If you did not just receive an email from me, then I am sorry to say that you did not win a prize in the Ashley Awesome Grand Re-Opening Giveaway. Better luck next time (yes, there will be a next time). That is all.

First of all, this post is literally titled “this post is disgusting,” and you’re still reading it anyway. Either you’re a sick human being who gets pleasure from reading about disgusting things, or you’re awesome. I can’t decide which. Of course, there is a third option, that you’re just so used to my neverending hyperbole* that you’re either sticking out the disgusting for the surely ridiculous confessions to come, or you don’t actually think what I’m about tell you will be all that disgusting. Well, I’m here to tell you that if you don’t think what I’m about to tell you is disgusting, then you are probably way desensitized to stuff and I worry about your mental health and safety. Or maybe I’m overreacting. This is a distinct possiblity.

*Hey, guys? What happened to Hyperbole and a Half? I miss it! Allie Brosh, come back!

So here’s my question for you: Is it possible to be allergic to yourself? The reason I ask is because I think at the very least I am a mutated freak who is actually allergic to myself, and at most that the human body has this secret super power from evolution that is designed to discourage cannibalism and zombies. Yes, that is what I said: CANNIBALISM AND ZOMBIES. Let me lay out my science for you:

FACT #1: I have extremely dry lips. I am a chapstick addict and have been since middle school. (P.S. If you care about the best kinds of chapstick, I recommend Aveeno, or Ecco Bella’s vegan vanilla because both have SPF 15 and taste like CAKE.) If I am away from my chapstick for more than a couple of hours, my lips start looking like some sort of plague victim’s. It is super gross.

FACT #2: I am a scatterbrained moron, so being away from my chapstick is a frequent occurrence.

FACT #3: It is gross to walk around looking like a plague victim, and also I learned from TV that it is a good idea to be prepared for possible kissing at all times, so I do what you’re not supposed to do and bite off the flaky pieces. This is almost 100% of the time a bad idea, because sometimes my lip starts bleeding. I know I’m not the only person who does this so don’t even act like this is the gross part.

FACT #4: About 10% of the time, I accidentally swallow the dead lip pieces. This isn’t the gross part either.

FACT #5: THIS IS THE GROSS PART. Immediately after I accidentally swallow pieces of my own skin, my throat swells up. I am not really allergic to anything severely. I have dust and pollen allergies, pretty crappy sinuses, and a near constant flow of post-nasal drip running from said sinuses down the back of my throat (SEXY, YES?) that has lead to more sinus and ear infections in my lifetime than I can even count, and I’m used to all of those things, but I’m not like one of those tragic kids who’s so allergic to peanut butter that his entire airway closes up if he gets within five feet of a PB&J sandwich, so he has to eat all by himself at lunchtime and probably cry into his crappy allergy safe food. ALL THAT is to say that I’m pretty sure my body knows when it’s swallowed pieces of itself and so it goes into attack mode, because SOMETHING JUST ISN’T RIGHT.

So with all of that extremely scientific evidence in front of you, how can you NOT think that the logical conclusion here – assuming that it’s not just me that’s the freak, and assuming that you actually believe me and don’t think I’m just a hypochondriac (I assure you, I’m not, although both my mother and my sister are) — is that our bodies have evolved precisely the tools with which to prevent us from eating one another! What other purpose could this bodily function serve? None. It is the only purpose, and because I listed all of those facts up there, and this is my conclusion, logically this is now also a fact. One time in high school I got an A in Biology, so I’m pretty sure you can trust me on this (I got a B in Chemistry, but that’s only numbers and mixing things in beakers, so it’s not relevant).

Of course, there is also the distinct possibility that this is simply a leftover evolutionary reflex from caveman days or something, like those people who have vestigial tails. For example, you see that I am not actually dead, and that I have never been hospitalized for anaphylactic shock from accidentally swallowing myself. This would also make a lot of sense seeing how people actually do eat each other sometimes in lots of places all over the world, for example those Donner people everyone is always talking about (but we’ll never know for sure if this zombie allergy happened to them because they all died anyway — zombie allergy is now officially what I am calling this). Anyway, even as my throat is closing up because I’m a completely gross human being, I find it sort of comforting that my body is working hard (if futilely) to protect me from the inevitable zombie apocalypse.

(On an unrelated sidenote, don’t forget to enter my giveaway while you still can, and I promise that even though this post is super gross, the baked goods you shall receive will be delicious and meet food health safety standards.)

How does that dang song go, the one you’re now going to have in your head all day?

So apparently I made all these promises and now I have to keep them. One of those promises was that I would do a giveaway, so here I am. Fulfilling my promise. One less thing to feel guilty about in the coming months. And it’s not like I didn’t have fun with this one, because here’s what I did. I spent four and a half hours in my local used bookstore scouring the shelves. A lot of the books I went in to look for specifically* were, no surprise, not there, but I did end up coming away with seven of my favorite books, which I will now proceed to give away to you.

*Did you know that it is almost impossible to keep Kurt Vonnegut novels in stock, for instance? This is what I was told when I went looking for The Sirens of Titan. So, sucks for you all that I didn’t find that one. Also, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. And basically any Terry Pratchett or Neil Gaiman.

So here’s how this is going to work. I’m giving the books away in packages. If you want to sign up for a specific package, email me which one you are interested in and I will put your name into a drawing. Winners will  be chosen with one of those random internet generator thingies, so I promise: no favoritism.** If you don’t care which package you win, you can enter your name in The Grab Bag package, details below. The packages are as follows:

**Yeah, I’m talking to you.

PACKAGE #1 — Gone With the Wind: This book is approximately a billion pages long, so it is a package all in itself. This is one of my all-time favorite books, and I’m of the extremely sound belief that every American needs to read this at least once in their lives.

PACKAGE #2 — Mad Fairy Tales: As pictured above, the winner of this package will receive a copy of William Goldman’s The Princess Bride (which I just re-read, so not only do you have my assurances that it is 100% awesome, you also get the book as my leftovers, and doesn’t that just make you so happy?) plus one other thing. I tried SO HARD YOU GUYS to find a copy of Stardust, but it just wasn’t happening, but as this book was kind of the inspiration for this whole giveaway, and because it fits PERFECTLY in with TPB, I am determined to find it. So: you will also be getting Stardust (I’m not sure yet if this will be a copy of the original illustrated text, or the re-worked novel, but either way, this is happening).

PACKAGE #3 — Those Lovely Brits: At first I was going to give away Pride & Prejudice, but then I thought, no! Poor Persuasion, so lovely and wonderful, deserved it a little more. PLUS, the themes and story fit in so well with my other choice, The Remains of the Day (both being about people who fucked up in love the first go-round, you see). This package is perfect for people who like to have their emotions punched in the face.

PACKAGE #4 — I am Five Years Old: You people with kids might like this one, but honestly? Fuck the kids. Get these for yourself. I read kid stuff all the time, and I have read all three of these books sometime in the past three years. All three are still awesome. The Witches by Roald Dahl, Jeremy Thatcher, Dragon Hatcher by Bruce Coville, and Inkheart by Cornelia Funke (for older kids, maybe even YA), are all storyteller books. They’re the kind of books you want to read curled up by a fire with hot cocoa, where dragons are real, and magic is terrifying and wonderful.

PACKAGE #5 — The Grab Bag: If you sign up for the grab bag, your name will be entered in all four drawings. If you choose this option and win a package, yay for you. BUT. If you happen to win more than one package, your win comes secondary. People who sign up for specific packages will get top priority for those packages, and you will get whichever one is left. Capiche?

Here are some things to keep in mind: 1) All the packages will come with some sort of baked goods, haven’t decided what yet; 2) It would be cool if you would tell everyone you’ve ever met about this giveaway, because as you know, I am a giant internet whore (but not a sellout! you will notice how I don’t have ads and am very poor); and 3) Don’t leave your entries in the comments, please remember to email me: narfna at gmail dot com.

GO.

UPDATE: Deadline to enter the giveaway is 4/24.

Tonight was not the first night I’ve cried during a phone call to a 24 hour banker. It wasn’t even the second or third time.

Look, I’ll be the first to admit it: I’m bad with money. I’m bad with money, and I have no shame. A lot of people in this world think pride is bad and shame is good, but those people are idiots. It is the exact opposite. Pride is the thing that makes you feel like a lion, and shame is the thing that makes you feel like you just got squeezed out of a lion’s butthole. We like shame here in America. We have lots of shame, shame to spare. We feel shame about sex and about our bodies, we feel shame about farting and burping, the things we eat and the way we spend our money.

Now, don’t go confusing shame with guilt. Guilt is fine. Guilt is acceptable. Guilt means we are human beings with feelings and responsibilities towards other human beings, and not empty, scary robots. Guilt means we recognize the difference between right and wrong. The important thing to remember about guilt and shame is that guilt is something we put upon ourselves, but shame is something put upon us by other people.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure I don’t have any shame because otherwise I’d be feeling pretty bad about myself right now. Because I’m going to share a secret with you.

Did you guys know that if you call up the bank and ask them nicely and with logic to please oh please get rid of at least one of those three overdraft fees that is on your account, oh please pretty please, they will always always tell you no? Because they will always always tell you no. I bet at least some of you did know that, but maybe not. It takes a special kind of shameless person to call up a bank and ask them to refund an overdraft fee. I will freely admit that I’m that kind of person. I want my money back and I don’t care what the person on the other end of the phone thinks of me, and as my mama always told me, it doesn’t hurt to ask. So I ask and they say no, and I still have $105 in overdraft fees.

