Dial 911 and Die. I am American. It is a book written by a lawyer outining at the state level why the police have no duty to protect you and advocates that personal safetly is more of a personal responsibility in the USA The stories are court public opinions where the victim dialed 911 and the police were inactive or really slow to the call.

The book lists court cases for I think almost every state as examples and talks about the Supreme Court Case of Town of Castle Rock vs Gonzales that probably impacts lower courts opinons.

it is an anti- police book but more of a book pointing out police are not obligated to protect you (if you are American) even if you dial 911.

Nobody recommends books to me. I am a hermit, a man who exists outside space and time. I inhabit my own world. It is not a world without traffic or weather or the low-grade irritations of daily life, but a world in which those things arrive already filtered, already subordinated to an inner rhythm that has long since ceased to synchronize with the calendar or the market or whatever book is being praised this week as “urgent.”

When people say, You must read this, they are usually talking to one another, not to me. Recommendation presumes a shared present, a common pulse: the sense that we are all standing in the same moment, looking at the same horizon, worried about the same things. I am not. I am elsewhere—sometimes decades elsewhere—sitting with a sentence that has already survived its own moment and no longer needs witnesses.

Books come to me the way memories do: without announcement, without justification. I do not discover them; they resurface. A line half-remembered suddenly insists on being completed. A voice I have not heard in years clears its throat. I open a book not because it is new but because it has waited. The waiting matters. It means the book has detached itself from fashion and entered a slower orbit, one governed less by relevance than by necessity.

There is a peculiar freedom in this exile. I do not read to keep up, to be conversant, to have opinions ready for deployment. I read to inhabit another consciousness fully, to submit to its tempo, to let it rearrange my internal furniture. The cost, of course, is social. You cannot easily discuss a novel you are rereading for the fourth time when everyone else is busy ranking the ten best books of the year. But that conversation has never tempted me much. It is too vertical, too evaluative, too eager to conclude.

My reading life is horizontal. One book leads sideways to another: an allusion, a shared anxiety, a common cadence of despair or delight. A Russian novel opens onto a French diary; a philosophical aside sends me back to a poem I read at seventeen and misunderstood entirely. Time collapses. Influence becomes conversation. The dead are not dead at all; they are merely quieter than the living, and infinitely more patient.

This is what it means, I think, to exist outside time—not to reject it, but to refuse its pressure. The present is loud. It shouts its claims. It demands attention in the name of urgency. But literature, real literature, does not shout. It murmurs. It waits for the reader who is willing to slow down enough to hear it.

So no one recommends books to me, and I do not miss it. I live among my own recommendations, accumulated over a lifetime, stacked not on shelves but in memory, each one marked by the moment it entered my life and the person I was when it did. I am a hermit, yes—but not a lonely one. My solitude is crowded.

I am currently reading The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey. I’m not finished yet, however it’s such a different kind of read. I don’t want it to end. I’m sure it will be a favorite that I will reread.
It was a recommendation on ticktock of something different than the norm and rarely brought up. Which it is.

Ruthless Creatures . It's a mafia romance. It's not my cup of tea but my work bestie loved it and begged me to read it.

Dr. Mary's Monkeys - Edward T. Haslam

Recommend by my dad. Very interesting and compelling story!

Not sure it'd be considered a book, but the program plan which was recommended by my boss.

The way of kings by Brandon Sanderson. It was recommended by a fellow SW user last year, year before. I forgotten their name.

Raising an Emotionally Intelligent Child by John M. Gottman is a guide for parents on teaching children emotional self-awareness and regulation through a five-step "emotion coaching" process, based on Gottman's research on parent-child interactions.

Tie between This Way Up! (given to me by my granddaughter) and The Secret Life of Groceries (given to me by my son). Read concurrently.

I’m currently reading The Ministry of Fear on the recommendation of @SmoKin.

Never.

My taste in literature is too esoteric.

Why I don't even listen to movie critics. It's a waste of time.

Before I will buy anything I do read the summaries. That usually will determine if it's worth it or not.

The silent patient. I’m currently reading it

I don't think I've ever read a book

Ooo, no idea. I just buy/read what I like.

The Bible

possibly The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, or Love in the Time of Cholera
by Gabriel García Márquez (both recommended by the same person)

I haven't read a book recommended by anyone in a long time, and I generally read non-fiction rather than fiction

The summer I read to Kill a Mocking Bird, a friend gave it to me...

A guide to a successful marriage - written by some feminist hating males


Never read the book and still married after 45 years and 5 months

The Book Thief wasn't disappointed.

A Pillow Book by Suzanne Buffman

Anyone who recommends a specific book for you to read, is like someone who pulls a package of breath mints out of his pocket, pops one in his mouth, then offers you one as well.

The question is, why did he offer you a breath mint and why is he recommending a specific book for you to read?

Atomic Habits and Ikigai