From the Journal News, where you can read the whole list. Here's their introduction and my highlights, all of which have a New Yorker connection of one kind or another. Not in original order; links and boldfacings (?) are mine.

It's the time of year when a great book recommendation can make the difference between spending hours at the packed Barnes & Noble, or coming home with the perfect gift. So for the third straight year, we went for the best recommendations of all, and queried the authors of more than 50 of our favorite books of 2005, asking them to write about something they loved this year. The consensus pick is both a best seller and a National Book Award-winner, Joan Didion's "The Year of Magical Thinking." But there are plenty of surprises, as well. Nick Hornby picked a terrific thriller for the genre-fiction lover on your list. Curtis Sittenfeld, whose debut "Prep" was carried around by the hipster set this year like "The Catcher in the Rye," offers up a memoir, also largely set in private schools, for the college-aged. Another buzzed-about first novelist, meanwhile, Ben Kunkel, urges readers to check out the latest story collection by an aging American master. And the recommendations don't stop there—we have picks from writers of fantasy, Iraq memoirs, presidential biographies, cultural histories of race relations, chick-lit [note: Let's ban this term for 2006, shall we?], American history, and much more. Let this be the year of no gift certificates.

Curtis Sittenfeld ["Prep"]
I absolutely loved Sean Wilsey's memoir "Oh the Glory of It All" (Penguin). It's about his parents' rich messy San Francisco divorce, his horrible stepmother, his misadventures at multiple boarding schools, and his wonderfully bizarre world travels as part of a coalition of children promoting peace. Alternately hilarious and heartbreaking, it contains pretty much everything you could possibly want in a book.

Kaui Hart Hemmings, “House of Thieves” (Penguin)
My favorite book of 2005 was Sean Wilsey's "Oh The Glory of it All" (Penguin). There were no reins on this thing and it absolutely soared. Money, sex, adolescence, familial cruelty, and skateboarding—he brilliantly shoved me into my favorite kind of territory. The entire book was a big shout to the people he loves so much despite it all. In a word: it ruled.

TC Boyle, “Tooth and Claw” (Viking)
I read and loved a whole truckload of things this year, including Annie Proulx's "Bad Dirt," Bob Dylan's "Chronicles," and Tom Wolfe's "I Am Charlotte Simmons," but the one that really put a scare and a thrill into me was Alan Burdick's "Out of Eden: An Odyssey of Ecological Invasion" (FSG). The chapters about the brown tree snake's invasion of Guam are unparalleled. I also had fun with Elizabeth Royte's "Garbage Land" (Little, Brown) (where does all that stuff go?) and Mary Roach's "Stiff" (WW Norton), which tells in vomit-inducing detail what becomes of our corporeal selves after death. It so shook me that I've decided not to die.

Bret Easton Ellis, “Lunar Park” (Knopf)
My favorite book of the year—no surprise—was Joan Didion's "The Year of Magical Thinking" (Knopf). It's her most accessible, direct and emotional writing and I read it in one sitting, shaking. On the other side: Dennis Cooper's "The Sluts" (Carroll & Graf) was hugely satisfying and as addictive as anything he's ever written. It's not only a deeply compelling murder mystery but also a grand summation of all of Cooper's great themes. Not for the faint-hearted, but genius. I also liked Jonathan Safran Foer's 9/11 novel, "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" (Houghton Mifflin). He pulled off something incredibly difficult with a grace and ease that amazed and moved me.

Malcolm Gladwell [the universe]
I have a guilty pleasure. I love Lee Child, and "One Shot" (Delacorte) was probably my favorite book of the year. There is something about Jack Reacher—hard-boiled, taciturn, repressed, man-of-quiet-violence Jack Reacher—that is utterly irresistible to me. Does it matter that every Lee Child book is basically the same? Not at all. It's like complaining that ordering the same thing on the menu twice in a row at Le Cirque is a problem.

