Oh, look! January!

New year's resolution: I'm going to try and do one of these towards the end of each month this year, rather than just when I remember...

So, this past month has included...

The ballet // Lots and lots of boxes//

Coming home in the snow // Real fire!

And some lovely arty links:

Ian Sidaway's sketches of Vienna appeared just as I was reading The Hare with Amber Eyes. Apt.

John Hendrix on how to find your voice as an illustrator.

Kate Bingaman-Burt has drawn what she buys everyday since 2006... (via lostateminor)

A little bit eery, but beautiful - images from Daniel Danger.

Illustration Friday: Books

This week's topic is 'Book' - great minds clearly do think alike...

I think that one of the most important things about reading is how it gives you a perspective on other lives and worlds - not just learning about them, but living in them through the characters.

Lost in Books

Updating my 'About Me' a little bit the other day, I realised I have never created anything book-inspired. So I thought up this little drawing as an immediate remedy.

And now I have Belle and Sebastian's 'Wrapped up in Books' stuck in my head...

Wrap Magazine

A couple of weeks ago I saw Wrap magazine mentioned on Hazel Nicholl's blog and went off on an intrepid search to locate a copy. (Okay... down the road... to Regent Street... to Anthropologie... There were a lot of vicious and wild tourists around though.)

In their own words, Wrap is a magazine that celebrates the very best in illustration, design and creative culture, and each issue comes with five double-sided pull-out sheets of unique wrapping paper. 

Although if, like me, wrapping paper usually means something carefully recycled, flattened and de-selloptaped and which originally cost £2 for three rolls anyway, I don't think you'll be using the beautifully printed sheets in here to wrap up any disappointing bubble bath sets...

So, Wrap is lovely because it's matte, not shiny, has no adverts and just a double page like this...

... of things you might want to buy (and I like most of these particular things.)

It has big full pages of illustrations, like this...

Ella Cohen (and my ubiquitous mug)

 ...and lots of contributions from different, interesting people.

At £10.50 per issue, it's not cheap but it certainly feels better quality than a bog-standard magazine. It'd also look good on your coffee table, and bear repeat flickings-through.

Mr Trollope

I've not done well, just recently, at mentioning much of what I'm reading. So here goes... 


I'm reading Trollope. And that's pretty much it.


I have an English Literature degree, and have read anything and everything since I was old enough to hold a book by myself. How is it, then, that I got to thirty without ever having read Trollope? A mystery.


If I'm not alone in this then I urge you all to trot off and find some Trollope immediately. It's like a mix of Dickens and Austen, and that can only (mostly) be a good thing.


So far this year I've got through the Chronicles of Barsetshire, and have just finished the first Palliser novel. And thanks to the marvel that is the Kindle I've got the whole lot in my handbag.


I also have a tiny feeling that Mr Trollope, for his time, was a little bit of proto-feminist. I'm sure there are endless clever essays that would disagree with me, but his women seem real, are written sympathetically, and have minds of their own. I'd rather spend time with Glencora Palliser than Ada Clare any day.

Trying out my new drawing inks, so here's Lady Glencora in the ruins at midnight.

My favourite poem...

is this one.

To His Coy Mistress

Andrew Marvell

Had we but world enough, and time

This coyness, lady, were no crime.

We would sit down, and think which way

To walk, and pass our our long love's day.

Thou by the Indian Ganges' side

Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide

Of Humber would complain. I would

Love you ten years before the flood,

And you should, if you please, refuse

Till the conversion of the Jews.

My vegetable love would grow

Vaster than empires, and more slow;

An hundred years would go to praise

Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;

Two hundred to adore each breast

But thirty thousand to the rest;

An age at least to every part,

And the last age should show your heart.

For lady, you deserve this state,

Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear

Time's winged chariot hurrying near:

And yonder all before us lie

Deserts of vast eternity.

Thy beauty shall no more be found;

Nor, in thy marble vaults, shall sound

My echoing song; then worms shall try

That long preserved virginity.

And your quaint honour turned to dust,

And into ashes all my lust.

The grave's a fine and private place,

But none, I think, do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue

Sits on thy skin like morning dew,

And while thy willing soul transpires

At every pore with instant fires, 

Now let us sport us while we may,

And now, like amorous birds of prey,

Rather at once our time devour

Than languish in his slow-chapped power.

Let us roll all our strength, and all

Our sweetness, up into one ball,

And tear our pleasures with rough strife

Through the iron gates of life:

Thus, though we cannot make our sun

Stand still, yet we will make him run.

because...

- if I'm feeling overwhelmed (or cynical...) I like that people have always always tried to sweet talk others into bed. The details of the world might change, but the important bits tend to stay the same;

- if I'm feeling romantic, the descriptions of how he wants to love and adore her for the rest of time are delicious;

- however I feel, being reminded to seize the day is always welcome. The last two lines are my favourite... we can't stop time, but we can make sure we get the very best out of it.

Relevant pages from my sketchbook:

Carpe diem, boys and girls.

Infinite Jest and Me: A Love Story

You know when you meet a friend of a friend at a party? And you've heard loads about this person, about how wonderful he is? 


And then you meet him and, actually, he's a bit of an idiot? 


Maybe pretentious? Perhaps a bit arrogant? Hard to relate to and, worst of all, perhaps a smidge disinterested in you? You have a bit of a chat but then wander off to find some whiskey, baffled as to what everyone else sees in him.


But, you know, your paths cross a few more times. And you have to chat to him because he's friends with your friends and you're a nice person. And every now and then you manage to have an interesting conversation, and maybe you start to feel you don't dislike him quite as much?


And then you don't see him for a while and for some reason he keeps popping into your head? So you manage to find out, completely by accident, where he hangs out and you happen to be there one night and you get chatting and, you know, one things leads to another?


So then you're totally in love and it's the best thing that's ever happened and he might still be a bit pretentious and arrogant and whatever, but it totally doesn't matter because he's also witty and smart and sensitive and everything.


And you get married and have lots of only-mildly pretentious children and are mostly and realistically happy for ever more, and end up in the same retirement home eating aniseed balls together. *


You know? Well, that's how I feel about Infinite Jest. As I've said before, it's a beast and it's taken me longer to read than anything else, ever. But I finally finished it and I love it. With a deep, abiding, aniseed ball sort of love. 


The sort of book-love that, when you get to the end (and despite the fact that it's taken months to read) you just want to go and start at the beginning again.


I'm not going to write a review. I don't think I could do it justice in a few words and there are plenty out there on the interwebs already. I'm not even going to recommend it, because I can completely see there are a lot of people out there who wouldn't love it.


But if you think you might want to read it... please do. That's all.


Here it is, finally snugged in with the other books. (I only allow books on to the book cases once they've been read. IJ had to live on the kitchen table, where it glowered at me if I hadn't picked it up recently.)

* This is not based on a true story. Well, not mine anyway. I met my love at a dance class and he thinks aniseed is the flavour of the devil. But still... you know?

Neither sacred or profane?

Having covered a bit of gender politics with the feminism, I decided to add some more potential controversy to my holiday reading with Philip Pullman's The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ. The only other Pullman I'd read was his Northern Lights Trilogy, which was enjoyable and different but which I haven't wanted to re-read. I've never quite managed to put my finger on why... Suggestions welcome!


So, the premise of the book is that Jesus had a twin, Christ. Jesus is a 'good' man and a preacher but doesn't do any miracles - it's all chinese whispers and spin - whilst his brother Christ documents his life and adds retrospectively insightful details to make Jesus seem more historically significant and powerful, with the intent of using the documents to found the church. 


It's an interesting concept, especially with the obvious explanation of the resurrection that comes hand in hand with a world in which Jesus was an identical twin. Pullman's writing style is consistent with his earlier works, whilst also being evocative of the popular translations of the New Testament many people would be familiar with. 


But I was left unsure of the point of the book. It's short, there's no additional characterisation or historical detail, so it didn't really work for me purely as a novel. But it's too long to just be playing with ideas. It felt, to me, like a vehicle for Pullman to share his theories about religion, the church, truth and history. These are very interesting, and I think I'd agree with a lot of them, but putting them in the mouths, or heads, of these rather unreliable and faintly-sketched characters didn't really do them justice. I have a lot of opinions about religion (sometimes too many, poor Nick tells me after listening to a lengthy rant) but this book didn't leave me feeling angry, inspired or... well... anything.


