What follows is an attempt to rank those books, with some basic information and a very short review of each. Rankings are entirely subjective based on my personal enjoyment. Books in a series will be ranked together and share one write-up, for ease. Entries that I listened to as audiobooks will include durations and narrators; ones I physically read will have page numbers. (How listening times and pages numbers translate varies too much for me to want to bother making comparisons.) To avoid making a very long post even longer, I’ll reserve some bonus rankings and stats for comments to this post. A final note: I’ve gotten pretty good at picking books that I’ll enjoy. So unfortunately, some really good books will get buried in these rankings. As a result, this year I’m breaking up the rankings into tiers by 1-5 star ratings to contextualize that almost all of these were quite enjoyable. Without further ado:

Dishonorable Mention

Empire of Imagination: Gary Gygax and the Birth of Dungeons & Dragons  by Michael Witwer

I also tried to read what could have been a 105th book early in the year, and as a rabid D&D player, this semi-biography of D&D creator Gary Gygax seemed up my alley. But the writing was so atrocious, it became the one book I could not finish, giving up with my Kindle progress at 49%. What could have been a fascinating biography was instead subjective and ridiculous, with fictionalized dialogue and unabashed (often unwarranted) hero worship.

ONE STAR

104. The Miracle Morning  by Hal Elrod

Narrated by Rob Actis (4 hours, 57 minutes)

The first audiobook I listened to in 2017 was also the worst. A self-help book that could have been condensed into a single Lifehacker article of short to moderate length, Elrod pads the run time with casual swipes at people who suffer from depression and frequent allusions to celebrities who supposedly practice the tips he gives. (Oprah should get a royalty for how many times she’s name-checked.)

103. The Snow Queen  by Hans Christian Anderson

Narrated by Julia Whelan (1 hour, 14 minutes)

This was a free audiobook given out a couple years ago that I just got around to this year. The tale is marketed, wisely, as the inspiration for Disney’s Frozen, but the concept of winter and the word “queen” are about the only things in common. It’s fair to criticize Disney for cynically sterilizing certain darker stories for kid audiences (looking at you, Pocahontas), but honestly, Disney is just much better at storytelling than the famous but not-actually-that-great Hans Christian Anderson.

102. Gather Round the Sound: Holiday Stories from Beloved Authors and Great Performers Across the Globe  by Charles Dickens and various writers

Narrated by Simon Callow and various narrators (1 hour, 12 minutes)

Another Audible freebie, this collection of holiday stories started with a radio documentary that was interesting but failed to go as deep as it could have; from there, it went quickly downhill. The Dickens short story was solid, albeit a complete misfit with holiday stories. And the improv performances that ended the book were genuinely painful to listen to.

TWO STARS

101. The Jungle Book  by Rudyard Kipling

Narrated by Bill Bailey, Richard E. Grant, and a full cast production (2 hours, 32 minutes)

Again, sometimes the Disney version is better. The point is proven once more by Kipling’s uneven series of stories of Mowgli that frankly failed to inspire much interest for me. The full cast production does its best to bring out the genuine high points though.

100. If this Isn’t Nice, What is?: Advice for the Young  by Kurt Vonnegut

Narrated by Kevin T. Collins and Scott Brick (2 hours, 23 minutes)

Vonnegut is a favorite of mine, but this audiobook is a bit of a mess. It’s a collection of graduation speeches that Vonnegut gave, but the returns diminish rapidly. One bigger speech early on is truly great, but it’s also collected in Vonnegut’s Palm Sunday, to be ranked later in this list. From there, the speeches get increasingly rambly and borderline incoherent.

99. Money Management Skills (The Great Courses)  by Professor Michael Finke

Narrated by Professor Michael Finke (6 hours, 9 minutes)

Another early-year resolutions buy, there’s nothing particularly wrong with this Great Courses entry. It’s rather dry, and probably would be more useful in a written format. But the information is mostly good stuff, if nothing revolutionary.

98. The Left Hand of Darkness  by Ursula K. Le Guin

Narrated by George Guidall (9 hours, 39 minutes)

Widely regarded as a classic, Le Guin’s story does have some fascinating (albeit heteronormative) things to say about gender identity. But the actual plot was surprisingly boring, and Guidall’s extremely dry monotone narration only exacerbated this.

97. The Halloween Tree  by Ray Bradbury

Narrated by Bronson Pinchot (3 hours, 11 minutes)

Bradbury was a master of interesting and disturbing plot concepts, but his actual writing can be hit or miss for me. This one was mostly a miss, a Halloween time travel story that never fully landed.

96. The Year of the Hare: A Novel  by Arto Paasilinna

Narrated by Simon Vance (4 hours, 36 minutes)

A well-regarded Finnish absurdist tale, I just could never quite get into this. Too much of the humor didn’t translate for me, despite the ever-reliable Simon Vance doing narration.

95. The Lost World  by Arthur Conan Doyle

Narrated by Glen McCready (8 hours, 39 minutes)

I really wanted to love this book; I think I read a kid’s abridged version as a child, and a story about discovering a lost colony of dinosaurs is right up my alley. But similar to Journey to the Center of the Earth for me last year, the concept and the execution just didn’t match for me, and the adventure wasn’t as fun as it sounded.

THREE STARS

94. Redwall, Book 1  by Brian Jacques

Narrated by Brian Jacques and a full cast (10 hours, 26 minutes)

I listened to a decent handful of kids/young adults books the past couple years, inspired in part by how imminently enjoyable Neil Gaiman’s young reader entries still are for adults. Of course, most people aren’t Neil Gaiman, and my first entry into Redwall suggested that this was a series that one needed to read as a kid (I bet I would have enjoyed it a lot back then). Still, the full cast narration was very good and quite engaging.

93. Alcatraz versus the Evil Librarians  by Brandon Sanderson

Narrated by Ramon De Ocampo (6 hours, 59 minutes)

I’m not one of Sanderson’s many mega fanboys, but I am a fan and could see myself entering the former group if I get into his Cosmere. This book, aimed again at younger readers, didn’t hit the mark great for me. There was a good deal of cleverness, but also a fair amount that felt facile

92. The Greatest Story Ever Told – So Far: Why Are We Here?  by Lawrence M. Krauss

Narrated by Lawrence M. Krauss (10 hours, 31 minutes)

91. A Universe from Nothing: Why There Is Something Rather Than Nothing  by Lawrence M. Krauss

Narrated by Lawrence M. Krauss (5 hours, 22 minutes)

This pair of books by the renowned physicist take on worthy topics about the origin of the universe and what we should make of it. The central thesis of Universe from Nothing — the concept that nothing itself is an unstable state — is something I wish I’d learned way back in middle school at the latest. But Kraus also get rambly and just goes on about various things in astrophysics that interest him; worthwhile topics, but often straying from a clear throughline and without the clarity of thought of other popular physicists. His mediocre narration probably doesn’t help.

90. Homeland: Legend of Drizzt: Dark Elf Trilogy, Book 1  by R.A. Salvatore

Narrated by Victor Bevine (10 hours, 48 minutes)

Another attempt to merge my D&D hobby and my reading hobby, I wouldn’t call this a failure, just not a complete success. Salvatore’s story is interesting, and often exciting, lending itself to quite a bit of fun lore. I enjoyed the listen, but when it ended, I didn’t really feel compelled to go on with the rest of the story, either.

89. Star Wars: Ahsoka  by E.K. Johnston (400 pages)

Between the Clone Wars and Rebels cartoons, I had come to think of Ahsoka as the best non-movie Star Wars character. I revised that opinion again after revisiting Timothy Zahn’s novels, as I’ll get into later, but I do still love Ahsoka. This book, however, struggled to deliver on her full potential. It had some really good moments, but it lacked the complexity and depth of the best Star Wars books. It would have been interesting to see Ahsoka get a more involved trilogy arc of books.

88. Dynasty: The Rise and Fall of the House of Caesar  by Tom Holland

Narrated by Derek Perkins (16 hours, 4 minutes)

I made a couple more forays into ancient Roman history this year, with more to come in 2018. It’s still a topic and era that fascinates me. Holland’s book engages with a narrative view of history that I enjoy, but treats the subjects too credulously, letting slip the role of objective historian. There’s a merger between those two paths that I’ve found in other histories but still not fully yet for Rome.

87. The Oedipus Plays  by Sophocles (translated by Ian Johnston)

Narrated by Jamie Glover, Hayley Atwell, and a full cast (5 hours, 8 minutes)

86. The Oresteia  by Aeschylus (translated by Ian Johnston)

Narrated by full cast (3 hours, 37 minutes)

These two aren’t a series together, but share such a specific subgenre — ancient Greek play productions — that grouping them still felt appropriate. I had read snippets of each set of plays, possibly even the whole things, for a college course. I think they were better suited to that academic study setting than to a dramatic production.

85. Breakfast at Tiffany’s  by Truman Capote

Narrated by Michael C. Hall (2 hours, 52 minutes)

I’d seen the Audrey Hepburn adaptation, but never experienced Capote’s book until this year. While they mostly followed the same track until near their ends, Capote’s feels darker and more sinister even before the big deviation, in which Hollywood wrapped things up happily with a kiss, while Capote instead leaves us in a poignant misery. Capote also engages in a casual racism, however, that makes the book age quite poorly at times.

84. Seveneves: A Novel  by Neal Stephenson

Narrated by Mary Robinette Kowal and Will Damron (31 hours, 55 minutes)

Seveneves had one of the more intriguing plots I read this year, one worthy of a higher ranking. And yet, the book’s total was somehow less than the sum of its parts. As good as its epic journey should have been, the pacing was all over the place, and the characters were too hard to latch onto for the book to ever make the leap.

83. John Quincy Adams  by Harlow Giles Unger

Narrated by Johnny Heller (9 hours, 42 minutes)

This was an old sale buy that interested me but left me wanting. John Quincy Adams lived truly one of the more fascinating and underrated lives among prominent Americans, which made this an eye-opening listen. But it also felt like a surface skimming that could have been three times the length before exhausting its subject.

82. A Confederacy of Dunces  by John Kennedy Toole

Narrated by Barrett Whitener (13 hours, 32 minutes)

Largely considered a comedic classic, this has long been a blindspot for me, and perhaps remains one even after finishing it. I can certainly understand the popular fascination with the book, and often did appreciate its absurdity. And yet, much of it didn’t quite land for me, and the absurd situations soon felt repetitive in a way that wore out their welcome rather than expanding on their impacts. I liked it, but it wasn’t the great love I half expected.

81. The Silk Roads: A New History of the World  by Peter Frankopan

Narrated by Laurence Kennedy (24 hours, 17 minutes)

This was one of the books I was more excited for in 2017, as I loved the premise of reframing a world history through the interplay between East and West, Europe and Asia. Ultimately, it was both interesting and disappointing. Good information abounded, but the central reframing was often lost, and the nearer in history the book got, the more Western-centric it became. By the time it reached modern eras (the past century-ish, but especially the past 30 years or so), it also abandoned objective history in favor of political rants — rants I mostly agreed with, but which felt more like a screed than an examination.

80. I Am Legend  by Richard Matheson

Narrated by Robertson Dean (5 hours, 19 minutes)

Matheson’s famous book remains one of the more interesting vampire tales out there, famous mostly for its sense of desolation and especially the twist that gives the book its name (and which the film adaptation ignored completely). Perhaps it was because I knew what was coming, but I was a bit disappointed that the twist didn’t hit nearly as hard as I expected, with more of a soft narrative in the moment. I also felt like the long passage of time wasn’t adequately mined. Still, I really enjoyed the overall mood of the book, aided by Dean’s narration.

79. Ubik  by Philip K. Dick

Narrated by Luke Daniels (7 hours, 56 minutes)

The sci-fi ideas in Ubik are great, but I felt like the book never reached its full potential. Dick gives you a big twist too early, then spends the rest of the book making you wonder whether that twist was true. It works, but I felt like it would have hit much harder if all that information had come in one big blow nearer the end.

78. The Great Courses: The History of Ancient Rome  by Professor Garrett G. Fagan

Narrated by Professor Garrett G. Fagan (22 hours, 42 minutes)

Another Roman history, Fagan is concise and informative, mostly giving a good balance of the narrative and the analytic. As the book goes on, he abruptly gives up the former to devote the remainder of the lectures to the latter, and I ended up thinking maybe it could have been more interesting to have two separate courses instead.

77. Seneca Falls and the Origins of the Women’s Rights Movement  by Sally McMillen

Narrated by Barbara Goodsen (12 hours, 32 minutes)

This was a very good introduction to the women’s rights movement, which had been a poor blindspot in my historical instruction. The book served as a sort of survey, leaving me interested in more. Yet if I can find more books on the subject, I’m hoping for more insight into the cross sections of the women’s rights movement and both racial and class issues, both of which are touched on here but not delved into as deeply as I would be interested in.

76.  Food: A Love Story  by Jim Gaffigan

Narrated by Jim Gaffigan (7 hours, 17 minutes)

I’ve had a long fondness for Gaffigan, and while this book recycles some of his standup bits, it still works well as a comedic book, likely better in audiobook form than it would if only read. There’s also a real awareness of America’s unhealthy food issues that keeps the book from ever feeling obtuse.

75. Yes Please  by Amy Poehler

Narrated by Amy Poehler (7 hours, 31 minutes)

Poehler is one of the most gifted writers and performers of my lifetime, and that often shines through in her book. There are funny stories, and sweet stories, and good celebrity stories. Really, this is one of the chief books that should probably be even higher, but I admit I kind of burned myself out on celebrity memoirs over the past several years, which likely affected my overall enjoyment.

74. Leonard: My Fifty-Year Friendship with a Remarkable Man  by William Shatner

Narrated by William Shatner (6 hours, 47 minutes)

Shatner’s euology to his Star Trek co-star and friend Leonard Nimoy is well worth the listen despite some notable flaws. Sections of the book feel dry, almost a Wikipedia recounting of life and career details of Nimoy before and between his significant interactions with Shatner. When Shatner reaches the fact, late in the book, that Nimoy died still angry at Shatner, for reasons Shatner professes to not understand, I felt like there was much going unsaid, even though Shatner seems perfectly sincere in his confusion. Yet there’s a real sweetness to the book’s best moments, where you really feel the import of the two men’s friendship, and how much they each gained from it.

73. On Power  by Robert A. Caro

Narrated by Robert A. Caro (1 hour, 42 minutes)

Essentially an extended audio essay, the famed biographer Robert Caro discusses his journey as a chronicler of powerful men. Along the way, he shares some truly interesting insights about the way political power impacts everyday people, which has made me put diving into a Caro biography as one of my musts for 2018.

72. Billy Budd, Sailor  by Herman Melville

Narrated by William Roberts (3 hours, 34 minutes)

Melville’s novella is a classic for a reason, and while it didn’t slam with the full force of Moby Dick (a pretty impossible standard, to be fair), I could understand the fascination with its titular tragic hero.

