Unfortunately, I haven't read many books in the last few years. I blame the Internet. But I still run while listening to audiobooks, and also force audiobooks on friends and loved ones on roadtrips, so it's not a total loss.
Walter Isaacson writes great biographies. The one about Einstein is awesome, and so is the one about Steve Jobs. If you're even lazier than me, all you need to know is both were geniuses, but Einstein was a mensch, and Jobs was a prick. (OK, Einstein wasn't perfect, his major flaw was poor treatment of his wife and children, but he was miles ahead of his time when thinking about care for the human race as a whole.)
Also, Wild, by Cheryl Strayed. I can't hold it against anyone who hikes the PCT because of this book, since I hiked the AT in part due to Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods. I got a little teary eyed listening to this book, when things like Meadow Ed's trail magic at Kennedy Meadowns got mentioned. But just because it calls to memory some of the greatest moments of my life doesn't mean the book can stand on its own legs. It's full of purple, saccharin prose. One example: she repeatedly calls herself a "badass motherfucking Amazonian queen" when trying to motivate herself and test whether she's tough enough to complete her hike. Any two of those words would suffice; four is overkill.
So yeh, sappy writing, but I'll be seeing the movie, even though I don't think it will speak to me like Into the Wild. I'll probably cry a little regardless.