Well, since December has reared it's cold, white-bearded head, I suppose it's time again to make the list of books I've read this year. Sadly, just like last year, it's at thirty. But at least it's not less than last year. And just like last year, I'm not including Dickens' five Christmas books that I read every year in December. I'm currently reading a small collection of essays by William Hazlitt, but I doubt I'll get it finished before January, so it's not included.
I've devided the list into two lists of fifteen (just like last year), and, of course, and asterisk next to the name means I've read it before. Prepare to judge me harshly.
1. The Princess and Curdie by George MacDonald
I first read The Princess and the Goblin in 2006. It was the second novel I read by MacDonald and the first one I enjoyed all the way through. I checked all the book stores in town for the sequel, but not finding it, I let it slip from my mind. I wish I hadn't, because the two should really be read back to back. They compliment each other in the sense that Goblin is the feminine story while Curdie is the masculine. Of course, the two are ripe with Christian metaphors, though like most of MacDonald's works, they are never preachy. It is definitely a classic I'll read to my kids one day. (My future children, not my future baby goats.)
2. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
I had intended to start the year off with this novel. This was to be my year of reading novels everyone should read. I made a dent in that list, at least, and I started with this book. I've already said how I rank the Brontes in an early post, but I'll say again: Anne is my favorite. That's not to say Charlotte is a bad writer, but having read two of her novels, I find them somewhat trite. Jane Eyre specifically, I found to be predictable--I knew little to nothing of the story--and often boring.
3. In a Glass Darkly by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
Le Fanu is a little know Irish author from the Victorian movement who was stuck in the Gothic period. This is in no way a bad thing. In a Glass Darkly is a collection of short occult mysteries, taken from the papers of one Dr. Martin Hesselius, an expert in metaphysics and the occult. He appears very little throughout though, which is due to him being merely a pretense to publish these all together. They were most of them, if not all, published separately beforehand. While the five stories were all interesting and entertaining, the best was certainly the novella length vampiric tale Carmilla, the story of a lesbian vampire's obsession with an English girl living in Western Europe. Not your typical Victorian romance.
4. Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray
This is a powerhouse of a story. Like many novels written in the Victorian era, it spans a large time frame and includes a large cast of characters. Despite that, it is highly memorable and entertaining. It's easy to see why it was so influential. What's not easy to see is why Becky is so beloved. She was the least likable character in it, but feminists see her as a strong woman. I've never thought being amoral makes you strong. But again, I think most people miss the point in the same way Blake missed the point about Milton's Satan.
5. Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift
For those who don't know Jonathan Swift's famous story, it is the tale of a traveler who apparently has the worst luck when he finds open water, and finds himself four times stranded on islands with strange inhabitants who just so happen to lampoon and attack the flaws and foibles of the day. Of course, this is why Swift is considered by many to be England's greatest satirist. I would go so far as to estimate that this fictional travelogue is one of--if not the most influential book of the last three hundred years. It's effected not only literature and film, but also the English language. Not to the extent of Shakespeare, but certainly you've never met someone who didn't know the word "yahoo."
6. The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde
Like many people who read a lot of classic literature, this was recommended to me because I'd like the subject matter and the references. Sadly, it takes more than a mention of Martin Chuzzlewit to get me to like a book. Do I doubt Fforde really enjoys classic literature? No. But this book is trying way to hard to not only make that point abundantly clear, which, by the way, it does not do; but it is also trying way to hard to be eccentric. Oh, it's kinda cute that Thursday Next has a Dodo named Pickwick, but that doesn't fix the weak points in his plot or dialogue. I'll probably still read the second one in the series though, since I own it.
7. David Copperfield by Charles Dickens*
David Copperfield is my favorite novel. It's not Dickens' best work. No, that title would go to Bleak House most likely. But David Copperfield has sentimental value. It also helps that some of Dickens' best characters are displayed in this novel. The wonderfully positive Thomas Traddles, the clearly bipolar and perpetually impoverished Wilkins Micawber, the simple yet lovable Dora Spenlow, the conniving and dastardly Uriah Heep, and the stiff but gentle Betsy Trotwood--and the cast goes on. Dickens displays his knack for making eccentric characters better in David Copperfield than in any other work. And it's this knack for the eccentric that I've always loved about Dickens, ever since I first read A Christmas Carol.