71.  Brave New World  by Aldous Huxley

Narrated by Michael York (8 hours, 5 minutes)

I actually faked reading this in high school (10th grade?), so this was the debut for me of the original dystopian novel. It remains a fascinating, gripping piece of literature, well worth the study, even though the thankful fall of eugenics on a popular scale after WWII has taken away some of the immediacy of the book’s impact.

70. M is for Magic  by Neil Gaiman

Narrated by Neil Gaiman (5 hours, 29 minutes)

This was perhaps the most difficult book on the list to rank in some ways. Neil Gaiman is one of my two or three favorite authors, as you’ll see plenty later in this list. M is for Magic is a perfectly delightful collection of short stories aimed at younger readers, worthy, on its own merits, of both a higher rating and ranking. Truly its only flaw is that the stories are mostly, perhaps even all, also collected in Gaiman’s three general collections of short stories: one of which I read last year, and the other two this year, all before M is for Magic. As a result, the stories here were mostly repeats; a couple weren’t familiar, but I couldn’t say for sure whether I had just forgotten them in time. So I’m basically going to average out the merits of this book by itself, and its slight repeition for me personally, and place it here.

FOUR STARS

69. Light Falls: Space, Time, and an Obsession of Einstein  by Brian Greene

Narrated by Paul Rudd, Brian Greene, and a full cast (2 hours, 26 minutes)

A brief but highly enjoyable recounting of Einstein’s most famous discoveries, written by one of the most famous physicists today, Brian Greene. Paul Rudd leads a cast by voicing Einstein, though I was disappointed (in an amused way) that Rudd didn’t try out a thick German accent. The real highlight, however, is in a conversation that comes after the narrative concludes, between Greene and Rudd. Listening to a brilliant scientist and a charismatic actor interview each other is something that I would not have thought to even try, but the results are borderline electric. Rudd is so game for that conversation that I came away liking him even more than I already did.

68. The Emperor’s Soul  by Brandon Sanderson

Narrated by Angela Lin (3 hours, 55 minutes)

Sanderson is particularly well-known for his famously long books. (I haven’t read the Stormlight Archives yet, but I’ve seen Oathbreaker in the store, and it looks like a testament to the limits of modern book binding techniques.) But I think this quick novella showed what he can do when well-focused, and its economy of storytelling was quite enjoyable.

67. The Bonfire of the Vanities  by Tom Wolfe

Narrated by Joe Barrett (27 hours, 28 minutes)

Wolfe’s book is a true testament to his skill in writing, as the novel ends up being much better than the sum of its parts. By intention, no major character is worth rooting for. The plot feels icky, treating the death of young black student as a mere pawn in the struggles of powerful people, and I often felt like the most interesting perspectives on events would have been the ones we don’t get. And yet, Wolfe’s writing is just fantastic, weaving it all together in a way that frequently spellbound me.

66. The Selfish Gene  by Richard Dawkins

Narrated by Richard Dawkins and Lalla Ward (16 hours, 16 minutes)

Dawkins’ book remains one of the great scientific classics in explaining and developing evolutionary science, and I learned much while listening. Admittedly, the details scientific discussions could get a bit dry and technical for a non-scientist such as myself, but not prohibitively so, thanks to how inherently interesting I find Dawkins and his perspectives.

65. The Sirens of Titan  by Kurt Vonnegut

Narrated by Jay Snyder (9 hours, 20 minutes)

I went into this book expecting a fanciful adventure story, and the book starts off selling such a promise. I should have really known better, from having read enough Vonnegut previously. What followed instead was jarring and fascinating, and I’m already looking forward to rereading it someday; I think it might only rise in my estimation in the future.

64. A Gathering of Shadows: Shades of Magic, Book 2  by V.E. Schwab

Narrated by Michael Kramer and Kate Reading (16 hours, 9 minutes)

63. A Conjuring of Light: Shades of Magic, Book 3  by V.E. Schwab

Narrated by Michael Kramer and Kate Reading (19 hours, 10 minutes)

I listened to the first book in the Shades of Magic trilogy last year, but felt later like I underrated it. Revisiting and concluding the trilogy this year only deepened the feeling, as Schwab expanded her cast and scope to great effect. Importing narrators Michael Kramer and Kate Reading, who guided me through the later entries of the Wheel of Time series, was also a boon to these audiobooks.

62. The Quartet: Orchestrating the Second American Revolution, 1783-1789  by Joseph J. Ellis

Narrated by Robertson Dean (8 hours, 25 minutes)

The period between the end of the American Revolution and the birth of the Constitution is a fascinating, under-discussed period that The Quartet tackles very well. The book perhaps could have been a deeper dive, but it was nonetheless a great overview into the actions of Washington, Madison, Hamilton, and the underheralded John Jay, the titular quartet who helped spur America into its next age.

61. The Great Courses: Gnosticism: From Nag Hammadi to the Gospel of Judas  by Professor David Brakke

Narrated by Professor David Brakke (12 hours, 9 minutes)

I’m quite interested in the early Christian Church and the bizarre and haphazard ways in which modern dogma evolved. And to tell that story is to also tell of the rejected creeds that, with a few different quirks of history, could instead have come to dominate. Gnosticism is the most fascinating of those, and this course is a really strong overview into its unique mythology and history.

60. The Crown Tower: The Riyria Chronicles, Book 1  by Michael J. Sullivan

Narrated by Tim Gerard Reynolds (12 hours, 49 minutes)

59. The Rose and the Thorn: The Riyria Chronicles, Book 2  by Michael J. Sullivan

Narrated by Tim Gerard Reynolds (11 hours, 58 minutes)

58. The Death of Dulgath: The Riyria Chronicles, Book 3  by Michael J. Sullivan

Narrated by Tim Gerard Reynolds (13 hours, 57 minutes)

57. Age of Myth, Book One of the Legends of the First Empire  by Michael J. Sullivan

Narrated by Tim Gerard Reynolds (16 hours, 55 minutes)

56.  Age of Swords: The Legends of the First Empire, Book 2  by Michael J. Sullivan

Narrated by Tim Gerard Reynolds (20 hours, 2 minutes)

55. Theft of Swords: Riyria Revelations Volume 1  by Michael J. Sullivan

Narrated by Tim Gerard Reynolds (22 hours, 37 minutes)

54. Rise of Empire: Riyria Revelations Volume 2  by Michael J. Sullivan

Narrated by Tim Gerard Reynolds (26 hours, 30 minutes)

53. Heir of Novron: Riyria Revelation Volume 3  by Michael J. Sullivan

Narrated by Tim Gerard Reynolds (31 hours, 49 minutes)

It’s always pleasant to discover a new author or series, and this year, I discovered Michael J. Sullivan and his Riyria. It started for me with coming across Age of Myth in a sale and being intrigued by the description and reviews. It ended with me listening to eight of his books this year, with the ninth in the series (the fourth Riyria Chronicles) kicking off 2018 for me. While these eight are technically three separate series, each series is so closely related that lumping them together makes sense to me. Sullivan’s writing has a truly addictive quality to it, and I feel like it has only improved over the course of his books. His two main characters, Royce and Hadrian, were among my favorites this year, and narrator Tim Gerard Reynolds greatly elevated the experience with consistently outstanding performances.

52. Moving Pictures (Discworld)  by Terry Pratchett (416 pages)

While I read more of Terry Pratchett than any other author in 2017, as I continue to wind my way through his unparalleled Discworld books, grouping all the Discworld entries together, as I am for other books in a series, feels like not the best practice; each book is too self-contained, despite certain characters picking up threads between books. Moving Pictures, both a parody and homage to classic Hollywood, is my lowest ranked of the nine Discworld entries I read this year, but it’s still such a clever and rewarding book.

51. Babylon’s Ashes: The Expanse, Book 6  by James S.A. Corey

Narrated by Jefferson Mays (19 hours, 58 minutes)

After binging through the first five books in The Expanse in late 2015, Book 6 brought a welcome return to the series (Book 7 is on tap for me in early 2018). While the alien storylines didn’t progress as I’d hoped, the major human conflict was resolved to great satisfaction, with respectable time allotments to the series’ two best characters, Bobbi and the superb Avasarala. I’m looking forward to where things go from here.

50. Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space  by Carl Sagan

Narrated by Ann Druyan and Carl Sagan (13 hours, 18 minutes)

Carl Sagan was perhaps the greatest science writer to ever live; Richard Dawkins pointed out in another book that scientists like Sagan should have been considered for the Nobel Prize for Literature, and I can’t argue; Sagan’s other entry on this list was certainly on that level. Sagan’s famous “Pale Blue Dot” essay, which gives this book its name, was one of  my highlights of the year. The rest of Sagan’s own audio was too corrupted for use here, and his widow and fellow scientist Ann Druyan did a very good job replicating his sense of wonder in narrating the remainder, even if the subject matter could become a bit meandering at times.

49. Astrophysics for People in a Hurry  by Neil deGrasse Tyson (224 pages)

Neil deGrasse Tyson has become the face of space science, if not science as a whole, in recent years, and it’s for a good reason. He’s incredibly engaging and capable of distilling massively complex concepts into easily digestible narratives. This book is in some ways the capstone of that ability, explaining the basics of astrophysics in a way surprisingly simple to understand in brief. The real highlight, though, is his final chapter, “Reflections on the Cosmic Perspective,” which echoes the poetic abilities of his mentor Carl Sagan.

48. Mrs. Dalloway  by Virginia Woolf

Narrated by Juliet Stevenson (7 hours, 10 minutes)

Woolf’s famous stream of consciousness novel is a slow burn, and a sad one. At times I found myself wishing for more insight into the characters, particularly the confused sexuality that they themselves mostly brush aside, but I suspect that to ask that of them would be to miss the point of how tenuously the identities in the book are constructed. Woolf’s groundbreaking structure and existentialism remains powerful even now.

47. The Wise Man’s Fear: Kingkiller Chronicles, Day 2  by Patrick Rothfuss

Narrated by Nick Podehl (42 hours, 59 minutes)

46. The Name of the Wind: Kingkiller Chronicles, Day 1  by Patrick Rothfuss

Narrated by Nick Podehl (27 hours, 56 minutes)

The Kingkiller Chronicles were another particularly difficult duo of books to rank. The first book left me on an absolute high, completely absorbed with this fantasy world. By the end of the second book, though, that journey was already wearing thin, as the plot progressed at such a glacial pace. On the whole, the series thus far made for a delightful listen, just one with a tendency to frustrate.

45. Norse Mythology  by Neil Gaiman

Narrated by Neil Gaiman (6 hours, 29 minutes)

Gaiman was another of my most frequent reads and listens in 2017, as he was in 2016. (His View from the Cheap Seats is another book kicking off my 2018, but then, sadly, I’ll be nearly caught up on all his published works aside from a few comics and children stories.) This book, a reframing of Norse myths for a modern audience, was an absolute treat that showed again how fun mythology can be. I wish now that I had been able to read it before his Sandman, and perhaps before his American Gods too, as it explains his presentation of characters better than a lifetime of just reading the Marvel Comics versions prepared me for.

44. Sourcery (Discworld)  by Terry Pratchett (336 pages)

More delight in the world of the Discworld. I remember when I first finished the first two Discworld books, The Colour of Magic and The Light Fantastic, I felt mildly skeptical about the series’ format of jumping around to many different characters. I had fallen for Rincewind and primarily wanted more of his adventures. I still love Rincewind, and he’s as charming and clueless as ever in this book, but I love even more that several other characters have surpassed him for me.

43. The Hike  by Drew Magary (288 pages)

Magary is one of my favorite internet columnists, so I was curious about his foray into fiction. (The Hike is not his first novel, but it is the first I read and the first to garner widespread attention.) The result was a fast-paced read that was wildly entertaining, funny, and exciting. The climax felt like a mild cop-out, but even that was redeemed with a spectacular final page that got in one last gut punch.

42. Outbound Flight (Star Wars Legends)  by Timothy Zahn (464 pages)

41. Specter of the Past (Star Wars Legends: The Hand of Thrawn #1)  by Timothy Zahn (400 pages)

40. Vision of the Future (Star Wars Legends: The Hand of Thrawn #2)  by Timothy Zahn (704 pages)

39. Star Wars: Thrawn  by Timothy Zahn (448 pages)

38. Heir to the Empire (Star Wars Legends: The Thrawn Trilogy, Volume 1)  by Timothy Zahn (416 pages)

37. Dark Force Rising (Star Wars Legends: The Thrawn Trilogy, Volume 2)  by Timothy Zahn (439 pages)

36. The Last Command (Star Wars Legends: The Thrawn Trilogy, Volume 3)  by Timothy Zahn (467 pages)

Only one of these books — Thrawn at #39 — technically “counts” as Star Wars canon now. That book’s release, coming on the heels of the Rebels cartoon reintroducing Thrawn into the new continuity, is what drew me back into the character. From there, I felt compelled to reread the old Zahn books, all of which are now in the “Legends” line of the old Star Wars EU, and had an absolute blast rediscovering them (plus Outbound Flight, an old Thrawn book I’d never read). It had been probably close to 15 years since I had read the books, allowing me to forget everything in them until the events happened. As a result, I fell in love all over again, with these perfect blends of beloved favorites and new characters really setting the standard for what Star Wars books should be. Zahn had a few other “Legends” books that I never read (no more with Thrawn, though his other great and famous creation, Mara Jade, stars in some) that I might visit in 2018.

35. The Beautiful Struggle  by Ta-Nehisi Coates

Narrated by J.D. Jackson (6 hours, 23 minutes)

This autobiography follows Coates’ childhood on the rough streets of Baltimore, through endless fights and family tribulations and setbacks, culminating in his narrow entry to college. The narrative feels almost stream of consciousness at times, and transported me to a world far beyond my own experiences. It was a valuable exercise, and this book also serves as a very recommended foundation before going into Coates’ masterpiece, Between the World and Me.

34. Coraline  by Neil Gaiman

Narrated by Neil Gaiman (3 hours, 36 minutes)

Gaiman’s tale of a little girl exploring her way through and out of a dark other world is wonderfully entertaining, with Gaiman’s own narration adding greatly to the sense of mood.

33. The Brothers Karamazov  by Fyodor Dostoevsky (translated by Constance Farnett)

Narrated by Frederick Davidson (34 hours, 53 minutes)

One of two Dostoevsky books I listened to this year; this one was the more difficult to absorb, though well worth the effort. The long philosophical dissertations that periodically interrupt the plot narrative are fascinating and warrant further study, even as the brothers themselves, and the great mystery of the central crime, keep one’s attention.

32. Deadeye Dick  by Kurt Vonnegut (271 pages)

I checked this book out knowing nothing about it but its author, which is plenty. My guess was that it involved a private detective, a guess that felt amusingly inaccurate by the time I finished. The tale of a family’s, and town’s, descent into despair is told with the heartbreaking anachronisms that only Vonnegut can manage. This was also the 104th book I finished in 2017, a very worthy final book to end the year on.

