I'm re-re-re-reading A Complicated Kindness by Miriam Toews.  It's the perfect kind of fiction that seems so rooted in reality.  This is the book I used to dream about writing, back when I dreamt about writing.

Now, I don't. Dream about writing, so much, but I enjoy the rare book that makes me become a different person and feel a different way, even if just during those moments when I lie in the lukewarn bath, too engrossed to force myself out.