Having created his twin-Jesus, Pullman was free to add or subtract whatever details he wanted in the world of his novel. But I felt this world wasn't consistent. Mary's conception is strongly hinted to be only-too human and not at all miraculous, but then angels do appear to the shepherds to tell them to go hunt out the baby. As a child, Christ (rather than Jesus) performs miracles, but the biblical miracles of the adult Jesus are all placebo or gossip. Here, the resurrection is obviously explained, but then Christ is visited throughout the novel by a mysterious stranger who 'guides' him and who seems to be some sort of dark angel. This was God, but this wasn't, apparently arbitrarily.


I found it surprising that the book was so keen to prove that Jesus wasn't the son of God in some places, but then to raise the question of spiritual or supernatural powers in others. Even Jesus, in the garden of Gethsemene, is left questioning the existence of God, and instead finding solace in the beauty of the 'real' world as opposed to the spiritual one.


In some ways, I suppose this is consistent with Pullman's views on spirituality. In Northern Lights, God is real but aged and senile and organised religion is a tool misused for corruption, control and personal gain. It's therefore not surprising that the basic principles of the Good Man Jesus are sound and... well... good, whilst the desire to create the organised religion (which Pullman so dislikes) that motivates Scoundrel Christ is negative and misled by the shadowy angel/demon figure.


Obviously, neither an unreliable narrative or leaving the reader to draw their own conclusions are bad things. Stories have their own meaning, without everything having to be spelt out. Perhaps Pullman was trying to create a modern-day parable? But so much of this story already exists - with so much baggage from years of interpretation and retelling - that this needed to be either dramatically new and different or cleverly interwoven and insightful to stand on its own. And I'm not sure it accomplishes either. 


Pullman's speaking at the London Literature Festival at the end of the month. I'm interested to see if hearing him discuss it changes how I feel about the book.


The Times and  Guardian reviews, for anyone interested in what cleverer people thought!

I don't have any more reading pictures, so this is the roses in my garden in advance of a garden-themed post coming soon. Including a sunflower update!

I'm a feminist. And so's my boyfriend...

One of my favourite holiday preparations is planning my reading list. (One of my least favourite is packing. This is probably why I have been known to arrive places with more books than knickers...) 


Over the last few trips I've decided that my ideal holiday reading selection includes; something a bit pulpy, preferably involving zombies; something a bit literary, that I can really concentrate on; something a bit filthy, because that's where your mind tends to wander in the sunshine (Just me? Oh...); and something a bit feminist, I think to try and counter the inevitable bikini/body/get-a-tan-or-not/where's-my-life-going thoughts that holidays inspire. (Just me again? Surely not...)


So, for the Ibiza trip my feminist book was Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture, by Ariel Levy.


It's an interesting and thought provoking read. Levy's argument is that there is a distance between how women are viewed as sexy and actually being sexual, and that this disconnect is creating a situation where girls are growing up out of touch with their sexuality and real desires, because they are only presented with one 'acceptable' view of sexuality. Her argument is that, despite being able to have as much or as little sex with whoever we please, this very narrow definition of sexy is as limiting and objectifying as any of the gender stereotypes of the past. 


She also wrote an article for The Independent that's a pretty good summary of the book.


Personally? I can agree with what she's saying and a lot of her points, especially about having to take on 'masculine' traits to be successful in certain industries and women who degenerate their own sex by claiming to be 'one of the boys' rather than being who they are; a woman with the skills to be successful in her chosen field regardless of her sex.


(There's some interesting stuff on masculine/feminine traits, the nature/nurture thing and the research that's been done into it in another book (Dubrovnik 2010's holiday feminism) Natasha Walter's Living Dolls: The Return of Sexism.)


But... as I often find with this sort of book, I can't believe it's as all-pervasive as she suggests. Levy's based in the US and her arguments are obviously built around her experiences there. The book is also five years old, so maybe we have regained some ground in recent years? All I know is that, whilst some aspects of what she says rang very true for me, a lot of them didn't. Maybe I've just been fortunate enough to know a lot of women (and men!) who are happy to question the version of sex and beauty sold to us in adverts and magazines, and to draw their own conclusions. 


There's still a lots of, and far too much, inequality out there. But I'm optimistic.


The word 'feminist' is a tricky one, I know. But Sarah Bunting has written the most powerful explanation of why I think it's important to use it, and why I wouldn't hesitate to apply it to myself and pretty much everyone I know.

feminism n (1895) 1 : the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes 2: organized activity on behalf of women's rights and interests — feminist n or adj — feministic adj

Above, the dictionary definition of feminism — the entire dictionary definition of feminism. It is quite straightforward and concise. If you believe in, support, look fondly on, hope for, and/or work towards equality of the sexes, you are a feminist. 

Yes, you are. 

The definition of feminism does not ask for two forms of photo ID. It does not care what you look like. It does not care what color skin you have, or whether that skin is clear, or how much you weigh, or what you do with your hair. You can bite your nails, or you can get them done once a week. You can spend two hours on your makeup, or five minutes, or the time it takes to find a Chapstick without any lint sticking to it. You can rock a cord mini, or khakis, or a sari, and you can layer all three. The definition of feminism does not include a mandatory leg-hair check; wax on, wax off, whatever you want. If you believe in, support, look fondly on, hope for, and/or work towards equality of the sexes, you are a feminist. 

Yes, you are. 

The definition of feminism does not mention a membership fee or a graduated tax or "…unless you got your phone turned off by mistake." Rockefellers, the homeless, bad credit, no credit, no problem. If you believe in, support, look fondly on, hope for, and/or work towards equality of the sexes, you are a feminist. 

Yes, you are. 

The definition of feminism does not require a diploma or other proof of graduation. It is not reserved for those who teach women's studies classes, or to those who majored in women's studies, or to those who graduated from college, or to those who graduated from high school, or to those who graduated from Brownie to Girl Scout. It doesn't care if you went to Princeton or the school of hard knocks. You can have a PhD, or a GED, or a degree in mixology, or a library card, or all of the above, or none of the above. You don't have to write a twenty-page paper on Valerie Solanas's use of satire in The S.C.U.M. Manifesto, and if you do write it, you don't have to get better than a C-plus on it. You can really believe math is hard, or you can teach math. You don't have to take a test to get in. You don't have to speak English. If you believe in, support, look fondly on, hope for, and/or work towards equality of the sexes, you are a feminist. 

Yes, you are. 

The definition of feminism is not an insurance policy; it doesn't exclude anyone based on age. It doesn't have a "you must be this tall to ride the ride" sign on it anywhere. It doesn't specify how you get from place to place, so whether you use or a walker or a stroller or a skateboard or a carpool, if you believe in, support, look fondly on, hope for, and/or work towards equality of the sexes, you are a feminist. 

Yes, you are. 

The definition of feminism does not tell you how to vote or what to think. You can vote Republican or Libertarian or Socialist or "I like that guy's hair." You can bag voting entirely. You can believe whatever you like about child-care subsidies, drafting women, fiscal accountability, Anita Hill, environmental law, property taxes, Ann Coulter, interventionist politics, soft money, gay marriage, tort reform, decriminalization of marijuana, gun control, affirmative action, and why that pothole at the end of the street still isn't fixed. You can exist wherever on the choice continuum you feel comfortable. You can feel ambivalent about Hillary Clinton. You can like the ERA in theory, but dread getting drafted in practice. The definition does not stipulate any of that. The definition does not stipulate anything at all, except itself. If you believe in, support, look fondly on, hope for, and/or work towards equality of the sexes, you are a feminist. 

Yes, you are. 

The definition of feminism does not judge your lifestyle. You like girls, you like boys, doesn't matter. You eat meat, you don't eat meat, you don't eat meat or dairy, you don't eat fast food, doesn't matter. You can get married, and you can change your name or keep the one your parents gave you, doesn't matter. You can have kids, you can stay home with them or not, you can hate kids, doesn't matter. You can stay a virgin or you can boink everyone in sight, doesn't matter. It's not in the definition. If you believe in, support, look fondly on, hope for, and/or work towards equality of the sexes, you are a feminist. 

Yes, you are. 

Yes. You are. You are a feminist. If you believe in, support, look fondly on, hope for, and/or work towards equality of the sexes, you are a feminist. Period. It's more complicated than that — of course it is. And yet…it's exactly that simple. It has nothing to do with your sexual preference or your sense of humor or your fashion sense or your charitable donations, or what pronouns you use in official correspondence, or whether you think Andrea Dworkin is full of crap, or how often you read Bust or Ms. — or, actually, whether you've got a vagina. In the end, it's not about that. It is about political, economic, and social equality of the sexes, and it is about claiming that definition on its own terms, instead of qualifying it because you don't want anyone to think that you don't shave your pits. It is about saying that you are a feminist and just letting the statement sit there, instead of feeling a compulsion to modify it immediately with "but not, you know, that kind of feminist" because you don't want to come off all Angry Girl. It is about understanding that liking Oprah and Chanel doesn't make you a "bad" feminist — that only "liking" the wage gap makes you a "bad" feminist, because "bad" does not enter into the definition of feminism. It is about knowing that, if folks can't grab a dictionary and see for themselves that the entry for "feminism" doesn't say anything about hating men or chick flicks or any of that crap, it's their problem. 

