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David Copperfield – Charles Dickens

Who would have thought this day would come so soon? Here it is, folks: my first wholehearted unreservedly Recommended read on Keeping Up With The Penguins. It’s David Copperfield, from the master himself Charles Dickens.

Honestly, though, it was kind of a stacked deck: not just because Dickens is the Grand Poobah of English literature, but also because – for me – he’s inextricably linked to the memory of my late grandfather, who idolised Dickens and practically memorised every word he wrote. Clearly, I was genetically predisposed to enjoy his work. This gorgeous two-volume set was plucked from my grandparents’ collection, and I’m sure Granddad would have been damn proud that I finally got around to reading it.

David Copperfield appeared first in a twenty-month serial from 1849 to 1850, before being published as a novel (and, after the mess that was Vanity Fair, that was almost enough to put me off!). The Introduction didn’t inspire much optimism, either: it was written by J.B. Priestly who didn’t seem to be all that big a fan, to be honest. And he kindly pointed out that Dickens employed severe Victorian censorship on all sexual matters (booo!).

Priestly can suck it, though, because Dickens is a fucking God. I get it now. David Copperfield is a long book, don’t get me wrong, but I fucking devoured the thing like a drunk woman eating a kebab. Every word is purposeful, every character is a delectable caricature, every element of the story is consistent and compelling, and every emotion beautifully captured and rendered. Priestly hung a lot of shit on Dickens for what he called “supermarket” writing: novels were the primary source of family entertainment at the time (the Netflix of Victorian England, really), so Dickens had to write about politics for the fathers and adventures for the sons and romance for the mothers and daughters. Priestly didn’t like that, but I thought it’s precisely this”chuck-in-a-bit-of-everything” style that makesΒ David Copperfield such an incredible book.




The story of David Copperfield begins with his birth to a rather mopey young widow, and his early years being raised by her and her housekeeper. His mother remarries early on, but his New Daddy is an abusive son of a bitch and Dave is promptly sent off to a prison disguised as a boarding school. The kid meets some good chaps there, but it all-around sucks, and even his exodus is a bit of a bummer as it comes on account of his mother’s untimely stress-related death. New Daddy fires the nice housekeeper and sends Dave off to work in a wine factory (I didn’t think that bit sounded so bad, but the kid really hated it). Things get increasingly shit for young Dave, with starvation and his landlord going to prison and everything, so he takes it into his head to run away and find his rich old aunt.

Then things start looking up: he finds Aunt Betsey, she takes him in and sets him up for life. She is undoubtedly the baddest bitch in this story, and I adored her. She has no hesitation in telling people to fuck right off when they stick their noses in, and she protects and cherishes this charming old guy Mr Dick (the bloke’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but Betsey makes damn sure no one is shipping him off to a home). Betsey sets Dave up in a school without daily beating or torture (fancy!), and sponsors his gap-year to travel and “find himself”.

Dave finally settles down into a respectable profession, and promptly falls in love with his boss’ daughter. She’s extremely basic, but Dave doesn’t seem to notice, and he finally gets to marry her after her father croaks – only, she’s not that great at wifeing, and she dies pretty soon after, too. Dave’s mates get into all sorts of trouble with money and politics and love, and there’s some unpleasant business with women falling from grace and turning to lives of prostitution and such – all of the characters weave in and out of Dave’s life, and yet are described so richly and have such entertaining development that you never once lose track of who they are or what they’re about.

In the end, a bunch of his mates ship off to Australia to start over, another bunch of them die (that’s how you can tell the story’s wrapping up – a device I’m noticing is rather common in 19th century literature), and Dave marries the girl who’s secretly pined after him all his life. He becomes a successful writer and spawns a bunch of kids, the good guys live happily ever after, and the bad guys go to prison. Isn’t that fucking great?!

My favourite thing about Dickens, though, is that I never once felt like I was missing the point – which is the feeling I get with basically every classic book or poem I read. Dickens was never condescending, and yet his writing never went over my head (despite the 150-year time lapse). I didn’t even roll my eyes that much at the privileged white guy writing about privileged white guys: there was a whole lot less sexism than I expected, and most of the female characters were strong and sassy and ran circles around a lot of the ones written today (hats off to Aunt Betsey!). Of course, there’s a whole stack of issues with lack of representation in this kind of literature, and I’m not blind to that… but it didn’t stop me really loving this book.

Dickens said that David Copperfield was his “favourite child” and I can see why. This has been the best outcome of The List so far, and even if I were to stop right here (which I won’t), I’d be coming out ahead. I strongly recommend David Copperfield to anyone who likes… books. (And, even if you don’t, I hear the audio-book version is excellent, so give that a crack.)

My favourite Amazon reviews of David Copperfield:

  • “Smartly written trash, no doubt – but trash nonetheless. About 1 million words of it!” – Alex Kane
  • “Charles Dickinson is a timeless writer” – thimble19
  • “Charles Dickens won’t read this so it doesn’t matter what I say…” – Katie Barnes

 

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The Best Fathers in Literature

Literature is littered with examples of poor parenting, particularly when it comes to fathers. All too often, fathers are dead (as was the case with the Reverend in Jane Eyre), or otherwise absent (like Chaplain March in Little Women). Sometimes they’re completely ineffectual (like Emma’s Mr Woodhouse), and other times they outright suck at the fatherhood gig (see Pap Finn in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn), to the point of being dangerous and extremely damaging (who could forget Lolita’s Humbert Humbert?). It all makes for pretty depressing reading, but you know what? Father’s Day is coming up, and it’s time that we spread a little joy to counteract all this misery. Let’s take a look at some of the often-overlooked best fathers in literature.

The Best Fathers In Literature - Black Text Above Image of Man Holding Child on Jetty - Keeping Up With The Penguins

Bob Cratchit (A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens)

My love for Dickens knows no bounds, but even I can acknowledge that he didn’t write a whole lot of present, supportive father figures. That makes A Christmas Carol’s Bob Cratchit all the more special! Bob is hardly flawless – he’s a little earnest, and a bit of a martyr – but dammit, he saves Christmas! And he provides the perfect counterpoint to Ebenezer Scrooge’s misanthropy. Bob Cratchit will make you believe in fatherly love again, so pick this one up when you’re losing faith.

Hans Hubermann (The Book Thief – Markus Zusak)

Family isn’t always about blood. Hans Hubermann is a forster father to Liesel in The Book Thief, her biological parents having been persecuted for being communists in Nazi Germany. While it would have been easy for a lesser man to simply ignore Liesel (given everything else he had going on), or punish her for stealing books, Hans instead teaches her to read at night by candlelight, and role models the kind of empathy and compassion that saves lives in such dire circumstances. Make no mistake, he can dole out the tough love when it’s needed (Liesel makes the potentially deadly mistake of saying she hates Hitler in public, and Hans smacks her down), but it always comes from a place of genuine fatherly love. If only all fictional displaced children had a man like Hans to care for them… You can read my full review here.