31. My Cousin Rachel  by Daphne du Maurier

Narrated by Jonathan Pryce (11 hours, 57 minutes)

My only experience with Daphne du Maurier before this year was viewing the two Alfred Hitchcock films (The Birds and Rebecca) based on her stories. After listening to this and another audiobook, I can see why her work held such fascination for Hitchcock. She held such mastery of suspense and mystery, and this book was a beautifully executed series of question marks. Only a rather abrupt ending kept it from a five-star rating.

30. John Adams  by David McCullough

Narrated by Nelson Runger (30 hours, 1 minute)

McCullough’s biography is one of the most quintessential of the many founding father biographies, even spurring an HBO miniseries adaptation. It’s easy to see why, as McCullough weaves such a wealth of information into such a captivating and easy to follow narrative. It did seem slightly too defensive of Adams at times to me, trying too hard to excuse the Sedition Act while not fully addressing Adams’ absences during his presidency. Neverthless, it remains a must-read for those interested in the time period.

29. The Tao of Pooh  by Benjamin Hoff

Narrated by Simon Vance (2 hours, 46 minutes)

This is the book that probably no one else would rank quite so highly, but I found myself so taken by it. It uses the characters and stories of Winnie the Pooh to illustrate and explain the tenants of Taoism, and both Pooh and Taoism come out all the more interesting as a result.

28. Palm Sunday  by Kurt Vonnegut

Narrated by Tom Stechschulte (9 hours, 40 minutes)

The last of my four Vonnegut entries for 2017, this was a collection of essays and assorted writings over Vonengut’s career. The experience was a bit uneven, but on the whole, quite lovely. Stechschulte’s gruff narration wouldn’t suit every book, but worked great for the two Cormac McCarthy books I listened to last year, and fits well here too for Vonnegut.

27. Eric (Discworld)  by Terry Pratchett (160 pages)

The shortest of the physical books I read this year, this Discworld entry still packs a great, quick punch. Playing off the plot and themes of Faust to amusing effect, this is probably my favorite Rincewind book yet.

FIVE STARS

26. The Birds & Don’t Look Now  by Daphne du Maurier

Narrated by Peter Capaldi (2 hours, 56 minutes)

My other du Maurier experience, this audiobook presents her most famous short story, The Birds, plus the gripping Don’t Look Now. The Birds is the better of the two, a masterpiece of mood and suspense that’s all the creepier for its lack of explanations. But Don’t Look Now is no slouch itself, taking more twists and turns than I was ever prepared for. The great Peter Capaldi provides strong narration, though the recording quality can be iffy, occasionally coming in too quiet.

25. I Am Spock  by Leonard Nimoy

Narrated by Leonard Nimoy (4 hours, 8 minutes)

Leonard Nimoy’s 1995 memoir, chronicling his life in Star Trek, may not be a universal five-star work, but it hit that chord for the fanboy in me. The book apologizes and explains Nimoy’s tongue-in-cheek I Am Not Spock from 20 years earlier, and features wonderful insights into the character (often delivered as dialogues between Nimoy and Spock) and Trek history; of particular worth in the section covering Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, which really took me through the emotional journey of both character and actor in the film. Also, it just felt fucking great to be hearing Nimoy’s voice again for a few hours. He’ll always be missed.

24. All the Birds in the Sky  by Charlie Jane Anders

Narrated by Alyssa Bresnahan (12 hours, 36 minutes)

Written by the co-founder of one of my favorite websites, io9, this book got off to a mildly rocky start for me; the first quarter, exploring the main characters as children, leaned on tropes of exaggerated awful adults (Dursley types) that always annoy me. But the plot was otherwise interesting enough to carry me through that section, and thank goodness, because then the book blossomed into something great. The two main characters were outstanding, and the blending of sci-fi and fantasy elements collided into an excellent edge-of-the-seat book.

23. Stardust  by Neil Gaiman (288 pages)

The ever-great Gaiman tells his own fairy tale, full of the oddities and quirks that grace all his writing. But there’s also a fair amount of traditional fairy tale stuff here, with magic and wonder and lots of heart. It’s a sweet, exciting book that left me feeling wonderfully warm.

22. Gandhi & Churchill  by Arthur Herman

Narrated by John Curless (29 hours, 22 minutes)

This is the highest pure history book on my list, though a memoir and a science book still to come both overlap into the genre. I barely made it through the prologue of the book, an unnecessarily visceral account of a brutal insurrection. But when the book settled into its subject, it was captivating. Gandhi and Churchill remain today two of the most beloved figures of the 20th century, yet their diametric opposition to each other was so intense, and with such far-reaching repercussions at every stage of the rivalry, that it’s a wonder that both men managed to exit the stage so revered by many of the same people. The book gives insights into the greatness of each man, but also their very real and oft-overlooked flaws that could be devastating.

21. Witches Abroad (Discworld)  by Terry Pratchett (352 pages)

When I read the first of the Witches books of Discworld last year (Equal Rites), I enjoyed myself, but didn’t think it was as strong as some of the other book lines within the series. This year, the Witches vaulted up to my very favorite, with all three of the Witches books I read this year making my top 21. The interplay between Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg, and Magrat is just spectacular, a level of character chemistry unequaled on this list. This book, featuring the trio’s road trip across the Discworld, is a characteristic delight.

20. The Girl Who Drank the Moon  by Kelly Barnhill

Narrated by Christina Moore (9 hours, 37 minutes)

As I said previously, I’ve tried several younger reader books the past couple years, and this list shows the results have been mixed. But the experiment is proved worthwhile by a book like The Girl Who Drank the Moon, a lovely story of magic and coming of age that took me by surprise in all the best ways. I do think this one might be a touch better read than listened to; Moore’s narration is mostly strong, but one character’s whiny inflection was a minor mar. But in any event, this sweet book is well worth the try for any reader.

19. Murder on the Orient Express  by Agatha Christie

Narrated by Dan Stevens (6 hours, 37 minutes)

18. Five Little Pigs  by Agatha Christie

Narrated by Hugh Fraser (6 hours, 40 minutes)

I struggled terribly with which order to place these two Hercule Poirot novels in, but this felt right for me personally. I read Murder on the Orient Express way back in 8th grade, and it made too strong of an impression for me to forget the ending. Five Little Pigs, on the other hand, was entirely new, and itself a superb whodunnit. Agatha Christie is reliably entertaining, but these two books became the class of her Poirot stories for me. (And Then There Were None may possibly be a touch ahead of both.) Hugh Fraser narrates most of Audible’s Poirot books, and was as good as ever. But so too was Dan Stevens, who seemed to be having a blast getting to play with the many accents present in Orient Express.

17. Smoke and Mirrors: Short Fictions and Illusions  by Neil Gaiman (384 pages)

Every Gaiman book is a journey, but his short story collections get the added benefit of being a whole host of journeys in one. Within this collection were stories that amused, disturbed, and left me on a haunting note with the concluding “Murder Mysteries,” which was likely the best of the bunch.

16. The Golem and the Jinni  by Helene Wecker

Narrated by George Guidall (19 hours, 43 minutes)

It’s hard to believe this was the debut novel for Helene Wecker, as the plotting is so crisp and the characters so enchanting. The wonderfully inventive story brings together two separate mythical creatures, a Jewish golem and an Arabian jinni, in the cauldron of late 1800s New York City. It’s a story about immigration and culture clashing and magic, and it all comes together so, so well. Wecker has a sequel planned to come out in 2018 and I can’t wait.

15. Anansi Boys  by Neil Gaiman (448 pages)

Another novel about what happens when mortals get mixed up in the affairs of gods, this book isn’t quite the equal of Gaiman’s American Gods, but nor is it far off. The trickster god Anansi leaves behind two sons, and their rivalry and challenges are an amusing ride with well-crafted excitement.

14. War and Peace  by Leo Tolstoy (translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude)

Narrated by Frederick Davidson (61 hours, 8 minutes)

My longest book of the year. Maybe my longest book of any year (certainly my longest audiobook), though there may be something I’ve not thinking of. The length is significant because Tolstoy uses that runtime to full effect to craft a true epic, winding us through Russian lives in the Napoleonic wars. It would going too far to call the book perfection; the extended fox hunt, for instance, is almost cruel to listen to. But the artistry in execution of this story is genuinely staggering and worthy of revisiting for further study.

13. Lords and Ladies (Discworld)  by Terry Pratchett (384 pages)

Another Witches Discworld book, this entry played with aging, relationships, and missed opportunities in some quite touching ways. But the humor was again especially on point, with Magrat in particular stepping out to shine like never before.

12. Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders  by Neil Gaiman (400 pages)

A final collection of Gaiman short stories, this was my favorite of the lot, with a deep set of stories that featured a clever use of Sherlock Holmes in the midst of a Lovecraft world, an American Gods novella, the hilarious “How to Talk to Girls at Parties,” and probably too many more to single out.

11. Reaper Man (Discworld)  by Terry Pratchett (352 pages)

Death is among Pratchett’s best Discworld characters; his previous Death-centric book, Mort, was the book that cemented by undying love of the series as a whole. Reaper Man might have been even better, a hysterical and exciting story of Death in retirement.

10. Wyrd Sisters (Discworld)  by Terry Pratchett (368 pages)

The last of my Witches series of Discworld books this year, and narrowly my favorite of the trio (though I would accept arguments for them ending in any order). But the first great exploration of a fledgling attempt at a coven, leading to an extending play off Macbeth, was just a special achievement of storytelling.

9. The Idiot  by Fyodor Dostoevsky

Narrated by Robert Whitfield (22 hours, 33 minutes)

Another Dostoevsky book, this one landed the best among my attempts to explore more Russian literature, ranking near Anna Karenina for my favorite from the country. The tale of Prince Myshkin is so endlessly sad, even before the inevitable climax, that it kept me rapt as it explored a man whose presumed idiocy comes almost entirely from his unfailing niceties.

8. Siddhartha  by Hermann Hesse

Narrated by Firdous Bamji (5 hours, 17 minutes)

A story of self-discovery and enlightenment in the East, Siddhartha is a work of true beauty. While based in part on Buddhist principles, Siddhartha takes its own paths, taking us on a twisting journey that leads ultimately to the seeking of illumination and inner peace. The philosophical discussions are endlessly provoking, but the absolute gorgeous writing by Hesse is what truly elevates this book into a classic.

7. Spaceman: An Astronaut’s Unlikely Journey to Unlock the Secrets of the Universe  by Mike Massimino

Narrated by Mike Massimino (10 hours, 57 minutes)

I had never heard of Massimino, though he’s certainly quite famous in the right circles, before deciding to take a chance on this book on sale. After nearly 11 hours, I loved the man, or at least his story. Massimino’s memoir of becoming an astronaut, working with the space program, and eventually helping to save the Hubble Telescope, never lags in interest. But hearing the charismatic Massimino narrate the story is what really takes it to a new level, as the sense of wonder and awe in his voice shines through.

6. Men at Arms (Discworld)  by Terry Pratchett (432 pages)

Last year I only ranked Audible books, but it was the 2016 physical read of Guards! Guards! that ultimately stuck with me most as I moved through 2017. Men at Arms is the next entry in the Night’s Watch series, and while the plot might not have the same magic as Guards! Guards!, it reaches a similar level by bringing in new characters that breathe an amazing new life into the Watch.

5. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time  by Mark Haddon

Narrated by Jeff Woodman (6 hours, 6 minutes)

The premise for this book — a first-person narration of an autistic boy trying to solve a crime — intrigued me enough to give the book a shot. But that premise managed to dramatically undersell the experience this book provided. I don’t even want to say more, because the twists the book takes are what makes it so special, and so gut-wrenching.

4. The Bell Jar  by Silvia Plath

Narrated by Maggie Gyllenhaal (7 hours, 24 minutes)

It’s easy to understand why The Bell Jar has so entranced readers for decades. Plath’s suicide shortly after writing the book only underscores the deep sadness that pervades the novel as we journey with a young woman through her spiral of mental illness in an unforgiving world. Maggie Gyllenhaal’s performance is superb, also bringing out the best in this beautiful melancholy.

3. Small Gods (Discworld)  by Terry Pratchett (400 pages)

Terry Pratchett may be the funniest novelist to ever live, or at least that I’ve read. But amidst the humor of this book about religion — and of course, there’s plentiful humor — is some real poignancy. I still have a lot of Discworld to go, thankfully, but I won’t be surprised if this ends up my favorite of the lot.

2. Cosmos  by Carl Sagan

Narrated by LeVar Burton, with Seth MacFarlane, Neil deGrasse Tyson, and Ann Druyan (14 hours, 31 minutes)

I mentioned previously that Sagan’s writing was worthy of Nobel consideration, and this is the masterpiece that proves it. I saw the 2014 TV series Cosmos with Neil deGrasse Tyson and loved it, but listening to Sagan’s original book was even a step beyond that. Cosmos proves that science is cool, fun, and interesting, even to an adult with a mediocre science background. It tells historical stories, explaining how we got where we are and the men and women whose breakthroughs helped illuminate the world around us. But none of that really gets to the heart of why Cosmos is so moving, which is that Sagan was a damn poet who just so happened to also have the mind of brilliant scientist. His writing is so lyrical, with gorgeous turns of phrase that light up the world around us in all its beauty. And while the best narration jobs are usually in the fiction world, LeVar Burton gave one hell of a performance in bringing out the dignified awe of Sagan’s words.

1. Between the World and Me  by Ta-Nehisi Coates (176 pages)

The older I get, the more I’ve come to recognize the need to learn outside the realm of my own experiences. I’ve probably done a middling job of it, but the effort is worthwhile, and this is the book that proves it. Coates’ extended essay, addressed to his teenage son, is the clearest elucidation of racial identity and its many tribulations that I have personally ever read. His writing is so clear, meaningful, and powerful, with a forcefulness of language and a clarity of thought that provide so much insight into the hurt and ills that plague and divide and kill us. A pull quote on the cover, from the great Toni Morrison, refers to Between the World and Me as “required reading,” and I can’t argue. It tears down the illusions so many of us put up, perhaps not even knowingly, and lays bare the costs of The Dream and who it is still paying those costs today. It’s not an easy read, but I do indeed wish it could be a required one, because it feels just that important.

I always grew up loving to read, and as both digital books and audiobooks became more popular, I stuck to only physical copies for a long time due to some vague romantic notion of their superiority. I still somewhat feel that way, but I also have grown increasingly short on attention span, and simply don’t breeze through real books like I once did. The solution became Audible.com. I first got into their audiobooks as a way of powering through the slog of the middle parts of The Wheel of Time series, and kept going with a subscription off and on after that.

