When Sarah Price's novelist husband sells a book early critics are calling the best of his career, she's thrilled for him. Sarah's spent the last four years working so Nathan could write full-time, keeping the kids under control so they wouldn't kill his focus, and giving up her own dreams of publishing in order to make his come true. His success is her success. Even the title of the book - Infidelity - doesn't faze her. Until Nathan confesses that his soon-to-be bestseller is not entirely fictional.

Nathan's revelation sends Sarah reeling. Even though he swears the affair was a one-time deal and that the other woman means nothing to him, Sarah's not sure how to react. His confession makes her doubt everything she knows to be true about her husband, her marriage, and herself. As she grapples with Nathan's trangression, Sarah tries to remember the woman she was before marriage, before motherhood, before real life began. Startled to realize how much she's changed, Sarah embarks on a trip into the past that could change everything about her future.

It's difficult to summarize Husband and Wife by Leah Stewart because, truly, not a whole lot happens. Nathan confesses. Sarah reacts. And reacts. And reacts. And reacts. Then she decides - once and for all - whether or not she should stay with her husband. The rest of the story consists of Sarah's ruminations on life, love, marriage, maternity, idealism and identity. While some of these reflections are poignant, even poetic, none of them really endeared me to Sarah. In fact, I found her weak and whiny. It wasn't until Chapter Fifteen, which finds her struggling to deal with two needy children in a crowded McDonald's, that I finally felt some connection to her. That prolonged disconnect, coupled with the book's overall gloominess, made Husband and Wife a real downer for me. I took to calling it "the depressing book" because, despite Stewart's skilled prose, that's what this book was - completely depressing. The subject: depressing. The characters: depressing. Sarah's tedious thoughts: depressing. Frankly, I couldn't wait to finish the book and move on. 'nough said.

(Readalikes: Um, I can't think of anything. Suggestions?)

Grade: C

If this were a movie, it would be rated: R for strong language, depictions of illegal drug use, and sexual content

To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of Husband and Wife from the generous folks at Harper Collins and TLC Book Tours, for whom this review was written.

When Gray Lachmann's dad dies of a heart attack, she feels responsible. Wracked with guilt and grief, the 27-year-old New Yorker turns to the one thing that always brought comfort to her obese father - food. By the time Grey finally feels steady enough to deal with her duties as the executor of his will, she's toting around an extra fifteen pounds. And a bingeing habit that's taking over her life, sucking away every ounce of self-worth she possesses. It's only when Grey finds the name of a mysterious woman in the will that she wakes from her calorie-induced stupor.

Gray never knew her father cheated on her mother, had no idea he fathered another child. Now, she's determined to find Eden, her teenaged half-sister. Taking a job at the North Carolina summer weight-loss camp Eden will be attending seems to be the perfect kill-two-birds-with-one-stone solution: Gray can work off her spare tire and bond with her sister at the same time. Simple. Except that it's not. Battling her own hunger is difficult enough, but she also has to break up fights between drama queen dieters; deal with the mantra-spouting joke of a camp director; and keep her hormones under control whenever Bennett, the sexy physical trainer, comes around. As the flabby barrier she's built around her heart begins to melt away, Gray must find the courage to face some harsh truths - about her body, her family, and herself.

Skinny, Diana Spechler's sophomore novel, surprised me with its quirky humor and raw, but sympathetic exploration of obesity. The characters come on strong, yanking the story in all kinds of crazy directions by the sheer force of their personalities. It's a warm, zany book, that's easy to relate to and difficult to put down. I enjoyed it. And quite thoroughly, too.

(Readalikes: Reminded me a little of Plus by Veronica Chambers)

Grade: B

If this were a movie, it would be rated: R for strong language and sexual content

To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of Skinny from the generous folks at Harper Collins and TLC Book Tours, for whom this review was written.