Sarah Silverman's memoir does all the things that shouldn't work: she's sparse on emotion, prolific with excruciating details, and even explains some of her jokes. Yet somehow, like her comedy, it's so wrong it's just right.

The title of this sardonic essay collection refers to the phrase coined by Tina Fey during a Saturday Night Live monologue defending Hillary Clinton. That Helena Andrews is black adds a spin to the catchphrase; it resonates with her sense of what it's like to be boxed into a stereotypical category.

Journalist Carlene Bauer reminisces upon her stumbling, skeptical attempts at religion and relationships in her book Not That Kind of Girl: A Memoir.

Ample research shows that male malaise is a problem in the United States, but unfortunately, this book won't help fix it.