But it wasn’t until 2016 that I really hit my stride listening to them. I finally got to the point where they became the perfect companion, and suddenly, I was both able and desirous to listen constantly: in the car, while working out, walking the dogs, doing yardwork, even while eating if by myself, etc. A few weeks ago, I suddenly realized the immense number of books I’d gotten through this year and wanted to take stock of them. I’ll probably never get through this many books again; I moved this year, and the many hours spent packing and unpacking, not to mention a lot of one-time house improvement projects, inflated my listening hours higher than I’m likely to reach in the future.

But in the midst of such a largely mediocre year, my binges brought so much joy through my headphones and various speakers. (I even feel like there was residual improvement to my ability to focus on physical books, as I read more of those this year than I had since undergrad.) I got through some incredible books of immense variety: genre fiction, literary classics, a few modern acclaimed fictions, and a generous helping of history. Ranking so many books is difficult, especially when I quite liked almost all of them; it results in some highly enjoyable options looking buried in these rankings, but it’s really just because I listened to a lot of good to great books this year. So without further ado:

TIER 7: The Only Ones I Didn’t Like

44. Journey to the Center of the Earth

Written by Jules Verne; narrated by Tim Curry; length: 8 hours, 20 minutes

I read abridged versions a bunch of Verne and H.G. Wells books as a kid, and while another Verne book on this list held up wonderfully for me, this one fell flat. I don’t think I would have cared that Verne’s scientific hypotheses (delivered by Professor Lidenbrock) on the earth’s core have turned out to be so wrong, except that he spends a lot of the book arguing for them, as if that’s more the point than telling an adventure story. And unfortunately, every problem is exacerbated by Tim Curry’s narration. And I LOVE Curry, so that’s hard to type. But his choices turned the narrating character — a character with no small amount of natural whinyness — into being nearly unbearable to listen to.

43. SPQR

Written by Mary Beard; narrated by Phyllida Nash; length: 18 hours, 30 minutes

SPQR was my attempt to expand and renew my knowledge of Ancient Rome. But while SPQR is a critically acclaimed book, it’s a book that feels aimed solely at those who’ve read plenty already on main narratives of the Roman Empire and want something to fill in overlooked gaps. It’s obsessed with the topics that the author doesn’t feel have gotten enough attention: how the poor lived, the nature of gender politics, and whether the common people were all that affected by changes in emperors. It’s a laudable goal that’s held back by its own admission of how little we can know about many of those topics. Meanwhile, it skips quickly over famous dramatic moments with a sense of disdain: it pauses to mention something like Hannibal crossing the Alps, one of the most daring military gambits in history, then rolls its eyes and wonders what kind of idiot would want to hear more about that. Well, this idiot. It’s why I got the book, only to have it not be at all what I expected and wanted. Oh well. I’ll probably try another book on the topic in 2017.

42. Wuthering Heights

Written by Emily Bronte; narrated by Patricia Routledge; length: 14 hours, 14 minutes

This ranking is sacrilege, but whatever; my list is more about my own personal enjoyments than a sober perspective on objective literary merits. Wuthering Heights is a notable member of the western canon, but I could barely stand it (despite fairly loving the 1939 Laurence Olivier film adaptation — which I now know took a lot of liberties in its omissions). It was so much meaner, less romantic, and lighter on redemption than I expected from my knowledge going in. And Routledge’s narration was another one that only made the problems worse. The voice she used for Linton was so impossibly grating that I could feel no sympathy for one of the characters most deserving of it.

TIER 6: Enjoyable but missable

41. Mrs. McGinty’s Dead

Dramtised version of book by Agatha Christie; narrated by John Moffat; length: 2 hours, 14 minutes

My wife and I began a tradition in 2015 of listening to Agatha Christie audiobooks during road trips; so far, confined to just Christie’s Hercule Poirot stories. Poirot is one of the great characters of all mystery/detective fiction, and it’s already become a fun tradition. This was a short one for a short trip: a play dramatization of one of Christie’s books. It was clever and quick, though the sing-song refrain that appears several times in the play gets a little annoying.

40. The Inexplicable Universe: Unsolved Mysteries

Written and narrated by Neil deGrasse Tyson; length: 3 hours, 3 minutes

Audible has a “Great Courses” series of various topics performed by professors and subject matter experts. I enjoyed a couple of them quite a bit in 2015; this was my only one this year, and it was a mild disappointment. I’m a fan of the sharp and charismatic Neil deGrasse Tyson, but he seemed to be going through the motions on this quick discussion of unsolved questions in astrophysics.

39. Born Standing Up

Written and narrated by Steve Martin; length: 4 hours, 3 minutes

Comedy legend Steve Martin’s autobiography of his start in stand-up is fun and witty, but his story has limits to how dynamic it is, while the format limits how funny his old material comes across. Still, it was an easy good time.

38. The Light Fantastic

Written by Terry Pratchett; narrated by Nigel Planer; length: 6 hours, 59 minutes

I got into Terry Pratchett’s delightful “Discworld” series late in 2015 with a physical copy of The Colour of Magic, and thought I’d continue it via audiobook. But this performance of The Light Fantastic disabused me of that plan. The material was still witty and weird in Pratchett’s unique way, but the audio sounded like it was recorded from inside a steel can — hollow and sometimes difficult to understand. I got worried that maybe all the Discworld recordings were cheaply made, and switched back to hard copies to read a few. That still worked out, because while it isn’t part of these rankings, Pratchett’s Discworld novel Guards! Guards! was the best physical book I read this year.

37. Washington’s Immortals: The Untold Story of an Elite Regiment Who Changed the Course of the Revolution

Written by Patrick K. O’Donnell; narrated by William Hughes; length: 13 hours, 29 minutes

A history of the American Revolution, told through the lens of one Maryland regiment that played a role in several key battles. I don’t think the book quite lived up to its wonderfully dramatic title, but it was an interesting glimpse into the rank and file of the Revolutionary army.

36. Thomas Jefferson: The Art of Power

Written by Jon Meacham; narrated by Edward Hermann; length: 18 hours, 50 minutes

This book won a Pulitzer, so I’m probably a dick for not liking it more. I listened to it right after a biography on Alexander Hamilton (stay tuned) in the interest of getting more on the other side of the Jefferson/Hamilton feud. And I did, plus a lot more on Jefferson’s fascinating life. But Meacham, one of the most respected American historians of today, felt shockingly one-sided to me. It gradually became maddening how often he discussed what Jefferson believed his contemporaries to be thinking or doing (not just Hamilton, but Adams and many others) without making the slightest attempt to discuss whether Jefferson was correct. So much perspective felt lost as a result. And yet, Jefferson was such a fascinating, complex, hypocritical figure that this was still worthwhile.

TIER 5: Getting Good

35. Hamilton: The Revolution

Written by Jeremy McCarter and Lin-Manuel Miranda; narrated by Mariska Hargitay and Lin-Manuel Miranda, with Jeremy McCarter; length: 6 hours, 2 minutes

2016 was the year of a lot of bad things, but at least one good one: the year when the historical hip-hop musical Hamilton completed its unreal ascension, winning 11 Tony Awards and becoming a cultural staple. I was a little late to that particular party, but the soundtrack blew me away. This book, chronicling the musical’s origins, cast and crew, and rise to prominence, captures a lot of the fun. Miranda’s notations to his songs are the highlight, though you have to follow along with the complimentary PDF to get the effect.

34. Three Act Tragedy

Written by Agatha Christie; narrated by Hugh Fraser; length: 5 hours, 47 minutes

Another Poirot, though the man himself is only a bit player until fairly late in the proceedings. But he still steals every scene and brings home a strong conclusion.

33. The Turn of the Screw

Written by Henry James; narrated by Emma Thompson, with Richard Armitage; length: 4 hours, 40 minutes

A short gothic ghost story that packs a good punch. Henry James’s infamously voluminous use of language has a tendency to strangle his own sense of dramatic suspense at times, but Emma Thompson’s superb narration always steals it back.

32. The Death of Ivan Ilyich

Written by Leo Tolstoy; narrated by Simon Prebble; length: 2 hours, 36 minutes

Tolstoy’s famous novella is one of the shortest entries on my list, but perhaps the one that could rise the most in my rankings with more reflection. As well as I feel I was able to absorb what I listened to this year, Tolstoy’s story about a man’s slow decline into suffering and death was one that I felt needed more study and consideration to fully appreciate. Even as it was, I found it effective and unsettling.

31. A Darker Shade of Magic: A Darker Shade of Magic, Book 1

Written by V.E. Schwab; narrated by Steven Crossley; length: 11 hours, 34 minutes

This book had some of the cleverer treatments of both magic and of alternate dimensions that I’ve read in quite some time. It never quite reached greatness, but it was an engaging world that was built quickly. This book was the beginning of a trilogy, but so self-contained that I feel content to wait for the books to finish coming out (book 2 is out, book 3 still pending) before I feel compelled to dive back in.

30. The Hunt for Vulcan: And How Albert Einstein Destroyed a Planet, Discovered Relativity, and Deciphered the Universe

Written by Thomas Levenson; narrated by Kevin Pariseau; length: 5 hours, 49 minutes

This book was such a pleasant surprise: a topic I knew nothing about, which turned out to be so engaging while hitting cross sections of history and science. It recounts the story of how astronomers and mathematicians came to believe that Mercury’s unusual orbit could only be explained by an undiscovered planet (Vulcan) between it and the sun; the journey from that hypothesis, to the search for evidence for it, to the uneasy decline of that theory, was finally capped off the brilliant entry of Einstein into the problem.

29. Cat’s Cradle 

Written by Kurt Vonnegut; narrated by Tony Robbins; length: 7 hours, 11 minutes

My Vonnegut knowledge felt sorely lacking; Slaughterhouse-Five might be my pick for the best book of the 20th Century, but I tried to broaden my base with two more of his famous works this year. Cat’s Cradle was the less successful of the two for me (though I had friends in college who viewed it as his best work). It was still wonderfully crafted, and I loved the way it spiraled out of control and landed on such an insane ending, but I rarely felt the same connection as I did with Slaughterhouse years ago or with Vonnegut’s other entry on this list. Robbins’ voice was also grating and didn’t help.

28. The Great Siege: Malta 1565

Written by Ernle Bradford; narrated by Simon Vance; length: 7 hours, 14 minutes

The history books I listened to this year were largely dives into topics I knew a little about and wanted to learn more, but this was one on a story I’d never even heard of until stumbling onto it. It tells an incredibly dramatic story from the height of the Crusades, when Islamic forces launched an offensive to gain control over the Mediterranean, only to be foiled by Knights of St. John making an unbelievably unlikely stand on the small island of Malta.

TIER 4: Really Good Books

27. The Big Four

Written by Agatha Christie; narrated by Hugh Fraser; length: 5 hours, 33 minutes

The last Christie entry on this list, The Big Four was her attempt at giving Poirot his own Big Bad, in the form of a super secret international crime quartet responsible for numerous illegal intrigues. It’s the most cinematic Poirot story, with the Big Four fading in and out of Poirot’s life until the big showdown. On a traditional scripted TV show, they’d be the season-long tease that gradually ramps up its efforts.

26. Sense and Sensibility

Written by Jane Austen; narrated by Wanda McCaddon; length: 11 hours, 9 minutes

I have a soft spot for the queen of the comedy of manners, but had never actually read or listened to Sense and Sensibility (though the Emma Thompson-led film adaptation is wonderful). It’s a delight.

25. Ready Player One

Written by Ernest Cline; narrated by Wil Wheaton; length: 15 hours, 46 minutes

This was one of the most exciting books I listened to this year, and I think its upcoming film adaptation will be an absolute blockbuster. The book version lapsed into several annoying tendencies, though, with rough dialogue and frequent ramblings that passed beyond the bounds of cleverness. As much as I adore Wheaton as a person and entertainer, his inflection often only added to these drawbacks. But the plot itself was Top 10 worthy and kept this book aloft.

24. The Jewel and Her Lapidary

Written by Fran Wilde; narrated by Mahvesh Murad; length: 1 hour, 48 minutes

The shortest audiobook I listened to this year, this novella was a breezy and wonderfully efficient piece of storytelling. It established its universe with impressive brevity, built up characters to care about faster than I have hardly ever seen, and brought it all to an exciting conclusion. It was a satisfying lesson in quick story building.

23. Trigger Warning

Written and narrated by Neil Gaiman; length: 11 hours, 1 minute

A book of short stories by maybe my favorite living writer, Neil Gaiman. As expected, Gaiman’s brilliant mind covers a substantial amount of ground. But the ones that stuck with me most were his superb Doctor Who story, his unconventional Sherlock Holmes story, and another short story in his great American Gods world.

22. The Graveyard Book

Written by Neil Gaiman; narrated by Derek Jacobi with a full cast production; length: 8 hours, 24 minutes

Another dose of Gaiman in my continuing quest to eventually read everything he’s written. Ostensibly a kids’ book, The Graveyard Book is a reliably clever all-ages thriller with some dark moments and a cast of fun and interesting characters. The cast production, led by the great thespian Derek Jacobi, made this an even more engaging listen.

21. 2001: A Space Odyssey

Written by Arthur C. Clarke; narrated by Dick Hill; length: 6 hours, 42 minutes

Clarke worked with Stanley Kubrick to create the story of 2001, writing the book even as Kubrick was filming. Clarke’s book isn’t the spectacular achievement Kubrick’s film is, as he can replicate neither the stunning visuals nor the same level of suspense that Kubrick manages. Yet there’s a straight-forwardness to the novel that sets it apart as being almost a different story (despite no major plot deviations), in a pleasing way. Props to narrator Dick Hill for almost perfectly replicating the voice of HAL from the film; the voice of HAL is so infamous that any big difference could have been distracting. As an aside, I was unaware that 2001 had three sequels (2010, 2061, and 3001; 2010 had its own film version by Peter Hyams), but now hope to get to them in 2017 (so many years in this sentence).

20. The Road

Written by Cormac McCarthy; narrated by Tom Stechschulte; length: 6 hours, 39 minutes

I read one Cormac McCarthy book, Blood Meridian, five years ago, and the experience was so haunting that it took me til this year to dip back in with two more. Neither book was the masterpiece that Blood Meridian was, but McCarthy’s writing itself is still undeniably masterful. The starkly apocalyptic The Road is often depressing and always tense.

19. Fall of Giants: The Century, Book 1

Written by Ken Follett; narrated by John Lee; length: 30 hours, 41 minutes

Follett’s sprawling story spans the years of World War I with representatives of every major power. It’s a strong piece of historical fiction that touches on a series of great historical touchstones without undermining any of them with its insertions of fictional characters. But the real highlight is narrator John Lee, who switches between half a dozen or more highly distinct foreign accents with incredible ease without giving a hint that he wasn’t a native of each country and region. This book was so self-contained that I don’t necessarily feel the need to continue on with the second and third parts of the trilogy any time soon, but I’m sure I will eventually, if only for Lee’s voices.

