New York Times Bestsellers

A couple of years ago, in that rosy flush of a little success, I did something stupid. I promised my husband, myself, a taxi driver and several bemused bystanders that I would get a tattoo.

Iyanla Vanzant once stood in the bedroom of her then recently deceased daughter with a pink, pearl-handled pistol in one hand and prescription pills in the other; mulling over the decision of the "best" way to finally end the pain.

This dispatch is written from Saddam's former hunting lodge, a vulgar monstrosity with faux marble floors, plastic chandeliers, and tacky gilded furniture, which has been turned into the premier visitor's barracks in Iraq.

Wahilda Clark is dedicated to spreading the word about street lit. She tells us in this interview why it's important that these kinds of books get w...

I think that collective bad Karma gives authors a chance to reinvent the self-help category and steer the ship away from the schlocky "5 Steps to a Whatever Transformation You Need" we've all been buying into.