It is about knowing that a woman is the equal of a man in art, at work, and under the law, whether you say it out loud or not — but for God's sake start saying it out loud already. You are a feminist. 

I am a feminist too. Look it up.

Original link here.


These issues seem to be in the news a lot at the moment, arising from the slut walk phenomenon, the discussions following Ken Clarke's rape comment (which Sally at Sow and Sew has covered a lot more eloquently than I could ever dream of), and then the concept of benevolent sexism being discussed on Radio Four last night. 


I don't know the answers, but I know it's important to think about. And I'm off to do just that, probably whilst riding my (man's) bike to meet my boyfriend for supper, to which I'll wear a (girly) frock. Because I can.


(And because it's his birthday. Happy Birthday best-beloved!)

Holiday reading

Howling Fantods and Baggy Monsters

About nine hundred years ago I started reading Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace. I still haven't finished it. Last year I read 73 books (yes, I kept a list) but this one has taken me two and half months and I'm still only halfway though.


It's a beast.


I've even been reading other books. I never do that. I'm strictly a one-book-at-a-time girl. But I've found myself getting distracted and wanting something lighter (Charlaine Harris, I'm looking at you...)


It's not helped by the fact that I'm cycling more at the moment, and so don't have that valuable tube-time to read. And that I live in a social whirl, of course. But they're just excuses. Usually I can find time to read regardless of what else I'm doing.


And it's not that I don't like it. I do. It's entertaining, insightful and clever. It is, of course, also baffling, repetitive and unwieldy at times. But I've read plenty of books like that.


But then, on my way home last night, I heard a chap called Mark O'Connell talking on the PM show on Radio Four about massive novels. (Yes, I listen to Radio Four on my bike. No, it's not dangerous. Yes, I am apparently a bit of a cliché.)


It was in response to a story about boys apparently not liking to read long books and you can hear the radio programme here (starts at 45 minutes in, lasts about four minutes). He was singing the praises of 'long and difficult and intermittently frustrating' novels and explaining how, he feels, they reflect life itself; having to work out the meaning as you go along and rarely having a definitive answer, sometimes full of 'riveting digression and interminable dead-ends'.


He also mentioned a quote from Henry James which I liked, comparing Tolstoy's works to 'large, loose, baggy monsters'. But that, rather than being afraid of them, readers should be prepared to 'blaze a path into the unknown in pursuit of these fantastic monsters.'


His enthusiasm inspired me to return to my copy of Infinite Jest, which had been staring at me balefully from the kitchen table and making me feel guilty every time I walked past. 


And I will finish it. Promise.


In the meantime, though, here's my not-very-artistic interpretation of a Howling Fantod, a word invented by Foster Wallace which is sort of interchangeable with the heebie jeebies, the screaming abdabs or, for Buffy fans, the wiggins.

Oh, and this made me laugh: People Holding Infinite Jest.

The Return of the Soldier, Rebecca West

Yes, I am still reading Infinite Jest. But it's a beast. And too heavy to carry about with me. Someone gave me a copy of this the other day and it's short with a surprisingly big font, so I read it in the bath the other night.


As I said, it's very short and feels more like a little glimpse into the lives of the characters rather than a fully fleshed-out novel. It's written in the first person, too, so you're very aware that you only ever see things from one person's perspective and that it lacks much background or depth.


The novel focuses around the return of the soldier, Chris, from the battlefields of the First World War to the home he shares with his wife and spinster cousin (our narrator). Chris, however, has lost his memory of the past fifteen years and thinks he is a young man still enamoured with his first love. Whilst the characters are, at times, stereotypes, the book still manages to create a delicious sense of place and time, and to make us question the realities of why we chose to love who we do, how that endures, and whether the truth is really the most important thing to cling on to.


Short book: short review.

The Corrections, Jonathan Franzen

This book had a strange effect on me. Whilst I was reading it, it seemed unendingly bleak and the characters almost entirely unlike-able and unpleasant. But, having finished it, I'm left with an impression of warmth and humour, and I find myself missing the characters like you do with people in books you wish were your friends. Very odd. (And I don't have some sort of penchant for unpleasant friends, by the way...)


The Corrections is one of those books that has been suggested as The Great American Novel (why does no one worry about The Great British Novel? Or any other country, for that matter) and follows the lives of a Mid-Western couple, the Lamberts, as they head into old age, looking back over their lives and those of their three, now grown-up children. The novel is building to a potential 'one last Christmas together', made all the more poignant as we realise the father, Alfred, is descending into dementia and his childrens' personal problems are ensuring that the last thing they want to do is spend time with their family.


As I mentioned, for at least two thirds of the novel I think I found all the characters thoroughly unpleasant and I was unable to drum up much sympathy for them or the difficult situations they had found (or created) for themselves. They all seemed predominantly selfish and self-centred and the only real reaction I felt was wanting to tell them to pull themselves together and stop whining... Possibly this is because we constantly see them through each others' eyes, so you can't help but be aware of how much hurt and damage they cause each other. I guess this could be seen as realism, but the novel seemed rather short on the moments of love and compassion that I'm sure usually temper how selfish we all can be. Or maybe I'm too optimistic.


It's obviously a testament to Franzen's writing, though, that despite the unpleasantness of his characters, I did eventually find myself warming to them. As flawed as they were, the flaws were entirely human and they felt real. Similarly, despite the family he describes being miles from anyone's ideal, the novel left me with a lasting feeling of domesticity and warmth, and craving the sort of apple-pie Americana I've never even seen in real life!


The 'corrections' in the title refer to the correction in the financial markets, which is described in the final chapter. Having this as the title seems to give the impression that the Lamberts' lives have been following an unreal or temporary path, which is 'corrected' at the end of the novel by Alfred's removal from the family as a result of his mental disintegration and then death. I find it a slightly strange idea, both that reality could need that sort of 'correction' and that the characters lives start improving as a result but without any real development or action from themselves. They were selfish and unpleasant people, but now they're going to be nicer because the thing that was making them nasty has been taken away. I guess it suggests to me a lack of personal responsibility which I find unappealing, but does also emphasise how huge an effect other people can have on us, whether accidentally or on purpose.


I enjoyed this novel, and felt it addressed lots of important ideas. But I think it left me feeling a little unsatisfied. Possibly the bleakness left more of an impression than I realised.


I've started Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace as my next book. Might be a while before there's a review of that; there are a lot of very small words and a lot of pages.

Great Apes, Will Self

I must admit, I was very wary of Will Self's novels. Whenever I've seen him on television or heard him on the radio he's seemed so frighteningly intelligent and sneery, and to have such a vast vocabulary, that I couldn't help but think that his books would be impenetrable. And probably not much fun.


But, for some reason, I picked up How the Dead Live last year and really enjoyed it, which prompted me to read Great Apes as my first List book of 2011. He does really have an immense vocabulary (I found having a dictionary to hand quite useful) and both of these books are very clever, but I couldn't describe them as impenetrable. Self is very able to pick up the quirks and idiosyncrasies in people and use them to make his characters almost painfully life-like. Not always very likeable, but always familiar and relate-to-able.


Great Apes focuses on Simon, a high-living artist in London in the '90s who wakes up one morning to find himself in what I guess could be termed an alternate reality, where chimpanzees instead of humans have been evolutionarily dominant. The world he finds himself in is almost identical to the one he left, except that all the 'people' are chimpanzees instead of humans, with a social structure based on that of the chimpanzees.... cue lots of grooming, references to bottoms and the marvellous concept of a 'second breakfast'.


I felt that one of the major successes of this novel was the language and style Self uses. His chimps communicate via a mixture of verbal sounds and sign language, and this is expressed with the sentences (that would be signed) interspersed with the verbal sounds: 


"HoooGrnn," Paul vocalised, then gestured to Simon, 'Now Simon, we're not going to hurt you -' 


At first I found this quite hard to read, the unfamiliar word/sounds upset the flow of the sentences and kept 'jarring'. But as the book develops, it gradually became more natural and understandable, which seemed to perfectly mirror Simon's gradual acceptance of his 'chimpunity'; as I found the chimp world easier to read and understand, so Simon came to terms with his new body and habits and so I was rooting for him to accept it.


