I finished reading Alice Hoffman's novel The Ice Queen today. I started sobbing as soon as I read the last word--it was one of those books that hit deep; I wasn't ready to leave its spell. Hoffman's language is both simple (in the most elegant way) and lush--she mines basic archetypal metaphors (fire, ice, the color red) with such resonance throughout the novel. The story--boiled down to its most basic bones--follows a woman after her wish to get hit by lightning comes true; it is ultimately a story about passion and healing and redemption, and it crackles with life. You can read an excerpt from the beginning here.