In Frederic Voss's wonderful memoir, My House Was Not a Home, the author describes life on the farm with an abusive grandmother. His priority was finding other places to be than at "home," a place never referred to as such in the book. Voss's book is, however, not about abuse, but rather the friends that helped him avoid it. There were many characters, good and not so good. In chapter 4, we meet Reg Keetering, the king of the tall-tale spinners, as he conjures "The Man Who Invented Dinosaurs." In chapter 5, Darrell (pronounced Duryl) Campbell regales the boys in the barbershop with the origins of the "Greatest Camel and Goat Herd Dog Y'all Ever Saw." Readers meet the author's best friend, Jimmy, Tehama County's answer to Will Rogers. They'll begin to hate the school bully, Stanley Bater, who picks on only kids smaller than him. Once referred to as "Master Bater," he couldn't figure out why they were all laughing. Among the author's many friends were abandoned dogs that came to the house from the highway. They were taken in and fed and loved. Many were reclaimed by the highway or wandered off or killed in mysterious ways. There is room for their stories too.

This is an insight into the idiosyncratic flourishes which make a house into a home. Photographer Bruce Weber takes the reader around the world, looking at how creative individuals' homes reflect their own particular personalities. Here are interiors and exteriors, panoramas and details: Siegfried and Roy's tiger-striped (and tiger-filled) Las Vegas suite; Georgia O'Keefe's ghost ranch in New Mexico; Chris Isaak's childhood home in suburban California; the Duchess of Devonshire's stately home in England; Andrew Wyeth's Maine lighthouse retreat; and Weber's own Montana ranch, among others.

A NEW YORK TIMES EDITORS’ CHOICE NAMED A BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR BY TIME , NPR, INSTYLE, AND GOOD HOUSEKEEPING “A sensational new book [that] tries to figure out whether it’s possible to live an ethical life in a capitalist society. . . . The results are enthralling.” —Associated Press A timely and arresting new look at affluence by the New York Times bestselling author, “one of the leading lights of the modern American essay.” —Financial Times “My adult life can be divided into two distinct parts,” Eula Biss writes, “the time before I owned a washing machine and the time after.” Having just purchased her first home, the poet and essayist now embarks on a provocative exploration of the value system she has bought into. Through a series of engaging exchanges—in libraries and laundromats, over barstools and backyard fences—she examines our assumptions about class and property and the ways we internalize the demands of capitalism. Described by the New York Times as a writer who “advances from all sides, like a chess player,” Biss offers an uncommonly immersive and deeply revealing new portrait of work and luxury, of accumulation and consumption, of the value of time and how we spend it. Ranging from IKEA to Beyoncé to Pokemon, Biss asks, of both herself and her class, “In what have we invested?”

Welcome to an apartment building where the fun never ends! It’s a special day at 3 Maple Street. It’s Little Rabbit’s birthday, and he’s having a party! His friends are invited, and his mother is baking him a cake. But that’s not the only thing going on here. The Cat family is moving in upstairs. The Fox family is having a new baby. Mr. Owl is trying to sleep. There’s so much happening inside (and outside) this lively building, it’s hard to keep track! Kids will want to get their own apartments at 3 Maple Street — or at least spend loads of time visiting!

‘I was born on 25th May, 1938, in the front bedroom of a house in Orton Road, a house on the outer edges of Raffles, a council estate. I was a lucky girl.’ So begins Margaret Forster’s journey through the houses she’s lived in, from that sparkling new council house, to her beloved London home of today. This is not a book about bricks and mortar though. This is a book about what houses are to us, the effect they have on the way we live our lives and the changing nature of our homes: from blacking grates and outside privies; to cities dominated by bedsits and lodgings; to the houses of today converted back into single dwellings. Finally, it is a gently insistent, personal inquiry into the meaning of home.

A deep and intimate look at the lives of LGBTQ youth in foster care, vividly chronicling their struggles, fears and hardships, and revealing the force that allows them to carry on: the irrepressible power of hope. In this lyrical debut, Ryan Berg immerses readers in the gritty, dangerous, and shockingly underreported world of homeless LGBTQ teens in New York. As a caseworker in a group home for disowned LGBTQ teenagers, Berg witnessed the struggles, fears, and ambitions of these disconnected youth as they resisted the pull of the street, tottering between destruction and survival. Focusing on the lives and loves of eight unforgettable youth, No House to Call My Home traces their efforts to break away from dangerous sex work and cycles of drug and alcohol abuse, and, in the process, to heal from years of trauma. From Bella's fervent desire for stability to Christina's irrepressible dreams of stardom to Benny's continuing efforts to find someone to love him, Berg uncovers the real lives behind the harrowing statistics: over 4,000 youth are homeless in New York City -- 43 percent of them identify as LGBTQ. Through these stories, Berg compels us to rethink the way we define privilege, identity, love, and family. Beyond the tears, bluster, and bravado, he reveals the force that allows them to carry on -- the irrepressible hope of youth.