I'm not sure if you know this, but there are scads of “Top 100” book lists out there: Top 100 Novels of the Twentieth Century, Top 100 Novels of American Authors, Top 100 Love Stories, Top 100 English Language Romance Novels…the list goes on and on and on. After immediately striking every novel list that had anything whatsoever to do with romance, I landed on Random House’s Top 100 Novels of All Time (Board Voted). This list sounded very official and I thought no one (at a cocktail party or otherwise) would dare question its validity or audaciousness. [Mental note: probably shouldn’t lead with this at cocktail parties.]
And although I’m no scholar (let’s be honest, this Blonde's reading tendencies fall more toward JFK memoirs than the classics), I was quite certain that I could check off at least ten of these novels right off the bat. After all, requisite reading throughout high school and college would certainly yield a major leg up on this most ostentatious list. But alas, upon further introspection, I prudently decided that if I couldn’t name a protagonist and compelling story line, I probably shouldn’t check the novel off my list. And so my academic leg up dwindled to a pathetic, hell embarrassing, zero books read.
So I take a certain level of satisfaction knowing that the completion of this list will now undoubtedly be much more legitimate, but simultaneously acknowledge that it will certainly take me longer to complete than it took Susan Lucci to win an Emmy.
And, as with most things in my life, I tackled this list in a haphazard manner; sometimes selecting a novel based on my fondness of the title, sometimes based on the number it was assigned by the literarily inclined at Random House, and sometimes just based on availability at my local library. Here's a quick snapshot of what I've been reading...
[For those of you readers who are beginning to pout, now realizing that this in fact isn’t a compilation of my Top 100 Worst Dates, take solace in the fact that my next blog’s working title is “The Boyfriend Graveyard.”]
#1 Ulysses (James Joyce)
I knew I was in trouble when I checked out this book and the librarian smirked and said “good luck,” followed very quickly with “I always regretted not taking that class in college." Honestly, I’m not really sure which comment scared me more.
I mean really, “good luck”? It’s not like I was headed off to scale Everest or try my hand at poker for the first time. Hell, I wasn’t even checking out a Rosetta Stone “Learn Mandarin in Three Days” CD set.
And what’s with the I regret not taking that class commentary? Uh, doesn’t that imply that there’s something like twelve weeks dedicated to reading and deciphering this one single solitary novel? I mean don’t get me wrong, Classic Literature is clearly a prominent area of university study. Hell I’ll even concede Twentieth Century Classic Lit as a dedicated course. But really, an entire semester dedicated to one novel? Can it really be that complex?
Well, let me tell you, it didn’t take too long to answer that question. 40 pages to be exact.
I wasn't sure if it was because this baby was penned in early 1900s or because I’m just too Blonde, but things just weren’t clicking for me. I’m not quite sure why, since all of the action seems to take place on a single stinkin’ day. There doesn’t seem to be any time warps involved. There aren't ghosts from the past to get confused with actual characters. Urg.
Just when I had reached my maximum point of frustration, I mentioned to my dear friend that I was reading this literary masterpiece and he (being the savvy reader that he is) replied with “Oh boy, how’s that going?” I think he could clearly sense my frustration, as he quickly followed with “most people use reference materials when reading that.”
That’s when it dawned on me. This novel isn’t #1 on the Top 100 list because it is the single most glorious piece of literary art ever. It is #1 because it is quite literally the most difficult read in the history of the world. And, if by some miracle you can stumble or study your way through the stream-of-consciousness prose, then you can consider yourself among the literary elite.
And it was with that newly realized understanding that I promptly returned Ulysses to the library where I found it; vowing to tackle it another day.
#2 The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald)
Although I did read this in high school, I took my established rules to heart and decided that just because I remembered the name Daisy Buchanan (made famous once again because it was the fake name that Emily gives Jake, a.k.a. Ashton Kutcher, in the bar scene in The Guardian), that doesn’t a check mark make.
So with great fervor I devoured this novel. And what a novel it is. New money. Old money. Mistresses. Car crash. War-torn lovers. Suicide. Hidden motives. Fancy parties. Jealousy. Unrequited love. If you liked Dynasty or Melrose Place, read this book.
