Some of my mutuals think I read a lot of books and that fact freaks me out a bit. Unsurprisingly for the longest while I read fuck all – my attention span felt fried from spending all day on the internet and I was too preoccupied with listening to the same three albums to branch out and pay attention to other forms of media. Because of this it feels like I’m always compensating when it comes to literature, getting through all the texts that I probably should have gotten around to ages ago and growing an insane reading list as a result. This reading list is logged on Goodreads, a website that’s essentially just RateYourMusic for people who pretend to understand Proust. Whenever I pretend to myself that I’ll get around to an interesting-seeming book I find myself visiting the Goodreads page, leafing through reviews in the hopes of giving me the motivation to actually sit through the thing. I find these reviews morbidly interesting, in some cases they just end up telling you more about the reviewer’s life or the era than whatever Marxist text they utterly despised. Because of this I thought it’d be fun to go through the books that I’ve sat through this year and rank them based off whatever vibes the Goodreads reviews emanate, arguably the only way to objectively review something. I’d end this paragraph with some witty meta-gag but my friend Lee got mad at someone for using the word meta the other day and I thought it’d be funny to include this sentence to annoy him.