The easy, obvious, subtext to the novel is that of a satire. People are like monkeys,  making us aware of how beasty we can be at times, and how the chimps' way of doing things might make more 'logical' sense. But that would be little more than a short story, whereas this managed to both make me aware of 'issues' whilst still being entertaining and engaging. Self seems aware of this, though, as the last exchange between his main characters questions whether the 'conviction that you (Simon) were human and that the evolutionarily successful primate was the human was more in the manner of a satirical trope'? The question isn't answered.

Raise the Titanic! - Clive Cussler

Just to contrast nicely with The List and all its literary pretensions, I think the first book I shall devote a blog post to is going to be Raise the Titanic! by Clive Cussler.

Firstly, whilst I will read most things quite happily, I'll admit that this was a slightly unusual choice for me. However, as a child I was the victim of a fairly weighty obsession with the Titanic (blame my father for showing me A Night to Remember when I was three...) and still find it hard to pass by anything that mentions it. This was, I hasten to add, before the DiCaprio/Winslet/Dion love-in (I'm so ahead of the trends) and also resulted in my persuading my long-suffering maths teacher to let me do my GCSE maths course work on it. 

Anyway, obsession notwithstanding, this is Not A Very Good Book. I'd find it hard to say it's even a moderately good book. It's page-turning in places, but far too stuffed with 'characters' who are mostly just stereotypes and who don't seem to add much to the story, and bubbling with casual sexism and racism that I couldn't help but wince at. I think it probably works best now as a period piece, and there were definitely moments where I was reminded to be glad that I was born in the 80s rather than the 50s. I rather doubt that was Mr Cussler's intention in writing it though.

Whys and wherefores of The List

I have a friend who, when we first met, mentioned this list of books he was reading from. 1001 books, to be precise, from a(nother) book called, not surprisingly, 1001 Books to Read Before You Die by a chap called Peter Boxall.

Now, usually lists of things to do before I expire fill me with horror. It seems very unlikely that I'll manage more than a paltry amount, and even less likely that I'll want to do/see/eat/hear the vast majority of them.

But books... that was a slightly different kettle of fishes. Especially once we found a useful spreadsheet (that can be found, and downloaded, here)where you can keep track of what you've read and how many you've still got to squeeze in before clogs can even consider being popped.

Of course Mr Boxall, doubtlessly with an eye on his pension fund, released a newer version in 2008 which has a very different selection of books on it. I have chosen to mostly ignore this development. Please don't mention it.

So, it's not supposed to be the bestest books in the history of the world, ever. It's supposed (apparently) to track the progression of the novel. And no, I don't stick to it religiously and I don't think that reading all these books will make me a better person. But it is nice to have a resource to look at when faced with the eternal 'what shall I read' question, other than the current selection in Waterstone's 342 or whatever's tickling Richard and Judy's fancy. And I've come across some marvellous novels and authors that, otherwise, I'm quite sure I would never have heard of.

As of today, I'm at 303. I aim to get through about fifty list books a year, and then some others on top of that.

(Don't tell anyone, though, but I haven't even finished one yet this year. And it's nearly February. Hopefully this blog will kick me out of my reading slump.)

The List - 1001 Books

So, this is  The List. I'll write another post about the whys and wherefores as I think this one's quite long enough already. Suffice to say, the ones in bold are those I've read so far...

