Ah, autumn — my favourite book season. No longer burdened by required reading lists, fall has become a time for seeking out books that speak to me, for following my erratic tastes wherever they may lead. From communist love songs to celebrity tell-alls, here are the books that have most recently caught my fancy.

• Serve the People! by Yan Lianke (Black Cat, 217 pp.) — When your cover blurb is a warning from the Chinese Central Propaganda Bureau that reads, “This novel slanders Mao Zedong, the army, and is overflowing with sex…,” you know you've done something right. Written in 2005, Lianke’s satirical novel tells the story of a love affair between the wife of a powerful division commander in Communist China, and her household’s lowly servant. Taking its title from one of the most used slogans of the communist era, Lianke uses the backdrop of the Cultural Revolution to critique the hypocrisy of the People’s Republic. As the relationship hurtles towards its inevitable conclusion, the lovers shatter the compound’s most sacred Communist icons in a madcap marathon sex session. Smart, funny and surprisingly sexy, Serve the People! is an exciting discovery.

• Submarine by Joe Dunthorne (Viking Canada, 290 pp.) — A less politically charged exploration of doomed relationships is found in Joe Dunthorne’s Submarine. Written from the perspective of precocious 15-year-old Oliver Tate, the story follows the self-styled social scientist’s attempts to revive his parent’s failing marriage. Equal parts The Catcher in the Rye and Harriet the Spy, the book is at its most entertaining when documenting the fuzzy logic that dominates Oliver’s life. From the elaborate pamphlet he writes teaching a classmate how to fit in, to mercy killing his girlfriend’s sickly dog, Dunthorne understands both the cruel certainty of adolescence and the innocence that it is born from. Entertaining, if occasionally grating, Submarine is an assured debut from the 26-year-old native of Swansea, Wales.

• Revenant by Tristan Hughes (Douglas & McIntyre, 258 pp.) – Like Submarine, Revenant is set in Wales, but the similarities end there. Three former friends, haunted by a childhood trauma, return to their remote Welsh village 10 years after a tragic mishap bound them inexorably together. Told in the distinct voices of Neil, Ricky and Steph, each sheds their own shaky light onto the long enshrouded event. Lyrical and spooky, the impressionistic ghost story gathers steam before losing vigour in the final act. Though Hughes is clearly a very good writer, the three narrators are not all equally compelling, and I found myself wishing that the entire tale was told in Ricky’s brash and lonely voice. Hughes’s third novel is an evocative and thought-provoking read, well worth seeking out.

• The Angel Riots by Ibi Kaslik (Penguin Canada, 275 pp.) – More successful at balancing distinctive narrators is Montreal-based novelist Ibi Kaslik. Told from the perspective of the talented violin prodigy Jim and the grizzled tour veteran Rize, The Angel Riots follows the trajectory of an up and coming indie rock band that bears more than a passing resemblance to The Arcade Fire. Plucked from an audition to join the rambling orchestral rock band, Jim throws herself headlong into the group in an attempt to forget the life she left behind. Rize, the longtime sidekick to the band’s charismatic front man, has his own issues to work through, including a history of addiction that threatens to rear its ugly head as they embark upon a North American tour. With The Angel Riots, Kaslik has written an intense and sensitive book that is easily the best rock novel I've read in years.

• Up Till Now by William Shatner with David Fisher (Thomas Dunne Books, 358 pp.) — A digressive memoir from the erstwhile Captain James T. Kirk, Up Till Now is celebrity autobiography done right: lighthearted without being light-headed, self-aware without being self-righteous. Though there is no shortage of name-dropping and grudge-holding in the book, Shatner pulls it off with aplomb, refusing to take himself too seriously. Unfortunately, this lack of decorum extends to a running gag whereby he peppers the text with plugs for his various products and websites, often at the expense of the stories being told. It’s very postmodern and clearly intended as a joke, but it’s jarring nonetheless. Having said this, if you’re a fan (and who isn’t?), you’ll likely get a kick out of Up Till Now.