18. The Magician’s Land (The Magicians: Book 3)

Written by Lev Grossman; narrated by Mark Bramhall; length: 16 hours, 27 minutes

17. The Magician King (The Magicians: Book 2)

Written by Lev Grossman; narrated by Mark Bramhall; length: 15 hours, 48 minutes

16. The Magicians (The Magicians, Book 1)

Written by Lev Grossman; narrated by Mark Bramhall; length: 17 hours, 24 minutes

We come now to The Magicians trilogy, which will share one write-up. It’s probably a cop-out to group these three together — there were some differences in quality and my enjoyment among them, and this is indeed the order in which I would rank the three — but they are ultimately inseparable, telling one thrilling and occasionally frustrating story.  For a fuller discussion, check out Andy’s spoiler-light review of the series from 2014 (and my very spoilery comment on that post from earlier this year).

15. I Am Malala: How One Girl Stood Up for Education and Changed the World

Written by Malala Yousafzai, narrated by Archie Panjabi; length: 9 hours, 55 minutes

Malala was shot in the head, survived, and became the youngest recipient ever of the Nobel Peace Prize. That was about the extent of my knowledge of her going into this autobiography, only to learn that the depths of her impressiveness ran far deeper. She’s fearless, principled, and relentlessly hardworking in her campaigns for a better tomorrow. This book was often depressing in its darkest moments, but coming through them to the other side was inspiring.

14. Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World

Written by Jack Weatherford; narrated by Jonathan Davis; length: 14 hours, 19 minutes

I went into this one as a fairly blank slate. By the time I finished, I felt mildly appalled at how little I was taught about the Mongolian Empire in school: an empire that held a larger area than any that came before (nearly five times larger than the peak of the Roman Empire) or any after except the British Empire’s peak shortly after World War I. It’s a dramatic story of conquering and cultural influence, with several corrections to long mistaken beliefs about the both the Khans and the whole Mongolian machine.

TIER 3: Great Books

13. The Ocean at the End of the Lane

Written and narrated by Neil Gaiman; length: 5 hours, 48 minutes

Yet more Gaiman, this was a tale he conceived as a short story before expanding it into a novel. It packs a dramatic, exciting punch into a quick narrative.

12. No Country for Old Men

Written by Cormac McCarthy; narrated by Tom Stechschulte; length: 7 hours, 33 minutes

Here’s the second and final McCarthy of the year for me. Though I know now that the Coen brothers’ adaptation was nearly exact, McCarthy’s sense of tension kept me in a state of suspense til near the end despite knowing how it would ultimately resolve. It was also easier to appreciate the deviations from traditional narrative expectations in this book form.

11. Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

Written by Jules Verne; narrated by James Frain; length: 14 hours, 55 minutes

Unlike my other dive back into Verne for the first time since childhood, Twenty Thousand Leagues held up as a true delight. I still felt a similar sense of wonder while forming a much greater appreciation for the depths (pun!) of character of Captain Nemo.

10. The Handmaid’s Tale

Written by Margaret Atwood; narrated by Claire Danes; length: 11 hours

Atwood’s dystopia of female disempowerment is disturbing, depressing, and, unfortunately, relentlessly topical. It sets itself apart from the typical dystopia by the sheer lack of hope. There are no battles to overthrow a corrupt society, just a quiet struggle for survival. Soon to be a prestige series starring the perfect actress (Elizabeth Moss), it will be interesting to see how its storytelling crosses media.

9. Anna Karenina

Written by Leo Tolstoy; narrated by Maggie Gyllenhaal; length: 35 hours, 40 minutes

I read this classic as a freshman in college and thought it was the greatest book I’d ever read. I revisited it via audiobook for the first time since then and found the juxtaposition between Anna’s and Levin’s stories to be more jarring than I recalled; coupled with already knowing the ending, the book got bumped further down than I expected. Nevertheless, it’s breathtakingly beautiful at its best, and Maggie Gyllenhaal’s performance only added to its power.

8. Breakfast of Champions

Written by Kurt Vonnegut; narrated by John Malkovich; length: 6 hours, 27 minutes

My second Vonnegut of the year, which I found all the more effective despite its sad brutality. It forged such a visceral reaction in me that it stayed with me for days after. Malkovich had the unenviable task of narrating not just the story but Vonnegut’s drawings that are sprawled throughout the book, and does an admirable job.

7.  A Tale of Two Cities

Written by Charles Dickens; narrated by Simon Vance; length: 13 hours, 39 minutes

Like many (most?) Americans, I was required to read Dickens’ Great Expectations in high school, and like many (most?) of those, I was unable to fully appreciate it. I came to appreciate Dickens in college (Bleak House, a difficult but impressive book, turned me around), but I can’t help but wonder if High School David would have gained a younger enjoyment of his work if this were the required text instead. A Tale of Two Cities is so much more naturally dramatic to me, with an exciting conclusion that lends itself to an engaging read that leaves an impact.

TIER 2: Now All-Time Favorites

6.   The Goldfinch

Written by Donna Tartt; narrated by David Pittu; length: 32 hours, 29 minutes

There were times in The Goldfinch where I wanted to stop and go on to something else; the plot was such an onslaught of impossible life difficulties that it was hard to keep at it at times. But the writing never ceased to impress, so I did keep at it. The reward for that endurance is hard to overstate: the closing pages of the book were the most beautiful passages I read or listened to this year, and among the most moving of my life.

5. All Quiet on the Western Front

Written by Erich Maria Remarque, narrated by Frank Muller; length: 6 hours, 55 minutes

A classic look at the life of young German soldiers during World War I, Remarque’s book paints the realities of war in such a bleary picture that, after finishing it, it’s hard to believe that another world war came on its heels. The idea that “war is hell” is such an oft-repeated phrase that it’s easy to lose the truth behind the cliche. All Quiet reclaims it with a deft, moving touch.

4. Alexander Hamilton

Written by Ron Chernow; narrated by Scott Brick; length: 36 hours, 2 minutes

Yet again we see the Year of Hamilton, this time the historical version. The real Alexander has seen his story regain prominence thanks to the aforementioned musical, leading to a last-minute retention of his place on the $10 bill. But it all comes back to Chernow’s 2005 biography, which captured Hamilton’s life story in a way no one else ever had (or still has) in more than two hundred years of attempts. Chernow weaves an insane amount of historical detail (this was my longest listen of the year) into a fascinating narrative that never stops reading like a novel. Ultimately, that’s thanks to Hamilton himself, a man who lived a truly dramatic life that lends itself to being gawked at centuries later.

3. Good Omens

Written by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman; narrated by Martin Jarvis; length: 12 hours, 32 minutes

The clear highlight of all the genre fiction I read or listened to this year was the collaboration between the two authors who have entered my pantheon of very favorites in recent years as I’ve explored more and more of their work. Counting this, I read or listened to six Gaimain books and five of Pratchett’s in 2016, but their combination was better than either’s work alone. Good Omens has several laugh-out-loud moments, but the humor shows more of Pratchett’s hallmark of just constantly sharp and present wit. Add in Gaiman’s gift of plot and both authors’ originality, and you have a book that manages to place itself among the very best in genre fiction.

2. Jane Eyre

Written by Charlotte Bronte; narrated by Thandie Newton; length: 19 hours, 10 minutes

My experiences in listening to my two Bronte sister books this year obviously could not have been more different. Whereas Emily’s Wuthering Heights shocked me by how little enjoyment I derived from it, Charlotte’s Jane Eyre was the best kind of surprise: the universal classic that somehow manages to exceed your expectations. It’s all anchored by Jane herself, one of the great characters in literary history (and surely the greatest heroine), who was so far ahead of her time. Thandie Newton (who had a big year for me, with this and Westworld) gave a fucking phenomenal performance of the book that greatly elevated it.

TIER 1: Life-Changing Greatness

1. All the Light We Cannot See

Written by Anthony Doerr; narrated by Zach Appelman; length: 16 hours, 2 minutes

From the moment I finished All the Light We Cannot See, I began recommending it to people around me. I soon found that I was almost underselling in an unconscious attempt to avoid sounding like I was overstating its greatness. How can you describe a book as maybe the most gorgeous piece of art of your life without sounding like you’re engaging in hyperbole? And yet it’s true. This novel of World War II mixes a blind girl in occupied France with a sensitive German youth forced into the Nazi army, and from the crucible of their fear and growth and pain, emerges a story so wondrously touching that it brought me to tears. Maybe now I’m building this up so much that it will disappoint anyone I can convince to read or listen to it, but honestly, I don’t expect so. Some art can draw you in so inexorably that the expectations will fall away and leave you in the tranquil bliss of true greatness. All the Light We Cannot See is that book.

–

Bonus rankings: Top 10 Narration Performances

10. Dick Hill, 2001: A Space Odyssey

9. Claire Danes, The Handmaid’s Tale

8. Hugh Fraser, The Big Four and Three Act Tragedy

7. Zach Appelman, All the Light We Cannot See

6. Maggie Gyllenhaal, Anna Karenina

5. Emma Thompson, The Turn of the Screw

4. Derek Jacobi and cast, The Graveyard Book

3. John Malkovich, Breakfast of Champions

2. John Lee, Fall of Giants

1. Thandie Newton, Jane Eyre

I made no secret about my distaste for Marvel Studios’s choice to adapt the messy Civil War storyline from the comics. Despite knowing that the movie would have to leave much of the comics’ disasters behind, I still grumbled about the decision again and again.

Do I feel differently after watching the film? Um, kinda? Is that an acceptably wishy-washy answer? I really enjoyed the feel of the film. I was never not entertained while watching, and thought it took its shaky premise and made the fucking most of it, with incredible action and some wonderful performances. You don’t need me to give a full review; if you read past the spoiler tag, you presumably already saw this high-octane thriller for yourself. Here’s just a half-hearted bullet-pointed list of some of the things that I enjoyed.

• Black Panther! I’m a massive fan of T’Challa from Christopher Priest’s superb run from the early 2000s, and I couldn’t have been happier with his introduction to the MCU. Chadwick Boseman rocked it, and the script made T’Challa perhaps the most reasonable character in the entire movie (quickly pivoting from seeking revenge to apprehending the real villain as soon as new information became available). Plus, his action scenes were an especially big delight, and his origin is basically entirely out of the way in advance of his solo film.

• Spider-Man! Another subject I ranted on that mostly paid off. Spidey’s introduction was abrupt and didn’t make much sense. (Bizarre that Tony would turn to an unknown in that situation; bizarre that Tony meets him, gets him outfitted, resolves his passport situation [and is he subject to the Accords or what?], and gets his team to Germany within 24 hours; bizarre that newly responsible Tony would risk a 15-year-old’s life; etc.) But then he started talking, and who cared! Spidey bantering up a storm during a fight is everything, and took the already great airport scene up a further notch.

• Ant-Man! Shit, I ranted about him too? Whatever! Scott already won me over in his solo film, and meshed well here. Plus, Giant Man, already!

• So much awesome action! Visually, this was Marvel’s best movie ever, with some beautifully choreographed fight scenes that really took the film to the next level. I could probably do a thousand words on just this bullet point, but yeah, you saw it, which means you already loved the action too.

• Some heart! The ability to sell the Steve/Bucky relationship really helped smooth out some of the rougher edges, and Tony’s emotional investment in his parents (well, his mom) was the only thing that made the climax possible. In fact, the latter deserves its own bullet point.

• RDJ’s finest hour! On my second viewing of the film, I decided that Robert Downey Jr. might have had his finest acting moment of the MCU in setting up that climax. Before Zemo reveals that Bucky murdered Tony’s parents (plenty more on that soon), Iron Man and Cap have made up, and things are pretty much square between them and their conflict. But then the reveal happens, and Tony throws away that peace. It’s no longer about his and Steve’s shaky ideological differences, but rather raw, irrational emotion. Unlike their previous fights, Tony doesn’t care if he’s even in the right; he just wants revenge. When Downey delivers that line — “I don’t care. He killed my mom.” — I sincerely felt it, and all the history and anguish behind it. Another actor might have overplayed the emotion there, but Downey gives it a hint of flatness, managing to convey sadness, anger, but above all, a certain exhaustion. That death broke a part of him, and all the other deaths since then that he feels guilty about have only made it worse. It felt like, in that moment, Tony couldn’t stop if he wanted to. Whatever the problems with that revelation, the film saved it for the perfect moment. You couldn’t have built the entire movie around that one emotional reaction, but an angry climax? I truly bought it, and loved it.

The above (and plenty more I’m sure I could mention) made me really like Captain America: Civil War. It was a damn good movie. It didn’t crack my top four in the MCU (in some ever-changing order: Guardians of the Galaxy, The Avengers, Iron Man, and Captain America: The Winter Soldier), but there’s no shame in that; it’s a tough top four to crack. It might have a good shot at fifth, but I need some time and distance to fairly evaluate that.

But the film had quite a few problems for me, too. My previous rants revolved largely around the ability to sell the Captain America/Iron Man conflict at all, and with the exception of the final climax between them, I remained unconvinced. Neither character’s position ended up making a ton of sense. For Cap, it seems implausible that someone so dedicated to ideals of justice and freedom would be so immovable about basic accountability so that the Avengers don’t have free reign to trample others’ freedoms around the world. His concerns about political agendas is certainly well-founded, especially after Winter Soldier, but it would have been far more in-character for him to be immediately leading a charge for a better system of accountability, rather than the charge for none. He was, after all, the one angrily confronting Tony in Age of Ultron about being held accountable for Ultron. (Sidenote: neither Cap 2 nor 3 really sold his romance with Sharon Carter, even though she was an otherwise cool character in Civil War.)

Tony’s point of view is little better. The film hinges, in part, on believing he’s so scarred by his personal failures in Age of Ultron that he wants to be held in check. But keep in mind what actually happened in AoU. Tony created Ultron, saw him nearly defeat the Avengers, saw him escape into the internet and become potentially unstoppable, saw him murder people and gain the ability to murder a lot more, and how does Tony react to his failure? He still activates Vision: another, more powerful robot that Ultron created for nefarious purposes. That hardly seems like someone terribly scarred. Sure, he’s viscerally confronted with a death he helped cause, and I’ll give Civil War credit for attempting to build in actual consequences to the MCU’s obvious collateral damage. But Civil War does a poor job of actually pinning anything bad on the Avengers. New York? Alien invasion that the Avengers foiled, and the “oversight” available at the time would have nuked NYC (killing millions — which the Avengers also had to foil). Washington D.C.? Literally entirely because of evil quasi-governmental oversight. Lagos? A terrorist with a suicide bomb who would have killed many people regardless; all Wanda did was change the location of where it went off. (Naturally, none of these very obvious arguments are even mentioned.) The only thing that can be laid at the Avengers’ feet is Ultron, which was all Tony. Great, regulate Tony (he’s for it!) and leave everyone else out of it.