But that part isn’t the secret. The real secret is that you don’t stop there, if you’re me. You ask to speak to a manager. And because you’re desperate and you have no shame, you give your sob story for the second time that night, only this time instead of being angry and righteous and sort of annoyed at being a pawn in the system, you just flat out start crying because you’re sick of having no money, and yeah some of it is your fault because you’re stupid, but some of it isn’t, some of it is you still paying for old mistakes, and some of it is arbitrary rules and guidelines and dates and times and fees, and more fees on top of the fees that cause more fees that start breeding with one another until you’re drowning in fees and your only lifeline is some guy in a 24 hour bank call center who hates his life and his job and his only pleasure comes in telling people “no” . . . but this guy’s never dealt with you before. He’s so clearly flustered by what’s going on, your broken voice and incoherent words — it’s an ugly cry, this one — the documented evidence of a truly pathetic life is staring at him from the words and numbers in your bank account on the screen in front of him, and they’re screaming “FEEL SORRY FOR ME.” So he tells you, “Okay, just this once, as a special consideration . . .” just so you’ll stop crying.

I know I promised you some advice, but truthfully, I’m not exactly sure what we can learn from all of this. I’m just the writer. Show, not tell, remember? I showed, now you tell. And please don’t think that I’m condoning false tears here, or instructing the lady folk to use the biases against our gender in sneaky ways, in order to manipulate a system created by and for men. I’m not even telling you that you should call up your bank and cry on the phone. Because let me assure you, I didn’t plan on crying to the anonymous customer service man, or begging him for my $35 back, please. It just happened. That’s probably the real secret: you have to mean it.

Mean what, now? I don’t know, I’m just saying things. Figure it out yourself. I’m going to eat a cookie. And I’m not going to feel bad about it.

Welcome, children, to Ashley Awesome 3.0 — ain’t she purty? I haven’t really changed things much in terms of content, but I’ve been unhappy with the look and feel of my site for quite some time now. (For those of you feed-reader people, click your asses over here already. Come on, you can do it . . . click click.) You might see some little changes here and there over the next few weeks as I sort the bugs out and update a few things I didn’t have time to update before the site went public, but in all honesty you probably won’t even notice.

So what else can you expect to see in the coming months? Honestly I have no idea. I am just making this up as I go along. Here are some possible possibilities:

✗ I have this idea that I want to write about sandwiches, like once a month or something. I don’t really know if I will follow through with it, but I am hungry all the time, and I do eat a lot of sandwiches. I feel like both of those things are in my favor.

✗ There will be a giveaway sometime before my birthday. I just don’t know what it is I want to give away quite yet. I’ll have to think of something (I’m open to suggestions, since ya’ll or going to be the ones who are getting the goods anyway).

✗ I am going to try and write in this blog AT LEAST twice a month, and somebody send me angry emails if I don’t follow through. I respond very well to threats and intimidation.

✗ If you’re wondering how you should feel about my new design/layout, this clip from Star Trek should help you out. This is what film is for, you guys. Filling our empty brains with awesome stuff. Now I want to call in sick to work and watch Star Trek all day. Holy crap, that sounds amazing.

✗ I thought I was going to have more bullet points, but I don’t, so whatever.

Please leave me comments so I don’t die of neglect.

Starting January 30, 2012, Ashley Awesome will be under construction and you will not be able to access it. But please do not fret or worry: the site will be back up bright and shiny on February 15. Ashley is tired of her layout and her font and her pictures and basically everything and wishes to completely overhaul everything ever, but does not wish for you to see the ugly while she fucks around with HTML and Photoshop and such.

In the meantime, if you’re just really wanting to read some stuff that has a nice Ashley-cracked-out flavor to it, Big Damn Heroes, Goodreads, and Film.com can probably help you out with that. Also to pacify you, there will probably be a rather large Ashley Awesome Grand Re-Opening Giveaway, so you know, get excited and stuff.

Peace out, yo.

Got a fun package in the mail today. I guess this is what happens when you introduce your friends — especially ones who enjoy giving gifts and baking things — to Doctor Who.

My friend Stephanie has been texting me for a little over a month now as she watches the show. I’ll get text messages in the middle of the night that say things like, ”My brain just broke. I can’t brain today . . . I have the dumb,” “Oh Frick. Oh balls. Oh fup!”, and “This show is breaking my soul.” I also get nifty presents in the mail, like this TARDIS cookie jar I got for Christmas, and today, these cookies I got to fill it:

The adipose is my favorite, I think. And so appropriate, considering.

Take note that the #10 cookie is in the shape of a heart . . . because I heart him so.

WHAT!? (For the love of God, would somebody please find me a YouTube clip of David Tennant saying WHAT!? Update: Thank you, Jennie. Clip found.)

I ate the TARDIS. It is inside of me.

That Dalek’s head fell off. He got murdered by the USPS.

I share these pictures with you not to brag (okay, maybe a little . . . or a lot), but also to put it out there in the public sphere that my friend Stephanie is wonderful. Everyone should have a friend like her. And it’s not just because she sends me fun, nerdy, and delicious presents in the mail. During what I’m going to start calling my “dark year,” she — along with my other besties Alison and Emily and Lindsay and Krystal — helped me out of a tar-filled financial hole large enough to smother a fully grown male rhinocerous. The Doctor has Rose and Martha and Donna and Amy and Rory to help save him from blowing himself up or whatnot, and I’ve got my friends, who send me cookies, and rescue me from my own financial stupidity. Thanks, guys. I sure do appreciate it.

Happy 2012, people. Here’s my annual list of all the books I read in the past year. I’m exhausted just looking at it. My original goal was to read 150 books, which wasn’t all that outlandish considering I was supposed to read 70 books in between January and March alone for my exams, but alas, after March I got lazy or distracted by Doctor Who or work or something (but probably Doctor Who) and only made it to 125. I also seem to have misplaced five books from this list, and again, too lazy to compare lists and try to find the missing five. If you want the full 125, click here, otherwise there’s a respectable 120 down below.

I’ve also pulled out my ten favorite books of the year and lazily linked to reviews I’d already written about them (if you think you’re sensing a pattern, you would be correct). (Speaking of lazy, I’m going to bed immediately after posting this, and I’m going to curl up with a fluffy blanket and 11/22/63, the first new book of 2012. And then I’m going to fall asleep. It’s going to be SO GOOD.)

125 in 2011

- – -

1. Ceremony, Leslie Marmon Silko*✓
2. The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne*✓
3. A Small Place, Jamaica Kincaid*✓
4. Giovanni’s Room, James Baldwin*✓
5. Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston ✓
6-7. The Walking Dead Vols. 2-3, Robert Kirkman
8. Marvel 1602, Neil Gaiman
9. Things Fall Apart, Chinua Achebe ✓
10. The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood*✓
11. The Woman Warrior, Maxine Hong Kingston*✓
12. The Sovereignty and Goodness of God, Mary Rowlandson*✓
13. The Awakening, Kate Chopin*✓
14. The House of Mirth, Edith Wharton*✓
15. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Robert Louis Stevenson*✓
16-18. Fables, Vols. 3-5, Bill Willingham

19-21. The Unwritten, Vols. 1-3, Mike Carey and Peter Gross

From Amazon.com: “Tom Taylor’s life was screwed from go. His father created the Tommy Taylor fantasy series, boy-wizard novels with popularity on par with Harry Potter. The problem is Dad modeled the fictional epic so closely to Tom’s real life that fans are constantly comparing him to his counterpart, turning him into the lamest variety of Z-level celebrity. In the final novel, it’s even implied that the fictional Tommy will crossover into the real world, giving delusional fans more excuses to harass Tom. When an enormous scandal reveals that Tom might really be a boy-wizard made flesh, Tom comes into contact with a very mysterious, very deadly group that’s secretly kept tabs on him all his life. Now, to protect his own life and discover the truth behind his origins, Tom will travel the world, eventually finding himself at locations all featured on a very special map — one kept by the deadly group that charts places throughout world history where fictions have impacted and tangibly shaped reality, those stories ranging from famous literary works to folktales to pop culture. And in the process of figuring out what it all means, Tom will find himself having to figure out a huge conspiracy mystery that spans the entirety of the history of fiction.”

What I said: “I wasn’t sure how I felt about this series after Vol. 1, partly because sometimes it takes time to feel comfortable in complex fictional worlds, but mostly because I wasn’t sure where this was going. After Vol. 2, however, even if I don’t know specifics, I have a definite feel for this world and the things Carey and Gross are trying to say. That feeling is ‘awesome.’. . . I can’t really sum up the plot of this series very well without giving anything away, so I won’t even try. Half the fun is experiencing the ride yourself. Seriously. Go out and buy [it] right now. It’s the whole package: fun and intellectually engaging. The Unwrittenis basically like the entire reason God invented post-modernism.

22. The Sound and the Fury, William Faulkner*✓
23. Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov ✓
24. Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God, and Other Puritan Sermons, Jonathan Edwards*✓
25. Pamela, Samuel Richardson ✓
26. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Mark Twain*✓
27. Leaves of Grass (1855), Walt Whitman ✓
28. The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, Emily Dickinson ✓
29. Into Thin Air, Jon Krakauer
30. Benjamin Franklin’s Autobiography, Benjamin Franklin*✓
31. Kim, Rudyard Kipling ✓
32. Waiting for Godot, Samuel Beckett ✓
33. Robinson Crusoe, Daniel Defoe ✓
34. Matched, Ally Condie
35. Evelina, Fanny Burney ✓
36. The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, Laurence Sterne ✓
37. Daytripper, Fábio Moon & Gabriel Bá
38. Moby-Dick, Herman Melville ✓
39. Middlemarch, George Eliot ✓
40. Volpone, Ben Jonson ✓
41. A Midsummer Night’s Dream, William Shakespeare*✓
42. The Winter’s Tale, William Shakespeare*✓
43. The Complete Sonnets, William Shakespeare*✓
44. Othello, William Shakespeare*✓
45. Henry IV, Part I, William Shakespeare*✓
46. Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare*✓
47. The Tempest, William Shakespeare*✓
48. The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus, Christopher Marlowe*✓
49. Edward II, Christopher Marlowe*✓
50. Sir Philip Sidney: The Major Works, Philip Sidney*✓
51. Everyman, Anonymous*✓
52. Abraham and Isaac: The Brome Play, Anonymous ✓
53. Noah, Anonymous ✓
54. Paradise Lost, John Milton*✓
55. The Name of the Wind, Patrick Rothfuss*

56. The Wise Man’s Fear, Patrick Rothfuss

From Amazon.com: “The Wise Man’s Fear continues the mesmerizing slow reveal of the story of Kvothe the Bloodless, an orphaned actor who became a fearsome hero before banishing himself to a tiny town in the middle of Newarre. The readers of Patrick Rothfuss’s outstanding first book, The Name of the Wind, which has gathered both a cult following and a wide readership in the four years since it came out, will remember that Kvothe promised to tell his tale of wonder and woe to Chronicler, the king’s scribe, in three days. The Wise Man’s Fear makes up day two, and uncovers enough to satisfy readers and make them desperate for the full tale, from Kvothe’s rapidly escalating feud with Ambrose to the shockingly brutal events that mark his transformation into a true warrior, and to his encounters with Felurian and the Adem. Rothfuss remains a remarkably adept and inventive storyteller, and Kvothe’s is a riveting tale about a boy who becomes a man who becomes a hero and a killer, spinning his own mythology out of the ether until he traps himself within it. Drop everything and read these books.”

