Inspired by Sarah’s recent review of her 2006 reading, as well as by my increasingly frustrating work days (which leave me limp as a noodle and empty of the spark of life required to tell you lovely stories), here is an exciting romp through the books I read last year.

In 2006 I read about a hundred books (the total count was 107, but it would have been the much more auspicious 108 if I hadn’t lost my copy of this). The actual number of books I read over the course of the year was quite a bit higher, because 2006 was the era of the Great Literature Search at work. However, if I loved a book I read in the office for possible inclusion in our new reading program, I made an effort to put it on the list — so we’re mostly talking about a huge number of banal and misguided titles that aren’t really worth reflecting on anyway. The hundred books that I actually documented included

+ 25 books of nonfiction, largely consisting of popular science, social history, and memoir.
+ 2 in translation (a terrible figure, but both books were wonderful – Milan Kundera’s Laughable Loves and the hysterically strange Master and Margarita by Bulgakov).
+ 2 graphic novels (ditto dismal number, great books– Black Hole and Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid on Earth)
+ 4 short story collections (all one-author books)
+ About 35-45 YA (fuzzy because of several that were sort of in-between middle-grade and YA)
+ 1 audio (I cancelled my Audible subscription at the beginning of the year because I wanted to save a little money, and I meant to buy the occasional one-off title but I never got around to it. I’ll have to rectify that situation, because I definitely miss audio books.)
+ 1 book written by someone I know (a very interesting experience indeed)

Summation:

Most Disappointing Books in No Order:
– Choke, by Chuck Palahniuk. I loved Fight Club to pieces, but at this point I’m beginning to think Chuck believes weird and gross writing is the same thing as good writing. Not offensive, just second-rate.
– The Body of Christopher Creed, by Carol Plum-Ucci. I believe my final word on this in the Rumpus was “I know, it does sound like I hated it, doesn’t it? In fact I simply didn’t like anything about it.”
– The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, by The Disney Corporation. Oh, right – that wasn’t a book. But it was disappointing… all surface, no heart, stick-figure acting. Shame on you, Big Business Leeches of Literature! I’m so not watching whatever you’ve done to Charlotte’s Web.
– Mind Over Matter: Conversations with the Cosmos, by K. C. Cole. A collection of short science columns that were much too bite-sized to carry such a lofty title.

Best in No Order:
– Rebuilt: My Journey Back to the Hearing World, by Michael Chorost. Smart, funny, moving, surprising. lyrical, and edjumacational. What more could you ask for in a sciencey-memoir? Not a damn thing, that’s what.
– Anansi Boys, by Neil Gaiman. I’m rediscovering a certain brand of sharp, literary, dragon-and-wizard-free fantasy in my old age, and boy does it taste good. Plus now I know it’s not just me who feels like the birds are out to get her.
– All Alone in the Universe, by Lynne Rae Perkins. So deft and understated, and it slipped me entirely out of my skin. I felt 15 (and in agony) again.
– My Sister’s Continent, by Gina Frangello. A devastatingly dark and original book that both repelled and enchanted me. Highly recommended if you don’t mind reading about people almost killing each other during sex.
– A Human Being Died That Night: A South African Woman Confronts the Legacy of Apartheid, by Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela. Notable for its unflinching and convincing examination of “evil” and the need to forgive – not the best writing you’re going to find on the subject, but perhaps the most revealing.
– Why People Believe Weird Things: Pseudoscience, Superstition, and Other Confusions of Our Time, by Michael Shermer. Gloriously well-researched social history of false beliefs and why we just can’t seem to rid ourselves of them. Michael Shermer is my hero.

Last Year’s Goals/This Year’s Goals: There’s really only one, and I think there must be something wrong with me because I don’t know why I keep putting it off. I swear… 2007 will be the year of Shakespeare. Even if I have to read him sitting on the floor surrounded by boxes when we MOVE THIS SUMMER HOORAY HOORAY I CANNOT WAIT.

(No, we still don’t know where. I’m just very excited.)