THIS SUSPENSEFUL NOVEL by John Boyne tells a tale about a literary thief. Maurice Swift is an aspiring writer who befriends Eric Ackermann, an older, established author. Over the course of several months, Maurice charms Ackermann into revealing a disturbing secret story from his childhood …

What Killian does to New Narrative is to add charm and hilarity. This is how he describes himself at twenty: “In looks I resembled a slightly beefed up version of the Disney actress Hayley Mills—very androgynous in the spirit of the times.”

The Dark Eclipse’s structure as a series of essays and Barnes’ unencumbered language make this shortish book a breezy read. The subject matter, however—the exploration of death, family history, and the discovery of self—are not so easy; but they are necessary.

Chalk is also a sensitive and thought-provoking look into the mind of an extremely important figure and even confronts the question of whether an artist’s sexuality is important to his or her work.

Who Killed My Father is a small book, but it packs a big punch. Early on, Louis declares that what he is writing “does not answer to the standards of literature, but to those of necessity and desperation, to standards of fire.”

In The Mourning After, John Ibson shows how the ghosts of these buddies haunted the postwar year  and even today influence the ways in which American men relate to one another.

In the White House, [Robert] Cutler brought order to national security decision-making with a “passion for anonymity.” Time magazine noted that “He probably carries more top secrets in his head than any other man in Washington.” His biggest secret was his homosexuality, which …

The Man in the Glass House, Mark Lamster’s fine new biography of Philip Johnson, attempts to sort it all out. Heir to a portion of the Alcoa fortune, Johnson squeaked out a degree at Harvard while setting himself up at New York’s new Museum of Modern Art under director Alfred H. Barr. Johnson joined a powerful gay circle at MoMA

“ALL WE DID was take the BR–116.” So begins Carol Bensimon’s We All Loved Cowboys, a beguiling road trip novel that lures readers in with promises of adventures in Brazil, then keeps them turning the pages with its sharp observations about gender, sex, and desire.