Want to watch two nudniks stumble around attractively and make poor life choices while being (in denial and) head over heels in love?
Because this book delivers precisely that. And sometimes you just need a book that lets you yell at the leads in an extremely satisfying manner.

In a way that reminds me of Jemisin's The City We Became, McQuiston has written a love letter to what New York City can be, sometimes. For all that we're a city with a reputation, both writers recognize the way in which people care—and care VERY DEEPLY—when they live here.
This story is completely bonkers and I enjoyed every minute of it. Even the sex on the subway which, speaking as a New Yorker, is NOT easy to sell me on.

Okay, so imagine if Tom Stoppard wrote twisted fairy tales. You'd basically get this book. If that sounds like the kind of thing you would enjoy, I definitely recommend this.
I still have no idea if I liked it. It grabbed my attention pretty relentlessly and yet there was a bleakness to the story that make it feel like it was always at a distance. Was it you, book, or me?

I love weird physics and, for a hot second, I considered creating a shelf entitled "speculative nonfiction" for this, but it would mess with my sorting scheme and so I refrained.
Look, I packed so many boxes listening to this book. It was exactly the kind of interesting content without characters making appalling life choices that I needed while packing.
And I learned a fair amount too. What more could one ask?

It turns out I will listen to anything so long as it’s a history of a specific thing. WWII? Nope. Uniform fabric in wars? Absolutely. 
Anyway, I’ve heard good things about Roach as an author and if you are 1) interested in a deeply entertaining account not so much of cadavers but of one woman’s research into them and 2) not particularly squeamish, this was extremely fun. 

Every time. Pulley gets me with her weird twisting history and men with all the feelings who are both possessed of a deeply held moral code and also do terrible things and have NO IDEA how to be in love every single time. It's not a happy story, but it's not...not one either. Look, it's a lot and also it's precisely my kind of a lot.
There's something really nice about being simultaneously surprised by a story and also...not even a little bit surprised. 

This was awesome, I'm delighted that Clark set a full novel in this universe and delved into the awesomeness of it without destroying any of the mystery and weirdness that the shorter stories conjured up. Everything about it, from the stylish detective to her equally stylish paramour to the gorgeous blending of modern(ism) and ancient just made it a joy to read.

Recent (for a given value of the term) trends in romance that I am enjoying:
1) Diversity! Not just the significant queerness that these books have, but sometimes people are POC because that's what real life is like. It's a part of the story and their experiences are shaped by all aspects of their identity, including race, but it's also understood that no justification is *needed*.
2) Shared universes! Not "here's a series about five improbably ripped brothers", but "you met these characters in a previous book and they're going to turn up here playing bit parts. Gets me every time. 
3) External conflicts! While it's interesting to watch relationships develop, books that rely on circumstances rather than misunderstandings to keep the lovers apart are SO much more appealing, especially for settled relationships. It's like everyone in this book got the message about being adults and talking and listening and, turns out, there's still a lot of drama to be wrung out of murder and violence so one need not resort to "you said something and, rather than TALK about it, I'll jump to wild conclusions".
4) Series that follow the same characters! See previous comment about the improbably ripped, but there's something nice about allowing relationships to develop over multiple books, especially when it's two deeply hurt people learning how to heal together.
Anyway, Charles did a great job with these two and I very much enjoyed the adventures (and have so much sympathy for the book that just refuses to be written).

This one really felt like the first book again in a way I can't quite capture. Possibly the constricted nature of the space and the deep investment in the question of what does it mean to not merely tolerate, but celebrate diversity. What does that look like? What does accommodation, in both its limited and expansive sense, mean? What does meaningful disagreement look like? Who is left out?
And also what do aliens like to eat? Why are teenagers? How do you write licensing laws for species that reach maturity at different ages?
Anyway, Chambers' Wayfarers universe continues to delight and I am going to miss it.

This book was...beautiful and hard and complicated and really vital reading in the process of making inroads into our thin-focused, diet-obsessed, weight-is-not-a-good-proxy-for-health dumpster fire of a culture.
The early chapters made me want to scream. The stories Gordon told made me want to weep. (I expected them and I even knew some of them, but when someone tells the story of their trauma, we SHOULD feel it). The final chapter made me want to sing.
My one comment is that the book is not read by the author and, since I'm used to listening to her on her podcast, I kept thinking "Oh, this sounds like something Aubrey Gordon would say, I wonder if she...oh, right."