Thomas Schell (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close – Jonathan Safran Foer)

Thomas actually dies before the story of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close even begins, a victim of the 9/11 World Trade Center attacks. And yet, the reader is immediately and abundantly aware of his love for his son. The story is told through the eyes of nine-year-old Oskar, as he chases clues to his father’s secret all over New York City. Their father-son bond is well and truly alive, and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close serves as a great reminder that good parenting transcends mortality.

Mr Bennet (Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen)

It would seem that there’s a certain controversy involved in calling Mr Bennet one of the best fathers in literature. He is, after all, a bit weak-willed and bewildered (especially when it comes to financial planning). But in fairness, five daughters (especially ones that live for the drama, like the Bennet girls) and a high-strung wife is a lot to cope with, and one can hardly blame the man for backing down from a fight now and then.

What is not up for debate is his love and support for all of the girls, especially the protagonist of Pride and Prejudice, his darling Lizzy. He refuses to entertain the notion of a marriage to a man he sees as undeserving of her (even though it would have been a financially savvy match), but he backs Lizzy 100% when she tells him she loves Mr Darcy. “I could not have parted with you, my LIzzy,” he says, “to anyone less worthy”. Recognising the intelligence and agency of his daughters made him a man ahead of his time, and – in my opinion – well-worthy of inclusion in this list of the best fathers in literature.




Atticus Finch (To Kill A Mockingbird – Harper Lee)

And, finally, we come to Atticus – arguably the best father in literature, the numero uno, the grand poobah of fatherhood… (as long as you don’t count the ugliness that came to light with the release of Go Set A Watchman). In truth, any list of the best fathers in literature is woefully incomplete without mention of To Kill A Mockingbird’s Atticus Finch. He is a widower, raising two children alone against a backdrop of Southern poverty and racism. And yet, he upholds the values of acceptance, gratitude, empathy, and respect like no other literary icon has before or since. His influence is so great that it inspired the foundation of The Atticus Finch Society, a real-life organisation founded to serve the very population that the fictional Atticus sought to defend. Plus, if his bravery and moral fortitude in the face of an unfair world weren’t enough, the man is endlessly quotable:

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view – until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.”


And there we have it: a collection of the best fathers in literature you can read to celebrate this Father’s Day. Have you got a favourite that I’ve missed? Make sure you let me know in the comments below (or give them a shout-out over at KUWTP on Facebook!).

 

7 Books that Gave Us Words and Catch Phrases We Use Every Day

Ever been stuck in a no-win situation? A ridiculous double-bind? Found yourself hamstrung by bureaucracy? Maybe you’ve been charged a fee for not having enough money in your account, or found yourself unable to get a job without any experience, or denied tenancy in a new apartment without a current personal address. You might have called the situation a “catch-22”, even if you’ve never read the book that gave us the term (maybe you never even knew it was from a book, no judgement!). So many words and idioms slip into our language, but how often do we really know where they come from? Check out these seven books that gave us words and catch phrases we use every day.

7 Books That Gave Us Words and Phrases We Use Every Day - Black Text Overlaid On Image of Open Book Spine - Keeping Up With The Penguins

Catch-22 – Joseph Heller

As I’ve just mentioned, a catch-22 is widely understood to mean a predicament where the very nature of the problem prevents it from being resolved. It originated with Joseph Heller’s book Catch-22: the main character, Yossarian, wants to be excused from flying any more missions in the military (because every time he pilots a military plane, he risks death). He finds himself butting up against “catch-22”: pilots who are declared mentally unfit do not have to fly any more missions, but pilots who request to be declared mentally unfit are clearly of sound mind (as they want to avoid dying), so they must fly. Fun fact: the book might have actually been called Catch-18 (sounds funny, doesn’t it?), as that was Heller’s original title, but he and his publisher agreed to change it when other novels featuring the number eighteen in their title appeared around the same time. (I’ve reviewed Catch-22 in full right here!)

Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde – Robert Louis Stevenson

If someone is referred to as “Jekyll and Hyde”, generally we understand that they have two distinct personalities: one gentle, refined and well-behaved, the other hedonistic, violent and hostile. This is lifted directly from the plot of Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, where the well-respected Dr Jekyll invents a scientific process by which he morphs into Mr Hyde, allowing him to indulge his aberrant urges without fear of losing face (check out my review here for more details!).

Bleak House – Charles Dickens

I had to triple-check this, because it didn’t seem right, but believe it or not it was Dickens who gave us the word “boredom”! English-speakers had been using the word “bore” for about a century, but Dickens was the first to turn the feeling into a noun. It appeared in his 1853 novel Bleak House. How on Earth could we have lived without a word for that? Thank you, Dickens!


Cabbages and Kings – O. Henry

What would you call a tropical nation with an unstable government and an over-reliance on the export of a single product? A “banana republic”, of course! The term is drawn from the novel Cabbages and Kings, published in 1904; it is set in the fictional “Republic of Anchuria” in Central America. The Republic’s primary export was – you guessed it – bananas. Funnily enough, the title of the book was itself drawn from The Walrus and The Carpenter, a poem that appeared in Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

Don Quixote – Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

I still remember my mother explaining to me the meaning of the phrase “a pot calling the kettle black”. As I recall, she said that it meant to accuse someone of something that you’re doing yourself – which is pretty much spot on. What she didn’t tell me (not that I blame her) was that the idiom was popularised by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra in Don Quixote back in the 17th century. He lifted it from the common understanding at the time that both pots and kettles made of cast-iron would get black with soot in the kitchens of the era. It’s pretty bloody enduring as far as idioms go, because we still use it today, some four centuries later!




Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll

Remember I mentioned Alice in Wonderland just before? Well, it warrants its very own spot in this list! Among a whole bunch of funny turns-of-phrase (“through the looking glass”, “down the rabbit hole”, “Cheshire cat smile”, “off with her head”) we get “mad as a hatter” – meaning seriously bonkers! Well, to put it more politely, someone is “mad as a hatter” if they’re behaving erratically, speaking nonsense, or displaying any kind of unusual behaviour. Carroll borrowed the idea from a well-known phenomenon of hat manufacturers being struck down with mercury poisoning (yes, that was a thing). In so doing, he created his character The Mad Hatter, and a phrase that was cemented into the English language. You can read my full review of Carroll’s classic book for children here.

