As we near the finish line, here are the books I read for pleasure in 2008:

This Common Secret: My Journey as an Abortion Doctor, Susan Wicklund
Good, but better aimed at inducing outrage in those less familiar with the hell U.S. providers endure to provide medical services to women.

Unaccustomed Earth, Jhumpa Lahiri
I prefer her novel over her short story collections (I always want more!), so I was particularly pleased that those in the front half of this one were quite lengthy and the ones in the back half essentially constituted a novella. She's fantastic.

Certain Girls, Jennifer Weiner
I'm not otherwise a pink bookcover kind of woman, but Weiner is a smart cookie and I'd read Good In Bed years back, so I gave the sequel a try. I was put off by the ending being more an obvious setup for a third Cannie Shapiro book than something that sensically served what had come before it, but it was otherwise a decent fluffy read.

Hospital: Man, Woman, Birth, Death, Infinity, Plus Red Tape, Bad Behavior, Money, God, and Diversity on Steroids, Julie Salamon
Heavier in its focus on high level administrative workings than I was expecting, but fascinating nonetheless (and all the moreso with the backdrop of my own Brooklyn neighborhood hospital beginning to fail).

When You Are Engulfed in Flames, David Sedaris
After eliminating the pieces I'd already read in The New Yorker, little remained. What was left wasn't particularly memorable.

Waiter Rant: Thanks for the Tip -- Confessions of a Cynical Waiter, The Waiter (aka Steve Dublanica)
I like the blog, I liked the book. Hey, look at me being pithy!

Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn, Stephenie Meyer
The lulz, they were epic.

Third Base Ain't What It Used to Be: What Your Kids Are Learning About Sex Today and How to Teach Them to Become Sexually Healthy Adults, Logan Levkoff
I needed a corrective to absti-teen vampires. But seriously, I read it for a Planned Parenthood event at which Levkoff spoke, and definitely recommend it to anyone who has kids in their life. A solid resource.

Downtown Owl, Chuck Klosterman
His first novel, which reads pretty much like his non-fiction. It's slightly weird, and I kind of loved it.

The Wordy Shipmates, Sarah Vowell
Slower going than Vowell usually is for me, but her stuff is always worth spending time with.

Twenty Fragments of a Ravenous Youth, Xiaolu Guo
A tiny, ephemeral little novel. Moody, which I liked.

Revolutionary Road, Richard Yates
Perceptive, often gorgeously observed, and really quite dark. Can't wait to see what they do with it in the movie, with particular hopes for more insight into Winslet's character than the book offers.

The Tales of Beedle the Bard, J.K. Rowling
Amusing stuff, but I'd really like that encyclopedia now, please.

Harry, A History: The True Story of a Boy Wizard, His Fans, and Life Inside the Harry Potter Phenomenon, Melissa Anelli
The logical next read. It was fun to relive the fannish excitement around book 7's release.

The Timewaster Letters, Robin Cooper (aka Robert Popper)
If it's written by someone who made Look Around You, it has to be good for a post-Christmas giggle. And it was.

Further, I'm finishing out the last afternoon of the year with Watchmen in my hand, and it's threatening to be easily better than anything else I just mentioned up there. Wow, it's good.

So I was on my way home after running approximately four million errands this afternoon when I passed a cluster of pre-teen girls walking with one boy. One of the girls referred to the boy as "Em," prompting another girl, apparently just realizing that she didn't know his full name, to ask him what it was short for. He replied that it was Emilio or somesuch. This prompted yet another of the girls to say "Too bad it's not Emmett," and I swear, the resulting chorus of squee could have carried for miles.

I reflexively rolled my eyes until I remembered that at their age, I was totally one of those girls. I might have been the one swooning internally rather than screeching (I had my dignity!), but really, close enough. I loved all kinds of awful, sexist, stupid stuff as a kid, and I turned out to be pretty well-adjusted, feminist, and smart anyway. So really, when people fret about the futures of young Twilight-obsessed girls, I understand where they're coming from, but I can't get too up in arms about it. They're probably going to be just fine. They might end up having some weird thing for dudes who are into bear hunting, but hey, there are worse fates.