What I said: “Feeling too emotionally roller-coasted to write a review. Will have to come back later . . . much later. This isn’t an unqualified five star review. I have so much things to say . . . I’m just not technically sure of what those things are at the moment. For now, just go read this guy’s review. Done? What he said.”

57. The Canterbury Tales, Geoffrey Chaucer*✓
58. Le Morte D’Arthur, Sir Thomas Malory ✓
59. Great Expectations, Charles Dickens*✓
60. Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte*✓
61. The Poems of Alexander Pope, Alexander Pope*✓
62. The Lost Hero, Rick Riordan
63. Skippy Dies, Paul Murray
64. Waterland, Graham Swift*✓
65. Naked Heat, Richard Castle
66. A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens*
67. A Game of Thrones, George R.R. Martin*
68. Child 44, Tom Rob Smith
69. Last Argument of Kings, Joe Abercrombie

70. Bossypants, Tina Fey

From Amazon.com: “Before Liz Lemon, before ‘Weekend Update,’ before ‘Sarah Palin,’ Tina Fey was just a young girl with a dream: a recurring stress dream that she was being chased through a local airport by her middle-school gym teacher. She also had a dream that one day she would be a comedian on TV. She has seen both these dreams come true. At last, Tina Fey’s story can be told. From her youthful days as a vicious nerd to her tour of duty on Saturday Night Live; from her passionately halfhearted pursuit of physical beauty to her life as a mother eating things off the floor; from her one-sided college romance to her nearly fatal honeymoon — from the beginning of this paragraph to this final sentence. Tina Fey reveals all, and proves what we’ve all suspected: you’re no one until someone calls you bossy.”

What I said: “I have never felt more solidarity with another human being than I did with Tina Fey while reading the chapter entitled ‘All Girls Must Be Everything.’ As a person of distinctly Mediterranean heritage myself, what I’m saying is I can relate. There’s also stuff in here about show-business, motherhood, traveling on the interstate, fannypacks, fathers, men being dicks and peeing in jars, the drudgery of having an awful job, and farting. So: something for everyone.”

71. The Science of Kissing, Sheril Kirshenbaum
72. Reaper Man, Terry Pratchett
73. In the Garden of Beasts, Erik Larson
74. A Clash of Kings, George R.R. Martin*
75. The Throne of Fire, Rick Riordan
76. The Well of Lost Plots, Jasper Fforde
77. The Machine of Death, ed. Ryan North, Matthew Bennardo, & David Malki !
78. The Unwritten, Vol. 4, Mike Carey
79. The Thank You Economy, Gary Vanderchuk
80. Something Rotten, Jasper Fforde
81. Elantris, Brandon Sanderson
82. Tiger’s Curse, Colleen Hough
83. Midnight Sun, Stephenie Meyer

84. The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, Rebecca Skloot

From Amazon.com: “Her name was Henrietta Lacks, but scientists know her as HeLa. She was a poor Southern tobacco farmer who worked the same land as her slave ancestors, yet her cells—taken without her knowledge—became one of the most important tools in medicine. The first “immortal” human cells grown in culture, they are still alive today, though she has been dead for more than sixty years. If you could pile all HeLa cells ever grown onto a scale, they’d weigh more than 50 million metric tons—as much as a hundred Empire State Buildings. HeLa cells were vital for developing the polio vaccine; uncovered secrets of cancer, viruses, and the atom bomb’s effects; helped lead to important advances like in vitro fertilization, cloning, and gene mapping; and have been bought and sold by the billions . . . Yet Henrietta Lacks remains virtually unknown, buried in an unmarked grave . . . Now Rebecca Skloot takes us on an extraordinary journey, from the “colored” ward of Johns Hopkins Hospital in the 1950s to stark white laboratories with freezers full of HeLa cells; from Henrietta’s small, dying hometown of Clover, Virginia—a land of wooden slave quarters, faith healings, and voodoo—to East Baltimore today, where her children and grandchildren live and struggle with the legacy of her cells . . . Intimate in feeling, astonishing in scope, and impossible to put down, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks captures the beauty and drama of scientific discovery, as well as its human consequences.”

What I said: “Oh, man. There is just so much in the world that I have no idea about. Maybe more detailed thoughts about this later, but probably not. I just finished, and my head is swimming. For now this is what I have to say: Well-written, staggeringly well-researched, staggeringly and painfully personal. The story of what Henrietta Lacks’s genetic legacy has done to her family is the main focus of the book, but how Skloot uses that story to illuminate criminally neglected areas of history, law, medicine, economics, and education intersecting with race and class issues, is just riveting. Go out and get this one right now.”

85. Delirium, Lauren Oliver
86. A Storm of Swords, George R.R. Martin*

87. Old Man’s War, John Scalzi

From Amazon.com: “John Perry did two things on his 75th birthday. First he visited his wife’s grave. Then he joined the army. The good news is that humanity finally made it into interstellar space. The bad news is that planets fit to live on are scarce–and alien races willing to fight us for them are common. So: we fight. To defend Earth, and to stake our own claim to planetary real estate. Far from Earth, the war has been going on for decades: brutal, bloody, unyielding. Earth itself is a backwater. The bulk of humanity’s resources are in the hands of the Colonial Defense Force. Everybody knows that when you reach retirement age, you can join the CDF. They don’t want young people; they want people who carry the knowledge and skills of decades of living. You’ll be taken off Earth and never allowed to return. You’ll serve two years at the front. And if you survive, you’ll be given a generous homestead stake of your own, on one of our hard-won colony planets. John Perry is taking that deal. He has only the vaguest idea what to expect. Because the actual fight, light-years from home, is far, far harder than he can imagine–and what he will become is far stranger.”

What I said: “It’s been a long time since I’ve read a good sci-fi novel, and this one sure did hit the spot. In fact, it was so delicious I gobbled it up in one sitting, and I wouldn’t say no to seconds. Probably going to go get the sequels tomorrow. Man, there’s nothing in the world like good sci-fi. In fact, I wish I’d never read it, because then I’d get to read it again for the first time. Great concept, great execution. Extremely solid first novel. I’ve been reading Scalzi’s blog for years, but I’ve never read any of his fiction. Why didn’t somebody slap me upside my head? I now want to read everything he’s ever written. This is my kind of shit.”

88. The Ghost Brigades, John Scalzi
89. The Last Colony, John Scalzi

90. Sisterhood Everlasting, Ann Brashares

From Amazon.com: “Return to the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants . . . ten years later. From #1 New York Times bestselling author Ann Brashares comes the welcome return of the characters whose friendship became a touchstone for a generation. Now Tibby, Lena, Carmen, and Bridget have grown up, starting their lives on their own. And though the jeans they shared are long gone, the sisterhood is everlasting. Despite having jobs and men that they love, each knows that something is missing: the closeness that once sustained them. Carmen is a successful actress in New York, engaged to be married, but misses her friends. Lena finds solace in her art, teaching in Rhode Island, but still thinks of Kostos and the road she didn’t take. Bridget lives with her longtime boyfriend, Eric, in San Francisco, and though a part of her wants to settle down, a bigger part can’t seem to shed her old restlessness. Then Tibby reaches out to bridge the distance, sending the others plane tickets for a reunion that they all breathlessly await. And indeed, it will change their lives forever—but in ways that none of them could ever have expected. As moving and life-changing as an encounter with long-lost best friends, Sisterhood Everlasting is a powerful story about growing up, losing your way, and finding the courage to create a new one.”

What I said: “Until about the last forty pages, I thought I knew what I was going to write in this review. I was going to say that Brashares is incredibly good with the inner lives of her characters. I was going to say that she brings people to life in magical, absurdly readable, and moving ways. I was going to say that despite this, reading this book is like expecting to jump into pool and float back to the surface, but instead you start drowning, sucking up little bits of air at a time, just trying to survive. I was going to say that as readable as it was, it was just too much for me to handle, and that these girls always seem like they need to learn the same lessons over and over again, and the lesson never sticks. But then I got to the end, and I started crying, and I couldn’t stop. To be honest about it, I’m still crying right now. (They’re the good kind of tears, by the way, the bittersweet ones. Ann Brashares is not Nicholas Sparks or Jodi Picoult, both of whom I always feel manipulated by, like with them tears are the goal, and not just a product of something great that they’ve created. Sparks and Picoult want me to feel luxuriously sad about my life, Brashares just wants to tell me something true. Does that make any sense?) This book just got to me. It got to me on an emotional level that a book hasn’t in a really long time, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t feel like critically evaluating this book for its failings. I only feel like feeling. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

91. A Feast For Crows, George R.R. Martin*
92. The Map of Time, Felix J. Palma
93. A Dance With Dragons, George R.R. Martin

From Amazon.com: “In the aftermath of a colossal battle, the future of the Seven Kingdoms hangs in the balance once again–beset by newly emerging threats from every direction. In the east, Daenerys Targaryen, the last scion of House Targaryen, rules with her three dragons as queen of a city built on dust and death. But Daenerys has three times three thousand enemies, and many have set out to find her. Yet, as they gather, one young man embarks upon his own quest for the queen, with an entirely different goal in mind. To the north lies the mammoth Wall of ice and stone–a structure only as strong as those guarding it. There, Jon Snow, 998th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, will face his greatest challenge yet. For he has powerful foes not only within the Watch but also beyond, in the land of the creatures of ice. And from all corners, bitter conflicts soon reignite, intimate betrayals are perpetrated, and a grand cast of outlaws and priests, soldiers and skinchangers, nobles and slaves, will face seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Some will fail, others will grow in the strength of darkness. But in a time of rising restlessness, the tides of destiny and politics will lead inevitably to the greatest dance of all. . . .”