1984 – George Orwell

A lot of the phrases from 1984 are getting extra air-time at the moment, as a lot of Orwell’s predictions seem to be coming eerily true. Of course, we all understand the concept of “Big Brother” – the totalitarian dictator, always watching and thus completely controlling his society.Β  Orwell also created “Newspeak”, a fictional language that gave us gems like “doublethink” (being able to hold two contrary or opposing ideas at the very same thing). We really do owe him a lot!

Even if you never read a single one of these books, at least you can give a smug smile every time you use one of the phrases, knowing that you’ll be able to explain the origins of them if anyone asks (and even if they don’t!). Are there any words or phrases from literature that I’ve missed? Let me know in the comments (or use them over at KUWTP on Facebook!).

 

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What’s Your Desert Island Book?

This week on Keeping Up With The Penguins, I’m tackling one of those dinner party questions that haunts all bookworms: what’s your desert island book? I was inspired by Cheryl Strayed’s memoir (Wild, I reviewed it this week); she trekked over a thousand miles on the Pacific Crest Trail, carrying with her Adrienne Rich’s The Dream of a Common Language (which she described as her “religion”), and William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying (which, incidentally, I recently reviewed), among others. It led me to think long and hard about what book I’d want with me if I were lost in the wilderness. I asked KUWTP readers this very question a couple of weeks ago (by the way, are you following us on Facebook and Instagram?), and got some fascinating responses!

It’s tough enough to imagine a situation where you’re stuck on a desert island indefinitely, with just a single book – but there are many factors to consider. Do you take your favourite book? Do you take a really heavy read, one that you’ve been putting off, so that you can capitalise on all that uninterrupted reading time? Maybe you want to choose a really light and funny book that will take your mind off your troubles. Of course, you could think laterally, and take a really thick book with lots of pages, so you can pull out as many as you need to use as kindling for a fire. The KUWTP community came up with a bunch of options for each, so let’s take a look at the definitive KUWTP Desert Island Book List.

What's Your Desrt Island Book? - black text in a square speech bubble overlaid on an image of palm trees, sand and sea - Keeping Up With The Penguins

Ulysses – James Joyce

This one was my idea, mostly because I suspect that being trapped alone on a desert island, with no other entertainment, might be the only circumstance under which I could motivate myself to finish the notoriously unreadable Ulysses. Unfortunately for me, it ended up on The List, but I’m putting it off as long as I can (I’ll let you know as soon as the review is up, wish me luck!). Still, I wasn’t the only one to nominate Joyce’s seminal work as my desert island book for that reason, so it’s nice to know I’m not alone!

Don Quixote – Miguel de Cervantes

Don Quixote was the most popular choice, which took me by surprise! A whole bunch of readers chose this weighty 17th century tome (most editions run to almost 1,000 pages), out of the blue as best I could tell. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised, though – I later learned that Don Quixote is the best-selling single-volume book of all time. With over 500 million copies in circulation, it seems inevitable that at least a few would end up on desert islands…

Collected Works – William Shakespeare

There were a few creative “cheat” choices (among them the Harry Potter series, the New York Trilogy, and the collected works of Charles Dickens), but I think this one technically passes free and clear because it can frequently be found in a single volume (indeed, I own two of them). The Collected Works of William Shakespeare would certainly keep you going for a while, and it covers all manner of genres and storylines, so you can pick whatever you’re in the mood for: comedy, history, tragedy, romance…


Lord Of The Flies – William Golding

I loved this suggestion, purely for the irony: stuck on a desert island, with nothing to read but a book about a bunch of boys stuck on a desert island (that ends pretty badly to boot). Ha! If nothing else, Lord Of The Flies would make a good what-not-to-do manual. Fingers crossed the KUWTP readers that chose this for their desert island read wouldn’t take the story too literally (lest a few pigs meet unkind ends)…

Wuthering Heights – Emily BrontΓ«

As one reader cleverly deduced, one of the most distressing parts of being stuck on a desert island would surely be the intolerable heat. Thus, ever so wisely, she named Wuthering Heights as her desert island book. A story full of chilly winter nights on sweeping moors, complete with howling winds and stiff breezes, would be the perfect antidote to scorching island sun. I almost considered taking this answer for my own, because I didn’t love Wuthering Heights the first time around, and I’ve been meaning to re-read it – deserted on an island would be the perfect opportunity!

Charlotte’s Web – E.B. White

This was, undoubtedly, the cutest choice for a desert island book! Charlotte’s Web would be the perfect cosy, feel-good read, full of childhood nostalgia, to comfort you in your lonely hours. Plus, if I had the chance to ask the desert-island-book-fairy for an audiobook, I’d definitely want the version read by E.B. White himself – could there be anything better?




Shantaram – Gregory David Roberts

Now, this one came out of left field, but the more I looked at it, the more sense it made. A dear friend of mine (who is also, of course, a dedicated KUWTP reader) said that she’d choose Gregory David Roberts’ Shantaram – an Australian novel, published in 2003. It tells the story of a convicted bank robber and heroin addict, who manages to escape prison and flee to Mumbai, India. Coming in at some 900 pages, it’s another desert island book that would keep you entertained for quite a while, if the rescue boat is slow in getting to you. In the end, I had to concede, it’s an excellent call!

Waiting for Godot – Samuel Beckett

I saved my favourite choice for last: Samuel Beckett’s tragi-comedy, Waiting For Godot. This play tells the story of two characters who are waiting for the arrival of a bloke named Godot (thus, the title – der). The ultimate joke is, of course, that he never turns up. Perhaps, if I were actually in the desert-island situation, a book that so closely mirrors my own experience of waiting for rescue without a happy ending wouldn’t be so great for my mental health… but as it stands, I think it’s a fucking hilarious answer, and I’m going to steal it for my own from now on.

So, what’s your desert island book? What do you think of the ones suggested here? Let me know in the comments (or join the conversation over at KUWTP on Facebook!).

 

Describe A Book In A Single Sentence

To celebrate publishing the first ten reviews here on Keeping Up With The Penguins, I’m going to have a crack at something different today. Taking my inspiration from a game I’ve seen floating around on Twitter (you can follow me there, if you like!), I’m going to try to describe each of those 10 books in a single sentence. If you can’t be bothered to read the reviews in full, consider this your complete “tl;dr” summary guide.

The Hunger Games – Suzanne Collins

A teenage girl is plucked from a life of obscure poverty to fight to the death in a reality show run by the evil dictator of a wealthy capital, and she wins (even though she spends half the time thinking about her love life).

Read my full review here, and buy the book here.