#6 The Sound and Fury (William Faulkner)
I just can’t read Faulkner. I struggle to articulate even one legitimate plot from this pile of pages. To say that this novel is nonlinear is an understatement. At certain points (quite frequently) I didn’t even know what the hell time frame Faulkner was writing in. Maybe I just wasn’t reading closely enough? Maybe having a few cocktails during slow pages wasn’t the best idea? I’ll save you my haphazard rambling interpretation and leave you with this – if you are looking to read a seemingly impossible-to-follow, painfully slow, overrated tale of the tragic demise of a southern family, this is your book.
#7 Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
The best war novel I’ve read. Mostly because it has nothing to do with war. I simply can’t resist the asinine nature of Heller's circular logic, which I find both familiar and inexplicable. Please indulge me a few real life examples:
ï She is a good-looking, intelligent, funny woman. Men won’t come near her.
ï Samantha will date anyone who breathes; what a whore. Charlotte, on the other hand, hardly dates at all; what a stuck up bitch. Or maybe she's just gay?
ï If a woman gets married too young she's relinquished her dreams for a man. Wait too long and she will forever be haunted by the whispers, “there must be something wrong with her.”
If you enjoy stories dripping with satire, irony, and paradox you must read this book.
#9 Sons and Lovers (D.H. Lawrence)
I was hopeful that I would like this novel, since one of my favorite poems (Wild Things) was written by Lawrence. I wasn’t entirely wrong. But what I was most certainly wrong about was the meaning of the title. Turns out when Lawrence entitled his book, he was being quite literal.
My somewhat crude plot summary goes like this: Mom loves (read: in love with) son #1. Son #1 dies. Mom turns her love to son #2. Mom dies. Son #2 then dies a slow death alone because he is so jacked up from a controlling, soul-sucking erotic mother that he can’t function with (any) women anymore.
If you like Freud and the ol’ Oedipus complex, this is a book for you.
#10 The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
A story of the great American journey west. What’s not to love. If you like John Wayne movies, are American, or have ever been on parole, read this book.
#31 Animal Farm (George Orwell)
Although one of the shortest reads on this behemoth Top 100 list, this book addresses some of the most compelling social issues facing us today (and in 1945 too apparently).
In this novel animals create a list of seven laws to keep order and ensure the solidarity of animal life on Animal Farm:
1. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy
2. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend.
3. No animal shall wear clothes.
4. No animal shall sleep in a bed.
5. No animal shall drink alcohol.
6. No animal shall kill any other animal.
7. All animals are equal.
As the novel progresses, the farm’s pigs begin to get a taste of power. Before long, they thirst for it. And naturally, as they indulge this thirst for power they seem more human-like. Even going so far as to walk on two legs. And before you can say Farmer in the dell, they have reinterpreted, rewritten, or plain abandoned the seven aforementioned rules to suit their own gluttonous evolution.
And don’t let the pedestrian title fool you. This book is about you, me, and power that corrupts absolutely.
Any creature on two legs should read this book.
#42 Deliverance (James Dickey)
Although this title was familiar to me, I honestly knew not the subject matter. The cover was as unassuming as the material was sadistic. I will spare you the gory details.
Read with caution. And all the lights on.
#64 The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
This book gets a bad rap, what with Mark David Chapman and John Hinckley, Jr. both toting copies while they shot at some of the most famous men in the history of the world. Perhaps it was these infamous acts or rampant American censorship that helped this novel secure a prominent place in our culture. Or perhaps, just perhaps, the tenants of Caulfield's rebellion and American independence are (dare I say) inextricably linked.
One of my new favorites.
#65 A Clockwork Orange (Anthony Burgess)
Violent. Alarming. Provocative. Nauseating. And that’s only Part 1. A must read.
#74 A Farewell to Arms (Ernest Hemmingway)
Part biography. Part love story. All dreadfully boring. Sorry, Ernie. This isn't making my Top 1,000 list. And if it weren't for the read-a-chapter, refill-a-cocktail game that I invented while reading this novel, there's little chance I would have finished it at all.
So there it is. The first ten books of the rest of my life. Let's recap what we've learned so far:
ï You can’t judge a book by its cover (or its title).
ï Everything is more tolerable over cocktails.
ï Although something may be touted as being the best, if reference materials are required you might be out of your league.
Author’s note: The parallel between these lessons learned and those that would have most certainly resulted from a rundown of my Top 100 Worst Dates seems alarmingly ironic.
No comments:
Post a Comment