Commenter “huxley” linked this website purporting to list the greatest books. It uses an algorithm based on a a group of 130 other lists, and comes up with some obvious choices as well as some curious ones.
Even some of the obvious ones are books I’ve never been keen on. For example, I just can’t get through Jane Austen at all – despite many tries because it seems it would be the sort of thing I would like. But I just don’t, and that’s that. A big yawn for me.
Then there’s the almost universally praised The Great Gatsby (#5), which I’ve actually read several times but to no avail. Another snooze, although I do think the Gatsby character is an interesting portrait in how a person can live a lie (I recently discovered a relative of mine by marriage had a Gatsby-esque invented persona, and it was quite a shock to know that). For One Hundred Years of Solitude (#4!), I read the first chapter about ten times and then gave up. The “woke” selections on the list, such as Beloved – I couldn’t get through it. On the other hand, I liked I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings which is a memoir rather than fiction (and is #33 on their nonfiction list). I read that book when it first came out and was fresh and new.
High and proud on the list are many of my favorites: Moby Dick (#6), Catch 22 (#23), all those Russian novels, Borges, Orwell, Huxley (the one with the upper case, not the lower), the Brontes, and Lewis Carroll. But squeezed way down on the list are many of my other favorites, which apparently have fallen out of favor: Cry the Beloved Country (a beautiful and heartrending book that only reached spot #280), The Bridge of San Luis Rey (a travesty to place it way way down there at number 629), the brilliant Pale Horse Pale Rider with the ignominious placement of #1595, and the enormously moving Tell Me a Riddle weighs in not all that much better at #833.