8. The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle
The thing about Beagle is, he looks like a fantasy author. More than that, he looks like a fantasy reader. In some ways, this is a good thing. One can tell from reading The Last Unicorn that Beagle knows his fantasy, especially high fantasy. The problem is though, The Last Unicorn is high fantasy in a low fantasy body. (For those who don't know the difference, click on the links.) Granted, I think I was looking for something a little bit more William Morris, and what I got was more Diana Wynne Jones. I like both authors, but I felt this book could've been something so much more than it was. As it is, I found it somewhat forgettable and boring in many places.
9. Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut
I like Vonnegut, but I think I like him in smaller doses than a whole novel. I've read many of his short stories and never been let down. Slaughterhouse-Five was, sadly, not as good as I'd expected it to be. It wasn't science fiction, for one. That's a mislabel. I think we all know Billy Pilgrim didn't go into space. He suffered quite a bit as a prisoner of war, and eventually, he snapped. That wasn't my issue. I just got nothing out of the book. Most of the Vonnegut stories I've read I highly enjoyed and they stuck in my mind long afterwords. This, once I got to the last page, was out of my head immediately. Maybe I'll read Cat's Cradle next time.
10. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
By the time an American reaches the age of twenty-five, if he hasn't read The Great Gatsby, most people assume there's something wrong with him. It might surprise some, but my school never required me to read it. I'm not too fond of American literature in general, so I put it off. I'm glad I did. I'd already read Fitzgerald's Tales of the Jazz Age by the time I got to this, which added to what I got out of it. I will say though, I felt it was a bit over-lauded. It was good, but there were many British writers from the same period attacking the same social ills and doing it better. I look forward to reading more by Fitzgerald though.
11. It’s Too Late to Say I’m Sorry by Joey Comeau
I've already expressed my enjoyment of the works of this crazy bastard once before, so it should come as no surprise that I read this collection of short stories in a few hours. Comeau lends himself to easy reading though. He's never too deep, but never too shallow. He tows the line. I read his darkly hilarious epistolary novel Overqualified last year and I've been reading his webcomic A Softer World even longer, so I knew what to expect from this collection: horror, romance, and a little bit of philosophical musings. Throw in a little bit (or a lot) of perverted humor and you've got Joey Comeau.
12. The Mill On the Floss by George Eliot
This is probably not what one would expect someone to read after Joey Comeau, but somehow it happened that way. I was in the mood for some Victorian idyllic stylings, something like Thomas Hardy. And who's more like Thomas Hardy than George Eliot? (I suppose I could've just read Thomas Hardy, but here we are.) Let me just say, I enjoyed this novel, but it was so slow. It was like walking up a steep hill the entire time, and then, out of no where, falling into a crevice. It just ended, and I did not see that ending coming. After thinking about it, it makes sense, but at the time I was highly confused why she'd end it like that, so suddenly. I know many people studying Victorian literature usually read Middlemarch, but I'd highly recommend this instead. It is a biting, but also sympathetic, attack on many aspects of Victorian country life.
13. The Death of Ivan Ilyich by Leo Tolstoy
I remember that while reading this, I enjoyed it, but I remember very little from it. I mean, I understand what it was actually about, what the intellectuals say it's about. Maybe if I were someone who never thought of death and the afterlife it would've struck home more. It's a very well done novella, but I can list on one hand all the novellas that have changed my life. There's nothing wrong with it, and I'm glad I read it. I'd even recommend it to anyone interested in the subject, the author, or Russian literature. I suppose though, there's rarely a reason to not remind one's self of life's temporariness and the need to live right.
14. Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen*
I first read this in 2007 because a girl I liked told me to read Austen. I'm glad I did because Austen is a necessity. I read it at a ridiculous singles conference my church went to. I don't think they meant for me to spend the conference in a stairwell reading alone, but there you have it. I feel like that's where Cathrine Morland would've been. Northanger Abbey is Austen's Don Quixote. In fact, the earlier novel The Female Quixote by Charlotte Lennox was used as a model for Norrthanger Abbey. But anyway, Miss Morland is perhaps my favorite Austen heroine. She is, I believe, the most eccentric, which to a certain extent means the most sincere. Naivety is a good sign of sincerity. And rather than feel sorry for her when she makes her outrageous mistakes, I feel nothing but comradely.
15. Death in Venice by Thomas Mann
While this is barely more a short story, I've added it here because it's classified as a novella. If you ask the average reader, they'll tell you Death in Venice is paled by Lolita, but in my opinion, this is the superior work. His use of the Apollonian life struggling against the Dionysian life, resulting in the end with a failure and Aschenbach falling victim to Dionysus, seems to me far more interesting than the concept tackled in Lolita. In fact, I'd say, without Nabokov's unique use of prose, Lolita would be nothing special. Of course, I only see this now after reading Lolita and comparing the two. But I'll get to my views on Lolita in the next and final list.
Showing posts with label george eliot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label george eliot. Show all posts
Friday, December 10, 2010
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Let's Make a List, Part II
While I try to kill time--Interesting saying, by the way. My theory is that we invented it out of shear irony. I say, while I try to kill time, I decided I'd finish what I started it. I don't really check this thing that often and I hardly consider it a worthwhile endeavor, but once one makes a part one, it is customary to make at least a part two, unless of course your name is Mel Brooks.
So, here is the second part of my list of books I've read this year. I left off with Joey Comeau's darkly funny epistolary Overqualified, which was fifteen on the list. As common sense and your elementary education has taught you, we shall begin again at sixteen.
16. The Inferno by Dante Alighieri. This book changed the way people view Hell. Rather than picturing it as a lake of fire or a bottomless pit, lacking all light, as the Bible describes it, most people picture the nine levels, filled with a variety of punishments. The poem is filled with quite a few vivid areas and memorable moments, but I think my favorite part of the poem is The Wood of the Suicides. The imagery really stayed with me. As a side note, I played the demo for Dante's Inferno, and all I'll say is, I love God of War. Well, that and it's obviously a loose translation.
17. The Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit by Charles Dickens. Dickens wrote 14 finished novels, one unfinished novel, four Christmas novellas, two travel logs, two collections of literary sketches, and a child's history book. This book kind of gets lost in the shuffle--and what a shuffle it is! Martin isn't as likable as Nicholas Nickleby, even after he lets go of his selfishness. Mark Tapley, though wonderful, isn't nearly as wonderful as Thomas Traddles. The truly brilliant characters in this one are the villains. Jonas Chuzzlewit is perhaps the most sinister Dickensian villain, while Seth Pecksniff--well, there's never been a better portrayal of hypocrisy. To be honest, Chuzzlewit is ripe with Dickensian wit, charm, and characters more akin to Greek heroes and gods than men, however, there a better examples of his brilliance.
18. Life's Little Ironies by Thomas Hardy. This is a collection of eight short stories, some being the best Hardy has written, in my opinion. As the name would indicate, the stories are ironic tales, to at least, some extent. Some of them are heartbreaking, some haunting, but all are entertaining. My favorites were "An Imaginative Woman" and "To Please His Wife."
19. Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger. I bought this at a resale shop because I had already read the first twenty pages while waiting for my mother. I didn’t like Salinger before I read this and now I like him, if not less, at least the same. There were strokes of—not quite—genius, but they were few and far between. He is filled with juvenile pretensions, and what's more, he knows it. He fills his characters with it, and we're supposed to care about them despite of it. I've never read Catcher in the Rye (because I'm not in junior high), but I've heard it's the same, with more cursing.
20. Castle in the Air by Diana Wynne Jones. Remember the Jones kick I was on at the beginning of the year that was mentioned in the first list? It almost came back. I was all set to go out and buy House of Many Ways, which is the last in the Howl series, but I restrained myself. Jones style is flawed at times. She falls short of her predecessors, but she soars above most of her contemporaries, so I forgive her of it. Castle wasn't as good as Howl, and the reoccurring characters seemed different somehow. Still, it was an enjoyable fantasy novel.
21. The Vicar of Wakefield by Oliver Goldsmith. Goldsmith, with this one--his only--novel, influenced most of the authors to immediately follow him. Jane Austin clearly took cues from the book. I can see it in all of her works. The Brontë's were sure to have read the novel. Dickens takes scenes strait out of it--Pickwick in debtor's prison is oddly similar to Primrose's time in jail. There is usually a good reason why a piece of art is so influential, though for the life of me, I cannot put my finger to it on this one. I have definitely taken something from it since I read it though.
22. Kenilworth by Sir Walter Scott. I once read that unless you read Scott as a boy, you'll never enjoy him as an adult. I'm not sure if I can be testament to the fallacy of that statement, though the first thing I read by Scott was Ivanhoe, last year. I think the truth of the statement is that to enjoy Scott one must be child-like, which, in my romantic attitude, I am. Kenilworth tells the story of the death of Amy Robsart, the wife of Robert Dudley, 1st Earl of Leicester. Historicity aside, the novel is filled with perhaps the most vivid depictions of some historical figures, such as Elizabeth I and Sir Walter Raleigh, which have been the precedent for how they're treated in future works. Even Leicester is viewed in a sympathetic light. It is a historical tragedy, as most people who read it at the time it was published knew how Amy Robsart died, yet Scott draws it out, keeping hopes up, only to be dashed. I new Robsart had to die, but I still held out hope for Tressilian, her blighted lover. As with most Scott novels, he weaved historical fact with legend and pure fancy. Just remember, he's writing a novel, not a history book.
23. Bartleby, The Scrivener by Herman Melville*. Aside from a failed attempt to read Moby Dick when I was much younger, this was my introduction of Herman Melville. I read it in a literature class some years ago, and I had every intention of skimming the first and last bit, but Bartleby would have none of that. Bartleby is at once heartrending and fascinating: the story of a broken man who simply wants to be left alone. His famous phrase "I would prefer not to" at first seemed Dickensian in his aloofness, but as his character was fleshed out--to the small amount it was--I realized the heavy load he worked under, which led to him preferring to do nothing.
24. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. It might sound odd, but once I learned Stevenson was Scottish and not American, I had a stronger pull towards his work and person. His life is truly a fascinating tale, but for now I'll focus on this story. Written over a period of some six days while suffering from illness, as he commonly was. It's alleged that he had the assistance of cocaine to maintain alertness. Sadly, the story of the author is far more interesting than the story itself. Perhaps if I hadn't known the story already, it would have been more intriguing. Damn it's popularity! It is a quick read, but a fairly unexciting one. It's not a bad story or poorly written, just unexciting. I hate to criticize a piece of art based on my expectations, but there you are.
25. Bleak House by Charles Dickens. This is considered Dickens' masterpiece. While I prefer David Copperfield, I can see why persons would consider it such. It is perhaps his most flawless work. He seems, by this point in his works, to have become more focused. He not only begins centered on one goal, it remains that way. Early Dickens novels ramble, using the plot as an excuse to write adventures for his characters; but in this work, his aim is shifted. He uses his characters and adventures for the plot this time. The only later novels I've read other than this are Hard Times, Great Expectations, and A Tale of Two Cities. One can see the same focus in those works as well. This one is still full of brilliant characters, though the most memorable seem to be the bad versions of other Dickensian characters. Harold Skimpole seems like the rascal version of Wilkins Micawber, while Mr. Guppy seems the less noble form of Mr. Toots. (I was a little perturbed at Dickens for his portrayal of Guppy after Esther's illness.) Still, they're equally as charming.
26. Silas Marner by George Eliot*. I know this book is stereotypically read in high school, but not in my school. I read it two years ago and while it only took a few days to read, it stuck with me for a long time. It's one of my favorite books. Marner is a blighted man who leaves behind everything he knows and moves to a small country village. There, as an outsider, he's considered slightly off. He becomes a miser, hoarding gold as his only solace. After he is robbed, the town gives his sympathy and a bit more acceptance. Then, on a New Year's Eve night, a little girl is found sleeping in front of his fire. Her mother died upon the road, and Marner adopts her. That's not the end, but it's a good introduction. It brings up questions of religion, fatherhood, morality, and providence. To be honest, I think high schoolers would miss most of the deeper parts of the work.
27. The House of Doctor Dee by Peter Ackroyd. I thought I could find anything fascinating if it were about John Dee: the famed occultist, mathematician, navigator, astrologer, alchemist, and adviser to Queen Elizabeth I. I was wrong. There's a lot that's good about this book. Those things pale in comparison to the flaws it carries. Told in duel narration--one narrator being Dee himself--it is the story of a man who inherits a house from his father and finds himself connected to it's history. The first two or three chapters are quite good, but it begins to grow wearisome. I cannot help but think Ackroyd began to hate it himself, as the ending feels rushed, as if he just wanted to get it over with. I've heard this is not a good example of Ackroyd's works, but I'd rather not take that chance--not now.
28. Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne. This was my introduction to Verne. Of course, I know the basic story of many of his other works, but I've only ever read this. (Interesting factoid: there's no balloon in this novel.) To be honest, the novel feels like a travelogue. Granted, it's a quick one, and quite an eccentric basis for one, but that was my impression. I was rather intrigued throughout, nonetheless. Passepartout, the real protagonist, was lovable enough, and Fogg was noble enough; but I feel like, in better hands, it could've been an epic romp across the globe rather than a quick run through.
29. Agnes Grey by Anne Brontë. Anne is easily my favorite of the Brontë sisters. Granted, all I've read by her is this delightful novel about the troubles of a governess, but I am greatly excited about reading The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. While Charlotte is fine (I've only read Villette), I prefer Anne's attitude. Also, she seems to be the only one in her family who doesn't think a mean, old man is a perfect candidate for a love interest.
30. The Road by Cormac McCarthy. The Road has been praised as one of the most important books in recent history. I don't know if it's that important, but if there is any piece of literature released recently that I view worth being added to the canon of classical pieces, it would have to be this book. Post-apocalyptica is usually religious or preachy in some way, but this speaks nothing of how the end happened or why, only that it did and of the few who try to make their way through the remains of the world.
So that's the list. Of course, asterisks indicate that I've read it before, just like in the last list. Of course, I left out Dickens' Christmas novellas that I read every December and the numerous Sherlock Holmes stories I read randomly throughout the year. I plan on reading Jane Eyre in January, and then The Eyre Affair, but that's for a different time.
So, here is the second part of my list of books I've read this year. I left off with Joey Comeau's darkly funny epistolary Overqualified, which was fifteen on the list. As common sense and your elementary education has taught you, we shall begin again at sixteen.
16. The Inferno by Dante Alighieri. This book changed the way people view Hell. Rather than picturing it as a lake of fire or a bottomless pit, lacking all light, as the Bible describes it, most people picture the nine levels, filled with a variety of punishments. The poem is filled with quite a few vivid areas and memorable moments, but I think my favorite part of the poem is The Wood of the Suicides. The imagery really stayed with me. As a side note, I played the demo for Dante's Inferno, and all I'll say is, I love God of War. Well, that and it's obviously a loose translation.
17. The Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit by Charles Dickens. Dickens wrote 14 finished novels, one unfinished novel, four Christmas novellas, two travel logs, two collections of literary sketches, and a child's history book. This book kind of gets lost in the shuffle--and what a shuffle it is! Martin isn't as likable as Nicholas Nickleby, even after he lets go of his selfishness. Mark Tapley, though wonderful, isn't nearly as wonderful as Thomas Traddles. The truly brilliant characters in this one are the villains. Jonas Chuzzlewit is perhaps the most sinister Dickensian villain, while Seth Pecksniff--well, there's never been a better portrayal of hypocrisy. To be honest, Chuzzlewit is ripe with Dickensian wit, charm, and characters more akin to Greek heroes and gods than men, however, there a better examples of his brilliance.
18. Life's Little Ironies by Thomas Hardy. This is a collection of eight short stories, some being the best Hardy has written, in my opinion. As the name would indicate, the stories are ironic tales, to at least, some extent. Some of them are heartbreaking, some haunting, but all are entertaining. My favorites were "An Imaginative Woman" and "To Please His Wife."
19. Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger. I bought this at a resale shop because I had already read the first twenty pages while waiting for my mother. I didn’t like Salinger before I read this and now I like him, if not less, at least the same. There were strokes of—not quite—genius, but they were few and far between. He is filled with juvenile pretensions, and what's more, he knows it. He fills his characters with it, and we're supposed to care about them despite of it. I've never read Catcher in the Rye (because I'm not in junior high), but I've heard it's the same, with more cursing.
20. Castle in the Air by Diana Wynne Jones. Remember the Jones kick I was on at the beginning of the year that was mentioned in the first list? It almost came back. I was all set to go out and buy House of Many Ways, which is the last in the Howl series, but I restrained myself. Jones style is flawed at times. She falls short of her predecessors, but she soars above most of her contemporaries, so I forgive her of it. Castle wasn't as good as Howl, and the reoccurring characters seemed different somehow. Still, it was an enjoyable fantasy novel.
21. The Vicar of Wakefield by Oliver Goldsmith. Goldsmith, with this one--his only--novel, influenced most of the authors to immediately follow him. Jane Austin clearly took cues from the book. I can see it in all of her works. The Brontë's were sure to have read the novel. Dickens takes scenes strait out of it--Pickwick in debtor's prison is oddly similar to Primrose's time in jail. There is usually a good reason why a piece of art is so influential, though for the life of me, I cannot put my finger to it on this one. I have definitely taken something from it since I read it though.
22. Kenilworth by Sir Walter Scott. I once read that unless you read Scott as a boy, you'll never enjoy him as an adult. I'm not sure if I can be testament to the fallacy of that statement, though the first thing I read by Scott was Ivanhoe, last year. I think the truth of the statement is that to enjoy Scott one must be child-like, which, in my romantic attitude, I am. Kenilworth tells the story of the death of Amy Robsart, the wife of Robert Dudley, 1st Earl of Leicester. Historicity aside, the novel is filled with perhaps the most vivid depictions of some historical figures, such as Elizabeth I and Sir Walter Raleigh, which have been the precedent for how they're treated in future works. Even Leicester is viewed in a sympathetic light. It is a historical tragedy, as most people who read it at the time it was published knew how Amy Robsart died, yet Scott draws it out, keeping hopes up, only to be dashed. I new Robsart had to die, but I still held out hope for Tressilian, her blighted lover. As with most Scott novels, he weaved historical fact with legend and pure fancy. Just remember, he's writing a novel, not a history book.
23. Bartleby, The Scrivener by Herman Melville*. Aside from a failed attempt to read Moby Dick when I was much younger, this was my introduction of Herman Melville. I read it in a literature class some years ago, and I had every intention of skimming the first and last bit, but Bartleby would have none of that. Bartleby is at once heartrending and fascinating: the story of a broken man who simply wants to be left alone. His famous phrase "I would prefer not to" at first seemed Dickensian in his aloofness, but as his character was fleshed out--to the small amount it was--I realized the heavy load he worked under, which led to him preferring to do nothing.
24. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. It might sound odd, but once I learned Stevenson was Scottish and not American, I had a stronger pull towards his work and person. His life is truly a fascinating tale, but for now I'll focus on this story. Written over a period of some six days while suffering from illness, as he commonly was. It's alleged that he had the assistance of cocaine to maintain alertness. Sadly, the story of the author is far more interesting than the story itself. Perhaps if I hadn't known the story already, it would have been more intriguing. Damn it's popularity! It is a quick read, but a fairly unexciting one. It's not a bad story or poorly written, just unexciting. I hate to criticize a piece of art based on my expectations, but there you are.
25. Bleak House by Charles Dickens. This is considered Dickens' masterpiece. While I prefer David Copperfield, I can see why persons would consider it such. It is perhaps his most flawless work. He seems, by this point in his works, to have become more focused. He not only begins centered on one goal, it remains that way. Early Dickens novels ramble, using the plot as an excuse to write adventures for his characters; but in this work, his aim is shifted. He uses his characters and adventures for the plot this time. The only later novels I've read other than this are Hard Times, Great Expectations, and A Tale of Two Cities. One can see the same focus in those works as well. This one is still full of brilliant characters, though the most memorable seem to be the bad versions of other Dickensian characters. Harold Skimpole seems like the rascal version of Wilkins Micawber, while Mr. Guppy seems the less noble form of Mr. Toots. (I was a little perturbed at Dickens for his portrayal of Guppy after Esther's illness.) Still, they're equally as charming.
26. Silas Marner by George Eliot*. I know this book is stereotypically read in high school, but not in my school. I read it two years ago and while it only took a few days to read, it stuck with me for a long time. It's one of my favorite books. Marner is a blighted man who leaves behind everything he knows and moves to a small country village. There, as an outsider, he's considered slightly off. He becomes a miser, hoarding gold as his only solace. After he is robbed, the town gives his sympathy and a bit more acceptance. Then, on a New Year's Eve night, a little girl is found sleeping in front of his fire. Her mother died upon the road, and Marner adopts her. That's not the end, but it's a good introduction. It brings up questions of religion, fatherhood, morality, and providence. To be honest, I think high schoolers would miss most of the deeper parts of the work.
27. The House of Doctor Dee by Peter Ackroyd. I thought I could find anything fascinating if it were about John Dee: the famed occultist, mathematician, navigator, astrologer, alchemist, and adviser to Queen Elizabeth I. I was wrong. There's a lot that's good about this book. Those things pale in comparison to the flaws it carries. Told in duel narration--one narrator being Dee himself--it is the story of a man who inherits a house from his father and finds himself connected to it's history. The first two or three chapters are quite good, but it begins to grow wearisome. I cannot help but think Ackroyd began to hate it himself, as the ending feels rushed, as if he just wanted to get it over with. I've heard this is not a good example of Ackroyd's works, but I'd rather not take that chance--not now.
28. Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne. This was my introduction to Verne. Of course, I know the basic story of many of his other works, but I've only ever read this. (Interesting factoid: there's no balloon in this novel.) To be honest, the novel feels like a travelogue. Granted, it's a quick one, and quite an eccentric basis for one, but that was my impression. I was rather intrigued throughout, nonetheless. Passepartout, the real protagonist, was lovable enough, and Fogg was noble enough; but I feel like, in better hands, it could've been an epic romp across the globe rather than a quick run through.
29. Agnes Grey by Anne Brontë. Anne is easily my favorite of the Brontë sisters. Granted, all I've read by her is this delightful novel about the troubles of a governess, but I am greatly excited about reading The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. While Charlotte is fine (I've only read Villette), I prefer Anne's attitude. Also, she seems to be the only one in her family who doesn't think a mean, old man is a perfect candidate for a love interest.
30. The Road by Cormac McCarthy. The Road has been praised as one of the most important books in recent history. I don't know if it's that important, but if there is any piece of literature released recently that I view worth being added to the canon of classical pieces, it would have to be this book. Post-apocalyptica is usually religious or preachy in some way, but this speaks nothing of how the end happened or why, only that it did and of the few who try to make their way through the remains of the world.
So that's the list. Of course, asterisks indicate that I've read it before, just like in the last list. Of course, I left out Dickens' Christmas novellas that I read every December and the numerous Sherlock Holmes stories I read randomly throughout the year. I plan on reading Jane Eyre in January, and then The Eyre Affair, but that's for a different time.
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