What I said: “I loved seeing all my favorite characters again, but like in A Clash of Kings, this one felt more like it was putting pieces into place for the next two. As much as I loved seeing Dany and Jon and Tyrion again, the whole time I was reading, I kept waiting for things to happen, and I feel like they just didn’t. It was also jarring to essentially have one book’s storylines dragged across two giant books. I feel like Martin could have cut a lot of the fat off this one (although, again, I reserve the right to change my mind about this once I’ve read the next two; some of the “unnecessary” stuff might actually turn out to have been necessary). Mostly, though, I think I’m just impatient. I waited six years for this book, and now I have to wait who knows how long for the next two. Normally waiting is an excruciating pleasure, but this book just made me want more without actually sating anything. I have no idea what is going to happen next, and that is both exciting and annoying.”

94. Beauty Queens, Libba Bray
95. Packing for Mars, Mary Roach
96. Best Served Cold, Joe Abercrombie
97. Stories, ed. Neil Gaiman
98. The Andromeda Strain, Michael Crichton*
99. Divergent, Veronica Roth
100. Miss Peregrine’s Home For Peculiar Children, Ransom Riggs
101. The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane, Katherine Howe
102. The Son of Neptune, Rick Riordan
103. The Lightning Thief, Rick Riordan*
104. The Sea of Monsters, Rick Riordan*
105. The Titan’s Curse, Rick Riordan*
106. The Battle of the Labyrinth, Rick Riordan*
107. The Last Olympian, Rick Riordan*
108. Incarceron, Catherine Fisher
109. Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?, Mindy Kaling

110. Daughter of Smoke and Bone, Laini Taylor

From Amazon.com: “Around the world, black handprints are appearing on doorways, scorched there by winged strangers who have crept through a slit in the sky. In a dark and dusty shop, a devil’s supply of human teeth grown dangerously low. And in the tangled lanes of Prague, a young art student is about to be caught up in a brutal otherwordly war. Meet Karou. She fills her sketchbooks with monsters that may or may not be real; she’s prone to disappearing on mysterious ‘errands’; she speaks many languages–not all of them human; and her bright blue hair actually grows out of her head that color. Who is she? That is the question that haunts her, and she’s about to find out. When one of the strangers–beautiful, haunted Akiva–fixes his fire-colored eyes on her in an alley in Marrakesh, the result is blood and starlight, secrets unveiled, and a star-crossed love whose roots drink deep of a violent past. But will Karou live to regret learning the truth about herself?”

What I said: “In a genre that is absolutely saturated, Laini Taylor has managed to write something genuinely fresh (and something that threatens to transcend it’s YA trappings every time you turn the page). Taylor fills her book with lovely poetic images that somehow manage not to annoy me (a feat in itself). There’s no love triangle (which are always always always predictable and annoying). The characters are intriguing, even scary. And the world she’s created is impressively dense; it feels lived in and real, which is especially impressive considering half of her characters are ‘angels’ and ‘devils.’ The fact that I had to put those two words into quotation marks is yet another indication of the author’s ingenuity. You’ll have to read it to find out just exactly why. I’m not spoiling you in this review.”

111. The Constant Gardener, John Le Carre

From Amazon.com: “The Constant Gardener is a magnificent exploration of the new world order by one of the most compelling and elegant storytellers of our time. The novel opens in northern Kenya with the gruesome murder of Tessa Quayle–young, beautiful, and dearly beloved to husband Justin. When Justin sets out on a personal odyssey to uncover the mystery of her death, what he finds could make him not only a suspect among his own colleagues, but a target for Tessa’s killers as well. A master chronicler of the betrayals of ordinary people caught in political conflict, John le Carre portrays the dark side of unbridled capitalism as only he can. In The Constant Gardener he tells a compelling, complex story of a man elevated through tragedy as Justin Quayle–amateur gardener, aging widower, and ineffectual bureaucrat–discovers his own natural resources and the extraordinary courage of the woman he barely had time to love.”

What I said: “Holy cow and for the love of Batman was this a good book. I know that I’ve been subsisting mostly on YA dystopian romances and sci-fi/fantasy ‘escapist’ stuff for the past nine months or so, so you might not trust my judgement at this point, but you should really believe me when I say that this is a book you should read. You, lover of action adventures and thrillers. You, lover of tense but thorough case studies into corruption and intrigue. You, lover of words. You, lover of intricate explorations into the human heart. YOU, MOTHERFUCKER.”

112. The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien*
113. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien*
114. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, J.R.R. Tolkien*
115. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien*
116. Heat Rises, Richard Castle

117. The Help, Kathryn Stockett

From Amazon.com: “Twenty-two-year-old Skeeter has just returned home after graduating from Ole Miss. She may have a degree, but it is 1962, Mississippi, and her mother will not be happy till Skeeter has a ring on her finger. Skeeter would normally find solace with her beloved maid Constantine, the woman who raised her, but Constantine has disappeared and no one will tell Skeeter where she has gone. Aibileen is a black maid, a wise, regal woman raising her seventeenth white child. Something has shifted inside her after the loss of her own son, who died while his bosses looked the other way. She is devoted to the little girl she looks after, though she knows both their hearts may be broken. Minny, Aibileen’s best friend, is short, fat, and perhaps the sassiest woman in Mississippi. She can cook like nobody’s business, but she can’t mind her tongue, so she’s lost yet another job. Minny finally finds a position working for someone too new to town to know her reputation. But her new boss has secrets of her own. Seemingly as different from one another as can be, these women will nonetheless come together for a clandestine project that will put them all at risk. And why? Because they are suffocating within the lines that define their town and their times. And sometimes lines are made to be crossed. In pitch-perfect voices, Kathryn Stockett creates three extraordinary women whose determination to start a movement of their own forever changes a town, and the way women—mothers, daughters, caregivers, friends—view one another. A deeply moving novel filled with poignancy, humor, and hope, The Help is a timeless and universal story about the lines we abide by, and the ones we don’t.”

What I said: “Hot damn, that was a good read.”

118. Stay, Allie Larkin
119. The Big Over Easy, Jasper Fforde
120. The Pirates! In an Adventure with Communists, Gideon Defoe

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Other books I would single out from the list include Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?, Divergent, The Map of Time, Packing for Mars, the Fables series (which only narrowly missed being included above), In the Garden of Beasts, Into Thin Air, Elantris, and Middlemarch (which I read the for the first time this year, and surprisingly very much enjoyed).

The worst books I read on that list? Pamela (oh, dear God, that was so awful) and Tiger’s Curse (siiiigh). And while they weren’t bad necessarily, I was disappointed in Stay, Matched, Beauty Queens, Delirium, The Science of Kissing, and Incarceron. You’ll notice that most of those are derivative YA dystopian fictions, so I suppose I deserve what’s coming to me. A special mention also goes out to Lolita for making me feel dirty in my soul, even though it is very well written.

Happy New year, all, and may your 2012′s be fruitful and full of good reading. And hopefully those damn Mayans were wrong and I’ll see you here, same time, same place, next year for 100 books in 2013.

*Re-read
✓ Masters Exam Booklist

For example, some stuff that has happened to me since last May:

• Graduated from college for the second time, this time with a Master’s degree in English Literature or something. This is apparently a big deal, but I have yet to write about the lengthy and ridiculous process of my exams, which several of you have been requesting since March. Sorry about that, and I’ll get to it eventually? Hopefully? Meanwhile, even the thought of reliving that experience in any form makes me want to gouge my eyeballs out. EYE JELLY.
• Got a job working for an insurance agency as a receptionist. Somehow this evolved into getting licensed to sell insurance, something that I never asked for, and which ended up causing me even more stress. I’ve been in school for 80% of my life (80%!!), and I liked it – and you know what? Not being in school SUCKS.
• Hated my new job more than I’ve ever hated anything, and it basically ruined my life for five months. By the end, I was having trouble sleeping and eating, and every morning before work I’d be so nauseous I’d think I was going to barf. (You know it’s bad when I can’t eat.) I had two nervous breakdowns. I’m not going to go into details, mostly because I feel like it would be inappropriate, but also because I’ve put the whole situation behind me and don’t really want to think about it anymore.
• Was fired from that job in the middle of October. Again, not going into it any further than to say: it sucked (both the job, and being fired).
• A mix-up in the way my credits were handled almost meant that I didn’t officially get my degree. My very smart way of handling this situation was to ignore my school email-account for three months, like it was going to go away on its own, and when I finally worked up the nuts to read it, I panicked so hardcore. Luckily, things worked out, no thanks to me, IDIOT.
• Lost all the weight I put on in grad school (ten pounds), because of stress, and because I was subsisting pretty much on iced tea, beans, and peanut butter & jelly sandwiches.
• Got another job working for the same company but for a different agent, and it’s been like night and day. I don’t see myself at this job long-term, but it’s a nice enough way to spend the day, and most importantly, the working environment is incredibly pleasant (as opposed to the toxic work environment I’d been in for five months previously).
• My roommate of five years left me to move in with her boyfriend. This was incredibly traumatic. I miss you, Strawberry :(
• Moved into a new apartment with a friend from Barnes & Noble. Moving expenses gutted my bank account.
• I was homeless for a period of three days.
• Moving expenses, among other changes, helped me to dig myself into an impressively deep financial hole that I am only now finding my way out of.
• I literally borrowed money from everyone I’ve ever met.
• Defaulted on one of my credit cards in early September. This made me feel awful, but I couldn’t afford to pay it. I’ve been dodging calls from creditors ever since. One day, I will have NO MORE DEBT. ONE DAY!
• It hasn’t been all bad. I was offered a writing position with Film.com in September, and it’s kind of a dream come true. I feel like I should write more about this later, but I’ve been writing about TV for four years now, just for shits and giggles, and now I’m getting PAID to do it. Not to be obnoxious or anything, but it’s totally awesome.
• My cats broke my DVD player. (Don’t ask.)
• On a related note, I finally bought a Blu-Ray Player! (But then I had to return it.)
• I watched the entire revived Doctor Who, and it was so good, you guys. It was like the only good thing in my life for like months and months. BTW, I still owe you a post about Doctors Ten & Eleven. (Here’s my post about Nine, just in case you missed it.)
• All of this, the leaving of the safe bosom of mother education, the having to work all day every day, the constant paying of the bills, even the cool new gig . . . it has all lead me to one conclusion. I have no freaking idea what I want to do with the rest of my life.
• None of the previous bullet points are hyperbole, and you guys know how much I like using hyperbole. Why am I not dead right now?