Never Let Me Go Kazuo Ishiguro 

Saturday Ian McEwan 

On Beauty Zadie Smith
Slow Man J.M. Coetzee
Adjunct: An Undigest Peter Manson
The Sea John Banville
The Red Queen Margaret Drabble
The Plot Against America Philip Roth
The Master Colm Tóibín
Vanishing Point David Markson
The Lambs of London Peter Ackroyd
Dining on Stones Iain Sinclair
Cloud Atlas David Mitchell
Drop City T. Coraghessan Boyle
The Colour Rose Tremain
Thursbitch Alan Garner
The Light of Day Graham Swift
What I Loved Siri Hustvedt
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time Mark Haddon
Islands Dan Sleigh
Elizabeth Costello J.M. Coetzee
London Orbital Iain Sinclair
Family Matters Rohinton Mistry
Fingersmith Sarah Waters
The Double José Saramago
Everything is Illuminated Jonathan Safran Foer
Unless Carol Shields
Kafka on the Shore Haruki Murakami
The Story of Lucy Gault William Trevor
That They May Face the Rising Sun John McGahern
In the Forest Edna O’Brien
Shroud John Banville
Middlesex Jeffrey Eugenides
Youth J.M. Coetzee
Dead Air Iain Banks
Nowhere Man Aleksandar Hemon
The Book of Illusions Paul Auster
Gabriel’s Gift Hanif Kureishi
Austerlitz W.G. Sebald
Platform Michael Houellebecq
Schooling Heather McGowan
Atonement Ian McEwan
The Corrections Jonathan Franzen
Don’t Move Margaret Mazzantini
The Body Artist Don DeLillo
Fury Salman Rushdie
At Swim, Two Boys Jamie O’Neill
Choke Chuck Palahniuk
Life of Pi Yann Martel
The Feast of the Goat Mario Vargas Llosa
An Obedient Father Akhil Sharma
The Devil and Miss Prym Paulo Coelho
Spring Flowers, Spring Frost Ismail Kadare
White Teeth Zadie Smith
The Heart of Redness Zakes Mda
Under the Skin Michel Faber
Ignorance Milan Kundera
Nineteen Seventy Seven David Peace
Celestial Harmonies Péter Esterházy
City of God E.L. Doctorow
How the Dead Live Will Self
The Human Stain Philip Roth
The Blind Assassin Margaret Atwood
After the Quake Haruki Murakami
Small Remedies Shashi Deshpande
Super-Cannes J.G. Ballard
House of Leaves Mark Z. Danielewski
Blonde Joyce Carol Oates
Pastoralia George Saunders
Timbuktu Paul Auster
The Romantics Pankaj Mishra
Cryptonomicon Neal Stephenson
As If I Am Not There Slavenka Drakulic
Everything You Need A.L. Kennedy
Fear and Trembling Amélie Nothomb
The Ground Beneath Her Feet Salman Rushdie
Disgrace J.M. Coetzee
Sputnik Sweetheart Haruki Murakami
Elementary Particles Michel Houellebecq
Intimacy Hanif Kureishi
Amsterdam Ian McEwan
Cloudsplitter Russell Banks
All Souls Day Cees Nooteboom
The Talk of the Town Ardal O’Hanlon
Tipping the Velvet Sarah Waters
The Poisonwood Bible Barbara Kingsolver
Glamorama Bret Easton Ellis
Another World Pat Barker
The Hours Michael Cunningham
Veronika Decides to Die Paulo Coelho
Mason & Dixon Thomas Pynchon
The God of Small Things Arundhati Roy
Memoirs of a Geisha Arthur Golden
Great Apes Will Self
Enduring Love Ian McEwan
Underworld Don DeLillo
Jack Maggs Peter Carey
The Life of Insects Victor Pelevin
American Pastoral Philip Roth
The Untouchable John Banville
Silk Alessandro Baricco
Cocaine Nights J.G. Ballard
Hallucinating Foucault Patricia Duncker
Fugitive Pieces Anne Michaels
The Ghost Road Pat Barker
Forever a Stranger Hella Haasse
Infinite Jest David Foster Wallace
The Clay Machine-Gun Victor Pelevin
Alias Grace Margaret Atwood
The Unconsoled Kazuo Ishiguro
Morvern Callar Alan Warner
The Information Martin Amis
The Moor’s Last Sigh Salman Rushdie
Sabbath’s Theater Philip Roth
The Rings of Saturn W.G. Sebald
The Reader Bernhard Schlink
A Fine Balance Rohinton Mistry
Love’s Work Gillian Rose
The End of the Story Lydia Davis
Mr. Vertigo Paul Auster
The Folding Star Alan Hollinghurst
Whatever Michel Houellebecq
Land Park Kyong-ni
The Master of Petersburg J.M. Coetzee
The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle Haruki Murakami
Pereira Declares: A Testimony Antonio Tabucchi
City Sister Silver Jàchym Topol
How Late It Was, How Late James Kelman
Captain Corelli’s Mandolin Louis de Bernieres
Felicia’s Journey William Trevor
Disappearance David Dabydeen
The Invention of Curried Sausage Uwe Timm
The Shipping News E. Annie Proulx
Trainspotting Irvine Welsh
Birdsong Sebastian Faulks
Looking for the Possible Dance A.L. Kennedy
Operation Shylock Philip Roth
Complicity Iain Banks
On Love Alain de Botton
What a Carve Up! Jonathan Coe
A Suitable Boy Vikram Seth
The Stone Diaries Carol Shields
The Virgin Suicides Jeffrey Eugenides
The House of Doctor Dee Peter Ackroyd
The Robber Bride Margaret Atwood
The Emigrants W.G. Sebald
The Secret History Donna Tartt
Life is a Caravanserai Emine Özdamar
The Discovery of Heaven Harry Mulisch
A Heart So White Javier Marias
Possessing the Secret of Joy Alice Walker
Indigo Marina Warner
The Crow Road Iain Banks
Written on the Body Jeanette Winterson
Jazz Toni Morrison
The English Patient Michael Ondaatje
Smilla’s Sense of Snow Peter Høeg
The Butcher Boy Patrick McCabe
Black Water Joyce Carol Oates
The Heather Blazing Colm Tóibín
Asphodel Hilda Doolittle
Black Dogs Ian McEwan
Hideous Kinky Esther Freud
Arcadia Jim Crace
Wild Swans Jung Chang
American Psycho Bret Easton Ellis
Time’s Arrow Martin Amis
Mao II Don DeLillo
Typical Padgett Powell
Regeneration Pat Barker
Downriver Iain Sinclair
Señor Vivo and the Coca Lord Louis de Bernieres
Wise Children Angela Carter
Get Shorty Elmore Leonard
Amongst Women John McGahern
Vineland Thomas Pynchon
Vertigo W.G. Sebald
Stone Junction Jim Dodge
The Music of Chance Paul Auster
The Things They Carried Tim O’Brien
A Home at the End of the World Michael Cunningham
Like Life Lorrie Moore
Possession A.S. Byatt
The Buddha of Suburbia Hanif Kureishi
The Midnight Examiner William Kotzwinkle
A Disaffection James Kelman
Sexing the Cherry Jeanette Winterson
Moon Palace Paul Auster
Billy Bathgate E.L. Doctorow
Remains of the Day Kazuo Ishiguro
The Melancholy of Resistance László Krasznahorkai
The Temple of My Familiar Alice Walker
The Trick is to Keep Breathing Janice Galloway
The History of the Siege of Lisbon José Saramago
Like Water for Chocolate Laura Esquivel
A Prayer for Owen Meany John Irving
London Fields Martin Amis
The Book of Evidence John Banville
Cat’s Eye Margaret Atwood
Foucault’s Pendulum Umberto Eco
The Beautiful Room is Empty Edmund White
Wittgenstein’s Mistress David Markson
The Satanic Verses Salman Rushdie
The Swimming-Pool Library Alan Hollinghurst
Oscar and Lucinda Peter Carey
Libra Don DeLillo
The Player of Games Iain M. Banks
Nervous Conditions Tsitsi Dangarembga
The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul Douglas Adams
Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency Douglas Adams
The Radiant Way Margaret Drabble
The Afternoon of a Writer Peter Handke
The Black Dahlia James Ellroy
The Passion Jeanette Winterson
The Pigeon Patrick Süskind
The Child in Time Ian McEwan
Cigarettes Harry Mathews
The Bonfire of the Vanities Tom Wolfe
The New York Trilogy Paul Auster
World’s End T. Coraghessan Boyle
Enigma of Arrival V.S. Naipaul
The Taebek Mountains Jo Jung-rae
Beloved Toni Morrison
Anagrams Lorrie Moore
Matigari Ngugi wa Thiong'o
Marya Joyce Carol Oates
Watchmen Alan/David Moore/Gibbons
The Old Devils Kingsley Amis
Lost Language of Cranes David Leavitt
An Artist of the Floating World Kazuo Ishiguro
Extinction Thomas Bernhard
Foe J.M. Coetzee
The Drowned and the Saved Primo Levi
Reasons to Live Amy Hempel
The Parable of the Blind Gert Hofmann
Love in the Time of Cholera Gabriel García Márquez
Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit Jeanette Winterson
The Cider House Rules John Irving
A Maggot John Fowles
Less Than Zero Bret Easton Ellis
Contact Carl Sagan
The Handmaid’s Tale Margaret Atwood
Perfume Patrick Süskind
Old Masters Thomas Bernhard
White Noise Don DeLillo
Queer William Burroughs
Hawksmoor Peter Ackroyd
Legend David Gemmell
Dictionary of the Khazars Milorad Pavic
The Bus Conductor Hines James Kelman
The Year of the Death of Ricardo Reis José Saramago
The Lover Marguerite Duras
Empire of the Sun J.G. Ballard
The Wasp Factory Iain Banks
Nights at the Circus Angela Carter
The Unbearable Lightness of Being Milan Kundera
Blood and Guts in High School Kathy Acker
Neuromancer William Gibson
Flaubert’s Parrot Julian Barnes
Money: A Suicide Note Martin Amis
Shame Salman Rushdie
Worstward Ho Samuel Beckett
Fools of Fortune William Trevor
La Brava Elmore Leonard
Waterland Graham Swift
The Life and Times of Michael K J.M. Coetzee
The Diary of Jane Somers Doris Lessing
The Piano Teacher Elfriede Jelinek
The Sorrow of Belgium Hugo Claus
If Not Now, When? Primo Levi
A Boy’s Own Story Edmund White
The Color Purple Alice Walker
Wittgenstein’s Nephew Thomas Bernhard
A Pale View of Hills Kazuo Ishiguro
Schindler’s Ark Thomas Keneally
The House of the Spirits Isabel Allende
The Newton Letter John Banville
On the Black Hill Bruce Chatwin
Concrete Thomas Bernhard
The Names Don DeLillo
Rabbit is Rich John Updike
Lanark: A Life in Four Books Alasdair Gray
