The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri

Family and responsibility are at the core of this literary novel set in India and the United States. Two brothers - almost as close as twins - take very different paths in their young adulthood. Which is greater: civil action that works for change, or the tending of tradition and family?

We read this as a book discussion title at the library, but I didn't finish it in time for the conversation. Too bad, because there's a lot to talk about.

Even while Subhash builds a life in America, he's bound by duty to his family in India. He marries out of a sense of obligation, but when their daughter is born he finds a pure delight in raising her in Rhode Island. His duty to her future becomes more urgent than his dedication to the past - but that's not true for his wife, who never really left India behind.

The book offers mothers and fathers, siblings, husbands and wives, and there are lots of comparisons to be drawn between counterparts. Also, the role of responsibility: personal responsibility, family obligations, parental duty, social activism, passive acceptance. It's a heavy book, filled with lots of internal dilemmas, and it really would make for a fantastic discussion.

I listened to the audiobook version, which was an excellent way to read a book filled with foreign names and places.

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

An alternative to the epic, sweeping historical World War II sagas, this award-winning literary novel makes history much smaller and very personal - as seen through the perspective of a blind French girl and an orphaned German boy.

When you understand that no one is completely good and no one is completely bad - that life is much more nuanced and impacted by perspective - it's easier to see that WWII wasn't simply the Evil Nazis versus the Free World.

Werner's early aptitude for science and math are his salvation from working the coal mines that entombed his father. The conformity and cruelty of his instructors and schoolmates in the elite Nazi Wehrmacht school are tough for the boy to handle, yet he doesn't dare to rebel and destroy his chance for a future.

Marie-Laure goes blind as a young child, and her locksmith father finds fabulous ways to empower his daughter to independence. When they're forced to flee Paris upon invasion, the pair settle with her mentally fragile great-uncle in a towering house on the coast in Saint-Malo.

Many have been critical of the super-short chapters and constantly switching perspectives and timeframes, but I thought it allowed the book to move briskly without my attention flagging. It's not a book that's tied up in a neat bow at the end - some things remain a mystery - again, much like real life.

I thoroughly enjoyed the book and understand why it won both the Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellence in Fiction and the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. Also, it made me want to read Jules Verne's Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea!

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

In a primitive world changed by a flu pandemic, a band of minstrels and actors wander the American midwest performing Shakespeare to the survivors. As the novel's timeline flashes back and forth - before and after the Georgia Flu - we see the interconnectedness of the survivors, whose stories link back to a celebrity actor, Arthur Leander.

This book was on a lot of best of 2015 lists and was a finalist for the National Book Award. The author went on record saying she doesn't consider it sci-fi because there's no technology and gadgets involved. She says it's literary fiction.

While the "no technology" is technically accurate and the traveling symphony-and-Shakespeare troupe offers a bit of high-brow flair, I think it's cutting a pretty fine line to say this post-apocalypse novel isn't really in the sci-fi genre. The book is at heart a look at the invisible links between people, man's ability to adapt to survive, and a look at what the world could be like without "modern technology."

I enjoyed the book. The shifting perspectives keep the narrative moving along without getting bogged down in the minutia of survival, plus allow some dramatic tension as story threads cut out and return again later. I was pleasantly surprised a couple times as the connections back to Arthur were revealed.

Plus, now I know that living in the airport may be the best option, post-plague.

Fates and Furies by Lauren Groff

Even in a marriage, there are two sides to every story. But unlike other books that tell two sides of hardly-the-same-marriage, in this novel it's not about twisting the scene or misrepresenting a shared experience - it's all about the secrets and lies of omission.

Lotto lives a blessed life - his family has money, he's a true lover of the ladies, and he's got a charisma people just can't deny. When he meets and marries the ethereal Mathilde, it looks like his charmed life is on it's way through the stratosphere.

The first half of the book (fates) tells Lotto's story: about his family, his marriage, his successful career. The second half (furies) reveals Mathilde's origin story, plus her life with and without Lotto.

It's a fantastic story, absolutely captivating - I listened to the audiobook while I quilted, and I was really taken by the characters, the friendships, and the story of their lives. And even knowing there was a twist in the unfolding of the story, I was still surprised at the end! A truly remarkable novel.

The Orchardist by Amanda Coplin

Family doesn't have to be inherited - sometimes you piece and patch together a family of people you love and who love you. In this emotional literary novel, when two bedraggled and practically feral preteen girls - both pregnant - appear in the orchard of a solitary farming man, he chooses to act from his heart and help the girls.

Talmadge is an isolated farmer, tending his fruit trees alone in the mountains of Washington. His family is gone, and his few friends are enough. But the girls need help, and he can help them; it's just that simple. And while their relationship isn't ordinary, they form a family of sorts over time.

There's a lot unsaid in this book - every character is a still pool of dark water. I'd expected a straight-forward historical novel (this book was chosen by our book discussion group at the library), but I was pleasantly surprised almost from the start by the complex characters and drama that takes place.

I enjoyed the casual unspooling of time across the story - weeks pass slowly as the story unfolds, then it accelerates and several years pass in a heartbeat. A large part of the book takes place in a single year, then a decade zooms past. It's unsettling, but also feels right for the story.