To sum all of this up: QUARTER LIFE CRISIS. IT IS HERE. I WILL NOW PROCEED TO TYPE THIS IN ROBOT VOICE. BECAUSE I CAN.

This is Denise. She is my one year old desert tortoise. I named her after my aunt who isn’t really my aunt but who is my godfather (it’s complicated). Denise was a gift from a friend. She wanted her to have a more permanent home, and I told her I’d take her in and she could live in my mom’s backyard, which is plenty big enough to hold a slow-moving, slow-growing tortoise. The funny part about this story is I still haven’t told my mom she will be getting a tortoise some time in the coming months. I think what’s going to happen is I’m just going to show up at her house and be like, hey, mom, I have this tortoise for you. Isn’t she cute? That’ll work, right?

It’s not like she’s hard to take care of. She poops about once a day and it’s really small, and all I have to do is make sure her heating lamp is on, and that she has fresh food and water. She moves only slightly faster than a snail. Apparently I also have to hibernate her this winter, which involves sticking her in a cardboard box and putting her under my bed. I’m not making this up. The other other best part about this story is that tortoises live about 150 years, and never stop growing. Denise is going to be alive and kicking long after I am, even thought right now she is so tiny she can fit in the palm of my hand.

Everybody say “Hi!”

I think that must be some sort of record for me in not blogging. Although, I don’t know if “not blogging” describes what it is I’ve been doing. I still write regular reviews over on Goodreads, I’m still posting semi-regularly over at Big Damn Heroes, and I still talk to most of you more than I talk to my own mother. (I’m sorry, Mom, I love you, even though you are not reading this because you don’t understand about computers.) I guess what I meant to say is that I just haven’t been blogging HERE. Blogging HERE on this personal blog of mine just feels very PERSONAL.  And I guess writing about PERSONAL issues right now feels a little too much like actually dealing with my life, instead of NOT dealing with it, which is what I have preferred to do for the last couple of months. I don’t actually know why I am typing in all caps right now. Maybe because IT IS FUN.

You know what else is fun? Having a quarter-life crisis. I know this because I am in the middle of having one. For example, let me tell you a story.

Once upon a yesterday, which was actually Friday, I didn’t have work for the first time in a million years, so I had all these grand plans: to finally finish my Farscape post that I’ve been working on for four months (FOUR MONTHS), or failing that, write something else. To job hunt, maybe (don’t want to talk about it). To clean things, at least. TO READ A BOOK! But no. Instead, I turned on my television and watched three movies in a row (Overboard, About a Boy, and Back to the Future II, if you’re curious). And then, in the middle of the second movie, I happened to stick a finger into my belly button, because I guess that’s what assholes who sit on the couch all day do? Stick their fingers in weird places? I don’t know. My point is that THERE WAS SOMETHING IN THERE. I’m just telling you right now, you might not want to finish reading this post.

I paused the movie. This was important.

I don’t know if I’ve ever told any of you about my intense fear about belly buttons, but it’s a thing. The idea of anything being put inside of my belly button freaks me the hell out, and that includes fingers. Like, when my friend Ashley had her appendix removed, and I asked her if I could see the scar, she said, “There wasn’t one because they went in through my belly button.” And so what happened next is that my head exploded because THEY STUCK THINGS INSIDE OF HER THROUGH HER BELLY BUTTON. And then they pulled her appendix out of her body FROM INSIDE HER BELLY BUTTON. Excuse me, but no. If someone ever came at me with so much as the idea of sticking something in my belly button, I would just hit them so hard on whatever body parts were closest, and I would probably scream and scream until they went away. Maybe also I would keep screaming for a while. Perhaps I sounds like an insane person by admitting this, and perhaps most of you don’t understand this extreme reaction (to which I say congratulations on your sanity), but you’ve got to admit it helps to set the scene a little. Remember the scene? Where there was something INSIDE OF MY BELLY BUTTON?

Just checking in case you’d forgotten.

I got the tweezers, the hydrogen peroxide, the paper towel, and twenty minutes later, that little fucker was out of there. I then spent the next twenty minutes disinfecting my belly button. I don’t want to go into details because I might freak out again, so you’ll just have to use your imaginations. In fact, yes. Use those imaginations well, because this could happen to you. It could be happening to you RIGHT NOW. All those dead skin cells, all that time it’s just sitting there, and you’re so oblivious . . . I mean, is this a thing? Should I have regularly been cleaning out my belly button all of these years and I didn’t even know it? Is it like with ears? Because I clean those out regularly. But guess what? My ears have never smelled like a toe.

Something you probably have forgotten is that there was a point to this story, and that point is that I strongly feel that this whole experience is a metaphor for my life. I’m not exactly sure how all the pieces fit together yet, but I’m pretty sure part of it is about not paying attention to details, and part is about letting things fester, and part is about the darkness of the human soul and the rot that hides in the daylight while we go about our pointless lives, and part of it is about being a lazy asshole on a couch with nothing better to do than freak out about the contents of that thing that used to be attached to his or her mother, and then there’s also probably something in there about it being significant that the belly button is a dried up husk of what was once proof of a tangible human connection, but is now only a reminder that someday we’re all going to die, that we have, in fact, been dying since the moment we were ripped from our mother’s bodies, and there’s nothing we can ever do about it except to perpetuate the cycle over and over and over again. There’s probably also something in there about being completely full of shit, but I’m not sure yet. On the plus side, I think I’m really getting the hang of hyperbole.

Just in the spirit of full disclosure, I feel the need to confess that earlier today I cried while watching Sandra Bullock make out with Ryan Reynolds in The Proposal, and that it was the happiest I’d been all day.

Thinking about my belly button again. . . I still think there’s something in there.

It’s no secret that it was kind of a chore for me to get through Star Trek: The Original Series. It took me a year and a half to watch all three seasons, which maybe doesn’t sound like a lot to some of you, but as a frame of reference, I can watch three seasons of television in a week or less, if I put my mind to it. By the end of the series, I had certainly developed affection for the characters on TOS, particularly Spock and McCoy (you can’t spend that much time with a show and not develop some sort of attachment to it), but it nevertheless regularly put me to sleep. In fact, I began using it for that very purpose. The BEEP BLOOP sound effects, Kirk’s speechifying, the increasingly poor writing and special effects, the cheesy music, and what felt like an exceedingly long run-time, were all very soothing for me. I was relieved by the time I came to the last episode, and also proud of myself. With all of this in my mind, you can imagine that I wasn’t very thrilled to watch Star Trek: The Animated Series, which featured the same writing staff, and almost all the same (voice) actors. It had only been four years since the cancellation of TOS. How much would TOS influence TAS? Would watching this series be just another step I would have to take in my quest to conquer the entire Star Trek canon? Would I even enjoy it?

Much to my surprise, the answer was ‘yes.’

Gene Roddenberry disowned this series from ‘official’ canon, but I honestly can’t understand why he did so. I found it quite delightful. Many of the issues that I had with TOS were resolved in TAS. And even though saying so might get me shot in some circles, I believe that The Animated Series was much more conceptually successful than its predecessor. The twenty-two minute run-time freed up the plots from unnecessary filler and the tendency towards gratuitous philosophizing. There is no dragging, no boredom. Just imagination. TAS also managed to do what TOS seemingly couldn’t and provided Lt. Uhura with some actual storylines that made me believe for the first time that this was a universe where men and women were equal. But the thing that really made TAS so enjoyable for me was the very fact that it was animated. I fully admit that one of the reasons I could never fully enjoy The Original Series was the poor special effects and cheap set design. I grew up during the dawn of the Golden Age of television, when The X-Files was king, popping out what was essentially cinema quality work twenty-two times a year. I have high standards. The animation of TAS fully eliminates that problem for me. There’s a certain headspace you enter when you watch animation, where the rules of reality don’t exist, and suspension of disbelief is that much easier.

