The Canon According to Jenny
(That would be me. And since this is a "Canon according to me," don't bitch about what I didn't put in here, or what I panned. Make your own list.)
Ann Pachett. The Patron Saint of Liars and Bel Canto are two of my favorite books. The prose is gorgeous, the characters are fully fleshed, and, what's more, there isn't a moment where I've stopped and thought, "Okaaaay. Move on." I think her strongest point as a writer is that she writes about people who have done/are doing morally questionable things, and does it in a way that makes you see where they're coming from.
Harper Lee. I didn't read To Kill a Mockingbird until I was out of graduate school, but I'm glad I waited to read it. It's one of those books that I never want to end--I can read it over and over again and still get the same happy "(sigh) Yes" feeling. It reaffirmed my faith in humanity. And speaking of...
Pearl Cleage. What Looks Like Crazy on an Ordinary Day and I Wish I Had A Red Dress fall under the Oprah Book Club heading, which I am generally tired of. But the prose is masterful, and the tone is luscious and perfect. Both books surround sisters Ava and Joyce Johnson, who I always think of when I consider who I would be friends with from literature. There's some very poetic social activism here in Joyce's belief that people basically want to do the right thing for themselves and their kin, it's just that sometimes they don't know how.
Aldous Huxley. Not a fan of Brave New World? Look at Huxley's After Many A Summer Dies the Swan. I generally dislike science fiction--I find real life to be strange enough for endless fictional permutations. But Huxley is so satirical in his science fiction that it doesn't even seem like sci-fi to me.
F. Scott Fitzgerald. As I've mentioned before, I hate him. Hate. Read him if you must, but definitely read Zelda Fitzgerald's Save Me the Waltz. F. Scott's Tender is the Night is a plagiarism of Zelda's first draft of Save Me the Waltz. Likewise...
Ernest Hemingway. Meh. I didn't like his books before I found out that he was a mysogynistic drunk. There's just something about them that bores me. His complete inability to write women is usually what throws me off his books, though I have to say that I love his short story Hills Like White Elephants and recommend it to anyone who's attempting to write using a large conflict. The fact that he never addresses the big issue directly makes it even bigger, which is masterful.
Margaret Mitchell. Gone With the Wind Likewise, I recommend was her only published fiction work until 1995. I think it's awful that her estate didn't burn her letters as per her request in her will, so I'm going to go with GWTW as the only legitimate Mitchell work. I recommend it to anyone who is trying to figure out how to write an unlikable character without going overboard. Likewise, I recommend Nuala O'Faolain's My Dream of You.
Douglas Adams. Read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy for the pop culture, then read everything else he ever wrote. Go back and read everything again, but this time for the satirical social commentary. Read it again for the lighthearted humor, and then again for the strangely uplifting "none of it matters anyway, so why not have a good time while you're here?" philosophy.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Love in the Time of Cholera is another one of those "(sigh) Yes" books. Read it both before and after you understand that love isn't easy, but sometimes loving someone difficult is worth it. I think to really understand Marquez you must read at least a few Surrealist Spanish short stories, plays, and some poetry. Miguel de Unamuno is a great starting place, and his play San Manuel Bueno, Martir (Saint Emmanuel the Good, Martyr) is an excellent work overall. There's an anthology of Spanish poetry called Roots and Wings: Poetry from Spain 1900-1975. While I haven't read it, I've read most of the poems in it. Also consider Fedorico Garcia Lorca's plays, especilally Blood Wedding. After you've read a few short stories, read Laura Esquivel's Like Water for Chocolate. And related to that...
Pablo Neruda. Oh my God. How could you not love Neruda. His poetry is sexy, evocative, and rolls like water. Some of it is quite funny. What's amazing to me is that his poetry is so linguistically beautiful in either Spanish or English, though he wrote the poems in Spanish. It's either a great deal of credit to his translator or to his ability to craft words in any language.
Jeffery Eugenides. I haven't read The Virgin Suicides, so I can't speak to the merits of it, but Middlesex is one of the best books that I've read in a long time. The characters are absolutely amazingly drawn, and the book rollicks along in an amazing fashion.
Michael Chabon. I don't know how I lived so long without knowing his name. Wonder Boys is so bittersweet, and The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay haunts me every time I hear mention of a comic book. Multi-faceted characters are his strong suit, which explains why he appeals to me.
Amy Tan. I know, I know. But it's so hard for me to reference other books without talking about the conflicts in The Joy Luck Club or the pace of The Kitchen God's Wife or to think about family or folklore without referencing The Bonesetter's Daughter. For all of those who complain about the drama in her books--it is drama that is handled well, with a completely dispassionate tone that makes horrifying violence and human misery all the more horrifying.
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Note: I began this project at 1:30 pm. I'm finishing sometime around 3:30. I could go on and on, but I feel it's best to stop here and rest for a bit. Tomorrow, I may reconsider and update the list with things I've forgotten.
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