I have a weakness for books about how and why we eat the way we do, so Tracie McMillan's investigation into three major stops along the American food chain -- California farms, Walmart, and Applebee's -- was right up my alley. But it's a great investigative tale even if you're not a sucker for The Omnivore's Dilemma and Salt Sugar Fat. McMillan's first-person experience is told with a journalist's skill for detail and research, and reveals as much about middle-class assumptions as it does about the cracked system that provides America with so much food and so little pay.

While waiting impatiently for Stiefvater's sequel to The Raven Boys, I'm making my way through her backlist. The Scorpio Races centers on a an annual horse race that's like nothing I've ever imagined: the islanders of Thisby race sea horses, carnivorous brutes that come from the ocean but are wickedly fast on land. Stiefvater weaves the stories of two orphaned riders, the mythology of the horses, and the isolated chill of the island into a book I really couldn't put down. Equal parts introspective and exciting, it hovers in that magical place between fantasy and reality, past and present.

Rowell's pitch-perfect YA novel -- our first pick for the new YA Not? book group -- is a heartbreaker. Writing from the alternating perspectives of her two main characters, Rowell lingers on the tiny moments that feel enormous, charting the cautious connection that builds between unpopular Eleanor and accepted Park. Their home lives are as much a study in contrasts as their standings on the social ladder of high school, and both feel incredibly real. Mix tapes and comic books are key in Eleanor and Park's relationship, but the pop culture is icing, not the focus -- that stays on these two teens, the gentle, rocky way they fall for each other, and the circumstances that disrupt their lives

Michael Moss's new book is full of terrifying, fascinating information about how processed food is made, and with what. The wizards behind the food science curtain are wicked smart and sometimes worried about the things they make, but their overlords answer to Wall Street, not the concerned consumer. Pretty much guaranteed to put you off snack foods -- at least for a while.

Eerie, elegant stories from the author of the equally excellent feminist dystopia Daughters of the North. The last story in particular will stay with you -- maybe longer than you want it to.

Taylor won me over a few years ago with the exquisite (but awkwardly titled) Lips Touch: Three Times, a trio of unusual stories about kisses and their repercussions. Daughter of Smoke and Bone beautifully displays her skill with carefully laced plots, worldbuilding that spins on the smallest details, and characters you hate to leave behind. Our heroine, Karou, has peacock-turquoise hair, exceptional artistic skill, and a secret life that she carefully hides from her art-school friends. These secrets become impossible to hide when a longstanding war from another world breaks into our own. Taylor spins magic, romance, violence, belief, and family into one of the best young adult series currently running.

This dreamy, magical, National Book Award-winning middle grade fantasy is about a town where acting is strictly forbidden -- except, sort of, for goblins. Rownie, an orphan, is tired of being an errand boy for the witch Graba, who commands a small host of lost children. When a goblin troupe appears, Rownie is drawn to their illicit craft, their masks, and the allure of being on stage. Maybe the goblins can help him find his brother, Rowan, who was an actor; maybe they can help Rownie free himself from Graba. Goblin Secrets, for all its magic, is an elusive, internal story, the kind that you feel your way through rather than the kind you puzzle out -- but it has more staying power than you might initially expect.

Lanagan follows Tender Morsels with an equally brilliant and unnerving book about an island where, over a short span of time, all the men succumb to the lure of "sea-wives," willowy, beautiful women who were once seals. Lanagan switches elegantly between generations and perspectives, weaving together the history of the witch who transforms the seals, the men who pay her for her services, and the children whose worlds are reshaped by their fathers' greed and desire.

If you've ever had a cat, you probably know how they can act like life is just SO difficult (being fed, getting ear scritches, sleeping all day...). The Amazing Hamweenie dreams of grandeur and stardom, but is endlessly -- and charmingly -- thwarted by his life in a New York apartment with a tea-party throwing, cat-washing little girl. By about the third page, I was reading this one aloud; the tone is just right, and the illustrations are gorgeous, detailed fun.

Between Bitterblue and Railsea, I already thought this was an amazing year for YA fantasy--and now Seraphina makes it even better. Musically gifted, smart, compassionate, and wary, Seraphina keeps to herself as the assistant music mistress at the court of Goredd--but she carefully guards a secret about her parentage, even as she becomes entangled in the complexities of human-dragon political intrigue. Hartman's worldbuilding is gloriously vivid, her heroine wonderfully complex, and her story so compelling, I may have cursed when I got to the end and realized I have to wait for the sequel.

We have a shelftalker for this book - signed by me, Stephanie, and Jenn - that says simply "ALL THE HEARTS. This is sooooo good!" First I didn't think Cashore could top Graceling (to which Bitterblue is the sequel); then I didn't think she could top Fire, the companion novel to both. But she did, and then some. Bitterblue is about a young queen in a magical realm, and everything about it is entirely recognizable: the relationships, difficult and wonderful and complicated; the politics; the collective grief of a country that's slowly recovering from its previous, terrible ruler; and the experience of a girl who's determined to be the queen her country needs, even if that means doing all the hard things. Also there are codes and ciphers and wonderful books and magical statues and midnight adventures over the rooftops. And one very cranky cat.

I love this book so much that I gave my copy away. I was that sure my friend needed it. Billingsley writes these beautiful, folktale-infused stories about places that feel familiar and true, like they almost existed between some magical then and the industrial now. Chime is a glorious, dark tale about the power of the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves, and how some stories, if you repeat them too often, become true.

Maybe I've just got Whedon on the brain (perhaps due to his rise from "Joss Whedon, cultish Buffy creator," to "Joss Whedon, director of enormous summer blockbusters"). Maybe you've picked up the Buffy Season 8 (or 9!) comics, but haven't gotten around to Fray, Whedon's tale about a tough, sassy (of course) slayer whose existence in a futuristic Manhattan could hardly be more different from Buffy's. Buffy fans might recognize a certain weapon of Melaka Fray's, though...

Until the magical The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making, this was my favorite Valente, and I suspect it of being unfairly overlooked. Palimpsest is a magical city, but you can only get there by sleeping with someone who's already been - and each visitor winds up in a different place, depending on the map-shaped tattoo that appears on her skin. Dreamy, eerie and bittersweet, Palimpsest is like a year's worth of dreams shaped into one magical novel.