“A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again” by David Foster Wallace --In his collection of essays, “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again,” David Foster Wallace is so damn witty, it’s kind of hard to imagine that he is human. Granted, some of the essays are funnier than others, (“David Lynch Keeps His Head,” a profile of the filmmaker, is kind of boring unless you LOVE David Lynch), but all of them are exactly what great non-fiction should be: interesting and insightful observations on specific things that illuminate universal concepts. When sent by Harper’s Magazine on a luxury cruise ship, Wallace illuminates the commercial vacuity of modern society in the title essay of the collection. When stuck in a slickly produced Disneyland for adults, Wallace, a nebbishy New Yorker, is thrown into the tailspin of an Existential Crisis. He also joins a congo line. Very briefly. It’s hilarious. And when you stop laughing, you’ll start to think.

“Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs” by Chuck Klosterman--With expansive knowledge and infectious enthusiasm for pop-culture, Chuck Klosterman explains what the popularity of “Saved by the Bell,” Pamela Anderson’s sex tape and Coldplay says about our culture and — yes, (*cups chin in hand*) the human condition. The book reads like what your favorite English professor would write if he spent (more) time smoking pot and analyzing how “The Real World” altered our generation, “Sex Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs”: intellectually substantive AND funny.

The book keeps the reader riveted with its lightning-quick wittiness and expansive scope. His camera lens moves effortlessly from Jenny McCarthy to Kant. It zooms in on wildly funny personal anecdotes that ground his arguments in specificity, then pans out to the landscape of society, reality and consciousness. He makes seemingly wild arguments and connections at the beginning of each chapter, and by the end, you cannot help but agree with him due to the force of his incisive intelligence and bizarrely large knowledge base.

With both smart-ass snark and affection for his subjects, Klosterman successfully proves his argument that “In and of itself, nothing really matters. What matters is that nothing is ever ‘in and of itself.”

“Summerland” by Michael Chabon --Ever wonder what a children’s book written by a Pulitzer Prize winning novelist would be about? Probably baseball, Nordic mythology and a magical island off the coast of Washington named Clam Island, of course. This lighthearted read harkens back to the fantasy classics like Tolkien but manages to create a fairy tale distinctly American in feel and it’s an absolute joy to read. Taking place in the aptly named Summerland, there is always sun shining down on Ethan Feld, the self-proclaimed worst baseball player in history and his adventures with ferishers (think foot-tall Indians), giants and assorted mythical creatures.

For an author who’s written about World War II, super- heroes, pot-smoking English teachers, gay radio stars, and dead snakes in the trunk of a car, “Summerland” is really all about Chabon living out his childhood fantasies. Even though the book is over 300 pages (“Harry Potter” fans should have no problem with that), the story never feels like it’s bogged down by the serious issues that define his other work. It’s just pure fun.

Granted, you might be a little embarrassed to be reading a book from the children’s section of the bookstore, but if you want a taste of the childhood imagination you might have lost as you grew up, give “Summerland” a swing. You won’t strike out.

“Skinny Legs And All” by Tom Robbins--Okay, I have to confess that I haven’t actually read the book I’m about to suggest. It’s on my list of “Books I Intend To Read,” right next to “Books I Bought Because The Covers Were Pretty,” and “IHUM Books I Have No Intention Of Opening.” This one, though - this one sounds like a winner.

“Skinny Legs And All,” by Tom Robbins, is about an artist and her redneck husband who are traveling across the country. But the subplots are what make this book intriguing. A dildo plays a minor role as a god of the underwear drawer. A conch shell, sock, can of beans, and painted stick undertake a (slow) journey to Jerusalem before the apocalypse. Apparently, it also deals with more “sensitive” issues such as race and religion, but don’t be fooled: it looks more like an intelligent beach read than a “meaningful” Oprah pick.

The Los Angeles Times called it “A euphoric wonderwork.” Playboy deemed it “flat-out fabulous.” One of my friends in the dorm says it’s her favorite book... and you should trust her at least as much as you would trust Playboy.

