Author Jacquelyn Mitchard offers an intriguing study of a quintessential American family in her latest novel, The Breakdown Lane. Julianne Gillis, upper-crust daughter of a famed New York author, works as an advice columnist for the Sheboygan, Wisconsin, newspaper. She and her husband Leo Steiner, an attorney, are the parents of teenagers Gabe and Caro and toddler Rory. Julianne is happy with her life, until her husband’s midlife crisis strikes. As Leo embraces all things organic and eschews materialism, he imposes his values on his family. Much to the dismay of his children, Leo insists that they forgo modern-day electronics, limiting television and computer use. The real clincher is even harder to bear Leo decides to take a sabbatical not only from his job, but from his family, as he searches for his true sense of self at an upstate New York hippie commune.

While the departure of a spouse often results in irreparable harm to the fractured family, Leo’s abandonment is especially damaging, as Julianne is diagnosed with MS shortly after he disappears. Single parenthood is difficult enough, but Julianne must tame her rebellious teens and care for young Rory while struggling with MS and the side effects of the potent medications used to control it. Much of the novel is narrated by Gabe, delving into his innermost thoughts as he copes with anger at his father’s abandonment and his mother’s debilitating illness. On the cusp of manhood, Gabe details his romance with a young visiting Thai student and his battle with a learning disability. Julianne takes a turn as well, complete with clips of her column chronicling her advice to the lovelorn. Interestingly, her own life is a study of disillusion with the institution of marriage and family bonding. Mitchard smoothly moves the story forward, emphasizing the complexities underlying familial relationships in this thought-provoking, introspective novel. Sheri Melnick writes from Enola, Pennsylvania.

Blonde, blue-eyed Dana Clarke seemingly has it all: Hugh, the handsome, rich attorney husband who adores her; a baby girl due any minute; a loving grandmother who raised her; and the warm support of many friends at her grandmother’s knitting shop.

The only clouds in Dana’s picture-perfect life are her in-laws. The Clarkes are an old, illustrious New England family who can trace their lineage back to the Mayflower. Dana’s father-in-law is a well-respected author who has written best-selling books on the Clarke family history. Not only is Dana not a blue-blooded New Englander, she doesn’t even know much about her father and this is not the heritage the Clarkes envisioned for their grandchildren.

When Dana’s adorable daughter Lizzie is born with obvious African-American features, her world is shattered. The uptight in-laws are horrified; her husband becomes distant and tentative to both Dana and Lizzie, and people jump to the conclusion that Dana had an affair with her African-American neighbor, who is Hugh’s best friend.

The gamut of reactions to Lizzie’s appearance may be uncomfortable to read at times, in particular self-proclaimed liberal Hugh’s uncertainty, but it seems realistic. And while Dana’s placidity and years of little interest in her family history is unusual, she remains a compelling and likeable character.

Loyal readers who have followed Barbara Delinsky’s writing for many years, from romance novels to women’s fiction, will not be surprised at the depth of characterization in Family Tree. Delinsky’s latest is well suited for fans of the serious themed books of Jodi Picoult, Anita Shreve and Jacquelyn Mitchard. In fact, Family Tree includes a Reading Group Companion for book clubs.

Full of complex and fascinating family dynamics as its characters are forced to come to terms with issues such as faith, race and loyalty, Family Tree is thought-provoking and memorable. After 26 years of publishing and 19 New York Times bestsellers, Delinsky will be discovered by a new generation of readers. Dedra Anderson writes from Highlands Ranch, Colorado.

