I bought the hardcover of David B.'s excellent Epileptic after months of Jessa Crispin pimping it on Bookslut. This was the last new book I allowed myself in the Great December Splurge of 2005, and it absolutely lived up to my very elevated expectations. Epileptic is a graphic memoir in the fine Maus/Persepolis tradition, focusing on the artist's brother's grand mal epilepsy, which over the course of forty years consumes the family in an orgy of seizures, quack doctors, faith healers, violence, psychosis, and hopelessness. It's an excellent read: brutal, engaging, and sad, pulling no punches and offering no easy answers. Definitely one of the publishing highlights of 2005 (even if I only got around to reading it in 2006). Very highly recommended.