The war in Afghanistan creates an urgency for telling stories-between soldiers, as they hand off missions to each other, and between soldiers and civilians, trying to explain what is going on-while also denying a lot of the context that is important for the telling of that story. The landscape is so mountainous and isolating that one incident or anecdote might not fit into a bigger picture beyond itself. A patrol may have no effect on the one that comes next. The war has ground itself into such a stasis that it is hard to see movement or plot. Yet we're there. We have to say something. We have to be accountable, even though the circumstances complicate the ability to talk about it while simultaneously creating a constant yearning to do so. The Longer We Were There follows a part-time soldier's experience over seven years in the Iowa Army National Guard. He enlists at seventeen into the infantry, then bounces between college classes, army training, disaster relief, civilian jobs, a deployment in Afghanistan-first on the Afghan-Pakistani border, then into a remote valley in the Hindu Kush Mountains-and finally comes home. His stories are about having one foot on each side of the civilian-military divide, the difficulty of describing one side to those on the other, and how, as a consequence of this difficulty, that divide gets replicated within the self.

Supriya Bhatnagar's and then there were three... is a collection of personal essays about a family rebuilding its life after early tragedy. Set in a ten-year time period of the author's life, the book begins with the death of the only man in her life, her father, when she was ten, and ends with the entry of the next man in her life, her husband. The accounts of life are both particular and universal-the joys and the sorrows of being raised in a family headed by a single mother bringing up two girls in the male-dominated 1970s India.

Study in Perfect is an exploration of perfection. In "Moving Horizontal" a Victorian house loses its charm over time, especially when compared to a modernist contemporary filled with light. Family life is dense with pleasure, as in the perfect vacation described in "Marking Time in Door County," and in "Neriage, or What Is the Secret of a Long Marriage," where an ancient Japanese ceramic technique has much in common with shaping a close relationship. There is such a thing as a perfect cup of tea, depending on who is preparing and drinking it ("Perfect Tea"). And schmaltzy show tunes flowing from a black-lacquered piano in a Chinese restaurant can be genuinely moving ("Sentimental a la Carte"). Naturally, Gorham must embrace imperfection. The poisonous mushrooms in "Darling Amanita" lead to a consideration of our darker impulses, like obsessive love, even murder. And there is pain: "The Shape of Fear" relates the story of a child stricken with a deadly staph infection, as it considers the function and form of fear. And alcoholism, the family disease no one wants to talk about, is poised against The Cat in the Hat, a story everyone has read and enjoyed. Study in Perfect winds its way around and through the many permutations of this most hermetic and exalted concept and proceeds with the full consciousness that perfection's exact definition is subjective, reliant on who is speaking, and easily unmoored by time, geography, and the vagaries of taste.