I have a real hard time with this. My coffee table never has fewer than a half-dozen books on it. Of the hundreds that flow through my hands daily, one or two a day find their way into my panniers for the ride home. I consider it an occupational hazard. (I rate the capacity of my trunk bag and three sets of panniers on how many hardcover novels they'll hold.)
An unfortunate side effect is that most of them blend together in my head after a while. Only today I was reminded that the
Jack Reacher novels are different from the Repairman Jack novels. I like both, but somehow, they melded together on me.
I don't read as much speculative-fiction as I would like, so perhaps that's why they stand out in my memory. Margaret Atwood is a particular favorite.
Oryx and Crake and the parallel piece,
The Year of the Flood I liked a lot. They build upon current events expanding them in a "what if" fashion.
Flood was probably as much fun to write as it is to read. In my mind's eye I can see Ms. Atwood smirking through in several places.
Another spec-fic that has stuck with me and I frequently reflect on is
Anathem by Neal Stephenson.
Short stories are really hard to write, and hard for me to read. I no sooner get into it and it ends. Yet, yesterday I pulled from the flow
Both Ways Is the Only Way I Want It by Maile Meloy. I read a couple of pages each of three or four stories before I remembered I was still at work and had people waiting for me. Now that my weekend is here, I'm looking forward to it.