The Scarlet Letter – Nathaniel Hawthorne

The author tells us how much he hates the Puritans over and over again, by having a no-good priest not only knock up a married woman but also let her endure the punishment for years while he escapes scot-free… until her husband returns.

Read my full review here, and buy the book here.

Vanity Fair – William Makepeace Thackeray

300 pages of scandal, love and intrigue in the lives of two young women and the men around them, followed by 300 pages of men going to war, men dying, women crying, and long descriptions of fictional mansions (snore).

Read my full review here, and buy the book here.


My Brilliant Career – Miles Franklin

A 16-year-old girl living in the bush wrote a novel about a 16-year-old girl living in the bush, and how much she wanted a flashy career in the city instead of a stupid husband.

Read my full review here, and buy the book here.

David Copperfield – Charles Dickens

The beautifully-written life story of a man who lived through the Victorian era, from his humble beginnings as the thorn in the side of a bastard stepfather to his happy ending as a successful writer with a wife who actually loves him.

Read my full review here, and buy the book here.

In Cold Blood – Truman Capote

A nice Kansas family of four gets merked for no apparent reason, and the story only unravels through the long, drawn-out investigation and trial of the two perpetrators.

Read my full review here, and buy the book here.




 

Lady Chatterley’s Lover – D.H. Lawrence

A wealthy paraplegic Lord takes it into his head that his wife should take herself some lovers and get knocked up, only when she does it with the gamekeeper he doesn’t like it so much, and they all end up miserable.

Read my full review here, and buy the book here.

The Book Thief – Markus Zusak

The Grim Reaper tells the story of a young girl whose mother was taken by the Nazis; she learns to read hidden away in the basement of her foster family, and figures out quick-smart why you shouldn’t mouth off about Hitler.

Read my full review here, and buy the book here.

Mrs Dalloway – Virginia Woolf

A brilliant stream-of-consciousness depiction of a day in the life of a wealthy socialite, featuring a peripheral veteran who tops himself, which sounds great except that I’m not smart enough to follow it and most of it made no sense at all.

Read my full review here, and buy the book here.

The Catcher in the Rye – J.D. Salinger

An emo kid bails on his education and spends a few days wandering around New York, getting drunk and smoking cigarettes and chickening out of losing his virginity.

Read my full review here, and buy the book here.


You know, that’s actually harder than you’d think! I probably spent more time working out how to describe books in a single sentence than I did writing the original reviews. Still, I thought I’d work up just one more for you so we can play a guessing game. This is a one-sentence review of the next week’s book… can you guess what it is?

A bad boy’s decade-long butthurt over getting friendzoned, culminating in his death – at which point, he and his true love spend eternity haunting their old stomping grounds, while their surviving children enter into incestuous marriages.

If you know it, let me know in the comments (or tell everyone how clever you are over at KUWTP on Facbeook!). And please feel free to share any one-sentence reviews of your own, I’d love to hear them!

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What Do We Think Of The Dymocks 101 For 2018?

Each year, members of the Dymocks Booklovers loyalty club cast their votes for the Top 101 books of the year. This list is typically varied, covering everything from classics to contemporary to cook-books (much like my very own List here on Keeping Up With The Penguins). Indeed, it was the Dymocks 101 (along with the Guardian’s Top 100 Books Written in English) that inspired this project. Last week, Dymocks announced the Top 101 books for 2018. There are a few favourites, a few surprises, and (I’m sure it comes as no surprise) I’ve got a lot of thoughts.

Dymocks Top 101 Books of 2018 - Keeping Up With The Penguins

#1 The Harry Potter Series (J.K. Rowling)

Now, that’s one heck of a resurgence! The Harry Potter series has been lingering around the Top 20 ever since it was released, but I don’t think anyone expected it to hit the number one spot again. Perhaps its renewed popularity can be attributed to the release of the Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them film, but would that really have been enough to get the job done? Either way, it’s proof that J.K. has still got it!

#2 All The Light We Cannot See (Anthony Doerr)

All The Light We Cannot See took out the number one spot last year. I had fully expected its popularity to carry over to this year, but I suppose we can hardly blame Anthony Doerr for dropping his spot to the series that achieved once-in-a-generation fame.

#6 The Book Thief (Markus Zusak)

Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief is another previous winner (it took out the number one spot in 2016). I reviewed it myself just last week; I wasn’t the biggest fan, but I can understand its popularity, particularly among young adult readers. Besides, it’s good to see an Aussie author staying front and center, year after year!

#7 Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)

So, I’m pretty sure Pride and Prejudice appears in every list of books ever: the best books, the best books written by women, the best love stories, the best social commentaries, and everything else you can imagine. It has definitely appeared in every Dymocks Top 101 list that I can recall, so it’s not going anywhere any time soon! Austen certainly has some dedicated fans, which is all the more impressive given that Pride and Prejudice was published over 200 years ago. Personally, I’ve had a patchy history with Pride and Prejudice (I’ve started and abandoned it no fewer than six times), but I’ve committed to reading it in full now that it appears on The List!

#10 To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)

I am so, so glad to see To Kill A Mockingbird rank so highly! It has received a lot of attention lately, with the release of Go Set A Watchman (which, thankfully, does not appear in this top 101 – I’m hoping Dymocks Booklovers took into account the ethical concerns surrounding its publication when casting their votes). Plus, issues of racial injustice in the U.S. are coming to the fore on an unprecedented scale, and there was considerable controversy concerning this American classic having been banned in some school districts.


#12 1984 (George Orwell)

I can happily admit that 1984 absolutely got my vote this year – and every year! It is one of my long-time favourite books, and its ongoing – increasing! – relevance and poignancy is a testament to Orwell’s masterful writing. Plus, Orwell’s Animal Farm also appears in the Dymocks 101 for 2018 (coming in at #54).

#14 The Girl On The Train (Paula Hawkins)

I was a little surprised to see The Girl On The Train still ranking so highly, but I’m happy for Paula Hawkins – she worked really hard for years to achieve this kind of “overnight success”. In fairness, I do still see photos of this one all over Instagram, so it probably shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise after all πŸ˜‰ Read my full review of her bestselling psychological thriller here.

#19 The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)

Now this one was no surprise at all! Like Pride and Prejudice, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy gets a spot on almost every best-of-books list ever. It has ranked highly in the Dymocks Top 101 once again, and – as further testament to its popularity – I can confirm that I’ve had a devil of a time finding it in secondhand bookstores! The best (or most popular) books are always impossible to find secondhand, because people just can’t bear to part with their copies. Fingers crossed I find it soon, so I can bring you a review!

