(27) Lynda Barry

Anyone may know how highly I think of Lynda Barry. (And I mean this in totally unironical non-Emma-Woodhousian way!) I have even said so before, in this very lj. But I was revisiting my love this weekend, as I made out my absolutely-mandatory-or-else-you-will-suffer Christmas list for my mother. On that list is her latest book, and seriously, I don't care what else I get or don't get: if someone buys this book for me, I will be ridiculously, extravagantly, unapologetically delighted.

Few things make me happier, in a bittersweet, heart-in-my-throat kind of way, than Lynda Barry. And as you may or may not have guessed by now, that is by far my favorite way to be happy.