What disclaimers are there to give about this post, other than what I’ve already said time and time again? Yes, giving high school yearbook style superlative awards to the books I read is completely ridiculous, and obviously I’m going to do it anyway.

Brainiest. It’s all about the Little Grey Cells for this year’s valedictorian! I read several Hercule Poirot novels this year – and a roundup of all of his cases and appearances, which made the case for his status as the greatest detective of all time (move over, Sherlock). The yearbook committee tried to give this award to Miss Marple, but the great Belgian detective wouldn’t hear of it.

Best Looking. Apparently Sylvia Robson was quite the stunner; I can’t think how else to account for the fact that she had two dashing men falling at her feet throughout Sylvia’s Lovers. She wasn’t exactly an intellectual (although she showed remarkable determination at evading her cousin Philip’s attempts to teach her to read) nor was she a very nice person.

Best Friends. Emmy Lake and Bunty Tavistock are the real thing. Throughout Dear Mrs. Bird the two besties navigate small disagreements and huge, life-altering tragedies. Do they come out of it with their friendship intact? You’ll have to read the book to find out, but I can assure you that these two friends each have a heart of gold.

Class Clown. If William Brown is ever dragged through the door of a school, he will certainly be the class clown. Brimming with mischief, William and his friends are in and out of hilarious scrapes every few pages. They really should not be allowed to babysit.

Biggest Jock. It was not a very sporty class this year. Roald Dahl takes the award mainly because there were no other contenders. But it does take some athletic ability to squeeze into the cockpit of a Spitfire when you’re more than six feet tall, so I guess he deserves it.

Teacher’s Pet. Personally, I don’t see much about Professor William Crimsworth that is attractive – he’s uptight, naive, bigoted and a little smarmy. But Frances Henri, lace mender and star student of Mlle Reuter’s Brussels academy for young ladies, certainly begs to differ. Well, she can have him.

Biggest Nerd. Being a nerd doesn’t mean being a wimp, as the unnamed young narrator of The Historian proves when she geeks out on history in order to solve a centuries-old mystery, track down a notorious vampire, and find out what happened to her mother, all with the help of – what else? – books.

Most Creative. Susan Branch is where it’s at when it comes to creativity. Her gorgeously illustrated books are a joy to read – and in 2022 I loved learning about her journey to her little Martha’s Vineyard cottage and her first book deal.

Most Opinionated. J.B. Priestley is a self-confessed curmudgeon with opinions coming out of his ears on every subject. That’s why he wrote the completely delightful Delight, a collection of short essays about – no surprise here – things that delight him. Turns out I enjoy reading an opinionated person on the things that bring them joy even more than the things that amp up their curmudgeonly tendencies. (I have a co-worker who keeps a running list on his phone of “things that bring me joy.” I suspect he and Priestley would find a lot to agree on.)

Most Likely to End Up In Hollywood. We’re manifesting here, because struggling actress Franny Banks needs rather all the help she can get. But by the end of Someday, Someday, Maybe, things are looking up for young Franny’s career.

Biggest Loner. Can someone be a loner when they live with a parent? If so, Marion Sharpe certainly fits the bill, and she would have had an easier time of it in The Franchise Affair if she didn’t. As it was, Marion and her mother were easy targets for a scheming young woman to frame for kidnapping, and local solicitor Robert Blair had his work cut out for him to prove their innocence.

Biggest Rebel. Iris Origo may not have set out to be a rebel, but no aristocratic Anglo-American likes it when Nazis take over her farmhouse. Serving as an underground railway station for Jews, escaped Allied POWs, and Italian anti-Fascist partisans under said Nazis’ noses – not to mention spiriting sixty refugees to safety in Montepulciano under heavy fire – earns Origo the Biggest Rebel award and a giant gold star.

Prom King. There was an attempt to stuff the ballot box in favor of that young troublemaker William Brown, but I’m glad to report that justice prevailed and Lord Peter Wimsey was crowned Prom King.

Prom Queen. The voting wasn’t exactly fair this year, but no one else stands a chance when Aphrodite is on the ballot. But you know she’ll use her Prom Queen status for the good of humans everywhere, promoting love and kisses and slow dancing for the rest of the school year – and on into eternity.

Cutest Couple. All right, neither of them is much to look at, but when it comes to sheer adorableness this year’s couple has it. Jennifer and James – come on, they even have the name alliteration thing going – are charming, a little hapless, and easy to root for.

Most Likely to Succeed. This is a bit of a cheat, because I think being the youngest Inauguration poet in history means Amanda Gorman has already succeeded. But I also feel sure she has many, many more successes to come over a long career, and I for one cannot wait to read every one of her gorgeous poems.

That was ridiculous, as usual! I’ll never stop writing this bonkers silly post. What were your superlative reads of 2022?