My chief reading goal for 2015 was to read from the shelves of my home library. Although I’ve certainly reduced my, ahem, acquisition habit, I have much room for improvement. Enough said.

I completed 137 books this year. The complete list can be found here. I actually read many, many more (I am an unrepentantly promiscuous reader, bouncing from one book to another, leaving a trail of only just begun, unfinished, and nearly finished books in my wake), but I have listed only books read cover-to-cover. Of those 137 books, 57 were novels (excluding graphic works), nine were plays, 30 were non-fiction titles (again, excluding graphic works), and 41 were graphic works – three of which were non-fiction.

Best Fiction Read in 2015:
■ Did You Ever Have a Family (Bill Clegg; 2015. 304 pages. Fiction.)
■ The Other Side of the Mountain (Michel Bernanos; 1967 (2007 edition). 116 pages. Fiction.)
■ Hermine (Maria Beig; 1984 (2004 translation). 186 pages. Fiction.)
■ Fates and Furies (Lauren Groff; 2015. 400 pages. Fiction.)
■ The One and Only Ivan (Katherine Applegate; 2012. 336 pages. Fiction.)
■ My Wish List (Gregoire Delacourt; 2014. 176 pages. Fiction.)
■ Passing (Nella Larsen; 1929 (2003). 160 pages. Fiction.)
■ The Expendable Man (Dorothy B. Hughes; 1963 (2012). 264 pages. Fiction.)

Honorable Mention in Fiction:
■ The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (Robert Louis Stevenson; 1884 (2012). 144 pages. Fiction.)
■ Private Peaceful (Michael Morpurgo; 2003. 202 pages. Fiction.)
■ The Water Knife (Paolo Bacigalupi; 2015. 384 pages. Fiction.)
■ The Subprimes (Karl Taro Greenfeld; 2015. 320 pages. Fiction.)

Best Play Read in 2015:
■ Marjorie Prime (Jordan Harrison; 2013. Drama.)

Best Non-fiction Read in 2015:
■ Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End (Atul Gawande; 2014. 304 pages. Non-fiction.)
■ Somewhere Towards the End: A Memoir (Diane Athill; 2009. 192 pages. Non-fiction.)

Honorable Mention in Non-fiction:
■ The Psychopath Test (Jon Ronson; 2011. 288 pages. Non-fiction.)
■ So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed (Jon Ronson; 2015. 304 pages. Non-fiction.)

Best Graphic Work Read in 2015:
■ The Collected Essex County (Jeff Lemire; 2009. 512 pages. Graphic Fiction.)

Honorable mention in Graphic Work:
■ Killing and Dying (Adrian Tomine; 2015. 160 pages. Graphic Fiction.)

Random comments:
● Naked Statistics: Stripping the Dread from the Data was certainly a book far afield of my usual choices. This book was really quite terrific, though – informative, accessible, and interesting. Charles Wheelan’s gift is presenting difficult material in a “sticky” manner: Long after I had read Naked Statistics, I remembered concepts and examples.

● Quite simply, Maria Beig’s 1984 novel Hermine is perfect.

From page 154:

Earlier, years earlier, she had tried to tell that kind of story, to explain that kind of experience to other people and herself. In the best cases she had reaped incomprehension for her trouble, more usually disapproval, ridicule most often of all. Inside of her she had a secret chamber for such things. What had happened to her today was already within, and the door shut tight.

● It is said that each of us experiences grief differently. Agreed. No judgment. Let’s just say that I had thought Roger Rosenblatt (Kayak Morning: Reflections on Love, Grief, and Small Boats) and I would have more in common than we actually do.

● I would like to recommend that any reader who has decided graphic works are not for her must read one or both of the following two books:

■ The Collected Essex County (Jeff Lemire; 2009. 512 pages. Graphic Fiction.)
■ Killing and Dying (Adrian Tomine; 2015. 160 pages. Graphic Fiction.)

Folks who already appreciate graphic works but missed these two titles are also urged to add them to their library holds.