#22 Jane Eyre (Charlotte BrontΓ«)

I was overjoyed to see Jane Eyre – probably moreso than any other book – in this year’s Dymocks 101. It is on my List, of course, and I recently read it for the first time. It is a beautiful, wonderful, timeless book, and I’m telling you right now it will be one of my life-long favourites. Plus, Charlotte is the only BrontΓ« to score a spot on the Dymocks 101, so I guess that settles any debate as to who is the superior sibling in that family! I was pretty shocked that Wuthering Heights didn’t take the honours, to be honest – personally, I think it pales in comparison, but from what I can tell it is the favourite of most contemporary BrontΓ« readers. I guess you never can tell!

#23 The Martian (Andy Weir)

Andy Weir is living the dream. He self-published The Martian for free through his own website when he couldn’t attract the interest of major publishers, and now here he is, years later, with millions of book sales, a major motion film adaptation starring Matt Damon, and a coveted position on the Dymocks list. Plus, his book wasn’t half bad! Hats off to him πŸ˜‰



#25 The Rosie Project (Graeme Simsion)

I mention The Rosie Project not only because it’s on The List, but also because it’s one of my mother-in-law’s special favourites. I actually bought her a copy of the sequel, The Rosie Effect, for Christmas, and Graeme Simsion was kind enough to personally sign it for her. So, he’s clearly a top bloke!

#26 The Good People (Hannah Kent)

I’ve heard so much about The Good People since its release, and it sounds fucking fantastic! By all accounts, its spot in the Dymocks 101 is well-earned. In addition to countless reviews and features on literature blogs, I’ve also heard interviews with Hannah Kent that left me markedly impressed. Even without having read The Good People (yet!), I’ve already recommended it to friends; at this rate, it will definitely make The Next List.

#27 The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald)

Ugh! The Great Gatsby is probably the only entry on this top 101 list that made me recoil. You can read my review of this “great American novel” here, but for now suffice it to say I wasn’t a huge fan. I really don’t understand what all the fuss is about! It’s an unpopular opinion, sure, but I stand by it. Clearly, given its ranking, not many other booklovers feel the same way!

#32 Reckoning (Magda Szubanski)

Reckoning is another book under consideration for The Next List – unfortunately, it came out just a bit too late for the original compilation. Had it come out just a few months later, you can be sure it would have made the cut! For my international friends who might not be familiar, Magda Szubanski is a beloved actress and comedian here in Australia. She came out just before our ridiculous plebiscite vote on marriage equality last year, and she became the de-facto face of the Yes movement (which was, of course, gloriously successful!). Magda is revered as an absolute goddess in my social circles, with good reason. I really wish her memoir had ranked higher in the Dymocks 101, but I consider her inclusion a win for the LGBTIQ community regardless!


#44 The Song of Ice and Fire Series (George R. R. Martin)

Much like Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings, The Song of Ice And Fire series is pretty much guaranteed a spot on the Dymocks 101 for many years to come, thanks to the incredibly popular small-screen adaptation (Game of Thrones). Say what you will about GoT fans, they’re a dedicated bunch!

#50 milk and honey (Rapi Kaur)

Rapi Kaur actually managed to score two books in the Top 101 – her debut, milk and honey, and also the follow up, the sun and her flowers (which came in at #86). Say what you will about her style and technique, I think it’s fucking incredible that two contemporary books of poetry have reached this level of popularity! Through Rupi Kaur, an entire generation is basically discovering representative poetry (Rupi Kaur probably being the first non-white non-male poet that they’ve read since they were forced to study the “classics” in high school), and it’s luring them to explore and purchase more poetry. That’s never a bad thing!

#71 Victoria (Julia Baird)

I’ve got to be honest: I wouldn’t normally pick up a biography of a dead monarch (especially one as done-to-death as Queen Victoria), but I’ve heard about half a dozen interviews with Julia Baird now and gosh-darn-it she has just about convinced me this would be a worthwhile read! She is insightful, conscientious, meticulous, and bloody hilarious! Those qualities, coupled with a recommendation from her friend (and my hero) Anabelle Crabbe, are the best marketing that Victoria could get.

#74 The Alchemist (Paolo Cohelo)

This book will never die! Every hippie I’ve ever met has strongly recommended that I read The Alchemist, and sure enough I’ve heeded their advice and included it on The List. If I remember correctly, in past years The Alchemist has featured much higher in the Dymocks 101, but regardless of the rank, it’s sticking like glue!

#76 The Narrow Road To The Deep North (Richard Flanagan)

Richard Flanagan’s The Narrow Road To The Deep North is probably one of the more literary inclusions in the Top 101, and also in my own List. I recently learned that it was the Man Booker Prize winner of 2014, which will make it my first Man Booker read (ever!)… when I get around to it πŸ˜‰


#77 My Brilliant Friend (Elena Ferrante)

If I’m being frank, I’m of the firm belief that My Brilliant Friend deserved a much higher spot on the Dymocks 101. The first of the Neapolitan Novels from Elena Ferrante was beautiful, in every respect. Even in the English translation, it retained the lyrical rhythm of the original Italian, and depicted (with incredible raw honesty and insight) the coming-of-age of a young woman in trying circumstances. I think, in the future, we will look back on My Brilliant Friend as a literary classic, so here’s hoping that it gets more love from Dymocks Booklovers in coming years.

#82 The Dressmaker (Rosalie Ham)

Again: Aussie authors are doing it for themselves! Woo! I’m really happy about that (shamelessly so), but… I’m kind of surprised at the lasting power of this strangely gothic novel. The Dressmaker has endured for eighteen years so far, despite its esoteric setting (a fictional small Australian country town in the 1950s) and distinctly un-happy ending. So, three cheers for Rosalie Ham! I’m not sure I understand how or why, but she has truly captured the hearts of Australian booklovers.

#94 Little Fires Everywhere (Celeste Ng)

I must say, I’m surprised to see Little Fires Everywhere so far down the Top 101 – probably because I feel like I see it everywhere! Instagram has thousands upon thousands of photos of its distinctive cover, it’s topped so many best-reads lists I can’t even count them all, and it has been reviewed (glowingly) in every major publication that pops up in my inbox. Celeste Ng is fucking slaying it at the moment, and I’m sure next year we’ll see this one in the Top 20.

#98 Goodnight Stories for Rebel Girls (Elena Favilli and Francesca Cavallo)

I love, love, love this concept – stories about fabulous, ground-breaking, unruly women who have forged ahead in their fields and changed the world, written for young girls who would otherwise be forced to resort to fairy tales and Disney movies. There has been a spate of publications in this vein, but Goodnight Stories for Rebel Girls is the original and the best. It just scraped in to the Dymocks 101, but I am so glad to see it there at all! If you have young children (boy, girl, or otherwise), be sure to pick this one up for them; foster a love of reading and accurate representation of women in one fell swoop!