I do recognize that the above concern is a fairly personal one (and hey, this is my review, so yeah), and that it might very well be my issue alone, but I know for a fact that because TAS was animated, it was able to commit to episode concepts that would simply have been impossible for a live-action television show. It’s just as easy (and costs just as much money) for an animator to create a person as it is for them to create an elaborate spaceship made out of living flowers, for example, as is the case in TAS‘s first episode, “Beyond the Farthest Star.” Other neat concepts that would have been impossible on TOS (and if not ‘impossible,’ they still would have turned out super shitty): In “Yesteryear,” Spock travels to the past to rescue his younger self from danger. Creating both Young Spock and the Vulcan city of ShiKahr was much easier, and turned out much better than it would have in TOS. “The Ambergris Element” took place largely underwater and involved vast quantities of freaky looking aliens and an underwater city. TOS was never good at aliens. No matter how hard it tried, they always ended up looking like people in makeup. And we can’t forget about “The Counter-Clock Incident,” which involved aging the entire crew of the Enterprise backwards. Completely and utterly impossible with 60s technology (still really hard today, in fact).

With that said, I do recognize that TAS had some major flaws. Like its predecessor, TAS‘s main obstacle to creative freedom was its budget. Especially towards the end of its run, The Original Series was plagued by an ever decreasing budget and the constant threat of cancellation. Considering both of those factors, it’s really not very surprising that TOS‘s best episodes were in Season One. Both of these problems also afflicted TAS, although they manifested themselves a little differently. TOS was infamous for re-using musical scores written for other episodes, a practice which is almost unheard of in today’s TV climate, where shows employ their own composers and each episode has it’s own score or soundtrack, but The Animated Series took this recycling policy to a new, and frankly ridiculous, level. Certain images were used over and over, the most egregious being a shot of Spock standing over his computer terminal and then turning his head sideways as he speaks to Kirk. Visually, this shot is unique. Since we don’t often get to see character profiles in animation, the fact that it is used over and over multiple times in every episode becomes obvious fairly soon to even the most oblivious viewer. To save money on voice actors, the show overuses the talents of Majel Barrett (Nurse Chapel) and James Doohan (Scotty). Both actors have very distinct voices, so it was never difficult for me to recognize them. Again, distracting. But the most ridiculous use of recycling was of the incidental music: the same themes, over and over and over and over. By the time I hit the last episode of the series, my annoyance levels were threatening to overwhelm any enthusiasm garnered by the story. And yes, even though animation allowed for way cooler stories than had been previously possible in TOS, the quality of the Filmation animation isn’t always the greatest (though I maintain it has a sort of tacky seventies charm going for it).

The Animated Series was welcomed back into Star Trek canon after Roddenberry’s death, but really, it had already made its mark. Some details and concepts introduced in TAS were used elsewhere in the ST universe: the films, The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine . . . It told us that the ‘T’ in James T. Kirk was for ‘Tiberius.’ It gave Spock’s mother a last name (Grayson). It invented the holodeck decades before TNG would use it. According to Memory Alpha, some of Sarek’s dialogue from “Yesteryear”, and young Spock being bullied by Vulcan classmates, are given homage in the 2009 feature film, Star Trek, almost word for word. And then there’s “Kirk is a Jerk,” which isn’t really canon and never comes up again, but I wanted to mention it here because I think it’s hilarious. TAS was canceled even sooner than TOS. After a very short run-time of only twenty-two episodes, during which time viewers were inundated by repeats of episodes they’d already seen, TAS was put to bed. But it lives on via the glories of DVD. Probably a lot of you disagree with many things I’ve said here, and I don’t really blame you. This all might very well be nonsense as I’m very drugged up right now and sick, and in about a minute or so, after I click ‘publish,’ I am going to be asleep in my bed, so just do me a favor and rent this series from Netflix, and THEN come back here and yell at me. I’ll make sure to get up out of my sickbed and read your comments, because you are all special flowers, and I appreciate you as human beings.

Which is just another backhanded way of saying LEAVE ME COMMENTS.

Since the day I passed my Masters Exams, I have been the most unproductive person on the planet. My roommate Alison thinks this is because my brain is “recovering” from what basically amounts to six months of prolonged psychological trauma. Whatever the reason, I have been incapable of doing much more than the basics: going to work, grading papers, watching television, cleaning, eating, and reading. And I can’t watch or read anything ‘serious’, either. It’s all fluff. Glorious, mindless, brain-candy fluff. This also means my writing has suffered, including this blog and Big Damn Heroes. Why should I be writing when I could be in my bed taking an illicit three-hour afternoon nap? When I could be stepping out for an afternoon movie? I’m sure this phase will pass eventually. I think. For now, though, I wanted to give you at least a little something. The post below was, fittingly enough, written on my first day of graduate school three years ago. That Ashley was so happy. She didn’t know how much her brain would hurt.

- – -

August 13, 2008
8:36 AM
Weight: out of shape
Caffeine consumed: 3 cups coffee (1 strawberry, v. healthy)

Sitting in small classroom in a basement. Everyone looks v. smart*, dressed v. well. Feel v. stupid. I am cutest one in room, though, so plus!

Lesson #1 — Written on board by edgy looking blonde woman, obviously in charge. Must make note to talk to her in person. She writes: “Be firm, be fair, be friendly.” This sounds like important advice, v. important.

This is new exp. for me, not automatically assuming I am smartest one in room. Must work on being more humble around stupid people, also being smarter around smarter people. (Also, look up tips on how to seem smarter than one actually is.)

An observation: lots of people wearing glasses. Should I be wearing glasses? I will wear glasses tomorrow. Some theories about why so many people are wearing glasses: a) makes look smart, b) glasses a “cool badge” in nerd circles, c) don’t care about appearance, d) don’t care what others think, e) trying as hard as possible not to look like belong in sorority or fraternity (counter-culture — must try to be more counter-culture), or f) something I’ve not thought of yet.

This v. fun.

Just realized, these people my equals. HOLY BALLS.

Man sitting next to me named Seth; quizzes me incessantly on my “interests.” Very nice (wedding ring).

There is a hippy lady sitting in front of me. She has dreadlocks and birkenstocks. Am wondering — how does one wash one’s hair with dreadlocks. Am afraid of the smellage. Handsome gent w/ curly hair in front row. Would be willing to overlook the ponytail; is very large and muscular.

Must remember to feed the cat when get home; no cake tonight, trying to be “healthy”. (Will probably eat cake tonight.)

*This channeling of Bridget Jones has been brought to you by a once in a lifetime opportunity called Ashley was v. bored. You should actually probably stop reading and just go read the book.

[Originally posted on August 14, 2008]

Already posted this on Tumblr, but just had to double-dip because of the awesome. As an extra sidenote, I like Tumblr because it is a good place to store things that I think are awesome, but most of the time I find it completely and utterly overwhelming and confusing. Am I alone in this? There is just SO MUCH STUFF there, you know?

P.S. I take my first out of two exams a week from right fucking now. It is awful.

[source]

The Fangirl Academy was started last year by the good people over at All Things Fangirl, in order to get our geeky voices heard. As a member of the Academy, I nominated and then voted for all manner of pop cultured geekery, and then they asked me to be a presenter.

Head on over to their site to check out the winners, and to watch my beyond-geeky presentation of Best TV Comedy and Best Actor in a TV Comedy.

“Oh, no, no. Actually, you’re my favorite customer. You spent over a thousand dollars last year on waffles alone.”

“The less I know about other people’s affairs, the happier I am. I’m not interested in caring about people. I once worked with a guy for three years and never learned his name. Best friend I ever had. We still never talk sometimes.”

“Leslie, you look tired and you’re all sweaty.”
“You look tired and you’re all sweaty all the time, what’s your excuse, you wanna go there, Jerry?!”
“No.”

“My body is finely tuned like a microchip, and the flu is like a grain of sand. It could literally shut down the entire system.”

“He’s like the perfect human man. I can’t find one flaw. There was one time I thought he farted . . . but it was me.”

“I need to find someone to fill in for April. Now, I know I’m not going to find someone who’s both aggressively mean and apathetic; April is really the whole package.”

“Leslie, go home.”
“No, I can’t go home, I have to get ready for the Chamber of Secrets.”
“Commerce.”

“Leslie, I typed your symptoms into the thing up here and it says you could have ‘network connectivity problems.’”

“If I was sick, could I do this?”
[Long Pause]
“What are you doing?”
“Cartwheels. Am I not doing them?”
“No.”

“I never promise Leslie anything, that way I never disappoint her. I try to be considerate.”

“I am starving. I haven’t had lunch since yesterday.”

“No, no, trust me. They have one that’s called the Meat Tornado, literally killed a guy last year.”
“You had me at Meat Tornado.”

“Do you want me to write you a rap? I’ll write you a rap. No, you won’t be able to pull it off. You’re too white.”

“Would you rather live in the pocket of a giant kangaroo, or, have a pocket on your own stomach that has a tiny kangaroo in it all the time?”
“Tiny kangaroo in my stomach pocket.”
“Forgot to mention! The tiny kangaroo is a racist.”

“Oh my God. The microchip has been compromised.”

“It’s a whole new meat delivery system.”

“I’m surrounded by a lot of women in this department, and that includes the men.”

“I had a dream that she came in here, stole my flu medicine, told me not to tell you, and then disappeared through that hole in the wall.”
“The door?”

“Good evening, everyone. I’m Leslie Monster, and this is Nightline.”

“I vomited somewhere in this room, I don’t remember where, though. Wait. You might want to check that drawer.”

“STOP . . . POOPING.”

“And then I said, ‘Uh, you know what? We need to get these bananas OUTTA HERE.’”

“That’s the most I’ve ever liked Ann.”

“That was amazing. That was a flu-ridden Michael Jordan at the ’97 NBA finals. That was Kurt Gibson, hobbling up to the plate and hitting a homer off of Dennis Eckersle. That was . . . that was Leslie Knope.”

“Give it up, everybody, for Scott Bakula from Quantum Leap.”

“I am going to be here when you wake up. I will not leave your side. [Pause] You could be asleep for hours, maybe I’ll come back later.”

“Gross. Your forehead is all sweaty. That’s gross. But I still like you. Okay. Oh, that’s disgusting.”