Elizabeth Crane, “All This Heavenly Glory” (Little, Brown)
"Simplify" (University of Illinois Press) by Tod Goldberg is lovely and odd; "The Diviners" (Little, Brown) by Rick Moody is perfect; "Hairstyles of the Damned" (Akashic Books) by Joe Meno rocks; "Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life" (Crown) by Amy Krouse Rosenthal is not ordinary at all; "The Brief and Frightening Reign of Phil" by George Saunders (Riverhead) is brief and hilarious and not at all frightening; and "Men and Cartoons" (Doubleday) by Jonathan Lethem features suicidal sheep. Why would you want more than that?

Myla Goldberg, “Wickett’s Remedy” (Doubleday)
Tim Kreider's "Why Do They Kill Me?" (Fantagraphics) is a fearless collection of dark, irreverent, and seriously funny political cartoons that acts a welcome salve for anyone who didn't vote for the man currently inhabiting the White House.

Nick Hornby, “A Long Way Down” (Riverhead)
One of the novels I've most enjoyed this year was Jess Walter's "Citizen Vince" (HarperCollins), which is in part a thriller about voting—it's 1980, and Vince is a petty crook who's been placed in a witness protection program in Spokane. He is about to exercise his democratic right for the first time. Carter or Reagan? Vince hardly has the time to decide, because someone wants to kill him. This terrific book, a small-town "Mean Streets," is smart, funny, dark and moving, and Walter is clearly a writer to watch.

Nicole Krauss, “The History of Love” (WW Norton)
"The Old Child & Other Stories" (New Directions) by Jenny Erpenbeck. Erpenbeck was born in East Berlin in 1967, and she arrives here translated flawlessly by Susan Bernofsky. The title novella, "The Old Child," describes the stark economy and mystical landscape of a homeless girl's interior life as she tries to survive in a children's home where she's been placed by the police. In this and Erpenbeck's stories, the brutality of her subjects combined with the fierce intelligence and tenderness at work behind her restrained, unvarnished prose is overwhelming. I haven't read anything this good—this bracing, unflinching, and alive—for a long time.

Ben Kunkel, “Indecision” (Random House)
I'm always grateful whenever there's something new by James Salter. This year he published "Last Night" (Knopf), a story collection. I especially like Salter's slightly curdled romanticism, and his style that's so casual and lapidary at once. In his stories, he creates an effect of the tremendous offhandedness of fate.

Elizabeth McKensie, “Stop That Girl” (Random House)
Everything by Haruki Murakami fills me with awe and excitement and "Kafka on the Shore" (Knopf) was no exception. Maybe all the more so because he keeps getting better, even when that seems impossible. His stuff seems to spring from somewhere between the deepest mysteries of the collective unconscious and breakfast. I love him as a writer—and maybe as a man.

Rick Moody, “The Diviners” (Little, Brown)
A first novel I really loved recently was "Misfortune" (Little, Brown) by Wesley Stace. It's a sort of a grand 19th-century yarn in which the narrator is first a boy and later a girl and then a boy again, and there are evil relatives who appropriate a castle that doesn't belong to them, and there is much singing of ballads, etc. I read it with great excitement, astonished by its verve and sense of literary history, and this is all made even more impressive because the author is also a singer-songwriter of considerable note, who performs under the name John Wesley Harding. Apparently this is what he's able to do on the side.

Scott Turow, “Ordinary Heroes” (FSG)
I loved Benjamin Kunkel's "Indecision" (Random House) about a 28-year-old who truly needs to get a life. It is touching but very funny, even zany at moments, and is crafted with an original voice.

Meg Wolitzer, “The Position” (Scribner)
The book I loved this year was Kazuo Ishiguro's "Never Let Me Go" (Knopf). I was less interested in its dystopianism than in its vision of repression and its consequences on people's lives. Ishiguro does repression better than anyone; he did it so memorably with his butler narrator in "The Remains of the Day," and he does it equally affectingly here, with his cloned narrator, Kath. (I'm obviously not one of those people who feels the need to write "spoiler alert!" before giving away information about a book's plot.) What this heartbreaking and original book gives us is an approximation of human life. Ishiguro is a writer whose characters are sometimes afraid, and sometimes not fully alive, and so Ishiguro needs to be unafraid and alive for them. This is a little masterpiece.