Betta Nolan stops running when she reaches Stewart, Illinois. Actually, she has been driving for days, fleeing Boston after her husband dies of liver cancer, in search of their shared dream of making a new life in some unknown little town. To explore other ways of living, to leave behind his psychiatry practice and her career of writing children’s books, and find something altogether different to do has now become her private duty. Single-mindedly, she seeks to carry out his last wish: for her even in sorrow especially in sorrow to find joy. It’s a tall order. Stewart turns out to be just right for the project, but Betta threatens to founder until she reconnects with three old college friends with whom she had lost contact during her marriage. Along with new local friends, including the young boy next door and his struggling single mother, they help to reconnect her to all the small blessings that life can offer. (See her celebration of small-town alleys early on in the book for a delightful example.) Elizabeth Berg has written 12 previous novels, including several bestsellers and an Oprah’s Book Club selection (Open House). Reminiscent of Anne Tyler, she deals with middle-class realities and works toward hopeful rather than happy endings. Bulging with insights ( so much of grieving was holding things at bay ), and savory with clear-sighted humor ( sometimes sorrow was a complex form of aggravation ), The Year of Pleasures is perhaps improbably sunny for our time. The modern reader’s cynicism drops its guard only gradually, but the rewards are worth the vulnerability. Maude McDaniel writes from Maryland.

Consider yourself warned. Me ∧ Emma, the second novel by former Time and People writer Elizabeth Flock, is a tour de force in the telling. But it can be painful to read. This much you might guess from the opening line: “The first time Richard hit me, I saw stars in front of my eyes just like they do in cartoons.” The “me” of the title is Caroline Parker, the novel’s eight-year-old narrator, and Emma is her younger sister and only ally in the brutal Parker household, headed by their violent loser of a stepdaddy, Richard. After Caroline and Emma’s father was killed in a robbery, their mother a woman of dubious maternal skills to begin with emerged from the shock apparently having decided to accept the first dismal suitor to appear at her door. She couldn’t have done any worse than Richard. Mean, drunk and unemployed, Richard moves in and takes to beating his new wife and stepdaughters for sport, among other, more creative acts of cruelty. But Emma and Caroline’s mother stands out as uniquely awful in her own right she not only fails to protect her daughters, she appears indifferent. When Richard chains the girls up like dogs as punishment for running away, her response is chilling: “Don’t fight him,’ she whispers, easing her fingers into the links to pull a gap between the chain and my neck. Why you gotta sass all the time? You just bricks weighing me deeper into the river.’ ” Meanwhile, there are people in their small town of Toast, North Carolina including the shop owner who gives the girls refuge in an after-school job who suspect the worst but fail to intervene.

The novel is buoyed above the gloom, though, by the fresh and even witty perspective of its heroine, who seems to sense that Richard is a broken man and time is on her side. But Caroline is also an unreliable narrator, infusing an element of mystery that sets Me ∧ Emma apart in a way that can’t be explained without giving away too much of the plot. Suffice it to say, it’s worth discovering. Rosalind S. Fournier writes from Birmingham, Alabama.

A young, hungry assistant pays her dues while working for a near-impossible boss with a psychotic streak. Sound familiar? Yes, the easiest way to summarize Debra Ginsberg’s Blind Submission would be to call it The Devil Wears Prada set in the book publishing world, but this debut novel’s sharp writing and intriguing mystery elements turn what could be the same old story into something fresh and new.

Angel Robinson is completely happy living and breathing books in her job at an independent San Francisco bookstore. Then, slow business forces the store to close, leaving Angel unemployed. Encouraged by her novelist boyfriend, Angel successfully applies to be the new assistant to powerhouse literary agent Lucy Fiamma.

Angel quickly finds herself both fascinated with and overwhelmed by this new world. Lucy compliments Angel when she rescues a sexy Italian memoirist’s manuscript from the slush pile, but she also leaves impossible to-do lists and creates an atmosphere of instability with her fickle ways. And there’s the added drama of an anonymous writer submitting chapters of a novel one at a time. Angel is intrigued by this nameless scribe’s work, until the tale starts to eerily resemble Angel’s own life. Is someone spying on her? Her boss, her boyfriend and her co-workers all become suspects as Angel attempts to learn the identity of this mysterious writer.

