What the Wall Street Journal Missed by Omitting My ‘Twelve Months of Reading’ Roundup

Once again the Wall Street Journal has neglected to include me among the fifty people who recount highlights from their past year’s reading. Maybe this oversight should come as a relief because, as usual, I bought more books than I read, most recently a friend’s automotive journalism title. At his book signing, I met a self-proclaimed “Southern lady novelist” with a sideline in motor racing who was so pleased that I could recite the names of two novels by Carson McCullers that she made the unsolicited promise to send me a review copy of a newly reprinted work of her own.

Internal organs, before and after.
Internal organs, before and after.

I’m in the hole for at least couple of reading years when you add in the number of books received as gifts—books that wouldn’t even have caught my second glance. “Olive Kitteridge,” by Elizabeth Strout, for example, had somehow eluded me, although I’d almost surely have noticed a volume called “Elizabeth’s Trout,” by Olive Kitteridge. Today’s mail brought a Christmas package containing the former.

Much of last winter was devoted to Daniel Yergin’s hefty “The Quest: Energy, Security, and the Remaking of the Modern World,” but the reading was always a pleasure and Mr. Yergin made me feel almost blasé about trading carbon credits. Soon afterward, I took up a kind of sequel to Yergin’s themes of scarcity and plenty in “Abundance: The Future Is Better Than You Think,” by Peter H. Diamandis and Steven Kotler. Thanks to this book, I’ve allowed myself to drink as much beer as I like, knowing that, thanks to tissue engineering and stem cells, a 3-D printer will be capable of making my next liver.

“The Amateur: Barack Obama in the White House” was a secret pleasure. No way I’d tell my friends, almost all of whom are liberal conformists, but I delighted in Edward Klein’s portrait of the POTUS as a bungler and charlatan with a prickly nature and a jealous wife; not long after finishing it I told my elderly father, who was salivating at the prospect of ditching Obamacare, “I think President Obama will be reelected in the fall and the whole idea of repeal will die, so everybody might as well start getting used to it.”

Yes, there is also fiction, and just as I felt thrilled yesterday when I needed a rolling pin for the tart I was making and found exactly one available at Target, it was also a thrill in early November to secure the last remaining copy of “Fifty Shades of Grey” in the Austin, Texas, airport. Alas, it proved to be one of the ten worst books I’ve ever read, and I can attest that the rolling pin has a better idea where it’s going and is more entertaining. And as a added virtue, the rolling pin can play itself in the movie.

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