Sure, you picked up a book or two last year. You tore through God Is Not Great, nodding in agreement along the way. You read Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows on the Metro, brandishing the cover proudly and caring little that anyone saw you. You read a lot of graphic novels. And, then, just for grins and giggles, you picked up The Divine Comedy in the original Italian.

Okay, maybe you read this version instead.

But life is short and literature is long. And hey, you were busy. So there’s probably an ever growing list of stuff you didn’t get around to reading last year.

Well, here are five more terrific books -- two novels, a book of reportage/interviews, a biography, and a collection of literary essays -- you might have missed last year, books in which Washington, D.C., its political culture, or its icons figure prominently.

The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears

Gentrification in D.C. neighborhoods. Race relations. White flight. No, it’s not a collection from DCist’s comments section, but just a few of the many things dealt with in this movingly rendered debut novel by Ethiopian émigré Dinaw Mengestu. Set in Logan Circle, The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears details the burgeoning relationship between an Ethiopian immigrant, Sepha Stephanos, and his neighbor, a white female scholar with a biracial daughter who have moved into the row house next door with plans to renovate it.

The story, told from the Sepha’s perspective, brings us simultaneously into three worlds: the violent world he left behind in Ethiopia, the multi-ethnic community he finds himself in here in D.C., and subtle traces of the world to follow, one where hopes and dreams of immigrants like him become overwhelmed by forces similar to the ones that forced them out of their homelands. For a taught-sentenced illustration of what life was like before you got here, pick this one up.

Classics For Pleasure

The legend goes that, before blindness overtook, him John Milton had read literally everything published in English (and quite a bit of whatever was in Greek and Latin). Of course, Michael Dirda won’t ever come close to accomplishing that, but it often seems as if he has, Classics for Pleasure being the latest example of his tremendous erudition. Dirda, formerly of the Post’s Book World (he took the buyout a few years ago, but still contributes almost weekly), surveys the classics to remind us that they’re classics for a reason, that they once did, and still do, bring pleasure to even the common reader. Devoting only a few pages to each author, Dirda is able to succinctly and eloquently make a compelling case for taking them up if you haven’t already (after reading some of these pithy little one-offs, I often found myself rooting through my bookshelves ready to revisit an author I had longed since abandoned). And don’t let that word “classics” fool you. Part of the task of any critic is to defend great books and great writers against obscurity, against the ignorance and bad taste of the age. So while the usual suspects are there -- Ovid, Johnson, Edward Gibbon and Mary Shelley make the cut -- so are Ed Gorey, Isak Dinesen and Philip K. Dick. Dirda’s arguments about why they should stand alongside the great writers of the past is difficult to refute. And any critic who lists as a classic Robert Byron (author of The Road to Oxiana, perhaps the greatest travel memoir ever written) is someone who knows what a classic looks and sounds like.

Write It When I’m Gone

The popular perception of President Gerald Ford, no doubt helped along by Chevy Chase’s weekly rendition of him on Saturday Night Live, was that of an aloof, clumsy, ineffectual man undone by the physical world, kind of like a political Mr. Bean (in one classic sketch, Chase’s Ford, in a debate with Dan Ackroyd’s Jimmy Carter, falls face first while grasping the podium but nevertheless continues debating, seemingly oblivious that he’s speaking directly to the floor). Ford himself, while occasionally slipping on a tarmac or accidentally nailing a spectator with a golf ball, was, in the political arena, one of the most able and competent politicians of the 20th century, having held the office of House minority whip during one of the most culturally and politically overwhelming eras in U.S. history. During his presidency, Thomas DeFrank, then a young White House reporter for Newsweek, struck up a relationship with the president whereby he would meet occasionally for “off-the-record” conversations. For the next three decades, Ford would confide in DeFrank in ways that are completely unprecedented, the results of which ended up in Write It When I’m Gone. Most presidents, once they leave office, begin actively attempting to preserve their place in history. Secure in his legacy as someone who united the country after Watergate nearly ripped it to shreds, Ford seems unconcerned about how history will judge him otherwise, and it enabled him to speak freely and candidly about his political contemporaries, the historical whirlwind he found himself in and some personally troubling issues he and his family faced. Despite his short tenure as president, he truly was “in the arena”; this compelling document shows us just how much.

Acceptance

In the same way that Anne Tyler chose Baltimore as her literary terrain, documenting its residents’ hopes, dreams, failures and overall humanity, Susan Coll has been documenting the lives of middle and upper-middle class D.C.-ites for hilarious and poignant results. In three novels, karlmarx.com, Rockville Pike and her latest, Acceptance, Coll take great pains to remind us that, though some may live in the suburbs or possess the bad habit of mistaking intellect for humanity, the people around us aren’t the sum total of the possessions and manicured lawns they surround themselves with; indeed, they have vibrant, thriving, inner lives, ones often in turmoil, doubt and despair. In fact, focusing as it does on the lives of three upper-middle class high school students and their families as they attempt to navigate the college selection process on their way (hopefully) to upper tier schools, Acceptance is just the kind of novel you’d be all too ready to condescend to, were it not for two things: Coll’s ability to deftly wring social comedy from the bureaucracy and social climbing that attaches itself to the selection process; and her unabashed affection and sympathy for her characters (another thing she has in common with Tyler). Coll just plain adores them, despite their ambition, apathy and petulance, and her generosity in painting these characters saves the novel and makes it a pleasure to read.

Alice

Sure, Jenna and Barbara have made headlines over the last few years, and not always for writing books or getting engaged. But presidential historians know that incorrigible first daughters are nothing new. Perhaps the most incorrigible of all was Alice Roosevelt Longworth, the eldest daughter of Teddy Roosevelt and later the wife of Rep. Nicholas Longworth (for whom the Longworth House Office Building is named). The president who promised that the U.S. would "speak softly and carry a big stick." was apparently powerless in the face of his daughter. In addition to being one of the great beauties of the age, Alice made both the fashion and gossip pages by openly smoking cigarettes, riding in cars unchaperoned and partying until late in the morning -- all during her father’s administration and well before women could even vote. After her father’s administration, Alice remained on the D.C. social scene throughout her life. No snob -- she would treat everyone with respect regardless of their station in life -- she didn’t suffer fools gladly, however, and anyone who found themselves on the business end of her lash-like tongue was usually wincing. Indeed it was this candor that resulted in her being banned from formal functions at the White House by two administrations (the Taft and Wilson administrations). Stacy Cordery’s recently published bio of Alice serves as just another reminder of how much has been lost even in celebrity culture. Alice was famous for just being Alice, in the same way that Paris Hilton is famous for just being Paris Hilton. But the gulfs between the two -- in taste, style, class, demeanor, wit and intelligence -- are gargantuan. Read this book to discover how much.