- – -

Parks and Recreation is the funniest show on television. Watch it now.

Star Trek: The Next Generation, Seasons Five-Seven
c. 1991-1994

I can’t remember if I’ve told you this story before; bear with me if I have. You might recall that I am a sometime employee of Barnes & Noble. I work in the cafe, which is not Starbucks, no matter how many times you try to shove your Starbucks gift-card in my face, and I’m truly sorry about that, I really am. Customer service is awful to work in because of the emotional beatings you regularly take, but the truth is that the vast majority of customers I deal with fall pleasantly in between the extremes of Regular-Customer-Who-Confuses-Service-Employees-With-Friends, and Completely-Entitled-Douchenozzles (the crazies are the rarity, they’re just so crazy you think there are ten of them). There are actually some pretty nice people that frequent my place of employment, it’s just hard to remember that sometimes.

A particularly pleasant and memorable encounter occurred a couple of months ago now — right smack-dab in the middle of my race to the finish of The Next Generation,  a new customer started coming in. He (or she, I’ll be honest, I’m not sure of the correct pronoun to use here . . . I think he is a cross-dresser, so it’s still ‘he,’ yes?) came up to the counter very quietly with a friend and politely waited for me to finish whatever I was doing. He would have stood out enough even if he hadn’t said what he said next — long hot pink hair is pretty attention getting — but when I asked him what he wanted he said, “The Jean-Luc Picard Special,” and didn’t elaborate. His face was totally deadpan. I repeated it back to him, absolutely dumbfounded. He smiled kind of impishly and said, “Have you seen Star Trek?” “Of course I’ve seen Star Trek!” I said, and then just kind of gaped at him open-mouthed, desperately attempting to hang onto my nerd-cred. I guess he could see my wheels turning or something, because he kept prodding me: “Come on, you can do it . . .” And then it hit me, and once I knew, I felt like an idiot. You can’t watch TNG for any length of time without knowing that Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise always asks for “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.” Anyway, after the embarrassment subsided, I felt a wonderful sense of accomplishment. That was the moment. I was in, bitches. In the know.

It’s hard to sum up just exactly what happened in seasons five, six, and seven of TNG, largely because the show wasn’t serialized, and thus there isn’t really a beginning, middle or end point to the “story” of the show, but also because it’s been awhile in between viewing and writing. The details are mostly lost, and what’s stuck with me is the general stuff, and, well, the memorable stuff. My review of seasons one through four is much more detailed in a way that I’m just not capable of at the moment, but there is no question in my mind that seasons five and six in particular (and great stretches of seven) represent TNG at its most fully mature and focused, and thus its most successful. I admit that after watching the first three seasons, I was (severely) skeptical that TNG could ever inspire levels of weeping-induced greatness in my television obsessed bosom. It was good, not great, as far as I was concerned. “The Best of Both Worlds” is landmark television, but it in no way reflected the show as a whole, which still had a tendency towards mediocrity and every now and then, produced a stinker. Later TNG, however, is simply solid, quality television at the top of its game. Even the worst season five and six episodes are quality television in a way that it was impossible for me to imagine as I watched seasons one and two, and the best of the bunch are phenomenal, classic episodes of television. These last three seasons, more than anything else this show has produced, indicates to me why The Next Generation has been so revered, and how its legacy has helped to sustain almost twenty plus years of the franchise.

In a stretch of episodes with very few major flaws, it’s easy to pick out my least favorite parts (mostly because they just stand out so much, but also because the majority of my complaints come from season seven). For example, Worf and Troi: just no. Person who thought up this pairing? You were wrong. Very wrong. I mean, what’s their celebrity couple name going to be? Woi? Trorf? (Help me out here . . . what’s the official term for “celebrity couple name”? It is KILLING me that I can’t think of it right now. By the way, I really hate couple nicknames. Super lame.) Another thing: Everybody was all up in Shonda Rhimes’s business when Izzie had sex with Denny the Ghost on Grey’s Anatomy, and all that infamous ghost sex almost killed the show, but guess what? TNG did it first. Beverly got boinked by a Scottish one in “Sub Rosa” and it was the creepiest thing ever. Actually, the creepiest thing ever was when ghost-boy was all invisible and up in her lady business and Picard totally walked in when she was, you know, thinging. It was awesome slash the worst. Anyway, I giggled like a five year old and hid my face until it stopped. The writers also still had almost no idea on how to make Klingons interesting, as the non-improvement of Klingon based stories in the last three seasons was pretty much non-existent, but at least the appearance of the resurrected Kahless that one time (Kahless is the Klingon Jesus, in case you forgot) was so crazy that it made up for the boredom of like five Klingon episodes put together. I also wish to complain fruitlessly, and twenty odd years late to the party, that while it was seriously awesome that Spock got to make an appearance in TNG (in two episodes from season six), his actual appearance was kind of a let-down story-wise.

Stand-out moments and favorite parts? Worf’s new hair-do: best costuming decision ever, followed in close proximity by finally putting Troi in a fucking uniform like a real office. The addition of Ensign Ro, played by Michelle Forbes (who I only knew as the violent and amoral Admiral Helena Cain from Battlestar Galactica) was wonderful.  In fact, all the characters in general improved for the better. And while most, if not all, of seasons five and six were a joy to watch, there are some episodes that deserve individual recognition: “I Borg” (the Enterprise takes in a lone Borg who becomes friends with Geordi, exploring what it means to be an individual and giving Picard some killer angry material in the process), “Outcast” (Riker falls in love with an androgynous person and controversy ensues), “The Inner Light” (Picard experiences a lifetime of memories in the space of moments), “Chain of Command” (Picard is captured and tortured; this episode has one of the best performances by Patrick Stewart in the series — he insisted on performing the crucial scene completely naked, which just goes to show that if you pay for a British actor, you’re going to get a British actor), the invention of ‘Thomas’ Riker in “Second Chances” (which shows Riker as he could have been), and perhaps my favorite episode of the series, “Tapestry,” which is an exploration of Picard’s life in a way that I can’t really describe, except to say that it has some of the loveliest writing not just in the show, but on television period. And then there’s the epic series finale, which succeeded in every way imaginable in closing the series. I think what made these three seasons so enjoyable for me was that they took the best of what Star Trek does — exploring philosophical conundrums and the reaches of human morality — but did so in such a way that it actually engaged human emotion as well. These characters, to me at least, finally became people, with real flaws and emotions.

But perhaps the biggest thing I’m going to take away from this show is a long and lasting deep affection for Patrick Stewart as Jean-Luc Picard. Picard is basically a giant nerd. Like Captain Kirk before him, Picard is married to the Enterprise, he’s fierce and commanding and unswervingly moral. Unlike Captain Kirk, however, (Shatner’s Kirk, to be specific), Picard is well-read and logical, and more importantly, he’s the kind of guy who spends his days playing the flute, reading Shakespeare, and studying Archaeology. Where Kirk will bed anything that moves, Picard knows how to keep it in his pants. And there’s no question in my mind that Stewart is by far the better actor. His performances are nuanced and full of pathos. While Shatner is busy chewing scenery and spitting it back out, filling his sentences with ridiculous pauses and overly melodramatic flourishes, Stewarts stands back and breathes, and as a result, Picard feels more real than Kirk ever did or could (at least, in The Original Series). The movies are a different story, as is Chris Pine’s performance as Kirk, which I find to be almost as emotionally moving as Stewart’s performance, only in a different way. Basically what I’m saying is that William Shatner kind of sucks. It’s funny: I usually judge a show’s affect on me by how hard I cry when it’s over. I don’t believe I actually cried at any point while watching the show (although I could very well be wrong about that), but I know for a fact that I did cry while watching the special features. It was Patrick Stewart, of course, and he was telling a story about a play he was doing in London. I don’t remember the name of the play, but it was about a man who dies and has to face all of his memories, all of the people in his life, and what Patrick Stewart says in the interview is that in order to convey those deep, complex emotions night after night, all he would have to do is imagine his Next Generation co-stars sitting in the audience. You guys, it was a new low, crying at special features, but it happened, and you can draw your own conclusions.

TNG was a show that got better with age, and even though it peaked in season six, it went out on a creative high. I now definitely understand why this show has become such a genre defining experience, and why it is remembered so fondly by those who saw it as children. TNG took the TOS premise and made it better, after much labor and bad writing and years of hard work. Michael Piller is dead (which I only learned last month — he seemed so alive in the DVD special features!) but his son is making a movie with Katee Sackhoff, so the legend lives on, I guess. Next up on my TV on DVD reviews is TOS, Seasons Two and Three, and The Animated Series as well, before I move on to all eleven feature films, and then I think it’s time to put Star Trek away for awhile. By the way, it’s taken me six hours to remember, but the word I was looking for above, the celebrity couple name thing? It’s portmanteau. Picard out.

- – -

Note: I’ve had a draft of this post in my inbox since October, but such is the awfulness of my life that it hasn’t seen the light of day until now. Actually, the only reason you’re getting it now is that I forgot to bring my current book (Lolita) to my office hours and have nothing to do until 3 PM. Honestly, it would probably have been a better post if I’d written it ASAP instead of now when my life is falling apart (JUST KIDDING! kind of), but I guess you’ll just have to deal. I also plan to have the next installment of my 25 (you probably think I’m lying about this one, if you’re even still interested in that project at all, but I swear, I’ve been re-inspired), a post about Star Trek: The Animated Series, and getting going on my Farscape Rewatch again (yes, it’s still happening . . . barely). Oh my God I can’t wait for March to be over so I can have fun again.