General Comments

Unsurprisingly, we can see a lot of film adaptations appearing in the Top 101. In addition to the ones I’ve listed above, Big Little Lies and The Handmaid’s Tale – both of which had fantastic television adaptations aired over the last 18 months – made the top ten. Furthermore, Simon vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda and Call Me By Your Name (books adapted to films released in the last 6 months, both coincidentally focusing on young gay characters) made the top fifty, which I think is just fucking excellent. Representation matters!

On that note, I was surprised at how few of the standard straight-white-middle-class-male-authored classics made the cut. There was no Dickens, no Twain, no Steinbeck, no Beckett… I’m not sure if this means that Australian booklovers are demanding greater representation and diversity in their reading lists, or whether the team at Dymocks made some executive decisions. Either way, while I’m secretly disappointed that David Copperfield didn’t rate a mention, it’s great to see more diversity on the shelves at the front of the store! (I should mention, though, that while eight of the top ten, and 53% of the list overall, were written by women, but only roughly 10% were written by POC. Stats on other types of representation are tricky to come by!)

On a different note, I feel compelled to mention that one of my favourite things about this year’s Dymocks 101 is that it doesn’t feature a single cookbook! When Jamie’s 30 Minute Meals (or whatever) reached the top 50, it felt like a betrayal of what the list was about. In their absence, there are almost no entries that I outright disagree with (aside from maybe The Great Gatsby, as I mentioned, but I’m a big enough person to acknowledge that that’s a matter of my personal taste rather than the quality of the work.)

What did you think of the Dymocks 101? Did your special favourites make the list? Any glaring omissions as far as you’re concerned? Let me know in the comments (or join the conversation over at KUWTP on Facebook!)

 

Lady Chatterley’s Lover – D. H. Lawrence

With six books down in the Keeping Up With The Penguins project, I tell you what: I was ready to read some proper smut. I was fed up with Victorian censorship, and grisly murders, and age-appropriate young adult writing. Hell with it all, I wanted some dirty bits! So when I passed by the bargain bin of my favourite second-hand book store and spied a copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover, the prototype of the explicit novel, marked down to just $5… well, that’s just fate, isn’t it?

Lady Chatterley’s Lover was originally published in Italy in 1928, but the full text wasn’t available in other parts of the world until much later. In 1960, Penguin was actually prosecuted under the Obscene Publications Act for trying to publish the unexpurgated version… to no avail. A publisher’s note dedicates the book to the jurors that declared them not guilty. In fact, their victory in that case established a precedent that allowed for a far greater degree of freedom in publishing explicit content. So, three cheers for Penguin! Without them, we might have no smut to read at all… πŸ˜‰

“Well,” I thought to myself, “if it caused that much of a stir, it must be good! Right?”.

Wrong.

Richard Hoggart gets it right in the first sentence of his introduction to this edition: “Lady Chatterley’s Lover is not a dirty book.” I didn’t lose all hope straight away, because he insisted that “dirty minds look for dirt”, so I was sure I’d be able to find some somewhere. After all, the premise is so promising: Lady C is trapped in a sexless marriage (Sir Hubby was been paralysed by a war wound, and we’re all just meant to accept that there’s no way a person with a disability could have sex, okay?), so she goes about finding other ways to keep herself entertained. Lawrence does his part to set the stage, skipping over all of their early lives together so the reader comes straight into (what you would assume is going to be) the action.




In fact, it’s Sir Hubby – fancying himself quite the progressive intellectual – that suggests Lady C find herself a meaningless shag on the side, and get herself knocked up. He wants a kid around to take care of all the trees he’s planted once he’s dead, which is as good a reason to procreate as any, I suppose? Lady C is keen on the idea, because this marriage is the worst: they’re both dead inside and basically indifferent to one another. Off she trots, and I rub my hands together in glee: bring on the smut!

Only I get to about a third of the way through, and it’s all still really hum-drum. Lady C’s life sucks. She mopes a lot about how much her life sucks. She finds a lover and fucks him, twice, but he turns out to be a bit of a dickhead (he has a cry about having to wait around and stay erect while she finishes – damn, masculinity is fragile). So, that doesn’t work out, and then Lady C’s life sucks so much that she basically wants to die. Sir Hubby throws a little bitch fit of his own, because Lady C wants to get a servant. There’s a lot of arguments about capitalism. Where. Is. The. Filth?

Lady C eventually finds a new lover in the form of the bogan gamekeeper, and that cheers her up for about a minute – but from then on, it’s just a downhill run of symbolism. “Oooh, the aristocrat is having an affair with a commoner, industrialisation is bad, capitalism is bad, the intellectuals have unfair dominion over the working classes!”, etc etc. God, there is so much whining! The dirty bits were really far too few and far between to hold my attention at all. What’s worse: they weren’t even that dirty, really. The most obscene thing I came across was the gamekeeper dropping a few c-bombs (and I can see how that might have been shocking pre-sexual revolution). Otherwise, it’s just a load of smack about being all aquiver and stirrings in her womb. Snore.

There’s a lot of Maury-esque drama, too. Lady C finally gets knocked up, but she runs away to Venice for a while so she can tell Sir Hubby that it was some Fabio over there that planted the seed (she’s worried he’ll take it into his head to fire the gamekeeper if he finds out he’s the one sticking it to his wife). Only, while she’s gone, the bogan gamekeeper’s bogan wife shows up and finds Lady C’s shit all over their bogan gamekeeper house. So, she throws a tanty and starts running her mouth off about what a cheating bastard he is to anyone who’ll listen. Word gets back to Sir Hubby, he puts two and two together, and Bogan Baby Daddy Gamekeeper gets fired anyway. Lady C gets to go back to complaining about how much life sucks.

She does her best to salvage the situation – by roping her father and sister into a plot to convince Sir Hubby that the foetus is actually someone else’s, but that spectacularly flops. She has half an idea to marry Bogan Baby Daddy Gamekeeper instead, but he’s not acting happy enough about the pregnancy. And this is pretty much where the novel ends: Lady C and Bogan Baby Daddy Gamekeeper sitting around at opposite as the opposite ends of the country, waiting for divorces from their respective spouses. The ending is almost as anticlimactic as the sex scenes.

I had such high hopes, and Lady Chatterley’s Lover shat all over them. The only redeeming quality was a few cracking one-liners:

“They were just as good as the men themselves: only better, since they were women.”

“Oh, intellectually, I believe in having a good heart, a chirpy penis, a lively intelligence, and the courage to say ‘shit’ in front of a lady.”