We won’t exchange our book gifts until later this evening, but these are my companions until then. It delights me that how I have spent Christmas Eve for more than thirty years has a name: jólabókaflóð.

Recently finished:

■ High-Rise (J.G. Ballard; 1975 (2012 reprint). 208 pages. Fiction.)
First published thirty years ago, High-Rise is a slick, smart dystopian parable. Most people are familiar with Ballard’s Empire of the Sun (which was adapted by Spielberg into a film of the same title), but it’s his novels that earned him the adjective “Ballardian.” I liked this brisk work; it felt a bit like Lord of the Flies peopled by suburban adults.

■ The Martian (Andy Weir; 2014. 384 pages. Fiction.)
I’m not sure I can lend anything original to the general love heaped on Weir’s book. It’s certainly great fun, and we’re looking forward to seeing the movie.

■ Killing and Dying (Adrian Tomine; 2015. 160 pages. Graphic Fiction.)
If you’re not already a fan of graphic works, I entreat you to set aside any misgivings and/or preconceptions you may have and get a copy of this book now. Yes, this is a well drawn collection; Tomine effortlessly demonstrates what the genre can achieve in capable hands. But more importantly, it is a terrifically told collection, one that elicits involuntary gasps when it reminds us — as the best fiction will — that stories often reveal far greater truths that non-fiction ever could. Tomine demonstrates absolute mastery of the short story form with this work.

■ The Empty, Volume 1 (Jimmie Robinson; 2015. Graphic Fiction.)
The art was quite beautiful, actually, but the narrative was… “gappy,” for lack of a better word. More, the abrupt resolution makes me wonder if there will even be a Volume 2.

■ Descender, Volume 1: Tin Stars (Jeff Lemire; 2015. 160 pages. Graphic Fiction.)
Sweet Tooth was my introduction to Lemire, and I greatly admired that series. Descender, which is obviously inspired in part by Iron Giant, Battlestar Galactica, and A.I., is promising.

In progress:

■ 1984 (George Orwell; 1949 (1961 ed.). 328 pages. Fiction.)
A re-read in anticipation of the Steppenwolf production.

■ Agamemnon (Aeschylus; 458 B.C.E. (1984 ed.). 340 pages. Drama.)
In anticipation of the Court Theatre production.

■ A Head Full of Ghosts (Paul Tremblay; 2015. 304 pages. Fiction.)
Although I am only 65 pages in, I can already assure you this will be one of my favorite books of the year. What a splendidly well written piece of horror / psychological thriller fiction.

Three years ago, I pressed My Ideal Bookshelf on anyone who would listen. “If you’re a reader,” I insisted, “you will love this book!” Well, my affection for the book continues unabated, so I’d like to recommend it once again. Your wish list will grow, as will your TBR pile. You will engage in a conversation with each contributor — even if just to exclaim inwardly, Oh! I have that, too! or to furrow your brow, Really? And you will labor over your own “ideal bookshelf.”

From Ideal Bookshelf:

The books that we choose to keep and display—let alone read—can say a lot about who we are and how we see ourselves. In My Ideal Bookshelf, one hundred leading cultural figures, including writers Chuck Klosterman, Jennifer Egan, and Michael Chabon, musicians Patti Smith and Thurston Moore, chefs and food writers Alice Waters and Mark Bittman, and fashion designers Kate and Laura Mulleavy of Rodarte, reveal the books that matter to them most—books that reflect their obsessions and ambitions and in many cases helped them find their way in the world.

Original paintings by artist Jane Mount showcase the selections, with colorful, hand-lettered book spines and occasional objets d’art from the contributors’ personal bookshelves. The paintings are accompanied by first-person commentary drawn from interviews with editor Thessaly La Force, which touch on everything from the choice of books to becoming a writer to surprising sources of inspiration. This exquisite collection provides rare insight into the creative process and artistic development of today’s most intriguing writers, innovators, and visionaries.