You may know I'm not the biggest fan of summer. Sure, TV's less of a wasteland than it used to be June through August, and there were some halfway decent movies in the theaters this year. But as the days wore on, I still found myself checking fall premiere dates and looking longingly ahead to Oscarbait. Fall may not technically start for a few weeks, but with Labor Day past us (and despite the fact that it hit 90 out there today), I'm declaring summer officially over.

But first, I'm looking back. Because though I may bitch and complain about my least favorite season, I did manage to keep myself fairly well entertained this year. These are the five things that I most enjoyed in between cases of heat exhaustion:

I owe rm one for insisting in comments to my post about the Tonys that Passing Strange was something special, and needed to be seen in context, context being something that one underwhelming televised song performance couldn't provide. Her rave was in the back of my mind when, on a restless weekend when my husband was out of town, I took advantage of the newly opened TKTS booth near me on a whim and scored myself a half price orchestra seat for one of the final performances. Excellent move. It's the most emotionally and ideologically sophisticated piece of theatre I've ever seen. It also rocks; I'd never seen an entire Broadway audience literally bounce around in their seats before. Luckily, Spike Lee was there the same day I was, filming the show for broadcast in 2009, where it will hopefully be discovered by those who couldn't catch it during its all too brief run.

Unconvinced that the network that considers the works of Jean-Claude Van Damme Classically American was likely to be behind quality original programming, I skipped the first season of Mad Men when it aired last year. But since the buzz built and built, I eagerly Netflixed it. It quickly turned into a running downstairs late at night to drop outgoing discs into the mailbox for the early pickup so I could get more ASAP situation. It has a Sopranos-esque depth (which isn't surprising considering that's where the creator cut his dramatic teeth), only with superior female characters and kickass production design. Season 2 is really cooking now, and wow, is it great. I suspect it may remain my favorite hour of TV even after other shows start returning.

Because of a series of programming conflicts, I also missed Cranford when it was on PBS in May. Despite its flawless pedigree, I sort of dragged my feet when it came to getting around to it on DVD, having surpassed even my very high limit on costume drama after all those weeks of Austen on Masterpiece Theatre. But then I suddenly found myself in the mood again and was richly rewarded. I sobbed my way through a good deal of it (yes, I consider that a good thing). Everyone in it is fantastic, but I especially enjoyed seeing a side of Philip Glenister that I hadn't seen before. And now I absolutely need to see every Elizabeth Gaskell adaptation ever made. You're next, North and South!

I must have some special kind of amnesia, because somehow, I always forget how much I enjoy the Olympics until I find myself on the edge of my couch, rooting hard for some athlete I'd never previously heard of competing in a sport I don't actually care about. The Michael Phelps thing is totally played out by now, and I'll be completely sick of him by the time he shows up to host Saturday Night Live, but it really was exciting to watch him be so freakishly good. And props to Yimou Zhang for a gorgeous opening ceremony, too. I don't know that they'll ever top that torch lighting.

Okay, please don't be too quick to judge me for getting a good deal of pleasure out of the Twilight series, which I consumed in one big weeklong binge courtesy of my library. My god, do those books suck. Suck, suck, suuuuuuck. The writing is frequently amateurish, the plot is sometimes absent for three quarters of a volume, and many of the characters have no discernable personalities. The "heroine" is the Sue-iest Sue who ever did Sue, and if she has more than a couple of redeeming qualities, I did not spot them. But it's so perversely fun to hate her. Most of the time I was reading with my mouth open in either horror at their deeply disturbing sociopolitical underpinnings or the sheer cracked out-ness of where the story goes and goes and then goes some more in WTeverlovingF-inducing fashion. Sadly, I will totally be going to see the movie in November, as though I'm loathe to throw any actual money Stephenie Meyer's way, I am unable to resist the opportunity to laugh my ass off at the absurdity that is vampires in baseball uniforms. For I, unlike the Cullens, am not made of stone.

Wow. What a teaser. I'm dying of anticipation over herezzzzzzzz...mmmmph, wuh?

Seriously, the loltastic Twilight* -- due out a month before HBP -- already has both a teaser and a full trailer, and Warner Bros. themselves released a fantastic teaser for 2009's Watchmen**, and we get a black screen and Dumbledore with, apparently, marbles in his mouth. I know this is meant for the IMAX audience, and likely none of that footage is ready yet, but still, way to build the excitement, guys.