The Comfort of Strangers Ian McEwan
July’s People Nadine Gordimer
Summer in Baden-Baden Leonid Tsypkin
Broken April Ismail Kadare
Waiting for the Barbarians J.M. Coetzee
Midnight’s Children Salman Rushdie
Rites of Passage William Golding
Rituals Cees Nooteboom
Confederacy of Dunces John Kennedy Toole
City Primeval Elmore Leonard
The Name of the Rose Umberto Eco
The Book of Laughter and Forgetting Milan Kundera
Smiley’s People John Le Carré
Shikasta Doris Lessing
A Bend in the River V.S. Naipaul
Burger’s Daughter Nadine Gordimer
The Safety Net Heinrich Böll
If On a Winter’s Night a Traveler Italo Calvino
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Douglas Adams
The Cement Garden Ian McEwan
The World According to Garp John Irving
Life: A User’s Manual Georges Perec
The Sea, The Sea Iris Murdoch
The Singapore Grip J.G. Farrell
Yes Thomas Bernhard
The Virgin in the Garden A.S. Byatt
In the Heart of the Country J.M. Coetzee
The Passion of New Eve Angela Carter
Delta of Venus Anaïs Nin
The Shining Stephen King
Dispatches Michael Herr
Petals of Blood Ngugi wa Thiong'o
Song of Solomon Toni Morrison
The Hour of the Star Clarice Lispector
The Left-Handed Woman Peter Handke
Ratner’s Star Don DeLillo
The Public Burning Robert Coover
Interview With the Vampire Anne Rice
Cutter and Bone Newton Thornburg
Amateurs Donald Barthelme
Patterns of Childhood Christa Wolf
Autumn of the Patriarch Gabriel García Márquez
W, or the Memory of childhood Georges Perec
A Dance to the Music of Time Anthony Powell
Grimus Salman Rushdie
The Dead Father Donald Barthelme
Fateless Imre Kertész
Willard and His Bowling Trophies Richard Brautigan
High Rise J.G. Ballard
Humboldt’s Gift Saul Bellow
Dead Babies Martin Amis
Correction Thomas Bernhard
Ragtime E.L. Doctorow
The Fan Man William Kotzwinkle
Dusklands J.M. Coetzee
The Lost Honor of Katharina Blum Heinrich Böll
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy John Le Carré
Breakfast of Champions Kurt Vonnegut
Fear of Flying Erica Jong
A Question of Power Bessie Head
The Siege of Krishnapur J.G. Farrell
The Castle of Crossed Destinies Italo Calvino
Crash J.G. Ballard
The Honorary Consul Graham Greene
Gravity’s Rainbow Thomas Pynchon
The Black Prince Iris Murdoch
Sula Toni Morrison
Invisible Cities Italo Calvino
The Breast Philip Roth
The Summer Book Tove Jansson
G John Berger
Surfacing Margaret Atwood
House Mother Normal B.S. Johnson
In A Free State V.S. Naipaul
The Book of Daniel E.L. Doctorow
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas Hunter S. Thompson
Group Portrait With Lady Heinrich Böll
The Wild Boys William Burroughs
Rabbit Redux John Updike
The Sea of Fertility Yukio Mishima
The Driver’s Seat Muriel Spark
The Ogre Michael Tournier
The Bluest Eye Toni Morrison
Goalie’s Anxiety at the Penalty Kick Peter Handke
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings Maya Angelou
Mercier et Camier Samuel Beckett
Troubles J.G. Farrell
Jahrestage Uwe Johnson
The Atrocity Exhibition J.G. Ballard
Tent of Miracles Jorge Amado
Pricksongs and Descants Robert Coover
Blind Man With a Pistol Chester Hines
Slaughterhouse Five Kurt Vonnegut
The French Lieutenant’s Woman John Fowles
The Green Man Kingsley Amis
Portnoy’s Complaint Philip Roth
The Godfather Mario Puzo
Ada Vladimir Nabokov
Them Joyce Carol Oates
A Void/Avoid Georges Perec
Eva Trout Elizabeth Bowen
Myra Breckinridge Gore Vidal
The Nice and the Good Iris Murdoch
Belle du Seigneur Albert Cohen
Cancer Ward Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
The First Circle Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
2001: A Space Odyssey Arthur C. Clarke
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? Philip K. Dick
Dark as the Grave Wherein My Friend is Laid Malcolm Lowry
The German Lesson Siegfried Lenz
In Watermelon Sugar Richard Brautigan
A Kestrel for a Knave Barry Hines
The Quest for Christa T. Christa Wolf
Chocky John Wyndham
The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test Tom Wolfe
The Cubs and Other Stories Mario Vargas Llosa
One Hundred Years of Solitude Gabriel García Márquez
The Master and Margarita Mikhail Bulgakov
Pilgrimage Dorothy Richardson
The Joke Milan Kundera
No Laughing Matter Angus Wilson
The Third Policeman Flann O’Brien
A Man Asleep Georges Perec
The Birds Fall Down Rebecca West
Trawl B.S. Johnson
In Cold Blood Truman Capote
The Magus John Fowles
The Vice-Consul Marguerite Duras
Wide Sargasso Sea Jean Rhys
Giles Goat-Boy John Barth
The Crying of Lot 49 Thomas Pynchon
Things Georges Perec
The River Between Ngugi wa Thiong’o
August is a Wicked Month Edna O’Brien
God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater Kurt Vonnegut
Everything That Rises Must Converge Flannery O’Connor
The Passion According to G.H. Clarice Lispector
Sometimes a Great Notion Ken Kesey
Come Back, Dr. Caligari Donald Bartholme
Albert Angelo B.S. Johnson
Arrow of God Chinua Achebe
The Ravishing of Lol V. Stein Marguerite Duras
Herzog Saul Bellow
V. Thomas Pynchon
Cat’s Cradle Kurt Vonnegut
The Graduate Charles Webb
Manon des Sources Marcel Pagnol
The Spy Who Came in from the Cold John Le Carré
The Girls of Slender Means Muriel Spark
Inside Mr. Enderby Anthony Burgess
The Bell Jar Sylvia Plath
One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
The Collector John Fowles
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest Ken Kesey
A Clockwork Orange Anthony Burgess
Pale Fire Vladimir Nabokov
The Drowned World J.G. Ballard
The Golden Notebook Doris Lessing
Labyrinths Jorge Luis Borges
Girl With Green Eyes Edna O’Brien
The Garden of the Finzi-Continis Giorgio Bassani
Stranger in a Strange Land Robert Heinlein
Franny and Zooey J.D. Salinger
A Severed Head Iris Murdoch
Faces in the Water Janet Frame
Solaris Stanislaw Lem
Cat and Mouse Günter Grass
The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie Muriel Spark
Catch-22 Joseph Heller
The Violent Bear it Away Flannery O’Connor
How It Is Samuel Beckett
Our Ancestors Italo Calvino
The Country Girls Edna O’Brien
To Kill a Mockingbird Harper Lee
Rabbit, Run John Updike
Promise at Dawn Romain Gary
Cider With Rosie Laurie Lee
Billy Liar Keith Waterhouse
Naked Lunch William Burroughs
The Tin Drum Günter Grass
Absolute Beginners Colin MacInnes
Henderson the Rain King Saul Bellow
Memento Mori Muriel Spark
Billiards at Half-Past Nine Heinrich Böll
Breakfast at Tiffany’s Truman Capote
The Leopard Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa
Pluck the Bud and Destroy the Offspring Kenzaburo Oe
A Town Like Alice Nevil Shute
The Bitter Glass Eilís Dillon
Things Fall Apart Chinua Achebe
Saturday Night and Sunday Morning Alan Sillitoe
Mrs. ‘Arris Goes to Paris Paul Gallico
Borstal Boy Brendan Behan
The End of the Road John Barth
The Once and Future King T.H. White
The Bell Iris Murdoch
Jealousy Alain Robbe-Grillet
Voss Patrick White
The Midwich Cuckoos John Wyndham
Blue Noon Georges Bataille
Homo Faber Max Frisch
On the Road Jack Kerouac
Pnin Vladimir Nabokov
Doctor Zhivago Boris Pasternak
The Wonderful “O” James Thurber
Justine Lawrence Durrell
Giovanni’s Room James Baldwin
The Lonely Londoners Sam Selvon
The Roots of Heaven Romain Gary
Seize the Day Saul Bellow
The Floating Opera John Barth
The Lord of the Rings J.R.R. Tolkien
The Talented Mr. Ripley Patricia Highsmith
Lolita Vladimir Nabokov
A World of Love Elizabeth Bowen
The Trusting and the Maimed James Plunkett
The Quiet American Graham Greene
The Last Temptation of Christ Nikos Kazantzákis
The Recognitions William Gaddis
The Ragazzi Pier Paulo Pasolini
Bonjour Tristesse Françoise Sagan
I’m Not Stiller Max Frisch
Self Condemned Wyndham Lewis
The Story of O Pauline Réage
A Ghost at Noon Alberto Moravia
Lord of the Flies William Golding
Under the Net Iris Murdoch
The Go-Between L.P. Hartley
The Long Goodbye Raymond Chandler
The Unnamable Samuel Beckett
Watt Samuel Beckett
Lucky Jim Kingsley Amis
Junkie William Burroughs
The Adventures of Augie March Saul Bellow
Go Tell It on the Mountain James Baldwin
Casino Royale Ian Fleming
The Judge and His Hangman Friedrich Dürrenmatt
Invisible Man Ralph Ellison
The Old Man and the Sea Ernest Hemingway
Wise Blood Flannery O’Connor
The Killer Inside Me Jim Thompson
Memoirs of Hadrian Marguerite Yourcenar
Malone Dies Samuel Beckett
Day of the Triffids John Wyndham
Foundation Isaac Asimov
The Opposing Shore Julien Gracq
The Catcher in the Rye J.D. Salinger
The Rebel Albert Camus
Molloy Samuel Beckett
The End of the Affair Graham Greene
The Abbot C Georges Bataille
The Labyrinth of Solitude Octavio Paz
The Third Man Graham Greene
The 13 Clocks James Thurber
Gormenghast Mervyn Peake
The Grass is Singing Doris Lessing
I, Robot Isaac Asimov
The Moon and the Bonfires Cesare Pavese
The Garden Where the Brass Band Played Simon Vestdijk
Love in a Cold Climate Nancy Mitford
The Case of Comrade Tulayev Victor Serge
The Heat of the Day Elizabeth Bowen
