Well, now this is exciting. I loved Sarah Dunn's The Big Love because it was, frankly, unlike most "chick lit" reads. At once a meditation on love (love love, not lust love or accident love or even fairy tale love) and religion, the author questioned whether the two can meet in the 21st century. It was startlingly honest, and so different from the over-the-top sex stories you might find in, I don't know, a Candace Bushnell novel....
In other news, I'm reading Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood, a birthday present from T and A. (I was going to write that it was a gift from T&A, but that made me giggle, and my concentration faltered.)
".... my memory has grown increasingly dim, and I have already forgotten any number of things. Writing from memory like this, I often feel a pang of dread. What if I've forgotten the most important thing? What if somewhere inside me there is a dark limbo where all the truly important memories are heaped and slowly turning into mud?" (p. 10)