More frustrating is that when the plot introduces the secret threat of the other super soldiers, Steve and Tony have a brief opportunity to just talk it out, which should have been so, so easy. Instead, Tony dismisses it as Steve being warped by being too close to the situation…which makes no sense in the context of that conversation. Steve’s closeness to Bucky has zero bearing on whether there’s a secret army of super soldiers, but Tony doesn’t so much as listen to the suggestion of that threat.

The bottom line being: Civil War was sold as these characters’ natural growth leading them to an inevitable conflict, but it never really sold that inevitability, nor even that this was a natural growth for either character. Secondary characters, admittedly, were far better developed in their motivations: Vision’s mathematical logic, and Black Widow’s simple pragmatism (which lent itself equally well to her letting Cap go since he wouldn’t stop anyway) were particularly convincing to me. But the main conflict ultimately had one core thing in common with the gross comic from which it took its name: the heroes only fought because it would make money, and it didn’t really matter if that made them act out of character. The film hid it far better, but the underlying flimsiness still existed.

But I can still forgive most of that; yes, the premise was flimsy, but the movie did a GREAT job of running with it, and avoiding a lot of pitfalls along the way: e.g., setting up the emotional climax so well, and not letting anyone (well, any heroes) actually die over this avoidable conflict.

I have a harder time getting over the movie’s villain problem. The MCU has struggled with most of its villains, and sadly, Civil War was ultimately no exception. Colonel (née Baron) Zemo was often effective as a villain, thanks in large part to the great Daniel Bruhl giving such a well-acted performance. His insistence that the heroes should not walk away unscathed, as he did not, had a believable pathos to it, as did his quiet resignation to (attempted) suicide. But literally no part of his plan makes any sense. Let’s recap:

• Zemo was able to hack the HYDRA files that Black Widow released because of his military training. Ok, sure, I buy that. But…why would he hack them? We’re given no indication that he would have known about the Winter Solider prior to the hack, much less that the Winter Soldier had killed Tony Stark’s parents. There was no reason for him to think that his key to hurting the Avengers was in there. Which means that a random fishing expedition worked out AMAZING for Zemo, since what must have been a shot in the dark revealed the literal perfect bait to put the Avengers in conflict.

• This is especially amazing for Zemo, because he had nothing to do with the Accords themselves. His “plan” was already in motion before an incredibly long list of events had to happen to make conditions ripe for him to take advantage. If Tony and Steve weren’t already at conflict, would his Winter Soldier nugget have still had such effect?

• And what file did he hack that gave him enough information to know that the Winter Soldier was involved on an important mission on a specific date, but neglected to give enough information so that he still needed to find out more from Bucky himself?

• It worked out even more amazing for Zemo that HOLY CRAP THERE WAS VIDEO of Bucky’s murder of Tony’s parents, perfectly framed to show all the action including a clear shot of Bucky’s face, despite this being on a wooded road that we’re given no indication would have any importance or need for surveillance. That might be the biggest sin of insane convenience of the entire MCU.

• Sure was also lucky for him that Bucky gets captured (and not killed, which could have easily! happened) and taken to the exact place he already planning to hit with the EMP. Sure is even luckier that the U.N. task force’s first move is, surprisingly, to bring in a psychiatrist. (I sincerely appreciate that, hopefully, our international brethren are less bloodthirsty than us Americans and wouldn’t torture Bucky. But going straight to psychiatrist over an attempt at military debriefing? Ehh.) Luckier that it was the exact psychiatrist Zemo had already killed and taken the place of. And sure, I’ll buy that he had studied procedures to know that all of this would happen (though it’d still be a super complicated plan), but Zemo doesn’t even disguise himself as the psychiatrist (like he disguised himself as Bucky to frame him). Even assuming also that he stole identification, Zemo loses if even ONE PERSON there happens to know this psychiatrist (which someone should if he’s first on their speed dial!) and point out that Zemo looks nothing like him.

• Finally, Steve, Bucky, and Tony all show up to apprehend him at the same time — something he couldn’t have really planned for, though setting up the discovery that he’d been posing as the doctor was apparently intended to pull Tony in. But even then, Tony only knew where to go because Falcon got captured and was willing to tell Tony. So for Zemo to be able to spring his super convenient videotape at such a perfect moment (with Cap, Bucky, and Iron Man all together) requires for Cap and Bucky to come to the compound to stop Zemo, for someone Cap told about this plan to get captured, for Tony to hear about the doctor’s death and decide to ask that captured person, for them to tell Tony despite having cause to not trust him, for Tony to go alone (without telling Secretary Ross, despite the Accords — which Tony is FOR), and for all of that to work out so that the heroes all get there at pretty much the same time. That’s fucking ridiculous.

In an attempt to be clever, the film ends up taking Zemo on waaaay too many twists and turns until he’s less of a grieving widower and more of an all-powerful psychic, able to predict and take advantage of the future (and hell, the past). This level of villainy becomes absurd, and wastes a fine acting performance.

And that’s how we end up with the title of this post. Civil War was flawed — but it managed to overcome the flaws with a lot of fun parts, too. In the end, it managed to be good and enjoyable. Was the premise a good idea? I honestly don’t know. The number of contorsions the plot puts itself through to try to deliver its premise makes me want to say no; not when easier, more sensible options were available. But then I think about the final result, that I was incredibly entertained and had a blast despite all the things I just ranted about. And isn’t that the whole point of the movie’s existence? Well, yes.

So, ok. Marvel rants over — for now, at least — with Marvel winning. It was a flawed idea with flawed execution, but damn, it was as good as I could have asked for.

Let’s start with three quick points.

1.  The use of a question in the title of this post is sincere. I do a lot of angry rants and hyperbolic praise on this site, because that manic vacillation is what I do best. But this is an instance where I’m genuinely unsure of the answer.

2. Despite whatever questions I raise here about the ending, I freaking LOVED Daredevil Season 2. I thought it was a masterpiece, even better than the great first season, and one of the best superhero stories I’ve seen play out in live action.

3.SPOILERS ahead for Daredevil, Season 2. And just to be safe, spoilers for a 30-year-old comic book (Frank Miller’s Daredevil #181) and, in case you care (you shouldn’t), the 2003 Daredevil movie.

So let’s get down to it as briefly as possible. If you’ve made it this far into the post, I assume you’re cool with that spoiler disclaimer and don’t need a full recap of Daredevil Season 2 as preamble for what I really want to discuss. Let’s skip straight to the season finale, “A Cold Day in Hell’s Kitchen,” and from there, straight to the climactic rooftop battle between Daredevil and Elektra and a host of ninjas from The Hand, which culminated in Elektra’s death. Now, Elektra dying was probably one of the least surprising events of the season for anyone very familiar with the character. Dying is kind of what she does. The main suspense was how and when; I thought there was a decent chance the show would save her inevitable first death for Season 3, but if not, it was going to be in the finale. And sure enough, Elektra jumped between Matt and a blade wielded by Hand leader Gao, saving DD’s life at the cost of her own. She then died in Matt’s arms, and ended the season in a creepy Hand sarcophagus that had been teased for half the season. The bigger picture isn’t entirely clear yet in the show, but obviously, her story isn’t done. As the final denouement of the season, Matt reveals to Karen that he’s Daredevil.

Here are my possible questions:

1. Was this the best way to kill Elektra?

2. Was this the right moment to make the inevitable secret identity reveal to Karen?

Let’s start with the first one. It feels uncomfortable to discuss the optimal way to have an awesome female character be murdered, especially given the history of fridging women in comics. But since death has been inextricably linked with Elektra since her earliest stories, I think this is a special case. And I’m not sure the show really captured the possible drama of that moment.

First, there’s the villain, Gao, who killed her. He appeared in a handful of episodes in Season 1, but only one episode with any prominence, the one in which he has an incredible fight against Daredevil and ends up burned alive. He returns this season, burnt but resurrected, as a shortcut for giving The Hand a Big Bad figurehead. He’s effective enough, but hardly a dominating presence, particularly when compared with main villains the show has already produced (Kingpin, Punisher). He seems like he’s probably middle management, or at least not the kind of iconic villain you’d expect to stand in for probably the most famous moment in Daredevil history. Elektra was originally killed by DD’s arch-nemesis, Bullseye, in one of the most unforgettable comics scenes of all time:

Gao hardly feels like a worthy stand-in for that moment, nor does Elektra’s show death carry quite the same sense of drama. My first inclination was honestly to be slightly disappointed. If her death was going to come this season, I expected the sarcophagus tease to be a reveal of creating Kirigi, a Big Bad of the Hand whom Elektra killed herself not too long before that comic book death.

But if I didn’t feel quite enough drama in the moment, I’ve warmed some to the show’s concept since watching it. First, there’s certainly nothing wrong with departing from the source material, especially in such a very loose adaptation. After all, the 2003 Daredevil film recreated Miller’s scene almost verbatim, and is rightly reviled nevertheless:

Second, this Elektra isn’t the comic book Elektra — and that’s fine, too. Show Elektra was more vulnerable and more of a good person. Before her first comics death, Elektra worked for a while as an assassin for Kingpin, indiscriminately killing according to his orders. The show’s Elektra is certainly a killer — a fact that gets a fair amount of discussion — but we don’t really see her take out anyone who didn’t arguably deserve it. Perhaps the show’s ending was actually more appropriate than the cold-blooded duel with Bullseye. This Elektra had a much softer side, and sacrificing her life for someone else (as opposed to just losing a fight) was, perhaps, the perfect way to conclude her arc for the season.

Elektra and Matt had a really strong and co-mingled arc over the season, I thought. Both struggled with immense darkness and largely used each other as a tether to whatever goodness was within them. This was more obvious for Elektra, who felt betrayed (for good reason) by Stick and found out that she was the “Black Sky” of The Hand’s prophecies. I think the show could have raised the stakes even more by telling us directly what the Black Sky is or means. We know it’s a sort of messianic figure that is supposed to bring destruction, and for this season at least, that’s probably enough. But it’s rather unclear how Elektra would cause that doomsday that Stick and the Chaste fear; she’s a badass, but Stick and Matt both seem to be at least on par with her as a fighter. Nevertheless, in her darkest moments, Matt can still pull her back from the brink.

More impressive to me, however, was how the show demonstrated Elektra’s importance to Matt. Matt treated her reentry into his life as an imposition at first, but as the season went on, it became clearer that only with Elektra could Matt really be himself: something he stated outright shortly before they charged out onto the rooftop for the final time. There’s been an oft-used idea in modern comics that for certain characters, their superheroic identity is the “real” person, and the civilian identity is actually the mask. It’s most often applied to Batman — erroneously, I think, but that’s another discussion. For Daredevil, though, at least in the context of this season, that concept kind of works. Matt Murdock has to pretend to be disabled in the ordinary way in which the world around him sees a blind man. As a lawyer, he’s increasingly struggling to make a real difference for people as the season goes on; this is often his own fault for being absent, but those absences are also spurred by a sincere belief that he can do more good as Daredevil than as Matt. Daredevil is the truest sense of what he’s capable of, where he can act to do the most good.

This arc for Matt leads into my second maybe-questionable choice: his reveal to Karen in the season’s final scene that he is Daredevil.

Matt has a burgeoning romance with Karen Page early and through the middle of the season, because Matt belongs with someone like Karen who brings out the best of that identity. But Daredevil belongs with Elektra, the person who pushes him and frustrates him and disappoints him — but also accepts that identity unconditionally. And so much of Season 2 revolved around the idea that the character needed to be Daredevil more than he wanted to be Matt. Shortly before Elektra’s death, he finally seemed at peace with all of that — that he needed this lifestyle, and as a result, that he belonged with Elektra.

But then Elektra dies, and he comes clean to Karen. I think I get what the show was going for with this decision (besides a dramatic cliffhanger). After all the suffering he’d gone through and inflicted this season, perhaps Matt just wanted to unburden himself a little and stop lying to someone he truly does care about. But I feel like maybe the reveal didn’t fit with where he was at that moment. A major theme of the season was that to choose Karen was to choose being Matt Murdock, and he’s already turned his back on that choice. If the loss of Elektra is making him reevaluate the choice, that’d be one thing, but we don’t see him trying to make up with Foggy, re-open the law firm, or do the other things he’d reasonably need to make an effort toward in order to really live in that direction. As near as we can tell, he’s still resolute in the decision that he needs to be Daredevil more than he needs to be Matt.

But being Daredevil feels at odds with opening up to Karen; if anything, he’s shown that he can’t be Daredevil and accommodate Matt’s personal relationships. I understand that the reveal had to happen eventually, and it’s a tired trope that the hero’s main romantic interest is almost always the last major character to find out the truth on these shows. But I wonder if they could have built up to Matt’s decision to reveal the truth in a more consistent way if they’d saved that moment for Season 3 instead of tacking it onto Season 2 for a hard-hitting final scene. But again: maybe not; maybe this way was best. So much damage in Season 2 was at least partially the result of secrets. Maybe taking one off the table was the most appropriate way to end.

Again, I’m honestly unsure. Was Elektra’s show death insufficiently big and dramatic and lacking in a worthy fight/villain, or was it a more appropriate way to play out the arc of her character’s sincere moral struggle? Was Matt revealing to Karen that he’s Daredevil a contradiction of the decisions he made this season, or a sign that he’s growing and learning from these tidal waves of experience?

What I am certain of is that Daredevil Season 2 was unabashedly great, regardless of where I end up landing on those final sticking points. Its portrayal of the Punisher was superb, and I hope to see Jon Bernthal get serious award nomination consideration. It had insane action sequences, somehow even topping those of Season 1. It fixed the Daredevil suit to really look great. It brought back Kingpin in the perfect amounts and set up a lot for Season 3. And my goodness, Season 3 can’t get here fast enough. In the meantime, we’ll have to content ourselves with discussing that finale and what the show did or didn’t get right.

When CBS released its first trailer for Supergirl last spring, the online reaction was less than positive, with a common comparison being to unfavorably note the similarities between CBS’s sincere trailer and a then-recent parody trailer for a fake Black Widow movie by SNL. As someone who has spent a considerable amount of time on the current boom of superhero television, I went into Supergirl fully expecting a misfire of a show that I’d end up dropping after a few episodes.

And yet here we are, with the network TV superhero shows mostly entering their stretch run of the season, and Supergirl is the superhero show I usually look forward to the most.

This realization surprised me, largely because of how very gradually it happened. The pilot was much better than its first trailer had done justice, but it was still nothing that blew me away. I was hooked enough to keep going a while longer, but not sold that would remain the case. For weeks, that same trend continued. Without me fully even realizing it, the show kept growing on me more and more. Cast chemistry improved. Characters whom I initially disliked — most notably Cat Grant — got more interesting and enjoyable. Bit by bit, the show found its legs.