*I may still read those books, though, for said sparkly lulz. I've picked the first one up in book stores a couple of times and haven't yet been able to get past the bit about the eyelet top without wanting to smack the female protagonist. But then I heard that she's actually so hateable that it's fun, which is something I think I can embrace in the summertime. Also, the premise reminds me of a very similar series I adored in high school, so some nostalgia is admittedly at work here, too.

**That I will definitely read before the movie comes out; I've been meaning to for years.

As the year winds down, here are ten things that made my 2007 a pretty damn good one, in no particular order.

Harry Potter
Enough said (and said, and said), really. No other entertainment provided me with as many hours of pure geeky glee. If we didn't still have two more movies to look forward to, I'd be embarrassingly sad. J.K. Rowling deserves all the praise she's getting on so many year-end roundups.

Pushing Daisies
I was skeptical, I really was. I expected to be killed by an overdose of precious by the end of the pilot. And while I still wince when Kristin Chenoweth opens her mouth to sing, I'm otherwise entirely delighted. The aunts rule. Anna Friel and Lee Pace are adorable. And if Chi McBride -- whose arrival on the screen now makes me laugh before he even says a word -- isn't nominated for an Emmy, I may scream.

Once
Again, I was wary of the hype, particularly since it grew out of the increasingly slick Sundance festival. Cut to me sitting in the theater, eyes streaming with tears as I watched the two characters make music together for the first time, more than sold. It was the most transcendent scene in any movie I saw this year. Deceptively simple, totally swoonworthy.

This American Life
I'd listened to TAR for years, but my interest had waned a bit. But then I saw the show live, the risky TV show ended up being really good, and one of the new episodes even had a segment that somehow managed to make me like both my least favorite correspondent and freakin' Phil Collins. Sorry I doubted you there for a minute, Ira.

Radio Lab
Another reason for the TAR love: it introduced me to this show, possibly the least dry, most addicting science program ever. I downloaded the episode with the borrowed story, got so sucked in by it that I nearly missed my stop on the train, and came home and swiftly acquired the entire run. It's like nothing I've heard on the radio before, and I can't wait for season four.

The Office
They got off to a bit of a shaky start this season, but even the relatively problematic episodes are still a joy. I still can't get through the ends of "Business School" or "The Job" without getting choked up. The strike hasn't gotten too painful for me yet, but I do feel a twinge every time an Office-less Thursday goes by.

Love is a Mix Tape: Life and Loss, One Song at a Time
I checked this book out of the library pretty early in the year, and I'd sort of forgot about how much I loved it until I saw the newly-released paperback while Christmas shopping and was seized by the desire to pick it up for myself. I resisted out of thrift, but if you like good, personal music writing, you shouldn't.

Spring Awakening
Broadway has gotten so expensive that I choose my shows wisely these days, using the Tonys as a kind of live shopping guide. Totally impressed, I puchased tickets the night this won Best Musical, and it turned out to be money very well spent. I'm so glad I got to see the recently-departed John Gallagher Jr.'s brilliant, heartbreaking Moritz. Best theatrical experience I've had in ages.

Amy Winehouse
It's been a long time since I heard a voice that made me go out and buy a record without knowing anything much about the artist, but that's what I decided to do about three seconds into her introductory clip on an old episode of Never Mind the Buzzcocks. Back to Black is the rare record that's good all the way through. Let's just hope she sticks around to make more music.

Movie comedies
This was the year I laughed my ass off at the movies. I saw four really outstanding, smart comedies: Hot Fuzz, Knocked Up, Superbad, and Juno. That 50% of those starred Michael Cera is not a coincidence, I think. He's got that blend of hilarity and sweetness that typifies what makes all of those titles feel so new and exciting.

Dude, I temporarily get a life and so am away from teh Internets for a day and miss that DUMBLEDORE IS GAY? And had a thing for/with Grindelwald? And the crowd cheered? And she used it to invalidate some crap that Kloves wrote? ALADKJFLKAJDFLK! Somebody pinch me!

And while I'm at it, thumbs up on Neville/Hannah, too, Jo. My boy would so marry a Hufflepuff.

Wow.

Hey, a book post!

