The New York Review of Books on the relationship between doctors and drug companies.

Edit: I am inordinately amused that the comments to this entry have devolved into a conversation about the completely unrelated flirtatiousness of Anne of Green Gables.

( Favorite books, 30 though 21 )

So somebody suggested a few weeks ago that I put together one of those lists of my 100 favorite books of all time, or my list of the 100 greatest books of all time, which are entirely separate things. I can't do the second list, if only because I immediately hit the wall of defining the word "great," or more specifically, what makes a book great ( Read more... )

So last night I found myself dipping into Montgomery's journals again, and realized I hadn't yet blogged about her despite good intentions to do so.

Most people, if they're aware of L.M. Montgomery at all, know her mostly as the author of Anne of Green Gables, a children's classic that spawned numerous numerous films, some good, some utterly ( Read more... )

Last night I had a nightmare: I was forced to watch a certain movie again, and when I woke up in a cold sweat, I realized the reason: I had not yet publicably warned the world against this thing, and if I didn't, I was going to attacked by all of you who saw it and as a result turned into a zombie ( Read more... )

I've been commanded to do the book survey thing by queerbychoice, so here goes:

Total number of books in your house: Good god. I haven't a clue. A lot ( Read more... )