“Sex and a cocktail: they both lasted about as long, had the same effect, and amounted to about the same thing.”

Overall, though, even the occasional lol wasn’t enough to save Lady Chatterley’s Lover; the $5 price now seems not such a bargain. After all, you can find better filth on the internet for free… or so I hear πŸ˜‰

My favourite Amazon reviews of Lady Chatterley’s Lover:

  • “It’s a story of a woman, written by a man. I find it silly, unbelievable, unreal. Lady Chat meets a man who, sneaks up to her room, and they immediately get naked. But then she hates him. Not realistic. The pages are filled with paragraphs describing her walk through the woods, describing the flowers? And describing people who, pages later, have died, so what was the point of blabbing about them? This is written to be a movie. Too many detailed conversations of no importance. I keep waiting to get to the “good part” but, there is no good parts in this silly book.” – Amazon Customer
  • “Bought for wife! Read a long time ago! Thought it was racey back in the day and quite erotic! My wife wasn’t impressed!” – John S.
  • “Tedious, boring, pompous, distasteful characters, and crude… I only recommend this if you are having troubles getting to sleep, because this classic garbage works better than a pill.” – Holly

 

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The Best Villain Downfalls in Literature

Authors put a lot of effort into creating villains that we love to hate. Think Wicked Witch of the West, Cruella de Vil, The Joker, Voldemort… villains that make us shudder, make us angry, make us scared, and make us cry. As much as it can be artistically beautiful to let these villains run amok, and have the good guys lose a battle now and then, I think we can all agree that there is no greater satisfaction than seeing a villain’s downfall. To celebrate this collective schadenfreude, I’ve put together a Keeping Up With The Penguins list of the best villain downfalls in literature.

The Best Villain Downfalls in Literature - Words in Red and White Overlaid on Silhouette of Man Holding Crowbar - Keeping Up With The Penguins

Dracula (Dracula)

The recent popularity of vampire novels might make us a bit more sympathetic to the plight of the bloodsucking night-walker, but if you read Bram Stoker’s original novel, it’s hard to feel sorry for this creepy motherfucker. He kidnaps, assaults, spies on and out-smarts the protagonists at every turn… but in the end, he gets knifed, his powers are destroyed, and his vampire “sisters” don’t fare too well either. It’s a huge relief, tbh. Check out my full review of Dracula here.

Alec Stoke-d’Urberville (Tess of the d’Urbervilles)

Tess of the d’Urbervilles is probably better known as a dirty book, but trust me: Alec has one of the best villain downfalls in literature. He knocks Tess up out of wedlock, blames her for his fall from Christian grace, manipulates her, and acts like an all-round lecherous prick. Tess gets him in the end though – she stabs him in a frenzy, and runs off chasing her one true love. (OK, fine, Tess ends up paying the price for her crime too, but her vengeance is still fucking awesome.)

Uriah Heep (David Copperfield)

I remember my grandfather telling me as a child that Charles Dickens was the most inventive and brutal writer in the English language when it came to writing villain downfalls. Uriah Heep is truly repulsive, writhing, sneaky, and awful. He protests that he is a “‘umble servant”, while exploiting the vulnerable and robbing everyone blind (not to mention that he still lives with his mother…). In the end, Mr Micawber outsmarts him, proving what a thieving bastard he is; Heep is forced to make reparations, he loses the position he connived to attain, and later he ends up in a god-awful Victorian prison. The whole downfall is, of course, beautifully written (and you can read the rest of my love letter to Dickens review of David Copperfield here).

Humbert Humbert (Lolita)

Technically, in the case of Nabokov’s Lolita, the villain was also the protagonist, but it was still really satisfying to see the disgusting Humbert Humbert get what was coming to him. After obsessively manipulating and abusing Lolita throughout her teenage years, she runs off with another man, leaving Humbert heartbroken and devastated. His grief (sharpened by news of Lolita’s pregnancy to her new lover) leads him to seek out and kill the man he believes “took” Lolita from him, and that crime lands him in jail. He dies awaiting trial. A miserable end for a miserable man, and it feels so good!




The Officer (In The Penal Colony)

Perhaps not as well-known as the others on this list, but certainly more brutal than any of them, is The Officer from In The Penal Colony, one of Franz Kafka’s short stories. The unnamed Officer is a strong advocate for the use of a punishment apparatus on his colony; wrong-doers (without trial or opportunity for defense) are slowly tortured by needles that pierce their skin with the words of the commandment they have violated. If that weren’t grotesque enough, the officer meets his end by climbing into the machine itself, only to have it malfunction and needle him to his death. Kafka’s never a cheery read, but he sure knew how to take down a bad guy!

Richard Eugene “Dick” Hickock & Perry Edward Smith (In Cold Blood)

This might be a controversial inclusion, given that the villains in question weren’t fictional. Truman Capote’s true crime account may read like a novel, but the downfalls of murderers Hickock and Smith were very much real. Throughout Capote’s telling, you learn intimate details about their rather miserable lives, culminating in their heinous crime (where they brutally murdered a family of four), after which they are ultimately captured and put to death themselves. It’s a sad story, and raises all kinds of questions about the “justice” of the death penalty. (You can read my complete review of In Cold Blood here – it’s recommended reading from Keeping Up With The Penguins.)

Becky Sharp & Emma Sedley (Vanity Fair)

I couldn’t help myself, I had to include this one: a great villain downfall, but in reverse! In this case, I was super-glad that the boring Amelia Sedley (the “good” girl) had to live out a dull life of hum-drum struggle, while the fabulous Becky Sharp (who may have been immoral and shameless, but also great fun!) gets to run off with the life insurance money of the husband she murdered and go on an adventure! I say it counts, because Vanity Fair is famously called the “novel without a hero”, so I can call boring Amelia the “villain” all I want. (This snarky entry might make more sense if you check out my full review of Vanity Fair here.)

Tom (The Girl on the Train)

Here’s a more recent example: seeing Tom get his comeuppance in Paula Hawkins’ novel will definitely have you heaving a sigh of relief. It’s much like a modern Tess of the d’Urbervilles, in that a gaslighting motherfucker gets called out on his bullshit, and the sisters are doing it for themselves. Read my full review of The Girl On The Train here.


So, if you’re at a point in your life where you’re feeling a bit disheartened, maybe it seems like the good guys always lose out or that karma never quite comes around, try giving one of these a go. Seeing the villains get what’s coming to them never fails to lift the spirits! πŸ˜‰ What do you think is the best villain downfall? Let me know in the comments below (or tell us over at KUWTP on Facebook!).