I think I first realized how much better things had gotten while watching episode six, “Red Faced.” The episode, quite rightly, got mocked for its terrible design of awesome comic book character Red Tornado. Look at this shit:

And yet, that issue aside, “Red Faced” featured a couple of impressively poignant moments. The first came during a workout conversation between Kara and Jimmy Olsen, a character who has gone from a boilerplate handsome love interest to an indispensable supporting character. The pair discussed anger, and how both women (Kara) and black men (Jimmy) can’t feel free to openly express their anger in society. It was a brief but deep window into a very real social issue. Moreover, with the exception of Agent Carter, you’d be hard-pressed to find another of the network superhero shows tackling a topic like that. The second moment came in the episode’s climax, as Kara finally got to unleash her rage. I suddenly realized I had goosebumps on my arms and began to appreciate the degree to which this show could give me chills.

The next episode, “Human for a Day,” featured even bigger moments. Kara talked down a desperate gunman without needing her powers, a scene that will surely rank among the season’s best and invoked favorable comparisons to a famous page from Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely’s acclaimed All-Star Superman comic that encapsulated much of what makes Superman, at his best, such a hero:

Now, Kara had gotten her own similar moment. She wasn’t the same type of hero we’ve seen on the likes of Arrow or Daredevil; she was even more public and inspiring than we’ve seen from The Flash. (And speaking of Flash, Grant Gustin’s Barry Allen will be making a guest appearance for one of TV’s rarer events, a cross-network crossover.) This version of Supergirl had an opportunity to be something we’ve only rarely seen done well on TV: a powerful symbol. At the episode’s end, we got a more outwardly jaw-dropping moment as the show gave a major twist to one of its principal characters. The next week’s fall finale, “Hostile Takeover,” gave us more of both character moments and exciting action, managing to cement the show’s ascent into a top-tier series among superhero television.

Since then, the show has continued a strong string of episodes, introducing or developing an intriguing rogues’ gallery. Early on, the show gave Kara her own pseudo-Lex Luthor, introducing Maxwell Lord to play the requisite part of rich genius with dangerous plots. Lord did little for me at first, but like the rest of the show, has only grown on me as time and episodes pass. This spring has also introduced a Bizarro Supergirl and, most excitingly, her own version of Brainiac with the character Indigo (something I advocated for recently, not really expecting it to happen). It even adapated its own version of one of the most celebrated Superman comics, Alan Moore’s “For the Man Who Has Everything” (titled in the show, unsurprisingly, “For the Girl Who Has Everything”). Superman still gets mentioned on the show, but as Supergirl becomes more confident, the awkwardness of his absence is less of an issue. This Supergirl has taken on many of the aspects of Superman at his best, yet she’s more than just a gender-switched Clark Kent, despite how it felt early in the season. Kara has grown toward being a much more Buffy-like character, that combination of strength and vulnerability that shows so rarely write well for female characters.

Much of the credit for Kara’s growth, of course, belongs to her actress, Melissa Benoist. Benoist has been absolutely wonderful: funny, emotional, and powerful as needed. She’s developed good chemistry with her on-screen adopted sister, Chyler Leigh’s Alex, as well as Mehcad Brooks’ Jimmy, David Harewood’s Hank (who was particularly powerful in “Strange Visitor from Another Planet”), and, to a slightly lesser extent, Jeremy Jordan’s Winn. But as mentioned, it was Calista Flockhart’s Cat Grant who took the biggest leap for me. After at first finding her an annoying stereotype of a bitchy powerful woman, I soon came to really appreciate Cat as the show thankfully added layers of depth.

It’s not that the show is flawless now, by any means. The writing still tilts toward melodrama and tropes, and will often take a step back right after taking a couple forward. I still hesitate slightly to call it great and would have a harder time calling it must-see, though I think it could reach both by the season’s end.

But what Supergirl has undeniably become is fun. Much in the same ways that The Flash made its ascent to my top superhero show last year, Supergirl has an increasing chance to claim this year’s top honor by embracing the unique features that make its lead hero so great, while steadily fleshing out everyone around her. And now, the new superhero show I most expected to not watch has turned into the one I never want to miss.

It’s oftentimes hard for a movie to withstand that kind of hype, but I managed to maneuver around spoilers, trailers and art around the film. All I knew was that it was scary and good.

After screening the film, it was confirmed: The Witch is scary good, possessing otherworldly performances, astounding camera work and exquisite lived in sets and costume design.

It’s New England in 1630, and William (Ralph Ineson), under threat of banishment from the church, moves his wife and five children out of town and on a plantation on the precipice of the wrong forest.

When their baby disappears under the care of eldest daughter Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy), the family slowly turns on her, accusing her of witchcraft and setting the stage for what felt like the world’s creepiest Shakespearean production.

The Witch is marketed as a New England folk tale, and we learn that the uncomfortable events of the film come from actual accounts, with much of the dialogue lifted verbatim from the texts. Because of that and the unreal performances by every single one of the family members, from the kids on up to the parents, this film feels like more than just a hellish Puritan nightmare. It feels real.

I have no idea how the young actors, Ellie Grainger and Lucas Dawson, who played siblings Mercy and Jonas respectively, could handle the difficult Yorkshire accent and period dialogue. But they and everyone else did, perfectly. They each have standout moments, with the oldest son Caleb (Harvey Scrimshaw) proving that possession still can feel fresh and disturbing.

Kate Dickie, who as any Game of Thrones fan will know, specializes in playing characters that hurt your soul, is chilling and monstrous as Katherine, the family’s crazed matriarch.

Ineson, who tries and fails to keep his family together, delivers a heartbreaking performance, digging great, untold depths to keep faith.

But this is Thomasin’s movie, and while this sentiment is likely repeated by every critic who sees this movie, it’s no less true: it’s a star-making turn by Anya Taylor-Joy, a Miami-born actress who grew up in Argentina, lived for a time in London, and whose first language was Spanish, making her performance even more astonishing. Her big eyes are mesmerizing, like Amanda Seyfried’s but with pain surrounding her hazel irises. Not to sensationalize and play Monday morning quarterback, but her performance was just as powerful as another young blonde’s star-making turn in Winter’s Bone, and she showcases Jennifer Lawrence level talent.

Yes, there is a witch, a terrifying creation, but much of the terror comes from the agonizing melodrama when this family turns on their daughter/sister. Increasingly nobody believes Thomasin, and of course, every event is timed to paint her as the culprit. While this is a lean movie, Eggers’ relishes these scenes precisely because they’re so difficult, and because we know another witch sighting is around the corner to make everything even worse.

The Witch isn’t one of those exploitive jump scare horror flicks, even if it will likely make you jump, gasp and swear. Eggers earns every grisly Brothers Grimm moment, and gets as dark as possible: there is no comfort to be found here, this is an unholy baptism of sinister shit that gives me continued faith in not just the indie horror genre but in movie-making in general.

The Witch arrives in theaters February 19 to ruin your sleep. Make it a success.

It’s not often you find a movie bursting with decapitations and dildos that also has a heart, but found one you have in the form of the deliriously zonked out Deathgasm from writer-director Jason Lei Howden.

On its surface, the film is about a bunch of loser high school students fending off a demon-fueled apocalypse, and you wouldn’t be wrong. But Deathgasm shows us the appeal of Heavy Metal and that it stems from the same place everywhere else comes from during adolescence: loneliness and feelings of being irrevocably different from everyone else. Heavy metal gives Brodie (Milo Cawthorne) an outlet.

He’s hated by his Aunt and Uncle, essentially living out a metal version of Harry Potter, with his cousin David and his henchmen bullying him in ways that only movie bullies can, spraying piss at Brodie and his nerdy friends, D&D nut Dion (Sam Berkley) and Giles (Daniel Cresswell), who’s kind of just an asshole.

It all changes when Brodie meets Zakk (James Blake), at, where else, a record store, and they all form a band called, of course, Deathgasm.

The plot trappings are standard fare, but the film’s gonzo sense of humor and bonkers (and violent) series of events will win most everyone over.

The darkness even appeals to Medina (Kimberley Crossman), the hottest babe in school that Brodie has a not-so-hopeless crush on.

After Brodie and Zakk end up with a mystical Black Hymn from their metal idol Rikki Daggers, they end up playing the song and unleashing Hell on a small New Zealand town in the form of The Blind One, a demon.

From there, Deathgasm is a dizzying array of gore, practical FX and sex toys as weapons, with Zakk finding ways to use chainsaws that even Evil Dead hasn’t. There’s hardly any boundaries of where to go: this is a movie with a baby vomiting blood.

In other words, it’s delightful, and another example (after Housebound and What We Do in the Shadows) that New Zealand is the most metal place for indie horror.

Deathgasm is available On Demand and on DVD/Blu-Ray.

Blessedly, the Syfy creature feature and wannabe Sharknado is everything you want it to be.

It has a shirtless, sweaty and self-aware Steve Guttenberg, who not only calls out act breaks, but complains to his agent: “I hate bugs. I can’t be in a bug movie.” Arni, his smarmy agent played by Danny Woodburn, yells back: “You’re in a bug movie!”

Side-stepping the bug/insect wormhole (spiders aren’t insects, guys), Lavalantula also features too many bad one liners to count.

It has bad CGI and even worse acting.

It has the world’s most lopsided love triangle between Colton’s son Wyatt, a super cool biker, and Travis, a super annoying biker.

It has a Sharknado crossover that will question your entire existence, and make you ponder the possibility that all of Syfy’s creature features exist in a single cinematic universe that would make Marvel jealous.

It has a Police Academy reunion, teaming the Gutte with Michael Winslow, Marion Ramsey and Leslie Easterbrook, names that will only mean anything to you if you’ve watched Police Academy hung over.

Lavalantula opens with Guttenberg getting a pounding during an interrogation, taking punch after bloody punch from that guy in 24 (Carlos Bernard). We learn that Guttenberg is a former Green Beret, CIA operative, a Medal of Honor winner and the head of the Black Cobra Society (just like in real life). We also learn that he’s none of those things, and that he’s filming a movie. Yup, Lavalantula is one of those. Guttenberg is actually Colton West, a down ‘n out former action star, now known for his criminal record rather than the blockbuster superhero flick Red Rocket.

He’s got a wife who’s pissed at him (played by Nia Peeples) and a son who’s pissed at him (whose name would illicit exactly no recognition from anyone reading this), and a career on Life Alert.

Luckily for him, and the audience, what’s supposed to happen over a million years happens overnight. Lavalantula answers the age old question that has haunted LA residents: is it possible for LA traffic to get any worse? Yes. All it takes is an ancient volcano (?!) in the Santa Monica mountains (!!) erupting all over the 405, because volcanos and spiders become one or something Mayan, and we’re treated to fire breathing spiders destroying all of your favorite Los Angeles landmarks.

Lavalantula is the right kind of ridiculous for a Friday night with your pals, or for when you’re playing hooky from work on a Monday afternoon. This is a movie that gleefully murders dogs, love triangles and the elderly with equal relish.

At one point, Guttenberg hijacks a StarLine tour bus, breaking the fourth, fifth and sixth wall in the process. Onboard, he meets Sandlot and Mean Green superstar Patrick Renna as Chris, a super fan of Colton West’s.

Yup, it’s everything you wanted.

Syfy fashioned Lavalantula to become the next Sharknado, greenlighting a sequel last summer after its broadcast premiere (with a title of 2 Lava 2 Lantula). There have unfortunately been scant updates since, but one can hope we haven’t seen the last of Sweaty Steve and company.

In the meantime, Lavalantula is available on demand and is out on DVD and Blu-Ray.

Drinking Game

1. Drink every time there’s a self aware reference to the fact that Steve Guttenberg *GASP* is a washed up actor.
2. Take a sip for every cheesy action movie one liner that would make Ahnuld litigious. Example: “No fare, no ride.” Cue: shotgun.
3. Drink every time there’s a Los Angeles reference. Since this is the most LA movie I’ve ever seen, this might be the only rule you need.
4. I don’t think you need me to tell you to drink any time someone says “Lavalantula,” but drink double whenever someone says “Mamalantula,” which yes, does happen.
5. Drink for every news report.
6. Take a drink for every different kind of weapon used to dispatch the evil lavalantulas.
7. Whenever a costumed character on Hollywood boulevard is massacred, drink. [Technically, this is double dipping with Rule #3, but it’s worth it]
8. Finish your drink when Steve Guttenberg becomes a literal superhero.

Extra Credit: Drink for every tremor.

Disclaimer: Please drink responsibly and don’t drink and drive. Sleep on a friend’s couch or sober up by watching Police Academy 1-4.

Back in 2011, Joss Whedon took a break between filming and editing his first blockbuster film, The Avengers, to shoot a black and white adaptation of William Shakespeare’s comedy Much Ado About Nothing, filmed at Whedon’s house and predominantly starring actors and friends he’d previously worked with in his so-called Whedonverse. The result, released the next year in 2012, was an absolute delight.

But while many of Shakespeare’s comedies don’t have a single great film version (I’m still waiting for a worthy adaptation of Twelfth Night), Whedon’s adaptation was the second time Much Ado had been done remarkable justice on film. Nearly 20 years earlier, noted Shakespearean actor/director Kenneth Branagh — later, himself another Marvel director — made Much Ado About Nothing his second (of five, so far) movie adaptations of a Shakespeare play. The 1993 film deservedly got considerable acclaim, and boasted an all-star cast that eclipses even Whedon’s.

So which is the superior film version of this classic comedy? Let’s break it down with side-by-side comparisons of the major characters.

Claudio

1993 actor: Robert Sean Leonard

2012 actor: Fran Kranz

Leonard is probably best remembered for his tragic role in Dead Poets Society a few years before taking on the role of the young lovestruck Claudio. I think I’ve still yet to see Kranz outside of the Whedonverse (Dollhouse, Cabin in the Woods, and Much Ado), but he’s nailed those roles enough to be worthy of wider recognition.

In Much Ado, Leonard’s love for Hero feels too soapy with insufficient chemistry; likewise, his rage at believing himself betrayed by Hero feels unconvincing. He’s at his best when believing his lady love to be dead, and himself to blame. But Kranz shines throughout in the same role, strongly conveying Claudio’s journey from hopeless romantic to jealous rage to woeful regret. Kranz wins this one fairly easily.

Winner: Fran Kranz (2012)

Hero

1993 actress: Kate Beckinsale

2012 actress: Jillian Morgese

Beckinsale has gone on to a sort of stardom, thanks in large part to the Underworld series, but she was just 20 at the time Much Ado was released, one of her earliest credits. Morgese certainly seemed like she could be the breakout star of the later Much Ado, yet years later, it remains her only credited role. A half-hearted Google search didn’t turn up any explanations for what she’s been up to since.

It’s a little hard to evaluate the performances of Hero, though. Both did fine jobs with what they were given, particular in her heartbreak at being falsely accused, but Hero is mostly a reactive character in the story. Whedon’s version did a better job of giving her a semblance of agency in making her initial romantic match, even if just adding more flirtatious glances with Claudio, and Morgese also benefits from Kranz’s more charismatic performance as her romantic partner. I think Beckinsale could have done just as well with similar direction, but as it is, Morgese gets the edge.