You might have noticed that I never got around to writing a big long rambler of an entry about Deathly Hallows. Quite honestly, between my extended babbling about the Order of the Phoenix movie, the work of avoiding spoilers, post-book fannish tensions running high, Prophecy, and the general sucktasticness of my own personal August, I was a bit burned out on it all, and thus never got very far into a re-read. As much as I enjoyed it and would like to spend some time pulling it apart, I'm content to leave the book on the shelf until the run-up to movie six. It'll be fun to revisit the entire series with the knowledge of how it ends. So, next year, then.

After DH, I wasn't really in the mood to read books for a while, but I've worked my way through a few things over the last few weeks. First, in anticipation of the apparently very good film adaptation, I picked up Marjane Satrapi's much-hyped Persepolis and Persepolis 2. Liked 'em, though I admit I'm still slightly sketchy on Iranian political history. I made the mistake of reading the panels about the Cinema Rex arson deaths right before bed and was visited by her illustration of it in a dream. (The nightmare says it's working!) I'm guessing 2's abrupt ending suggests a 3 is probably in the works, which I'd be happy to hear.

And then after seeing and being totally wowed by Spring Awakening on Broadway last month, I bought the book of the musical in a moment of obsessive need to know everything about the production. (Seriously, I can totally tell that if this were ten years ago, I'd be into this old school Renthead style. Though I am filled with squee when I listen to the cast recording and would love to see it again before certain actors leave, I will leave the serious fangirling to the kiddies.) There's not much by way of background material, which I would guess I'd find more of in the souvenir program I didn't buy, but there were some nice insights to be found in the stage directions.

That moment has since expanded into something of a prolonged crush into which I further immersed myself by reading Jonathan Franzen's new translation of the Frank Wedekind play the show is based on. I admit that I was partly drawn to it by the kerfuffle between Franzen (whose introduction contains as many valid criticisms of the musical as it does points that are laughably arrogant to borderline offensive) and Duncan Sheik (who wrote some damn gorgeous songs, which counts for a whole hell of a lot when it comes to, you know, a musical), but I was genuinely interested in it on academic and writerly levels, too. It's a good read, clever and darkly funny. I'd love to see a production of it.

I've got a stack of non-fiction career and health books to work through next. But after that, I'm going to read something fun, damn it. I just don't know what yet.

Um, yeah. Still haven't actually started my DH re-read. Bad fan! Bad! (Avoidant, more like. I don't want it to end...again.) It's looking like I'm going to be lugging my copy with me on the trip to Prophecy. But hey, it's a long ride, so that might be for the best. There's only so much time I can spend watching episodes of Spaced for the twelfth time, anyway.

Luckily, while I was busy not reading the book, there was the post-book media and blog frenzy to keep me entertained. I bookmarked a bunch of stuff, much of which the HP fans among you have probably already seen by now, but it's all so juicy that I couldn't let it go by unremarked upon.

( Spoilers for DH, obviously. )

( This section is only spoilery if you don't want to know anything about HBP movie developments. )

Okay, I'm all blogged out. Maybe I'll start reading now.

Call it pathetic if you will, but I'm in a post-Potter funk today. I've mourned much loved long-running TV shows and cried my way through the appendix at the end of the 1100 pages of my beloved Lord of the Rings, but man, nothing beats this for "but it can't be over!" sadness. I think it's that so much of being a Harry Potter fan was about stewing over what might happen, and now we know. Add in that we'll never have new adventures with these wonderful characters again and...yeah. It's the funk of three years of really rewarding fandom -- my main fandom -- winding down.

I'm planning to re-read the book before posting anything that even pretends to be coherent. ( But this is the stuff that keeps coming back to me today. Come and talk to me about it, won't you? )

And that's it until this book has gotten the Post-It treatment. I promise. Probably.

"The Internet blog sites will be full of this was bad and that was wrong, but it's going to boil down to something that many will feel and few will come right out and state: No ending can be right, because it shouldn't be over at all. The magic is not supposed to go away." -- Stephen King, Goodbye, Harry

Finished, just now. There'll be plenty of time to get analytical about it later, but all I want to do is stay in this blissful bubble for a while and revel in purest love, you know? It's been a wrenching, singular 28 hours. I'm so grateful for the day three years ago when I picked up that paperback of Sorcerer's Stone on a serendipitous whim.

Thank you, Jo. It was special.

More soon.