Read on Twitter
And now it is time for the list everyone REALLY looks forward to all year: My Depressingly Honest List of the Top Ten Books I Read or Pretended to Read in 2020
1. This One Fucking Book About Unicorns. Idk the actual title because I “lost” it under the couch after it was requested so many nights in a row I would dream I was a unicorn, weeping fat rainbow tears and exuding dialogue in big pearlescent bubbles. Five stars, I hate it.
2. Your Book. Your sentences were perfect, your themes universal. The prose sung, or sparkled, or stung, depending on what you were going for. It killed me, I am dead, it stepped on my neck, my favorite book of the year, a book that I absolutely did read cover to stunning cover.
3. The Captions on Netflix. I do not need to explain myself to you.
4. The Book That Everyone Loved. It made every “best of" list, and so of course I, a Very Serious Reader, also read it. The cover: exquisite, evocative. The pages: turnable. The words: cleverly arranged to form sentences. The blurbs: from very famous writers! I totally read it.
5. A Short Story Collection. Because you always have to have one on your list, so the short story writers won’t bitch and moan and write long annoying Twitter threads. Just pick one, it doesn’t matter.
6. That Book About Trump. I learned SO MUCH about the administration from this book that I never would have learned if the reporter who wrote it had not withheld vital information from the American voting public in order to get a six figure deal for this garbage tell-all.
7. I Think I Read a Book in January. I can’t remember what it was, since it was the Before Times, but I’m sure I enjoyed it immensely, reading it alone, in a bar with no children, the hum and buzz of other people surrounding me, the blessed relief of total concentration, O lord
8. That Book About Epidemics. Remember when we were all buying books about plague and pandemics, when the whole thing could be over in a month or two? solid book, four stars, I threw it out the window after I drank a bottle of wine one night a month later, RIP that book.
9. That One Poetry Collection. I would read a poem from this baby every night before bed and sob myself to sleep until my therapist told me to stop, I think it was called Death or maybe Deathly, or maybe All Poetry is Really About Death, because all poetry is really about death
10. The Book My Kid Made When I Told Her to Get Off the iPad For Five Minutes and Do a Craft. I mean, let me be honest, it was not good: all backstory, main character’s name kept changing, where was the editor I don’t even know. But I have to put it on this list because nepotism.