Kingdom of This World Alejo Carpentier
The Man With the Golden Arm Nelson Algren
Nineteen Eighty-Four George Orwell
All About H. Hatterr G.V. Desani
Disobedience Alberto Moravia
Death Sentence Maurice Blanchot
The Heart of the Matter Graham Greene
Cry, the Beloved Country Alan Paton
Doctor Faustus Thomas Mann
The Victim Saul Bellow
Exercises in Style Raymond Queneau
If This Is a Man Primo Levi
Under the Volcano Malcolm Lowry
The Path to the Nest of Spiders Italo Calvino
The Plague Albert Camus
Back Henry Green
Titus Groan Mervyn Peake
The Bridge on the Drina Ivo Andrić
Brideshead Revisited Evelyn Waugh
Animal Farm George Orwell
Cannery Row John Steinbeck
The Pursuit of Love Nancy Mitford
Loving Henry Green
Arcanum 17 André Breton
Christ Stopped at Eboli Carlo Levi
The Razor’s Edge W. Somerset Maugham
Transit Anna Seghers
Ficciones Jorge Luis Borges
Dangling Man Saul Bellow
The Little Prince Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Caught Henry Green
The Glass Bead Game Herman Hesse
Embers Sandor Marai
Go Down, Moses William Faulkner
The Outsider Albert Camus
In Sicily Elio Vittorini
The Poor Mouth Flann O’Brien
The Living and the Dead Patrick White
Hangover Square Patrick Hamilton
Between the Acts Virginia Woolf
The Hamlet William Faulkner
Farewell My Lovely Raymond Chandler
For Whom the Bell Tolls Ernest Hemingway
Native Son Richard Wright
The Power and the Glory Graham Greene
The Tartar Steppe Dino Buzzati
Party Going Henry Green
The Grapes of Wrath John Steinbeck
Finnegans Wake James Joyce
At Swim-Two-Birds Flann O’Brien
Coming Up for Air George Orwell
Goodbye to Berlin Christopher Isherwood
Tropic of Capricorn Henry Miller
Good Morning, Midnight Jean Rhys
The Big Sleep Raymond Chandler
After the Death of Don Juan Sylvie Townsend Warner
Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day Winifred Watson
Nausea Jean-Paul Sartre
Rebecca Daphne du Maurier
Cause for Alarm Eric Ambler
Brighton Rock Graham Greene
U.S.A. John Dos Passos
Murphy Samuel Beckett
Of Mice and Men John Steinbeck
Their Eyes Were Watching God Zora Neale Hurston
The Hobbit J.R.R. Tolkien
The Years Virginia Woolf
In Parenthesis David Jones
The Revenge for Love Wyndham Lewis
Out of Africa Isak Dineson
To Have and Have Not Ernest Hemingway
Summer Will Show Sylvia Townsend Warner
Eyeless in Gaza Aldous Huxley
The Thinking Reed Rebecca West
Gone With the Wind Margaret Mitchell
Keep the Aspidistra Flying George Orwell
Wild Harbour Ian MacPherson
Absalom, Absalom! William Faulkner
At the Mountains of Madness H.P. Lovecraft
Nightwood Djuna Barnes
Independent People Halldór Laxness
Auto-da-Fé Elias Canetti
The Last of Mr. Norris Christopher Isherwood
They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? Horace McCoy
The House in Paris Elizabeth Bowen
England Made Me Graham Greene
Burmese Days George Orwell
The Nine Tailors Dorothy L. Sayers
Threepenny Novel Bertolt Brecht
Novel With Cocaine M. Ageyev
The Postman Always Rings Twice James M. Cain
Tropic of Cancer Henry Miller
A Handful of Dust Evelyn Waugh
Tender is the Night F. Scott Fitzgerald
Thank You, Jeeves P.G. Wodehouse
Call it Sleep Henry Roth
Miss Lonelyhearts Nathanael West
Murder Must Advertise Dorothy L. Sayers
The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas Gertrude Stein
Testament of Youth Vera Brittain
A Day Off Storm Jameson
The Man Without Qualities Robert Musil
A Scots Quair (Sunset Song) Lewis Grassic Gibbon
Journey to the End of the Night Louis-Ferdinand Céline
Brave New World Aldous Huxley
Cold Comfort Farm Stella Gibbons
To the North Elizabeth Bowen
The Thin Man Dashiell Hammett
The Radetzky March Joseph Roth
The Waves Virginia Woolf
The Glass Key Dashiell Hammett
Cakes and Ale W. Somerset Maugham
The Apes of God Wyndham Lewis
Her Privates We Frederic Manning
Vile Bodies Evelyn Waugh
The Maltese Falcon Dashiell Hammett
Hebdomeros Giorgio de Chirico
Passing Nella Larsen
A Farewell to Arms Ernest Hemingway
Red Harvest Dashiell Hammett
Living Henry Green
The Time of Indifference Alberto Moravia
All Quiet on the Western Front Erich Maria Remarque
Berlin Alexanderplatz Alfred Döblin
The Last September Elizabeth Bowen
Harriet Hume Rebecca West
The Sound and the Fury William Faulkner
Les Enfants Terribles Jean Cocteau
Look Homeward, Angel Thomas Wolfe
Story of the Eye Georges Bataille
Orlando Virginia Woolf
Lady Chatterley’s Lover D.H. Lawrence
The Well of Loneliness Radclyffe Hall
The Childermass Wyndham Lewis
Quartet Jean Rhys
Decline and Fall Evelyn Waugh
Quicksand Nella Larsen
Parade’s End Ford Madox Ford
Nadja André Breton
Steppenwolf Herman Hesse
Remembrance of Things Past Marcel Proust
To The Lighthouse Virginia Woolf
Tarka the Otter Henry Williamson
Amerika Franz Kafka
The Sun Also Rises Ernest Hemingway
Blindness Henry Green
The Castle Franz Kafka
The Good Soldier Švejk Jaroslav Hašek
The Plumed Serpent D.H. Lawrence
One, None and a Hundred Thousand Luigi Pirandello
The Murder of Roger Ackroyd Agatha Christie
The Making of Americans Gertrude Stein
Manhattan Transfer John Dos Passos
Mrs. Dalloway Virginia Woolf
The Great Gatsby F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Counterfeiters André Gide
The Trial Franz Kafka
The Artamonov Business Maxim Gorky
The Professor’s House Willa Cather
Billy Budd, Foretopman Herman Melville
The Green Hat Michael Arlen
The Magic Mountain Thomas Mann
We Yevgeny Zamyatin
A Passage to India E.M. Forster
The Devil in the Flesh Raymond Radiguet
Zeno’s Conscience Italo Svevo
Cane Jean Toomer
Antic Hay Aldous Huxley
Amok Stefan Zweig
The Garden Party Katherine Mansfield
The Enormous Room E.E. Cummings
Jacob’s Room Virginia Woolf
Siddhartha Herman Hesse
The Glimpses of the Moon Edith Wharton
Life and Death of Harriett Frean May Sinclair
The Last Days of Humanity Karl Kraus
Aaron’s Rod D.H. Lawrence
Babbitt Sinclair Lewis
Ulysses James Joyce
The Fox D.H. Lawrence
Crome Yellow Aldous Huxley
The Age of Innocence Edith Wharton
Main Street Sinclair Lewis
Women in Love D.H. Lawrence
Night and Day Virginia Woolf
Tarr Wyndham Lewis
The Return of the Soldier Rebecca West
The Shadow Line Joseph Conrad
Summer Edith Wharton
Growth of the Soil Knut Hamsen
Bunner Sisters Edith Wharton
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man James Joyce
Under Fire Henri Barbusse
Rashomon Akutagawa Ryunosuke
The Good Soldier Ford Madox Ford
The Voyage Out Virginia Woolf
Of Human Bondage W. Somerset Maugham
The Rainbow D.H. Lawrence
The Thirty-Nine Steps John Buchan
Kokoro Natsume Soseki
Locus Solus Raymond Roussel
Rosshalde Herman Hesse
Tarzan of the Apes Edgar Rice Burroughs
The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists Robert Tressell
Sons and Lovers D.H. Lawrence
Death in Venice Thomas Mann
The Charwoman’s Daughter James Stephens
Ethan Frome Edith Wharton
Fantômas Marcel/Pierre Allain/Souvestre
Howards End E.M. Forster
Impressions of Africa Raymond Roussel
Three Lives Gertrude Stein
Martin Eden Jack London
Strait is the Gate André Gide
Tono-Bungay H.G. Wells
The Inferno Henri Barbusse
A Room With a View E.M. Forster
The Iron Heel Jack London
The Old Wives’ Tale Arnold Bennett
The House on the Borderland Arnold Bennett
Mother Maxim Gorky
The Secret Agent Joseph Conrad
The Jungle Upton Sinclair
Young Törless Robert Musil
The Forsyte Sage John Galsworthy
The House of Mirth Edith Wharton
Professor Unrat Heinrich Mann
Where Angels Fear to Tread E.M. Forster
Nostromo Joseph Conrad
Hadrian the Seventh Frederick Rolfe
The Golden Bowl Henry James
The Ambassadors Henry James
The Riddle of the Sands Erskine Childers
The Immoralist André Gide
The Wings of the Dove Henry James
Heart of Darkness Joseph Conrad
The Hound of the Baskervilles Arthur Conan Doyle
Buddenbrooks Thomas Mann
Kim Rudyard Kipling
Sister Carrie Theodore Dreiser
Lord Jim Joseph Conrad
Some Experiences of an Irish R.M. Somerville/Ross
The Stechlin Theodore Fontane
The Awakening Kate Chopin
The Turn of the Screw Henry James
The War of the Worlds H.G. Wells
The Invisible Man H.G. Wells
What Maisie Knew Henry James
Fruits of the Earth André Gide
Dracula Bram Stoker
Quo Vadis Henryk Sienkiewicz
The Island of Dr. Moreau H.G. Wells
The Time Machine H.G. Wells
Effi Briest Theodore Fontane
Jude the Obscure Thomas Hardy
The Real Charlotte Somerville/Ross
The Yellow Wallpaper Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Born in Exile George Gissing
Diary of a Nobody George & Weedon Goldsmith
The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Arthur Conan Doyle
News from Nowhere William Morris
New Grub Street George Gissing
Gösta Berling’s Saga Selma Lagerlöf
Tess of the D’Urbervilles Thomas Hardy
The Picture of Dorian Gray Oscar Wilde
The Kreutzer Sonata Leo Tolstoy
La Bête Humaine Émile Zola
By the Open Sea August Strindberg
Hunger Knut Hamsun
The Master of Ballantrae Robert Louis Stevenson
Pierre and Jean Guy de Maupassant
Fortunata and Jacinta Benito Pérez Galdés