Winner: Jillian Morgese (2012)

Leonato

1993 actor: Richard Briers

2012 actor: Clark Gregg

Briers might have the least name recognition for anyone from the 1993 version, but he was a long-time character actor in both film and on stage, probably better remembered in the U.K. than elsewhere thanks to his television roles there. Gregg toiled as a supporting character for years until breaking out some opposite Julia Louis-Dreyfuss on New Adventures of Old Christine, then a bigger breakout with his joining the MCU, now getting to star in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. At the time, he was a new addition to the Whedonverse, coming off The Avengers.

As someone who mostly only knows Gregg as Phil Coulson, it was enjoyable getting to see him stretch a little as the patriarch Leonato. He plays up the fun aspects of the role better than Briers, but still acquits himself well in the more intense later scenes. Yet Briers clearly brings the sensibility of an experienced Shakespearean actor to the role, giving a more stately but effective performance. His advantage is particularly evident when confronting Don Pedro and Claudio for their slander of his daughter’s reputation.

Winner: Richard Briers (1993)

Don Pedro

1993 actor: Denzel Washington

2012 actor: Reed Diamond

Denzel was on top of the world in 1993, coming off his third Oscar nomination for his spectacular turn in Malcolm X (which should have been a win) and thankfully deigning to take a supporting role in a Shakespearean comedy. Diamond is obviously a few tiers below, still best known for his Whedon roles on Dollhouse and his too-brief villain role in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Nevertheless, Diamond acquits himself quite well here. He has fun with his role as a prince, and displays good chemistry with the rest of the cast. But he never really had a chance in this matchup. It’s Denzel. Washington’s charm practically oozes off him, especially when flashing his classic smile. As a sidenote: Denzel should do more comedy, as he certainly has the chops. And unsurprisingly, he shines when the story takes its serious twist, with an understated stoic demeanor that plays well.

Winner: Denzel Washington (1993)

Don John

1993 actor: Keanu Reeves

2012 actor: Sean Maher

Keanu is Keanu, the man with one of the more interesting (read: weird) filmographies you’ll see. In 1993, he was in the process of breaking free of his Bill and Ted silly comic roots; he was shortly removed from his first high-profile serious roles in Point Break and Dracula. Maher was in the cult favorites Firefly and Serenity, this, and basically nothing else you’ve seen.

Yet Maher is able to craft a far more interesting version of the story’s villain. Don John, the prince’s traitorous brother, is little more than brooding made flesh in the 1993 version; Reeves does it fine, but there’s nothing especially compelling about it. Whedon, however, gives Maher a plethora to work with. I won’t include the more minor supporting characters in these matchups, but perhaps Whedon’s most inspired choice was gender-flipping Don John’s conspirator Conrade to be played by the brilliant comedian Riki Lindhome. Instead of just menacing expository dialogue, Don John’s unveiling of his conspiracy became a steamy pillowtalk as he and Conrade got busy. The result was a much more compelling villain, and an unlikely upset for Maher.

Winner: Sean Maher (2012)

Dogberry

1993 actor: Michael Keaton

2012 actor: Nathan Fillion

And now we come to the most difficult matchup of all. A shame I don’t want to do ties, because this deserves one.

Michael Keaton is Michael fucking Keaton, and in 1993 was arguably at the height of his career, coming off his two Batman films. And Nathan Fillion is Nathan fucking Fillion, filming Much Ado on a break from the unkillable Castle after gaining eternal nerd cred from his Whedon collaborations, especially Firefly.

Dogberry is the delightful comedic relief in each film, but they approach the character rather differently. Keaton plays him as a grimy character who constantly abuses his assistant and has more than a little in common, in terms of mannerisms, with Keaton’s Beetlejuice. Fillion plays a refined version, and while Dogberry is perfectly unaware of his own stupidity in both versions, Fillion’s gentlemanly outward appearance perhaps adds all the more to the humor of how oblivious the character is. It’s an almost impossible choice, but I suppose Fillion is just ever so slightly more effective.

Winner: Nathan Fillion (2012)

Benedick

1993 actor: Kenneth Branagh

2012 actor: Alexis Denisof

Branagh helped kickstart a revival of film versions of Shakespeare plays, mostly (but not always) starring himself in the main role, as he does here. In recent years, he’s become a director of high-profile films like Thor and Cinderella. Denisof starred in Whedon’s Angel as half of the best romantic pairing (Fred and Wesley) Whedon’s shows ever created.  He’s had a few other TV roles since.

I certainly like Denisof, and his pairing with his Angel partner, Amy Acker, was a nice bit of casting, as the two clearly have strong chemistry. He also does particularly well in some of the humorous bits of the role, such as his physicality when “overhearing” the conversation about him. But he is, frankly, in over his head for this matchup. Branagh is wonderful as Benedick, equaling Denisof in humor and far surpassing him in drama — most notably when Beatrice implores him to kill Claudio.

Winner: Kenneth Branagh (1993)

Beatrice

1993 actress: Emma Thompson

2012 actress: Amy Acker

It’s only been in the past few years that I’ve come to fully appreciate the depth of how phenomenal of a career Emma Thompson has had. I’ve yet to see a role in which she was anything less than stellar, likely because it doesn’t exist. Acker was a major crush of my teen years as Fred on Angel, and had a strong role on Dollhouse before winning current acclaim on Person of Interest.

I can’t stress enough how good Acker was as Beatrice. Beatrice is perhaps Shakespeare’s best female character (or more likely, his best positive female character, finishing second overall to Lady Macbeth), so she should naturally steal the show in any production of Much Ado. But Acker really steals it, giving a wonderful performance full of humor and strength.

But this is still all about Emma Thompson. Beatrice’s incredible sharpness of wit pairs so perfectly with Thompson’s acting that it feels like Shakespeare wrote the part specifically for her, 400 years in advance. And Thompson shows why she’s one of the very finest actresses of her generation, not only displaying pitch-perfect humor and romantic chemistry, but true emotional power on behalf of her wronged cousin. Acker is so, so good as Beatrice, but I don’t think it’s even possible to do this role better than Thompson does it.

Winner: Emma Thompson (1993)

Writing/Direction

1993 writer/director: Kenneth Branagh

2012 writer/director: Joss Whedon

And finally, we have the writing and directing. While Shakespeare obviously did the heavy lifting, Branagh and Whedon both did the screenplay for their adaptations, then directed it.

Branagh obviously has strong senses for Shakespeare, and captures all the beats and rhythms of the story. He gets the most out of nearly all his actors, with the possible exception of Leonard’s Claudio, and deserves some credit for helping build such an amazing cast. He was also wise not to worry about being too precise; I like that he threw out any racial concerns when casting Denzel and Keanu as brothers. But there is some weirdness to Branagh’s adaptation, such as the early montage of characters bathing and the more showy sex scene between Borachio and Margaret (as a sidenote: Margaret is played by Imelda Staunton, so if you ever wanted to see Dolores Umbridge’s sideboob, this movie is your chance). It’s not that partial nudity bothers me — at all — but it did feel weirdly out of place in the context of the film.

Whedon’s adaptation is far more creative. Even though I largely prefer traditional stagings of Shakespeare plays (like Branagh’s), as opposed to the style of adapting the story to a modern setting (like Whedon’s), Whedon really makes his vision work. There’s a sleekness and vibrance to Whedon’s sort-of jazzy style in Much Ado that really hits home. He also made some great creative choices, such as the aforementioned gender-swap of Conrade and the elimination of the part of Antonio, that worked really well.

Winner: Joss Whedon (2012)

Overall Film

1993 is winning 5 to 4 in this breakdown, and it’s also going to win the overall battle. Both versions are absolutely wonderful, and 2012’s better direction and stronger small characters really help its case. It also carries a stronger romance between the younger set of lovers, Claudio and Hero. But Claudio and Hero aren’t the focus of the story; Much Ado revolves around Beatrice and Benedick. And the fact that both characters get more impactful performances in the 1993 version carries a ton of weight, because Branagh and especially Thompson deliver the kind of performances that can elevate an entire film.

Both movies are outstanding adaptations that are well worth your time. But if you can only choose one in this head-to-head comparison, choose the one with Emma Thompson. Because the lesson, as always, is that she’s perfect.

Overall winner: Much Ado About Nothing (1993)

So now I’m going to run down the major comic book shows on the air (zombies not included, since I haven’t kept up with either Walking Dead show or iZombie) to list one character from each who should be killed off.

Gotham

Character to kill: Bruce Wayne

Why kill that character: I gave up on Fox’s Gotham long ago — though I’ll be back for the season finales! — but this might be the easiest call of any show. Gotham was sold as ostensibly a Batman prequel, but almost immediately went off the rails by linking way too hard to a future Gotham City: at least half of Batman’s future Rogues’ Gallery is going to be well-established with Bats himself probably still 15 years from taking up the cowl. Meanwhile, Jim Gordon has often acted as more of a vigilante than cop. The solution to both: Bruce dies as a tween, Jim becomes Batman.

How to kill that character: Alfred mercilessly beats Bruce to death.

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Arrow

Character to kill: John Diggle

Why kill that character: Arrow presents the most relevant hypothetical for this premise, as it’s the one show where we know for sure that a death is coming before the end of the season. But who should it be? Arrow has a lot of good characters, and while I may be in the minority, I don’t really hate any of them now. But I think Diggle might be the most superfluous at this point. While Dig’s friendship with Oliver helped carry much of the first two seasons, he’s settled into a rather vague role as more of the supporting cast has turned into costumed heroes. Frankly, nothing he does in fights is as cool as the rest of the group, and his reliance on a gun feels poorly thought out given Team Arrow’s current no-kill policy. And if you want the late-season death to have a big impact, few characters could match the emotional weight of saying goodbye to Ollie’s first ally in his war on crime.

How to kill that character: Dies rescuing his wife Lyla after she’s kidnapped for the one millionth time.

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The Flash

Character to kill: Caitlin Snow

Why kill that character: I don’t have anything against Caitlin, but sometimes it feel like The Flash does, such as when last year’s season finale had her be the one to ask the audience-service question of “what’s a singularity?”, disregarding that she’s supposed to be a scientific genius. She tends to have nicer moments when interacting with Barry, but has had zero romantic chemistry with two different supporting male characters (first Ronnie, and now Jay). She also rarely gets to be do the science-y saving the day plan, which usually goes to Cisco, or now the new Harrison “Harry” Wells. There’s no good role for her, and the fact that she doesn’t have one makes it even harder to also carve out a better role for Iris, which should be one of the show’s priorities.

How to kill that character: Previews for upcoming episodes have hinted that we’ll see an evil Earth-2 version of Ronnie, Caitlin’s brief husband on Earth-1. It would be heartbreaking to see her die at the hands of someone who looks like her lost love.

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Legends of Tomorrow

Character to kill: Hawkman

Why kill that character: Legends should be the hardest to make a pick for, after only one episode, but it’s actually pretty damn easy. Hawkman sucks, and sucks doubly hard because of his effect on a character who could otherwise be awesome — Hawkgirl. In his appearance in the fall’s Flash/Arrow crossover, and likely continuing on into Legends, he spends most of his interactions with Kendra guilting her (whether intentional or not) into being with him. Worse, the setup of their past lives means that she really does seem predestined to be with him eventually, which feels like it removes any agency from her making her own choice. That’s always a shitty way to treat an awesome superheroine, but it’s especially awful because the guy she apparently has to end up with is a huge fucking douchebag.

How to kill that character: Nothing too heroic; I want Hawkman to die a stupid death. Something like drowning in a puddle, perhaps.

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Supergirl

Character to kill: Superman

Why kill that character: Supergirl certainly has its flaws, such as a fair amount of melodrama, particularly in the central love square, but nothing that’s kept it from being enjoyable to me. It’s been a fluffy, fun show. But one part of the premise stands out as odd: Superman, Kara’s cousin who saved her in one episode, but never really appears on screen beyond some chat bubbles and the shadowy profile above from the pilot. When the Big Bad of this first season has been a group of escaped Kryptonian criminals, it doesn’t make a ton of sense for him to be so uninvolved. So why not solve that idiosyncrasy permanently and kill off big blue? Suddenly, we’d get to see Supergirl and know that there’s no safety net behind her.

How to kill that character: It has to be something big, as Superman’s death would obviously be a major escalation that would raise the stakes and show something massive for Supergirl to go up against. I’m not sure the Fort Rozz escapees really qualify — but maybe if they accidentally unleash BRAINIAC.

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Daredevil

Character to kill: Melvin Potter

Why kill that character: Because Daredevil is too awesome to have any particularly poor or extraneous characters, so to keep the premise of this piece alive, I have to kill off a minor one. Alas, the poor Mr. Potter must be the one to get the ax for his crime of designing Daredevil’s suit, which still doesn’t look quite right.

How to kill that character: Peacefully and in his sleep, after revealing the Melvin suffers from a rare disorder that causes him to look like a man in his 30s or 40s while actually being 97 years old, and also elaborating that he’s lived a rich and full life and regrets nothing.

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Jessica Jones

Character to kill: Dorothy Walker

Why kill that character: I loved the first season of Jessica Jones thanks to Jessica, Luke, and Kilgrave, but can still totally understand why other people wouldn’t. The supporting characters were mostly pretty damn rough. I could choose any of a number of them; it would certainly be Robyn, the annoying neighbor, if I weren’t so hopeful that her role is over now (please let it be over). Dorothy Walker, on the other hand, seems to have been set up to get a bigger role as she tries to bitchily atone for her past abuse of Trish. And that cannot stand, because she, too, is annoying as hell.

How to kill that character: Jessica punches her head off.

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Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Character to kill: Lincoln Campbell

Why kill that character: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. can be a frustrating show, with frequent shifts in quality, but has mostly been a really fun ride. The cast has largely hit its stride, and some of last year’s additions, such as Mack and Hunter, have worked out perfectly. Lincoln, on the other hand, is just dull as fuck. His powers are cool enough, but he has yet to interest me much at all. He even looks bland; the above might be the most exciting photo of Lincoln that exists.

How to kill that character: Murdered by a major Marvel villain! Just kidding; S.H.I.E.L.D. will never get to use a major villain. Just have him get shot by Hydra Henchman #3.

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Agent Carter

Character to kill: Jack Thompson

Why kill that character: After Daredevil, Agent Carter presented the hardest choice for someone to kill off, as it too has managed to avoid any really bad characters. But Chief Thompson is yet another sexist asshole boss to stand in Peggy’s way, and since the show is understandably going to keep drawing from that particular well, it might be fun to start a tradition where every year, Peggy’s idiot sexist boss dies while she kicks ass and saves the day. Chief Dooley got us started last season; now, it’s Jack’s turn.

How to kill that character: Dottie straight up murders him in hand-to-hand combat; Peggy then defeats Dottie with ease.