51. Isaac Asimov's Missing from the List. Most of the ones I liked very much made it. Too many Terry Pratchett ones made it, even though I do agree Terry Pratchett excels in his style, and is TERRIBLY funny to boot. But far too many. Too many Oldies. NO SHAKESPEARE??!
1. The Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien
2. Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen
3. His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman
4. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams
5. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, JK Rowling
6. To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
7. Winnie the Pooh, AA Milne
8. Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell
9. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, CS Lewis
10. Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte
11. Catch-22, Joseph Heller
12. Wuthering Heights , Emily Bronte
13. Birdsong, Sebastian Faulks
14. Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier Meh.
15. The Catcher in the Rye , JD Salinger
16. The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth Grahame
17. Great Expectations, Charles Dickens
18. Little Women, Louisa May Alcott
19. Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Louis de Bernieres
20. War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy
21. Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell
22. Harry Potter And The Sorcerer's Stone, JK Rowling
23. Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets, JK Rowling
24. Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban, JK Rowling
25. The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien
26. Tess Of The D'Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy
27. Middlemarch, George Eliot
28. A Prayer For Owen Meany, John Irving
29. The Grapes Of Wrath, John Steinbeck
30. Alice 's Adventures In Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
31. The Story Of Tracy Beaker, Jacqueline Wilson
32. One Hundred Years Of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
33. The Pillars Of The Earth, Ken Follett
34. David Copperfield, Charles Dickens
35. Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl
36. Treasure Island , Robert Louis Stevenson
37. A Town Like Alice, Nevil Shute
38. Persuasion, Jane Austen
39. Dune, Frank Herbert
40. Emma, Jane Austen
41. Anne Of Green Gables, LM Montgomery
42. Watership Down, Richard Adams
43. The Great Gatsby, F Scott Fitzgerald
44. The Count Of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas
45. Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh
46. Animal Farm, George Orwell
47. A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens
48. Far From The Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy
49. Goodnight Mister Tom, Michelle Magorian
50. The Shell Seekers, Rosamunde Pilcher
51. The Secret Garden , Frances Hodgson Burnett
52. Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck
53. The Stand, Stephen King
54. Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy
55. A Suitable Boy, Vikram Seth
56. The BFG, Roald Dahl
57. Swallows And Amazons, Arthur Ransome
58. Black Beauty, Anna Sewell
59. Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer
60. Crime And Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky
61. Noughts And Crosses, Malorie Blackman
62. Memoirs Of A Geisha, Arthur Golden
63. A Tale Of Two Cities, Charles Dickens
64. The Thorn Birds, Colleen McCollough
65. Mort, Terry Pratchett
66. The Magic Faraway Tree, Enid Blyton
67. The Magus, John Fowles
68. Good Omens, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
69. Guards! Guards!, Terry Pratchett
70. Lord Of The Flies, William Golding
71. Perfume, Patrick Suskind
72. The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, Robert Tressell
73. Night Watch, Terry Pratchett
74. Matilda, Roald Dahl
75. Bridget Jones's Diary, Helen Fielding
76. The Secret History, Donna Tartt
77. The Woman In White, Wilkie Collins
78. Ulysses, James Joyce
79. Bleak House, Charles Dickens
80. Double Act, Jacqueline Wilson
81. The Twits, Roald Dahl
82. I Capture The Castle, Dodie Smith
83. Holes, Louis Sachar
84. Gormenghast, Mervyn Peake
85. The God Of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
86. Vicky Angel, Jacqueline Wilson
87. Brave New World, Aldous Huxley
88. Cold Comfort Farm, Stella Gibbons
89. Magician, Raymond E Feist
90. On The Road, Jack Kerouac
91. The Godfather, Mario Puzo
92. The Clan Of The Cave Bear, Jean M Auel
93. The Colour Of Magic, Terry Pratchett
94. The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho
95. Katherine, Anya Seton
96. Kane And Abel, Jeffrey Archer
97. Love In The Time Of Cholera, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
98. Girls In Love, Jacqueline Wilson
99. The Princess Diaries, Meg Cabot
100. Midnight 's Children, Salman Rushdie
101. Three Men In A Boat, Jerome K. Jerome
102. Small Gods, Terry Pratchett
103. The Beach, Alex Garland
104. Dracula, Bram Stoker
105. Point Blanc, Anthony Horowitz
106. The Pickwick Papers, Charles Dickens
107. Stormbreaker, Anthony Horowitz
108. The Wasp Factory, Iain Banks
109. The Day Of The Jackal, Frederick Forsyth
110. The Illustrated Mum, Jacqueline Wilson
111. Jude The Obscure, Thomas Hardy
112. The Secret Diary Of Adrian Mole Aged 13 and a half, Sue Townsend
113. The Cruel Sea, Nicholas Monsarrat
114. Les Miserables, Victor Hugo
115. The Mayor Of Casterbridge, Thomas Hardy
116. The Dare Game, Jacqueline Wilson
117. Bad Girls, Jacqueline Wilson
118. The Picture Of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde
119. Shogun, James Clavell
120. The Day Of The Triffids, John Wyndham
121. Lola Rose, Jacqueline Wilson
122. Vanity Fair, William Makepeace Thackeray
123. The Forsyte Saga, John Galsworthy
124. House Of Leaves, Mark Z. Danielewski
125. The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver
126. Reaper Man, Terry Pratchett
127. Angus, Thongs And Full-Frontal Snogging, Louise Rennison
128. The Hound Of The Baskervilles, Arthur Conan Doyle
129. Possession, A. S. Byatt
130. The Master And Margarita, Mikhail Bulgakov
131. The Handmaid's Tale, Margaret Atwood
132. Danny The Champion Of The World, Roald Dahl
133. East Of Eden, John Steinbeck
134. George's Marvellous Medicine, Roald Dahl
135. Wyrd Sisters, Terry Pratchett
136. The Color Purple, Alice Walker
137. Hogfather, Terry Pratchett
138. The Thirty-Nine Steps, John Buchan
139. Girls In Tears, Jacqueline Wilson
140. Sleepovers, Jacqueline Wilson
141. All Quiet On The Western Front, Erich Maria Remarque
142. Behind The Scenes At The Museum, Kate Atkinson
143. High Fidelity, Nick Hornby
144. It, Stephen King
145. James And The Giant Peach, Roald Dahl
146. The Green Mile, Stephen King
147. Papillon, Henri Charriere
148. Men At Arms, Terry Pratchett
149. Master And Commander, Patrick O'Brian
150. Skeleton Key, Anthony Horowitz
151. Soul Music, Terry Pratchett
152. Thief Of Time, Terry Pratchett
153. The Fifth Elephant, Terry Pratchett
154. Atonement, