Not
that it’s too late to do so, of course, and isn’t this the time of year for
grand resolutions? Often I pick one
grand book to read/reread as a summer project, and perhaps I should choose from
this list of gaps in my reading life.
(Oh, and I think this is a good time to name-drop that I HAVE read Ulysses by James Joyce, and perhaps at
this point, the greatest joy of having done so is to think about the last few
pages of Molly’s soliloquy
and to mention this achievement as much as possible.)
Here
goes…true confessions of ignorance, in random order, ten classic books I have not read and wish I had:
1. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor
Dostoyevsky. I’m pretty bad on all the
big Russians, actually, and once in a fit of guilt over that fact, I read Anna Karenina which promptly went on my “favorite
books bookshelf,” so what’s my problem?
2
& 3. The Sound and the Fury and As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner. I read some Faulkner in college, and I know
he’s brilliant, etc., and teaching
in a low-res MFA program in the South, Faulkner is basically inescapable. But you know what…Faulkner just may not be my
thing.
4. One
Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I know that this book is on many people’s
favorites list, but I hear “one sentence that goes on for pages” and I’m afraid
I think, “Uh-oh, Faulkner-esque.” I am shameful, I know.
5. Beloved
by Toni Morrison. Okay, I have NO excuse
for this one, except that it feels as though maybe it should be read in
college, under guidance, and—apparently—I am a lazy reader. I need to write up a syllabus for myself,
with scary deadlines and threats of reduced grades.
6. A Tale
of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. I
even started this one, and it was good.
The problem: I started it on an
airplane going to France and then I fell asleep and then once in Paris I chose to
drink wine and eat tartare instead of read, and then I chose to watch French TV
instead of read and on the way home, I chose to sleep on the plane.
7. Remembrance
of Things Past by Marcel Proust.
Does anyone REALLY read this? But
boy, if I did, I sure would wedge that fact into every possible
conversation. (If it matters, I loved Madame Bovary, so I’m not as shallow as
it may seem with regards to things French and French-related.)
8. The
Road by Cormac McCarthy. You know, I
just don’t care that much if I’ve read this or not. I didn’t even see the movie! But people seem to love it. Maybe it won’t become a “classic” and I can
squeak by with my ignorance.
9
& 10. King Lear and MacBeth by
Shakespeare. Oh, wow. Did I just write
this in ink? Despite many Shakespeare
classes and productions and even movies, I have neither read nor seen these two. Nevertheless, I can converse quite
knowledgeably about them (“Out, out damned spot!”) and possibly even write a
class paper for a (barely) passing grade. Still,
as Mark Twain noted, “The difference between the right word and the almost
right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug,”
and passing knowledge of these masterworks is NOT the same as reading/seeing
them. Here’s my summer project.
11. Bonus:
Sometimes I wish I had read Don
Quixote by Cervantes but never enough to ever in my life have bought a copy
or even picked one up in a bookstore or library.
Last
word: Don’t forget that I did read Ulysses! And Moby-Dick!
