It Would Seem I Have A Few Things To Read Before I Die

Someone recently referred me to this list.  I forget who.  Somebody who knows I read a lot, because they thought I would have demolished more than half the list by now.  Here are the ones I actually have read and what I thought of them:

 

Saturday was one of the most beautiful and riveting things I have ever read.  I loved the contemplative tone of the novel.

 

Everything is Illuminated was so well-structured.  And clever!  I've never enjoyed an author playing with language as much as I loved the incorrectly idiomatic ways Alex (Alexy-don't-spleen-me) learned and employed.  As an added bonus, this book served to illustrate that while language doesn't always transcend boundaries, human nature certainly does.

 

Atonement wasn't my favorite book in the world.  I liked the premise, and I liked the execution.  But it still somehow felt lacking to me.  Perhaps it had been talked up too much before I read it.  I don't know.  I much preferred Saturday.

 

For my thoughts on Cryptonomicon, travel back in archival time to here.  I'd love to re-read it at a time I have someone I can discuss it with.  Right then.  Provided, of course, that someone fulfills all necessary intellectual requirements.  (If you read my blog, you're qualified.  Just in case you were wondering.)

 

Possession is one of my all-time favorite books.  Thanks, Petra, for the introduction to it.  If I could be anyone, I would want to be A.S. Byatt.  Not kidding at all.

 

Though I've yet to read The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul and Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, I have no doubt I will love them to pieces when I get there.  Why?  Because I have read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and Douglas Adams is one of those people on my mental list of those I want to hunt down and have long, hilarious conversations with after I die.

 

The Handmaid's Tale ended just as it should have.  Hooray for ambiguity!  (And if you don't think the ending is ambiguous, well . . . don't rain on my parade.)

 

Ragtime was entirely too scattered for my tastes.  Wait, which protagonist are we following?  Where are we?  What are we doing?  Then again, I read it at 18.  Maybe it's worth another attempt.

 

Slaughterhouse-Five: Ah, the joys of Vonnegut.  Exactly the right thing to read after you've read so many happy, fuzzy, brain-light books that you need to become grounded in reality again.

 

In Cold Blood was the first non-fiction book I ever read that I just could not stop reading.  I was too enthralled and horrified.

 

I had to attempt Wide Sargasso Sea twice before I could make it all the way through.  The first time, I just hadn't the attention span.  The second time I found myself frequently pausing to marvel at the fact that I was empathizing with a crazy person.

 

To Kill a Mockingbird is the Great American Novel.  All other American novels pale in comparison.  Even Steinbeck.

 

Breakfast at Tiffany's was better as a movie.

 

A Town Like Alice was nice at the time, but decidedly forgettable--since all I can remember is that it was set in Australia and that it was, at its heart, a love story.  Maybe it would be more memorable now?  (Actually, as I recall, this is the first book my mom recommended to me that had hints of sex in it.  I remember being astonished.  She had always seemed so persnickety and uptight about sex in literature.)

 

Come on now, listmakers.  Who hasn't read The Lord of the Rings?  Especially since it was one of the first fantasy books with great story and real depth I read.  Ditto for The Hobbit, which I think is best read after reading LOTR.

 

Lolita is amazing and disturbing.  The first book, actually, that caused me to realize that you don't have to place absolute trust in the character chosen to narrate the book.

 

Of course I've read Lord of the Flies.  Of course there's a lot to think about.  Of course I would never voluntarily read it again if I could help it.

 

1984 is, without question, one of the best dystopian novels written.  With some of the best characters.  And with the worst--yet inevitable--ending.  This is the only book I've ever physically thrown across my bedroom once I finished it.  Yes, I was that mad that Winston gave in to Big Brother.

 

Cry, the Beloved Country bored me to tears.

 

Like many Utah seniors, I was forced to read The Grapes of Wrath.  I didn't like it.  But I have a distinct impression I would be amazed if I took the time to go back and read it.

 

With Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier had me from "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again."  I read it in under a day, gasped at the climax, and ended it wishing that more modern mysteries were crafted that artfully.

 

I didn't have any definite opinions about Their Eyes Were Watching God.  Other than the opinion that the essay I wrote on it should have received an A.

 

Gone with the Wind was the first seriously huge book I tackled.  I read it in 3 days.  And no literary character has ever frustrated and annoyed me more than Scarlett O'Hara.  (Sure, Scarlett--you act strong-willed.  But in the end, you're just a pansy.  Yeah, I said it.  You're a pansy.)

 

The Great Gatsby, while indisputably well-crafted, just couldn't hold my interest.  Especially since I had a desperate desire to strangle Daisy the whole time I read the book.

 

Does anyone truly like The Awakening?

 

Dracula=dull.

 

"The Yellow Wallpaper" changes every time I read it.  In subtle ways.  Which means, I suppose, that Charlotte Perkins Gilman was a genius.

 

The Picture of Dorian Gray was difficult to muddle through after becoming accustomed to the lighter side of Oscar Wilde.  But it was worth the wading.  Especially because it made all references to it that much better.

 

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde has a lot of impact for something not too long.  Brevity.  It's a good thing.

 

After The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, nobody else should have been allowed to write in dialect.  Because it's just so darn bad in comparison.

 

Treasure Island as book: meh.  Muppet Treasure Island: makes me laugh every time.

 

The Brothers Karamazov is one of the best books.  Ever.  And it incorporates so many different ideas into it that you could teach yourself philosophy, psychology, and all sorts of other lessons just by reading it.

 

Anna Karenina is so lovely.  Also so depressing.

 

Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass are fun at any age.  Also, I never fully understood chess until I reasoned my way through all of the moves Alice made.  Strange.  But true.

 

I love Little Women.  As the first "classic" I ever read, it holds a special place in my heart.  And on my shelves.  My copy is well-loved.  (Well-loved=held together by packing tape)

 

I've read the abridged Les Misérables.  But it doesn't count.  I want to read the unabridged.

 

Fathers and Sons is amazing.  Amazing, I tell you!  But it doesn't work well as a book on tape, because there's far too much to think about.

 

A Tale of Two Cities has always been my favorite Dickens novel.  (Because A Christmas Carol is a novella)

 

The Scarlet Letter has never been a favorite.  Hester bores me.  Pearl drives me nuts.  And self-flagellation is always, always horrifying.

 

Jane Eyre is one of my favorite literary heroines.  Precisely because she's remarkable due, in large parts, to individual traits that are individually unremarkable.  And she has quite a lot of spunk for her times.

 

The Three Musketeers helped me to understand that all classics are not boring.  And that some are, in fact, a rollicking good time.  Plus nobody else can write sword fights like Dumas.

 

I've never come across a version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame that I liked.  Sorry, Victor.

 

Frankenstein was not at all what I expected.  It was better.

 

Northanger Abbey: meh.

 

Persuasion: I love Anne.  And I love the new BBC adaptation.

 

Emma, Mansfield Park, Sense and Sensibility: I liked the movies better.

 

Pride and Prejudice is sheer genius.  Satire at its best.  And funny.

 

I remember that some of the students in my class took "A Modest Proposal" seriously.  It gave me quite a good laugh they thought Swift was actually pro-baby-chopping.

 

I had an undergraduate professor who argued that all modern literature stemmed from Don Quixote.  After he said that, I couldn't not read it.  And what's not to love about a crazy old coot chasing windmills?  But if Cervantes had the idea that chivalry was dead then, then how much more dead is it now?

 

Of course I've read Aesop!  What kind of kid do you think I was, anyway?

 

Still, that's only 54 out of 1001.  That's 5.4% of the books on the list.  I'd feel like a reading failure, except most of what I've read isn't on that list.