Fascinated? Grossed out? Confused? Amused? Read it with me this summer. It’ll be like a book club. And the best part is that if it turns out to be terrible, you can’t say that I recommended it to you.

“The Bell Jar” by Silvia Plath --While it may not constitute a “light” summer novel, The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath is not to be missed. Set in the year 1953, the story tracks 19-year-old Esther Greenwood’s battle with depression. At the outset, Esther seems to have it all; not only has she won a summer magazine internship in New York City, but she has a successful college career and is dating a Yale medical student. As the story progresses, however, Esther’s unhappiness increases and she begins to see a psychiatrist who recommends electro-shock therapy. After a terrifying experience with shock treatment, Esther repeatedly attempts to commit suicide and is placed in a state mental institution. The novel ends on a slightly lighter note, indicating the possibility of psychological recovery.

Essentially, Plath’s novel challenges the rigid boundaries of female sexuality in 1950s America. Often charged with being somewhat autobiographical, it is revolutionary in its exploration of teenage isolation and desperation. The concept of the “bell jar,” a metaphor for the social confinement to which we are all subject, offers a gripping critique of contemporary society and gender roles. Ultimately, this book is a classic, soul-searching crusade to discover the true meaning of life.

“All the Pretty Horses” by Cormac McCarthy--Cormac McCarthy’s “All the Pretty Horses” is a boy’s book that even girls will love. It’s a boy’s book because it is an adventure about two would-be cowboys who run away to Mexico and get in trouble; girls will like it because the main character, John Grady, falls in love with a Mexican landowner’s daughter and their love is as tender as it is forbidden. With “Horses,” the first part of his Border Trilogy, McCarthy is at his biblicalistic best. When John Grady and his best friend are just leaving Texas, McCarthy describes them as being “like young thieves in a glowing orchard... [with] ten thousand worlds for the choosing.” The violence and grandeur of the novel’s language and landscape will take your breath away, and make you want to run away to Mexico on horseback.

“Freakonomics” by Levitt and Dubner--Sometimes, it’s tempting to think that everything in the world has already been figured out. The media only encourages this tendency, continually claiming to be able to explain why things occur as they do. The only problem, according to “Freakonomics” authors Levitt and Dubner, is that these answers are frequently incorrect.

For example: Think declining rates of crime in the 1990s were due to a booming economy or innovative policing techniques? Sure, those sound like compelling reasons, but there’s another cause of the crime drop that you might not have considered yet... abortion.

Yeah, that’s pretty much how the book is for the most part. The basic premise of Levitt and Dubner is that although the world is not always as it might first seem, sense can be made of the madness by using nifty tools such as hardheaded statistical analysis.

Overall, “Freakonomics” makes for an interesting and thought-provoking read. However, the book falls somewhat (okay, maybe very much) short of providing a comprehensive new understanding of the surrounding world. This is frustrating. But nevertheless, by offering a few examples of the authors’ bizarre findings, the book provides enough for the reader to realize that the world is indeed a very, very interesting place. And really, just gaining such a heightened awareness of the many unsolved mysteries out there makes reading “Freakonomics” time well spent.

“All The King’s Men” by Robert Penn Warren--You’ve probably been told you should read this. Maybe you were assigned it in some class and then didn’t read it, or just scanned it. But honestly, even though I don’t like politics or have a thirst for American history, I can confidently tell you that this is worth your time. It’s the kind of book that gets inside your skin. The essential plotline encompasses the career of a demagogue, Willie Stark, through the eyes of his assistant, Jack Burden. But the plot isn’t really that important — there are a number of side plots, digressions and pages devoted to the wanderings of Jack’s mind. And in many of these are the phrases, the metaphors and the people that resonate and just stick with you. The characters are real, almost tangible. They’re not one-dimensional characters with flaws drawn in to make them 3D — they are like people pasted down onto paper that you feel like you know. This book makes you think on a deep, metaphorical level about America, about people, about time and about yourself. True, you probably won’t be turning the page to find out what happens next. But if you enjoy reading and literature to at least some extent, you should definitely give it a try.