Influential in my life anyway. All are works of fiction. Not in any particular order:
1. Don Quixote. This is the biggie for me. As with Shakespeare, you find yourself wondering how he ever thought of all of that. Plan on taking your time with this one, though.
2. King Lear. A study in what it means to lose who you are.
3. The Tempest. About forgiveness.
4. Cold Mountain. If you love folklore, mythology, and music, this may be the book for you.
5. Underworld. Don Dellilo (sic?). When people become consumed by their own pop-culture.
6. White Noise. Same guy. Why fear prevents people from connecting with one another.
7. Johnny Got His Gun. If the president could read, I'd send him this book.
8. The Brothers Karamazov. It struck a chord in my then-teenage heart.
9. War and Peace. Didn't think I would like it or finish it. But, damn, what a story. I think it might be about who our parents were before we knew them. Again, take your time.
10. A River Runs through It. I don't fish. But this book is about the soul we all share.
I only liked parts of Ulysses. I probably should add something by Hemingway, but it's hard to decide. In Our Time is cracker jack, in the best sense of the phrase.
6 comments:
Good Night Moon, the first Boxcar Children and Yertle the Turtle could arguably be on my list. On the Road, The Jungle, Be Here Now, An Actor Prepares, Towards a Poor Theatre, Antigone (Wilbur translation), Brecht on Brecht (a play), Steal This Book and The Coarse Actor would also be on the my list for the moment. And while I'm thinkin' about it, I have to add Little Wing by Stevie Ray Vaughn to my all time song list. Breathtaking.
You know, I thought of Yertle the Turtl after I published this. Pretty much sums up my politics.
Maybe I should throw in The Wind and the Willows too. I read it long after childhood, but it is a beautiful story.
Hey, while I'm revising, The Heartsong of Charging Elk by James Welch is a good supplement to all of you fans of The Sun Also Rises.
"All of you?" Maybe I mean both of you.
I have too many to count. And frankly I can't even remember them all nowadays!
I forgot Winnie the Pooh. Not the stoopid Disney versions.
When I got to the end of Cold Mountain, I burst in to tears. It rare to read a book that is so affecting. Honest, I just sat there and sobbed. Whew.
Hello, Pam. At first, I thought you were my sister. But she lives in PA.
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