It's that time of year again. Everybody and his brother is coming up with lists of the year's best books, or the year's most notable, or some such. Year's most heavily hyped and most suitable for writing long, tedious, and pseudo-learned articles about, in many cases.
Should you care, a commenter kindly sent us the URL for the Canadian Globe and Mail's hot 100; the UK Sunday Times has a list; and so does the New York Times, if you can be bothered to register. I did once, but it seems to have forgotten me, so the hell with it.
Jessa Crispin worries that she's only read four of the NYT's list. She began to read some of the others but got distracted by an episode of Lost. Well yes. Entirely understandable.