Clementine the Hedgehog’s Top Ten Books of 2012
10. Where’d You Go Bernadette by Maria Semple (review)
Hedgehogs don’t give a flying fuck about mothers, but this book made me feel like maybe I did. Although, I just consider myself lucky that my mother didn’t eat me.
9. NW by Zadie Smith
Boy, do I know a lot about gentrification. My cage was originally just a basic snuggle sack and feeding bowl set up, and now there’s a exercise wheel, litter box, glitter castle, and a goddamn American Apparel in here. Zadie Smith, you are preaching to the choir.
8. The Middlesteins by Jami Attenberg (review)
Again, hedgehogs have no concept of family, but there I was, feeling… emotions whilst reading this book. How do you humans handle this shit?
7. The Age of Miracles by Karen Thompson Walker (review)
I love a good apocalypse novel now and then. Not only does it remind me of my own immortality, but it also means a fuckload of desperation hook ups.
6. How Not to Read by Dan Wilbur
I don’t normally read books like this, but I like this guy’s style. I hate all of you literate types, but sadly, we must coexist. This book helped me learn how to talk to you assholes without me wanting to quill your eyeballs out.
5. The Other Normals by Ned Vizzini (review)
I wish all fantasy books were also set in teen summer camps. It takes the edge off all the trolls. Thank God hedgehogs don’t have teenage years. We go straight from babies to hardened, disillusioned adults.
4. Laura Lamont’s Life in Pictures by Emma Straub (review)
God, I love a good fall from grace. Yeah, this book has a happy ending, but the woman did a movie about a fucking cheetah with super powers. Not even Adam and Eve fell that far.
3. The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
Another win for hedgehogs: no romance. We never fall in love, get our heart broken when our beloved dies of cancer, and then learn valuable life lessons. But I did enjoy the hell out of reading about it.
2. In Between Days by Andrew Porter
For all you fucktards who enjoy Wes Anderson, this book is for you. Imagine The Royal Tenenbaums but with 80% less whimsy. That’s about the perfect level of whimsy for me. Anything more and I get the runs.
1. Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan (review)
This is the book that started it all. I read it and said to my human, “You know what? I fucking love this book. I need to write about. On the Internet.” So I did, and now I have the grave misfortune of knowing what the emoticon for a penis looks like.
Automatic hedgehog reblog.