For every reader there's a shelf of the books you want to share with everyone.
Over the last couple of years, I've decided (life being short, and its course unforeseeable) to teach books from that shelf every time I step into a classroom. The books change with my obsessions—representing at any given time the sources in my life of beauty, love, outrage, hope, despair.
I just finished The Good Soldiers, by David Finkel, and now place it on that shelf, a devastating, almost unreadable book, yet impossible to put down, and impossible, I'm guessing, to forget. I just finished it sitting in the front seat of my car, outside the gym, in a race with the lowering sun.
I wish that everyone—every American, especially—would read this book. It will long be regarded one of the masterpieces, perhaps the masterpiece, of Iraq War literature.
I'm aware that this recommendation comes from someone whose politics are not difficult to discern from other posts in the blog. For what it's worth, I can tell you that the book's title isn't meant to be ironic. You'll finish the book convinced that the soldiers—for whom goodness has always been indistinguishable from honor—merit the adjective Finkel has given them.