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(Don't bother checking your teetering stack of literary tomes—the above was ripped from an old blog and recycled here.)

Out of the night, when the full moon is bright
Comes a horseman known as Zorro.
This bold renegade carves a "Z" with his blade:
A "Z" that stands for Zorro.
Zorro...the fox so cunning and free
Zorro...who makes the sign of the "Z."

I just finished a novel called The Center of Everything (written by Laura Moriarty), about Evelyn, a little girl growing up in central Kansas in the 80s. The book is uncanny, both in its encapuslation of the era—the friendship pins on the shoes, the prevalence of OP sweatshirts, the ubiquity of the "Just Say No" campaign—and its depiction of the experience of childhood. This is a beautiful, authentic story (but not in that weepy, Oprah's book club kind of way). As the narrator says when reflecting on Anne Frank's diary, if it were a story someone made up, then it could have a happy ending. But because it's real life, anything can happen. Even the very worst thing possible.

There's no question in my mind. Goodnight Moon, the children's book by Margaret Wise Brown (pictures by Clement Hurd) is a socialist manifesto.

You remember this book right? It's the classic children's book, first published in 1947, in which the narrator describes all of the things in the "great green room" and then says goodnight to each of them. There's a little bunny in blue-striped pajamas being tucked into bed. It's adorable, and it is beloved by millions of children throughout the world. It was one of my favorites for many years. Yet, no one has had the vision to perceive its secret agenda until now.

So check it out. Kinky Friedman is running for governor of Texas.

His campaign motto is "why the hell not?" For those who aren't familiar with him, Kinky Friedman is one of the greatest personalities of our time. Rarely seen without a smirk, a fat cigar, and full-on cowboy garb, Kinky is a somewhat paradoxical character. He writes hilarious mystery novels (with titles like Greenwich Killing Time and Kill Two Birds and Get Stoned) and is the frontman for a country group called "The Texas Jewboys." His platform is the "anti-wussification" of Texas (Kinky is of the opinion that the current governor, Rick Perry, is a prime example of how his home state has become wussified). Kinky has spent time in the Peace Corps. He's best friends with Willie Nelson, and likes to hang out with Presidents Bush and Clinton. He's against political correctness. He's the founder and organizer of Utopia Animal Rescue Ranch, a haven for mistreated cats, dogs, and, yes, chickens. He has his own brand of salsa, as well as some serious concerns about the death penalty.

For those of you who religiously monitor my reading list, you'll note that I've just finished a book called The Stones of Summer, by Dow Mossman. It was published in 1972 to rave reviews, before quickly going out of print. Recently, it was rescued from obscurity by a filmmaker named Mark Moskowitz, whose documentary, Stone Reader, chronicled his quest to find Dow Mossman. Dow seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth, you see, and Stones was his only book. So Mark crosses the country several times over, looking for clues and tracking down Dow's old professors at the Iowa Writers Workshop, all so he can sit down and talk to the author about his book. Although Mark's quest may seem a little bit like stalking—more than a little, at times—I'll tell you now that my own fascination with the book probably rivals his. (Unfortunately, now that Mark's already done it, I can't just go and make a documentary as an excuse to talk to Dow. But whatever.) I loved this book. I savored it from page one all the way to page 581. Yes, it's a long one, but well worth your time.

Whether lazing about beside a glistening lagoon full of mermaids, or just working the burger joint as always, you'll need reading materials to keep the summer ennui from lulling you into a coma. Fight back with these picks from the bottom of my heart and the middle portion of my backpack. (A caveat to those who read while tanning: The suggested readings are so engrossing, you may lose all sense of time. Just remember that when you hear your internal organs begin to sizzle, you should probably turn over.)

—Four sticks of doom

"Youth is wasted on the young" is one of those tedious bromides with which we’re all familiar. But in Andrew Sean Greer’s brilliant book, The Confessions of Max Tivoli, the truth of this phrase is put on trial. A self-described monster, Max is a creature born into the world wrong. At his birth, he is as shriveled and wrinkled as an old man, and as his mind grows older, his body inexplicably grows younger. At 35, his looks and his mind finally converge, and Max gets to stop pretending to be something other than what he is. But then his body keeps going, and he can’t stop its progress any more than the rest of us can halt the onset of wrinkles and sags. He dies his hair gray and walks with a cane, hoping his wife will not notice his body growing younger and firmer, knowing that when she does, the dream that is his happiness will dissolve into whispers. Time is an enemy to Max, too.

½—one and a half sticks of doom

If you love circuitous stories that do not really begin or end, if you love narcissism and solipsism and sexism—you'll love Jim Morrison's Adventures in the Afterlife, a novel by Mick Farren. Jim Morrison kicks it with Doc Holliday, Jesus hangs out inside a tumor in Godzilla's brain, and people randomly turn into cartoons. It all sounds so promising, doesn't it? Ordinarily, I'm a huge fan of this sort of absurdity. I'm always the one who goes straight for the cult section in our local video store. But, there has to be something to grab onto in the story—whether it be a particular theme or just a vividly portrayed character—something that justifies the time you spent reading or watching it. I was ticked off while reading JMA, and even more ticked off when I had finished it.

Physicians are always trying to be a cut above the rest. But according to a new book by Kenneth Iserson, physicians are interested in other kinds of cutting as well. The book, entitled Demon Doctors: Physicians as Serial Killers, provides a background for this growing trend, as well as a discussion of a new degree, offered for the first time at medical schools across the nation, which combines a focus in medicine with that of serial killing. In the text, Iserson cites a surprising statistic. Of the students graduating from U.S. medical schools last year, 30% went into family practice, 60% chose traditional specialities, and 10% elected to pursue the new hybrid degree as a demon doctor/family physician (abbreviated MDD).