The shell of the story is hardly novel (is the potential pay-off of a demanding entry-level job worth the sacrifice to sanity and relationships?), but the suspenseful who-wrote-it sets the novel apart from other so-called assistant lit Angel has bigger problems than fetching a complicated Starbucks order. Memoirist Ginsberg (Waiting, Raising Blaze and About My Sisters) clearly knows the ins-and-outs of the publishing world, and Blind Submission offers an engaging look at the backstabbing that takes place behind the books. Iris Blasi is a writer in New York City.

Readers of Connie May Fowler’s earlier novels, including Before Women Had Wings, will recognize some familiar elements in this, her fifth: her unique blend of lyrical prose and mysticism, musings on the power of love and the devastation caused by its loss, and a deft portrayal of the resilient bonds of friendship.

In a manner reminiscent of Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones, the opening scene of Fowler’s latest depicts the death of the protagonist 35-year-old Murmur Lee, who drowns under mysterious circumstances in a north Florida river. The narrative is then taken up by the friends Murmur left behind as they try to adjust to life without her. Fowler has crafted a memorable cast of these secondary characters, and through their eyes the reader comes to know Murmur herself. Her best friend from childhood is Charlee Mudd, who returns from Harvard Divinity School and a broken engagement for Murmur’s funeral, and ends up staying. Others in their group of “buddies” include Dr. Zach, who lost his wife to cancer and now feels somehow responsible for Murmur’s death; Edith, a transsexual former Marine still fighting visions of Vietnam; Lucinda, a local artist and yoga teacher; Hazel, the bartender at Murmur’s bar; and Billy, Murmur’s boyfriend, who was on the boat with her on New Year’s Eve 2001, the night she died.

In chapters alternating with those in her friends’ voices, Murmur recalls scenes from her past, including the death of her seven-year-old daughter from leukemia. She is also able to see things she never knew on earth, such as the fact she was the product of her mother’s rape at last an explanation for her father’s lifelong indifference to her. Halfway through the novel, the central question becomes clear: was Murmur’s death accidental, a suicide or something else? The truth, perhaps slightly contrived, does come out in the end. With an engaging cast and a lush Florida setting, Fowler’s latest novel offers poignant reflections on what keeps us together, even after the separation of death. Deborah Donovan writes from Cincinnati and La Veta, Colorado.

On the surface, the members of the facetiously named “Same Sweet Girls” club six women, now in their 40s, who’ve known one another since college and still get together twice a year seem like unlikely friends. In background, lifestyle, taste in men and even geography, they started out with little in common, and that hasn’t changed much over the years. Instead, they seem to draw strength mostly from the history they share they’re friends because they’ve always been friends, which may be as good a reason as any. The Same Sweet Girls, Cassandra King’s third novel, is told from the perspectives of Corrine, Julia and Lanier, who are the closest of the six friends (although it hasn’t always been that way). Among these, Julia is the most glamorous. “Classically beautifully in a Grace Kelly way,” she hails from a prominent Alabama family and grew up to marry the governor. She carries a dark secret, though, one that even some of the Same Sweet Girls (SSGs for short) don’t know about. Corrine, the most eccentric, is an acclaimed artist who suffers from twin demons of depression and an abusive ex-husband, Miles a psychologist, of all things. (How do you think they met?) Lanier is the reckless one, a nurse with a history of screw-ups in her personal life. Estranged from her husband and unexpectedly reacquainted with a childhood crush, Lanier is the most colorful of the SSGs. She also has the best lines. When Corrine falls ill, Lanier finds dark humor in the fact that Miles, sadistic as ever, is still lurking: “Julia had trouble sleeping . . . kept getting up all through the night,” Lanier reports, after she’d convinced Julia to leave Corrine’s bedside and get some rest. “I said, Why didn’t you give Miles a call? Bet he’d have been glad to come and tie you to the bedposts.” King, who is married to author Pat Conroy, is known for her emphatically Southern tales. The Same Sweet Girls is based loosely on the author’s own circle of friends, and as a warm tribute to their friendship indeed, to all friendships it succeeds nicely. Rosalind S. Fournier writes from Birmingham, Alabama.