Life-transforming ideas have always come to me through books.
– Oliver Wendell Holmes
Books: All-Time Favorites
I can’t possibly confine my list of favorite books to five or even ten entries; I’m constantly adding to or subtracting from this list. Considering the amount of books I’ve read in my lifetime, it’s amazing this list is as short as it is!
Catherine, Called Birdy by Karen Cushman
I first read this book as a young teen, and it’s remained firmly entrenched in my list of favorite books ever since. It’s the diary of a young girl, Catherine, who lives in 13th-century England. In between struggling through the rigors of everday medieval life, driving away the endless stream of suitors who come to haggle with her father over her dowry, and doing the occasional good deed or two, Catherine ponders the meaning of life and her role in the universe. Funny without being ridiculous, poignant without being sappy, and tragic without being depressing, this book is one of the most perfectly-written books I’ve ever come across.
Crocodile on the Sandbank by Elizabeth Peters
I first read this when I was in second grade, and it got me hooked on both Egyptology and Amelia Peabody. Amelia’s like no other Victorian heroine you’ve ever come across — far from being a swooning, corseted doll, she’s a parasol-wielding, domineering spitfire, a fearless traveller and coolly efficient crime-solver. The way she relates to the other characters is both amusing and inspiring; in this, her first real adventure, she gets to face down mummies, murderers, and the irascible archaeologist Radcliffe Emerson. Setting the trend for the rest of the series, it’s both a tongue-in-cheek tribute to Victorian adventure novels and an excellent mystery in its own right.
The Curse of the Pharaohs by Elizabeth Peters
The second book in the Amelia Peabody series, this is also one of the funniest — it’s like an English manor house murder mystery, only it’s set in Egypt. The motley cast of characters is so well-drawn, you hate to close the book on them; fortunately, several of them pop up in later series entries. Lady Baskerville, in particular, is amusing — although, of course, she doesn’t intend to be so. This book also marks the introduction of one of my favorite recurring characters: Kevin O’Connell, the irrepressible Irish reporter who is always meddling in the Emersons’ affairs. The dialogue in this book is hysterically funny, as is the narration.
The Custom of the Country by Edith Wharton
The best (and darkest) of Edith Wharton’s high-society novels, this book gives us an excellent glimpse into the cutthroat world of social maneuvering in the turn-of-the-century world, where a woman’s role was defined entirely through her marriage — or, in this case, her marriages. Undine Spragg, the shallow and manipulative heroine, schemes and backstabs her way up the social ladder, using and discarding her loved ones with a callous indifference that’s both infuriating and impressive. Every time I read this, I’m torn between wanting her to succeed and wanting Fate to deliver the smackdown.
The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim
During a cold, snowy Minnesotan night, there’s nothing better than curling up with a pleasant novel about a warm and sunny place, peopled with endearing characters and laced with charming scenes and subplots. This is a perfect example of such a novel. It’s light without being flimsy, sweet but not cloying, and is written in such a charming style that you want to cut out almost every phrase to post on your bulletin board. No wonder my Favorite Quotes page is cluttered with lines from this book...
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
Fahrenheit 451 is the ultimate nightmare for book-lovers: a portrait of a repressive future society where books are banned and, if found, burned. Guy Montag is a fireman — he doesn’t put out fires, he starts them; he is one of the official book-burners, and he has never wanted to be anything else. But a young girl and an old professor change his point of view, and soon Guy has become one of the rebels himself, running from the forces of the law (and the chilling Mechanical Hound) in a desperate effort to protect his newfound knowledge. Every time I finish this book, I’m left with one giant question: which book would I memorize?
House of Sand and Fog by Andre Dubuis III
This is a modern-day Greek tragedy: the tale of a proud immigrant struggling to support his family, of a woman whose life has hit rock-bottom and who is desperately trying to put herself back together, and of a police officer who ends up more involved with these two families than he could ever have predicted. When the woman loses her house and the immigrant buys it at auction, a chain of action and reaction is triggered, and the three separate worlds clash and clash again, building up to an unbelievable climax. It’s terrible and sad and unbelievably good all at once, and it made even cynical ol’ me cry like a baby. I can’t recommend it enough.
Howards End by E. M. Forster
Like House of Sand and Fog, this story is loosely centered around a house — and, like that tale, this story plumbs the depths of human emotions, delving beneath the polite veneer of English Edwardian society into a maelstrom of repressed emotions and intellectual insights. It’s the story of three families: the rich and traditional Wilcoxes, the middle-class and intellectually liberated Schlegal sisters, and the lower-class Basts. When a friendship springs up between the eldest Schlegal sister and Mr. Wilcox’s ailing wife, the two families form a bond which eventually solidifies into a marriage between a Schlegal and a Wilcox. A “stolen” umbrella, meanwhile, leads the poor but ambitious Leonard Bast to the Schlegal house, and onto a grim path to destruction and ruin. The families separate and come together again and again, and each time their elements meet they move nearer and nearer to disaster. It’s simply told, yet unbelievably brilliant; once you’ve read it, you’ll never forget it.
The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle
I’m not sure whether to call this prose or poetry, since it’s the most poetic prose I’ve ever read. I can open it up to any page and be instantly swept into the unicorn’s magical world through the surreal and stunning prosetry — it’s like a dream, where even the strangest things make sense. This book is proof that the best fantasy isn’t always set in an intricately-detailed mythical world, like Narnia or Middle Earth; the land in this story hangs somewhere between a general modern realm and the magical kingdoms of legend. Sometimes silly, sometimes tragic, but always breathtakingly beautiful, this story is guaranteed to have something for everyone.
Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
I re-read this every year or so, and every time I pick it up I’m unable to put it down. It’s the ultimate in psychological horror, a Gothic tale for a modern world. Nobody spins a horror tale like Daphne du Maurier — the story starts out as an unlikely romance, then gradually chills and darkens into a twisted web of secrets, lies, and haunted pasts, where nothing is what it seems. And then the story really gets going...
Salamander by Thomas Wharton
An English novelty printer, an eccentric Slovakian count and his beautiful daughter, a twelve-fingered Chinese/Ethiopian boy, a girl who can breathe underwater, a black female pirate, a family of contortionists, and assorted automatons — these are only some of the myriad characters which populate this lyrical, mystical tale. There are too many plots and subplots in this book for me to even begin to sum it up; I’m afraid I’d spoil the magic if I gave too much away. Set in the 1700s and spanning the globe, this story contains tales within tales within tales, like one of the novelty printer’s magical books. Books are really what this story is all about — the physical nature of books themselves, and the worlds they contain within them. It’s not quite magical realism, but it’s definitely not reality. Fans of almost any genre will enjoy this book — and maturing Harry Potter fans who aren’t really feeling the series anymore would do well to pick this up. If I had to pick just one book to recommend to others, this would be it. (Just be sure you have a hand-mirror nearby when you’re reading, to decipher the occasional backwards-written phrase...)
