Whether you blog or not, read or not, I'm wishing all of you a wild and joyful New Year's Eve, and a 2016 packed with love, pleasure, good health and solid spirits. May it bring you wonder, discovery, and all the good stuff that makes life worth living.

Yeah, Mozart again. Look, I'm not obsessed, but I do love the guy's work. And this year was his anniversary. If you've been living under a rock somewhere, this was Mozart's 250th birthday celebration year. So here's Idomeneo. Epic opera. Drama. Brilliance.

Vezuvio dropped such a perfect explanation for all the questions eating at me in my last post that he earned himself a full comment publication. His insight cracked it wide open. Sometimes a reader knows exactly what you need to hear, exactly when you need it.

Well, not everything. Don't get carried away. But this holiday week I decided to pull back the curtain and show you the weird search queries that land lost souls on this blog. It's bizarre. It's hilarious. It's the internet in all its random glory.

Following Jules' lead, here's a peek at part of my bookmark collection. Not as massive as Bellesahi's hoard, but respectable. Started this when I joined a book club. I pick them up everywhere now. Libraries, bookstores, events. They mark more than pages.

Thanks to Calisa for the animated graphics. Hope your holidays are bright.

Want to see all my literary crushes from this past year? Check the new banner. 2006 delivered. Tons of great reads. Strong year overall, killer fall releases especially. I'll dig deeper into that soon. But for now, here's what made my heart race.

Hate questionnaires. Hate surveys. Hate those internet personality tests. But everyone's doing this one, and it was asked nicely, so fine. Here we go. Seven things I do well: making love, pouting, packing suitcases, balancing accounts, daydreaming...

Young broke adventurer Rupert Sent Leger inherits a massive fortune with one weird catch: he must live eighteen months in Vissarion Castle, in the Land of the Blue Mountains, on the Adriatic coast. Strange things happen. A woman in a shroud appears. Gothic brilliance from the Dracula author.

Know what hooked me? The title. I dig adverbs, especially hyperbolic ones. And so does Oskar. Nine-year-old kid, scary smart, incredibly sensitive. His father died on September 11th. Now Oskar's on a quest across New York City, searching for answers to a mystery his dad left behind.