Summer Reading.

In the summer, spending more time outdoors--and shuffling reluctantly to work in more whimsical attire--we bubble with schemes for new hobbies, new explorations, new selves. But at the same time, the heat makes us sluggish, loath to do anything more than laze about in the sunshine. What better way to kick-start our summer renewal than to read about three people--two real and one fictional--who engaged an unexplored part of themselves and gained much more than they could have imagined.

Stefan Fatsis was considered "a good living-room player" when he began his quest to become a competitive Scrabble gamesman. In Word Freak (Penguin, $15, 384 pp.), Fatsis uses the tools of a journalist to weave seamlessly together three narrative threads: a history of the renowned board game, his own journey to the top of the field, and the bizarre culture of competitive Scrabble. His character sketches of competitors, such as Matt Graham, who pops scads of vitamins to keep his mind in shape, and a gastro-intestinally challenged man nicknamed GI Joel, are compelling as only portraits of the obsessed can be. Fatsis soon joins their ranks: one day, he realizes with shock that Scrabble has become the most important thing in his life.

From the incredible level of detail Fatsis provides, it is easy to understand why. Reading about the speedy volley of anagrams that takes place between players at meals is like watching a pro sporting event. While the knowledge that players exhibit may intimidate rather than inspire, portions of word lists and the occasional board diagram--printed in the book--provide insight into Fatsis's efforts to become a Scrabble champ. Of more universal appeal is how this absorbing account speaks to the nature of passion--and addiction. Peering in on lives dominated by a board game, to the detriment of all else, prompts crucial questions: Should we feed or starve our obsessions? What draws us to our interests, what drives us to excel? Be prepared to dust off your Scrabble board--or badminton set, or tae kwon do belt--and look at it with a new sense of awe. Or fear.

Julie Powell, author of Julie & Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen (Little, Brown, $23.95, 320 pp.), committed to a project that was more messy and more solitary than mastering a board game, but no less ambitious. On the cusp of thirty, Powell realizes that she always intended to become an actress, but actually has become a secretary. Her husband proposes cooking school as a panacea, but Julie comes up with a crazier, more cost-effective challenge. The novel, which grew out of a blog, details her attempt to cook all 524 recipes in Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. This fast but touching read illuminates in bracingly frank language such essentials as chopping bones for their marrow (hint: ask the butcher), dealing with maggots growing under the dish rack, and inducing friends to eat multiple gelatin-based dishes. Since Powell identifies strongly with Child, who began cooking seriously at thirty-seven, the writer spices the narrative with whimsical passages that depict Julia Child's home life.

Powell's position at a federal agency dealing with the aftermath of the attack on the World Trade Center anchors the book historically and balances the levity with a subdued seriousness. It also suggests an implicit parallel between Powell's transformative journey and New Yorkers' continued efforts to rebuild their lives after September 11. Julie & Julia provides ample evidence that shaking up our lives is possible--if we're bold enough to give it a try.

Khaled Hosseini's The Kite Runner (Riverhead Trade, $14, 400 pp.) is the fictional story of a man who looks to his past to transform his present self. During Amir's twenty-year absence from his childhood home, Afghanistan, he has harbored guilt over his treatment of his boyhood friend Hassan. When Amir learns that Hassan and his wife have been murdered by the Taliban, he returns in search of answers to the conflicts of his past--and to locate Hassan's only son.

The Kite Runner is made more compelling by the complex characters Hosseini brings to life. They have an immediacy that lends the novel the sheen of memoir. While The Kite Runner has the pace of a thriller, the reader who struggles to slow down enough to savor Hosseini's exquisite writing will be rewarded.

Much of the novel's appeal lies in its depiction of a place much in the news, but in personal detail foreign to most Americans. Hosseini, building on his own memories of Kabul, leads us up and down the streets, with Amir the perfect guide. Amir's journey to explore his past also provides a framework for readers to consider their own histories. While the vivid descriptions of cruelty and violence are disturbing, Amir's unswerving look at these tough moments inspire us to tackle our own ugly regrets. To match the lightness of summer, we need the reminder Amir receives from a friend: "There is a way to be good again."

If you're in the mood to further explore this genre, there's quite a selection, from a book on dating literally everyone who asks you out (Maria Dahvana Headley's The Year of Yes) to a book on buying only the essentials (Judith Levine's Not Buying It). But once you have soaked up the intense experiences of others, take a moment to brainstorm a personal challenge. I've already got mine: completing a triathlon. Most likely it will be the least demanding triathlon in the tristate area, but I will be working toward a great story of my own.

Bridget Kelly is a New York writer and former editor of the Yale Daily News.