitely interesting cuisine of the American Southwest.

Tucson resident McNamee (The Ancient Southwest; Moveable Feasts) marshals research of times prehistoric to present, pulling from a mélange of fields and sources: anthropology, archeology, cookbooks and a variety of writers, chefs and other historians.

Corn, beans, squash and chiles are the foundation of Southwestern cuisine, and after compiling a history of these, McNamee examines other foods indigenous to the Americas, as well as many introduced via European conquest and colonialism. His scope even includes fusion dishes served by modern food trucks touting flavor combinations from across the globe. But the first recipe he offers? Roast Mastodon: "Skin, butcher, fillet and roast."

Equal parts authority and respect propel McNamee's writing as he investigates the web of forces that have flavored and shaped Southwestern cuisine over millennia, resulting in the ubiquity of the taco and the "Southwesternization of the American palate." He notes the 1992 shift that marked salsa outselling ketchup, as well as other relatively contemporary movements, like the story of Duncan Hines or Doritos, Michelle Obama's fondness for nachos as a Super Bowl snack, and "precolonization" menus created by Native American chefs.

In his chapter "Drink," McNamee's recipe for a margarita ends: "Imbibe. Enjoy. Repeat if desired." The same applies for his project. Engaging prose and endlessly surprising anecdotes make this collection, while thick with facts, refreshingly readable--a work to enjoy and inspire. --Katie Weed, freelance writer and reviewer

Best known for her speculative fiction, most notably the Earthsea saga, Ursula K. Le Guin is prolific in multiple genres, and unapologetic about it. At 81, she decided to try her hand at blogging, though she loathed the term ("it sounds like a sodden tree trunk in a bog"). Seven years later, she's still posting brief, witty, often acerbic essays on her blog, musing on the vagaries of old age, the proliferation of profanity in books, the joys of receiving fan letters from children and the antics of Pard, her beetle-obsessed cat. No Time to Spare presents the best of Le Guin's blog: sharp-eyed, big-hearted, idiosyncratic and highly enjoyable.

Both Le Guin's eye for detail and her dry wit are on full display here. On the craft of writing, she says, "Words are my matter--my stuff. Words are my skein of yarn, my lump of wet clay, my block of uncarved wood." Her essays on literature, politics and aging are interspersed with "The Annals of Pard," a chronicle of "being chosen" by a small rescue cat. "We call him the good cat with bad paws," she says, noting dryly, "There used to be a lot of small delicate things on shelves around the house. There aren't now."

Le Guin's sharp eye softens when she speaks about children, rejoicing in the handmade booklets and letters they send her, complete with creative spelling. She writes, too, about the Oregon Food Bank, calling it "the cathedral of hunger," and reminds readers of the need for "compassion, or community, or caritas." There is much to think about in this wise and eloquent collection. --Katie Noah Gibson, blogger at Cakes, Tea and Dreams

"Sea level rise is one of the central facts of our time, as real as gravity," writes journalist Jeff Goodell (How to Cool the Planet) in the prologue to his latest, The Water Will Come: Rising Seas, Sinking Cities, and the Remaking of the Civilized World. What follows is an urgent, clear-eyed and downright terrifying account of just how poorly prepared humanity is for the degree of sea-level rise most scientists are predicting will occur by the end of the 21st century due to climate change: three feet according to some, as much as nine feet according to others, says Goodell.

Each chapter is scrupulously researched yet written in the clean and accessible style of a journalist who's perfected his craft. In addition to working as a contributing editor at Rolling Stone, Goodell is the author of five other books, two on the subject of climate change. That pedigree has earned him jaw-dropping access to some of the world's most influential people. Here Goodell accompanies Barack Obama to the Arctic and asks him to describe the moment he knew climate change was real. Later, he asks Bill de Blasio, mayor of New York City, whether the time has come "to consider moving people out of low-lying areas of the city." The answers both men give are alone worth the price of the book.

Persuasive, timely and vividly constructed, The Water Will Come might be one of the most essential reads of the year. --Amy Brady, freelance writer and editor

A young daughter is "having a hard time falling asleep tonight." To lull her to "dream," her mother offers a story about "a baby wrapped in a white sheet and her mother smiling at her." That baby is the titular jazz legend Nina Simone. Her first childhood memory at "about three" begins with playing the piano: of the 52 white keys and 36 "smaller" black keys, she prodigiously recognizes, "[w]hite was whole. Black was half. It was that way everywhere and for everyone."

Refusing to accept she "was worth less than other people," Nina finds solace and sanctuary in music: "The notes had to mingle and dance together in the air so these lies would disappear," she insists. "Music has no color. In music there is only one rhythm. Only one heart."

Music gives Nina her voice--as she plays, sings, dreams. At her first concert, 12-year-old Nina demands a front-row seat for her mother after she is moved to accommodate white guests. "Later, much later," she embraces the dreams of Martin Luther King as her "symphony. Black and white people could come together in the big dance of life." That "fragile" dream she entrusts to her now-sleeping child.

Nina spent her final decade in France, where she died in 2003. That a French team introduces Nina to younger readers seems fitting. Artist Bruno Liance impeccably complements author Alice Brière-Haquet's purposeful black-and-white-keys metaphor; his beyond-the-text illustrations (bus passengers divided by race, a civil rights march) prove especially enhancing. As a first stop to learning more about the legendary Nina, this French import is sure to inspire new audiences. --Terry Hong, Smithsonian BookDragon

Ginger the redheaded gnome is tired of "everygnome" not seeing past her hair to the real her: "I like my hair," she tells her friend Al; "I just want to be known for something else. I can run fast and jump high and catch the wind!" Al, who's had his own share of hair-related identity crises (as seen in Kirsten Mayer and Laura K. Horton's Go BIG or Go Gnome), suggests she prove herself in the Winter Gnome Games. Exuberant Ginger goes all out and is definitely the fastest and best in every event. Unfortunately, she also keeps bending the rules and getting disqualified. She stands up on her pinecone shingle sled, effectively inventing gnome snowboarding. She speed skates during the figure skating competition. And in the curling, she whacks the curling stone across the frozen puddle and straight into the judge's hat, which he's just removed to scratch his head. Worst of all, the cheering crowd continues to focus on her hair: "Go, Red!" It's not until her superior hill-shredding, speed-skating and target-aiming skills are needed for a real-life emergency that everygnome finally sees her for her true, strong, heroic self.

Mayer's endearing story reinforces the importance of embracing one's full identity (with a mildly spicy feminist flavor: i.e., girls and women are more than their looks). Horton's tiny gnomes are given a charming perspective by the giant pinecones, finches, squirrels and toadstools. Readers will enjoy the winter wonderland, lively characters and gentle message in Game of Gnomes. --Emilie Coulter, freelance writer and editor