The Best

Most of the books I read are awesome, because I have awesome taste, but a few always stand out from the pack. The first that comes to mind is probably the most original and engaging piece of writing I’ve read in years. Kevin Fanning’s Jennifer Love Hewitt Times Infinity is impossible to sum up. You’ll just have to trust me (and everyone else who’s read and loved it). Here’s an excerpt: “THERE WAS NO BEGINNING. There was no history or time, no sea or sky, no language or life. There was only endless darkness, and Jennifer Love Hewitt.” Here’s what I had to say: “Bizarre. Funny. Moving. Outrageous. Lyrical. The weirdest thing I have ever read.” Here’s what Jennie had to say: “Is Kevin Fanning like a genius, or what?” And other people said things, too, they just said them longer. You can buy the chapbook at Kevin Fanning’s website, either in PDF form or in chapbook form, or you can download it to your Kindle or Nook. Easy peasy.

It seems like the whole world had Stieg Larsson fever this past year, but there’s a reason for that: his books are fucking crack. I read all three books of The Millenium Trilogy (The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played With Fire, and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest) in a kind of sick frenzy of page turning, and then I told everyone I ever met to go out and read them too. I have a more detailed list of reasons why these books are awesome, if you still haven’t picked them up, but be warned: this series is not for the faint of heart. It is extremely violent and a little bit depraved, but for a purpose, and I promise its worth it in the end. (This is probably a warning I should have given out earlier . . . sorry, Heather Anne!) I also gave in to the buzz surrounding Suzanne Collins’ YA series, The Hunger Games. For YA, it is extremely good. Heck, for published adult fiction, it’s good. Her writing is a bit obvious at points, but the experience of reading the world she has created is thrilling, and she has actual important things to say. Like Larsson, Collins isn’t afraid of violence in service of a point. Both authors seem to understand that the world we live in can’t be written about without it. Sad, but true.

I stepped timidly into the world of Frank Herbert’s Dune, and I’m glad I did. I’d been scared off by the film a couple years ago. It is honestly one of the most boring experiences watching a movie I’ve ever had, and that’s saying something. I mean, it’s really hard to make sandworms and murder and weird old babies boring, but somehow, it happened. Herbert’s writing is detailed and intelligent, and the history he’s created is almost unfathomable. Guy was a total genius. My only complaint is that it feels a little emotionally sterile at points, but that’s small change. I also went through a mini Jurassic Park obsession this past year, a sort of revived childhood. I’d never read the book before, despite having seen the film a gazillion times. It’s not the best book ever written, certainly, but it was a hell of a good time. I wrote this in my review: “And I know it’s just a thriller, a very specialized, intelligent kind of highly researched pulp fiction, but I also can’t help feeling like it’s got this incredible history. Maybe it’s just because Jurassic Park was this landmark film when I was a kid, and like, John Arnold’s severed arm and ‘Hold on to your butts!’ or whatever, but that stuff is important too, you know? Yeah, you do.” And then I ended up buying the DVD, downloading the soundtrack, and writing weird blog posts all over the place. I even ended up talking about it in a graduate seminar. Weirdo.

David Grann’s The Lost City of Z was probably the best work of non-fiction I read this year, although Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood came in a close second. Both books were well-written and obscenely well-researched, and both books had me staying up well into the wee hours of the night like a crazy person. Other books I enjoyed: Joe Abercrombie’s First Law Trilogy (The Blade Itself, Before They Are Hanged, and Last Argument of Kings), though I haven’t read the final book yet, is a rollicking and violent good time in smashing through fantasy tropes. I also read my last, first Austen over Thanksgiving: Persuasion. It is now my second favorite of her novels, right in line after Pride and Prejudice. Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange was a re-read, but honestly, I think it was better the second time, and if you haven’t yet, you should give it a try. It’s short, but packs a powerful punch. In terms of graphic novels, Bill Willingham’s Fables and Joss Whedon’s Astonishing X-Men are well worth your money. I wish I had more time for graphic novels. I’m sure a bunch will be on this list next year. I’ve a got a huge list of recommendations now.

The Worst

These don’t even deserve pictures, these are the ones I wish I hadn’t read: Moving Pictures (this one made the cut out of sheer disappointment; I know Terry Pratchett has the capacity for greatness, and this book is far from it; skip it if you ever pick up his Discworld series); As I Lay Dying, William Faulkner (boring and pretentious); Assholes Finish First, Tucker Max (hilarious and addictive, but Tucker Max deserves to be punished–what a horrible human being); and Horkheimer and Adorno’s The Dialectic of Enlightenment (which for some unknown reason is a cornerstone of academic writing in almost all creative fields, but to me represents everything that is wrong with academia).

The Craziest

I’m creating a category solely for one book: Terry Goodkind’s Wizard’s First Rule, the first in The Sword of Truth series. It is simultaneously the worst and best book I’ve ever read. I mean, there is so much weird and bizarre about it, and so much bad writing, that it’s positively gleeful to think about (and to read others opinions about . . . in fact, it’s weirdly like the experience of watching Glee ironically, if you know what I mean). I also got weirdly defensive of it after reading it. I don’t know what that was about, but this thing was so bizarre in such a weird way that I can’t help but go back for more. I’m gonna read the whole dang series. I have to see what fuckin’ weird thing that guy comes up with next. What about you guys? What were your favorite/least favorite books of 2010? Click through for the full list.

- – -

1. The Book of Lost Things, John Connolly
2. The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, Stieg Larsson
3. Astonishing X-Men, Vol. 1-4, Joss Whedon
4. And Then There Were None, Agatha Christie
5. Kapital, Vol. 1, Karl Marx
6. The Dialectic of Enlightenment, Max Horkheimer & Theodor Adorno
7. The Power of Myth, Joseph Campbell & Bill Moyers*
8. The Girl Who Played With Fire, Stieg Larsson
9. Selections from the Prison Notebooks, Antonio Gramsci
10. The Magician’s Elephant, Kate DiCamillo
11. Marxism and Literature, Raymond Williams
12. Middlesex, Jeffrey Eugenides
13. Faust Eric, Terry Pratchett
14. Tess of the D’Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy
15. Jennifer Love Hewitt Times Infinity, Kevin Fanning
16. Beyond the Box: Television and the Internet, Sharon Marie Ross
17. Power/Knowledge, Michel Foucault
18. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, Michel Foucault
19. Speaker for the Dead, Orson Scott Card*
20. Ender in Exile, Orson Scott Card
21. The Blade Itself, Joe Abercrombie
22. Pontoon, Garrison Keillor
23. Official Book Club Selection, Kathy Griffin
24. Howards End, E.M. Forster
25. Someone Will Be With You Shortly, Lisa Kogan
26. The Magicians, Lev Grossman
27. Emma, Jane Austen*
28. Jurassic Park, Michael Crichton
29. Subculture: The Meaning of Style, Dick Hebdige
30. The Devil in the White City, Erik Larson
31. Loving With a Vengeance, Tania Modleski*
32. Reading the Romance, Janice Radway*
33. The Red Pyramid, Rick Riordan
34. Everything is Illuminated, Jonathan Safran Foer
35. Jane Austen’s England, Maggie Lane
36. The City & The City, China Miéville
37. Before They Are Hanged, Joe Abercrombie
38. Still Flying: A Celebration of Joss Whedon’s Acclaimed Television Series ‘Firefly‘, Collaborative
39. The Secret Life of Bees, Sue Monk Kidd
40. The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, Stieg Larsson
41. Beat the Reaper, Josh Bazell
42. Dune, Frank Herbert
43. Notes From a Small Island, Bill Bryson
44. The Lost City of Z, David Grann
45. American Gods, Neil Gaiman
46. The Time Paradox, Eoin Colfer
47. The Affinity Bridge, George Mann
48. The Partly Cloudy Patriot, Sarah Vowell
49. Congo, Michael Crichton
50. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, J.K. Rowling*
51. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, J.K. Rowling*
52. Wizard’s First Rule, Terry Goodkind
53. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, J.K. Rowling*
54. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, J.K. Rowling*
55. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, J.K. Rowling*
56. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, J.K. Rowling*
57. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J.K. Rowling*
58. A Clockwork Orange, Anthony Burgess*
59. Sister Carrie, Theodore Dreiser*
60. Vanity Fair, William Makepeace Thackeray
61. 30 Rock and Philosophy, ed. J. Jeremy Wisnewski
62. Moving Pictures, Terry Pratchett
63. The Marx-Engels Reader, ed. Robert C. Tucker
64. The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins
65. Catching Fire, Suzanne Collins
66. Mockingjay, Suzanne Collins
67. The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway*
68. Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen*
69. The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald*
70. Vile Bodies, Evelyn Waugh
71. Ecrits: A Selection, Jacques Lacan
72. Antiphon, Ken Scholes
73. Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen*
74. As I Lay Dying, William Faulkner
75. Discipline and Punish, Michel Foucualt**
76. Black Mischief, Evelyn Waugh
77. Ape House, Sara Gruen
78. Summer Knight, Jim Butcher
79. Mansfield Park, Jane Austen
80. On the Road, Jack Kerouac
81. Fables Vol. 1-2, Bill Willingham
82. The Walking Dead Vol. 1, Robert Kirkman
83. Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life, Bryan Lee O’Malley
84. A Handful of Dust, Evelyn Waugh*
85. In Cold Blood, Truman Capote
86. Emma, Jane Austen**
87. The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, Alan Bradley
88. Death Masks, Jim Butcher
89. Autobiography of a Brown Buffalo, Oscar Zeta Acosta
90. Scoop, Evelyn Waugh
91. Ethics: An Essay on the Understanding of Evil, Alain Badiou
92. Northanger Abbey, Jane Austen*
93. Put Out More Flags, Evelyn Waugh
94. King Solomon’s Mines, H. Rider Haggard*
95. The Body and Social Theory, Chris Shilling
96. Face, Cecile Pineda
97. Persuasion, Jane Austen
98. Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh
99. White Noise, Don DeLillo
100. The Crying of Lot 49, Thomas Pynchon
101. Assholes Finish First, Tucker Max
102. The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro*
103. Little Women, Louisa May Alcott
104. My Àntonia, Willa Cather*
105. Frankenstein, Mary Shelley

*Re-read
**Second time in one year! Good God, man.