The People of Hemsö August Strindberg
The Woodlanders Thomas Hardy
She H. Rider Haggard
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde Robert Louis Stevenson
The Mayor of Casterbridge Thomas Hardy
Kidnapped Robert Louis Stevenson
King Solomon’s Mines H. Rider Haggard
Germinal Émile Zola
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn Mark Twain
Bel-Ami Guy de Maupassant
Marius the Epicurean Walter Pater
Against the Grain Joris-Karl Huysmans
The Death of Ivan Ilyich Leo Tolstoy
A Woman’s Life Guy de Maupassant
Treasure Island Robert Louis Stevenson
The House by the Medlar Tree Giovanni Verga
The Portrait of a Lady Henry James
Bouvard and Pécuchet Gustave Flaubert
Ben-Hur Lew Wallace
Nana Émile Zola
The Brothers Karamazov Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Red Room August Strindberg
Return of the Native Thomas Hardy
Anna Karenina Leo Tolstoy
Drunkard Émile Zola
Virgin Soil Ivan Turgenev
Daniel Deronda George Eliot
The Hand of Ethelberta Thomas Hardy
The Temptation of Saint Anthony Gustave Flaubert
Far from the Madding Crowd Thomas Hardy
The Enchanted Wanderer Nicolai Leskov
Around the World in Eighty Days Jules Verne
In a Glass Darkly Sheridan Le Fanu
The Devils Fyodor Dostoevsky
Erewhon Samuel Butler
Spring Torrents Ivan Turgenev
Middlemarch George Eliot
Through the Looking Glass Lewis Carroll
King Lear of the Steppes Ivan Turgenev
He Knew He Was Right Anthony Trollope
War and Peace Leo Tolstoy
Sentimental Education Gustave Flaubert
Phineas Finn Anthony Trollope
Maldoror Comte de Lautréaumont
The Idiot Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Moonstone Wilkie Collins
Little Women Louisa May Alcott
Thérèse Raquin Émile Zola
The Last Chronicle of Barset Anthony Trollope
Journey to the Centre of the Earth Jules Verne
Crime and Punishment Fyodor Dostoevsky
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland Lewis Carroll
Our Mutual Friend Charles Dickens
Uncle Silas Sheridan Le Fanu
Notes from the Underground Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Water-Babies Charles Kingsley
Les Misérables Victor Hugo
Fathers and Sons Ivan Turgenev
Silas Marner George Eliot
Great Expectations Charles Dickens
On the Eve Ivan Turgenev
Castle Richmond Anthony Trollope
The Mill on the Floss George Eliot
The Woman in White Wilkie Collins
The Marble Faun Nathaniel Hawthorne
Max Havelaar Multatuli
A Tale of Two Cities Charles Dickens
Oblomovka Ivan Goncharov
Adam Bede George Eliot
Madame Bovary Gustave Flaubert
North and South Elizabeth Gaskell
Hard Times Charles Dickens
Walden Henry David Thoreau
Bleak House Charles Dickens
Villette Charlotte Brontë
Cranford Elizabeth Gaskell
Uncle Tom’s Cabin; or, Life Among the Lonely Harriet Beecher Stowe
The Blithedale Romance Nathaniel Hawthorne
The House of the Seven Gables Nathaniel Hawthorne
Moby-Dick Herman Melville
The Scarlet Letter Nathaniel Hawthorne
David Copperfield Charles Dickens
Shirley Charlotte Brontë
Mary Barton Elizabeth Gaskell
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall Anne Brontë
Wuthering Heights Emily Brontë
Agnes Grey Anne Brontë
Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë
Vanity Fair William Makepeace Thackeray
The Count of Monte-Cristo Alexandre Dumas
La Reine Margot Alexandre Dumas
The Three Musketeers Alexandre Dumas
The Purloined Letter Edgar Allan Poe
Martin Chuzzlewit Charles Dickens
The Pit and the Pendulum Edgar Allan Poe
Lost Illusions Honoré de Balzac
A Christmas Carol Charles Dickens
Dead Souls Nikolay Gogol
The Charterhouse of Parma Stendhal
The Fall of the House of Usher Edgar Allan Poe
The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby Charles Dickens
Oliver Twist Charles Dickens
The Nose Nikolay Gogol
Le Père Goriot Honoré de Balzac
Eugénie Grandet Honoré de Balzac
The Hunchback of Notre Dame Victor Hugo
The Red and the Black Stendhal
The Betrothed Alessandro Manzoni
Last of the Mohicans James Fenimore Cooper
The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner James Hogg
The Albigenses Charles Robert Maturin
Melmoth the Wanderer Charles Robert Maturin
The Monastery Sir Walter Scott
Ivanhoe Sir Walter Scott
Frankenstein Mary Shelley
Northanger Abbey Jane Austen
Persuasion Jane Austen
Ormond Maria Edgeworth
Rob Roy Sir Walter Scott
Emma Jane Austen
Mansfield Park Jane Austen
Pride and Prejudice Jane Austen
The Absentee Maria Edgeworth
Sense and Sensibility Jane Austen
Elective Affinities Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Castle Rackrent Maria Edgeworth
Hyperion Friedrich Hölderlin
The Nun Denis Diderot
Camilla Fanny Burney
The Monk M.G. Lewis
Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The Mysteries of Udolpho Ann Radcliffe
The Interesting Narrative Olaudah Equiano
The Adventures of Caleb Williams William Godwin
Justine Marquis de Sade
Vathek William Beckford
The 120 Days of Sodom Marquis de Sade
Cecilia Fanny Burney
Confessions Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Dangerous Liaisons Pierre Choderlos de Laclos
Reveries of a Solitary Walker Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Evelina Fanny Burney
The Sorrows of Young Werther Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Humphrey Clinker Tobias George Smollett
The Man of Feeling Henry Mackenzie
A Sentimental Journey Laurence Sterne
Tristram Shandy Laurence Sterne
The Vicar of Wakefield Oliver Goldsmith
The Castle of Otranto Horace Walpole
Émile; or, On Education Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Rameau’s Nephew Denis Diderot
Julie; or, the New Eloise Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Rasselas Samuel Johnson
Candide Voltaire
The Female Quixote Charlotte Lennox
Amelia Henry Fielding
Peregrine Pickle Tobias George Smollett
Fanny Hill John Cleland
Tom Jones Henry Fielding
Roderick Random Tobias George Smollett
Clarissa Samuel Richardson
Pamela Samuel Richardson
Jacques the Fatalist Denis Diderot
Memoirs of Martinus Scriblerus J. Arbuthnot et al.
Joseph Andrews Henry Fielding
A Modest Proposal Jonathan Swift
Gulliver’s Travels Jonathan Swift
Roxana Daniel Defoe
Moll Flanders Daniel Defoe
Love in Excess Eliza Haywood
Robinson Crusoe Daniel Defoe
A Tale of a Tub Jonathan Swift
Oroonoko Aphra Behn
The Princess of Clèves Marie-Madelaine de Lafayatte
The Pilgrim’s Progress John Bunyan
Don Quixote Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
The Unfortunate Traveller Thomas Nashe
Euphues: The Anatomy of Wit John Lyly
Gargantua and Pantagruel Françoise Rabelais
The Thousand and One Nights Anonymous
The Golden Ass Lucius Apuleius
Aithiopika Heliodorus
Chaireas and Kallirhoe Chariton
Metamorphoses Ovid
Aesop’s Fables Aesopus