 

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The List

By popular demand, here is the complete list of Books I’ve Never Read (But Really Should), all to be reviewed and discussed here on Keeping Up With The Penguins. Click through the links to check out my reviews as I knock them off, one by one…

  1. The Book Thief – Markus Zusak
  2. To Kill A Mockingbird – Harper Lee βœ“
  3. Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen βœ“
  4. Jane Eyre – Charlotte BrontΓ«
  5. The Hunger Games – Suzanne Collins
  6. The Rosie Project – Graeme Simsion βœ“
  7. The Great Gatsby – F. Scott Fitzgerald
  8. The Dressmaker – Rosalie Ham βœ“
  9. A Game Of Thrones – George R. R. Martin βœ“
  10. Divergent – Veronica Roth βœ“
  11. The Fault In Our Stars – John Green βœ“
  12. The Alchemist – Paulo Coelho βœ“
  13. All The Light We Cannot See – Anthony Doerr βœ“
  14. Still Alice – Lisa Genova
  15. The Husband’s Secret – Liane Moriarty βœ“
  16. The Adventures Of Sherlock Holmes – Arthur Conan Doyle βœ“
  17. The One Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out The Window And Disappeared – Jonas Jonasson βœ“
  18. The Lake House – Kate Morton βœ“
  19. The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy – Douglas Adams βœ“
  20. The Girl On The Train – Paula Hawkins
  21. Fangirl – Rainbow Rowell βœ“
  22. The Maze Runner – James Dashner βœ“
  23. The Happiest Refugee – Ahn Do βœ“
  24. Paper Towns – John Green
  25. The Martian – Andy Weir βœ“
  26. If I Stay – Gayle Forman βœ“
  27. The Colour Of Magic – Terry Pratchett βœ“
  28. Life After Life – Kate Atkinson βœ“
  29. We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves – Karen Joy Fowler
  30. We Were Liars – E. Lockhart βœ“
  31. A Short History Of Nearly Everything – Bill Bryson
  32. Farenheit 451 – Ray Bradbury βœ“
  33. My Brilliant Friend – Elena Ferrante βœ“
  34. On The Road – Jack Kerouac
  35. Yes Please – Amy Poehler
  36. Girl Online – Zoe Sugg βœ“
  37. A Brief History Of Time – Stephen Hawking βœ“
  38. The Brain That Changes Itself – Norman Doidge βœ“
  39. American Sniper – Chris Kyle
  40. Wild – Cheryl Strayed
  41. The Pilgrim’s Progress – John Bunyan βœ“
  42. Robinson Crusoe – Daniel Defoe βœ“
  43. Gulliver’s Travels – Jonathan Swift βœ“
  44. Clarissa – Samuel Richardson βœ“
  45. The Life And Opinions Of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman – Laurence Sterne βœ“
  46. Emma – Jane Austen
  47. Frankenstein – Mary Shelley βœ“
  48. Sybil – Benjamin Disraeli
  49. Wuthering Heights – Emily BrontΓ«
  50. Vanity Fair – William Thackeray
  51. David Copperfield – Charles Dickens
  52. The Scarlet Letter – Nathaniel Hawthorne
  53. Moby Dick – Herman Melville
  54. Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland – Lewis Carroll
  55. Little Women – Louisa May Alcott βœ“
  56. The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn – Mark Twain βœ“
  57. Strange Case Of Dr Jekyll And Mr Hyde – Robert Louis Stevenson
  58. The Picture Of Dorian Grey – Oscar Wilde βœ“
  59. Dracula – Bram Stoker
  60. Kim – Rudyard Kipling βœ“
  61. The Call Of The Wild – Jack London βœ“
  62. The Golden Bowl – Henry James βœ“
  63. The Wind In The Willows – Kenneth Grahame βœ“
  64. The Thirty-Nine Steps – John Buchan βœ“
  65. The Age Of Innocence – Edith Wharton βœ“
  66. Ulysses – James Joyce βœ“
  67. A Passage To India – EM Forster βœ“
  68. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes – Anita Loos βœ“
  69. Mrs Dalloway – Virginia Woolf
  70. Lolly Willowes – Sylvia Townsend
  71. The Sun Also Rises – Ernest Hemingway
  72. The Maltese Falcon – Dashiell Hammett βœ“
  73. As I Lay Dying – William Faulkner
  74. Brave New World – Aldous Huxley
  75. Cold Comfort Farm – Stella Gibbons βœ“
  76. Nineteen Nineteen – John Dos Passos βœ“
  77. Tropic Of Cancer – Henry Miller βœ“
  78. Scoop – Evelyn Waugh βœ“
  79. Murphy – Samuel Beckett βœ“
  80. The Big Sleep – Raymond Chandler βœ“
  81. Party Going – Henry Green
  82. The Grapes Of Wrath – John Steinbeck βœ“
  83. All The King’s Men – Robert Penn Warren βœ“
  84. The Heat Of The Day – Elizabeth Bowen βœ“
  85. The End Of The Affair – Graham Greene βœ“
  86. The Catcher In The Rye – JD Salinger
  87. The Adventures of Augie March – Saul Bellow βœ“
  88. Lord Of The Flies – William Golding βœ“
  89. The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie – Muriel Spark βœ“
  90. Catch-22 – Joseph Heller
  91. The Golden Notebook – Doris Lessing βœ“
  92. A Clockwork Orange – Anthony Burgess
  93. A Single Man – Christopher Isherwood βœ“
  94. In Cold Blood – Truman Capote
  95. The Bell Jar – Sylvia Plath βœ“
  96. Portnoy’s Complaint – Philip Roth βœ“
  97. Money: A Suicide Note – Martin Amis βœ“
  98. An Artist Of The Floating World – Kazuo Ishiguro βœ“
  99. Amongst Women – John McGahern βœ“
  100. True History Of The Kelly Gang – Peter Carey βœ“
  101. She Came To Stay – Simone De Beauvoir βœ“
  102. The Divine Comedy – Dante Alighieri
  103. My Brilliant Career – Miles Franklin
  104. Crime And Punishment – Fyodor Dostoyevsky βœ“
  105. Don Quixote – Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra βœ“
  106. The White Mouse – Nancy Wake βœ“
  107. The Narrow Road To The Deep North – Richard Flanagan βœ“
  108. The Turn Of The Screw – Henry James βœ“
  109. Lady Chatterley’s Lover – DH Lawrence

Entries marked with a check are texts that I have already procured, and a review will be coming soon on Keeping Up With The Penguins. The rest of them? Well, they’re the reason I’ll be drinking the house wine for a few years…

What do you think? Have I missed your favourite? Spot any glaring omissions? Get in touch to let me know (and subscribe to my mailing list below to stay up to date!).