Tis the season of booklists. I make it a general rule to avoid looking at the best of the year lists. My book piles are already too high to begin with and the lists tend to be so very same-y with books I have heard of already so there is no reason to even bother. This belief and bad attitude has served me well for years. While all of you have been frantically adding books to your piles and lists, I’ve been sitting back all smug-like and superior — suckers!

But if literature teaches us nothing else, it reveals time and again that even the mighty fall.

And I fell.


It all began with NPR’s Best Books of 2014. I’ve read so many good books this year and am still waiting patiently in the library hold queue for a number of others that my curiosity got the best of me. Are my favorite books of the year on the list? Why yes, yes they are. Hooray! Oh, but what’s this book? How I Discovered Poetry by Marilyn Nelson looks interesting. Oh, and The Sixth Extinction by Elizabeth Kolbert. Euphoria by Lily King, haven’t heard much about that but Margaret Mead is a character. Have to check that out. Oh my gosh! Octavia Butler! A collection of previously unpublished stories, Unexpected Stories. Squee! And. And. And.

You get the picture.

Then I made the mistake of thinking it was only a minor slip even though I suddenly found about ten more books on my TBR list than were there previously. I was back in control with nothing to worry about so why not look at the New York Times 100 Notable Books? The list will be so conventional and uninteresting I won’t be tempted at all.

Yes, I am that daft and delusional.

I don’t even know how many more books I added to my TBR list. I lost track after five. This all happened over the weekend and I have since regained my balance and have resisted the lure of any further “best” lists I’ve come across.

But now, now just when I am recovered, fellow bloggers have gotten me messed up once again and I was completely unsuspecting. I don’t usually get overly excited about upcoming book releases but in one day I managed to fall swooning over a shelf-load of books that will be published in 2015. I don’t want to point any fingers (Ana! Jenny!) but you all need to cease and desist. Immediately. Just stop it.

In case anyone else is planning on doing an upcoming list, let me beg you to please, please, please change your mind. Keep it to yourself. Really. I don’t need any more of this nonsense. I am contrite. I have learned my lesson. Show some compassion to this fallen previously smug reader.

Don’t make me plot revenge. Cuz I will. Mean and ugly. I much prefer being kind and friendly. So I am pleading, please, don’t make me go there or we will all regret it.

Therefore, allow me to thank you in advance for your benevolence.