It occurred to me this weekend that all I've been reading recently is light, totally escapist, no-thought-required books. It made me feel guilty. I mean, The Clique? Come on. So I assuaged my guilt by blaming the holidays. Really. Who wants to read deep philosophical works while trying to finish up buying/wrapping/baking/smiling politely? (Not that I ever read much in the way of deep stuff.)
So. Word of warning. There are many more reviews of silly, not-especially-literary books on the way.
Also, I'm going to try to bang through my backlog over the next few days -- I'd like to know what my actual total is for the year. But we'll see what happens. I'm not going to make any promises to myself. (Which is a bad sign.)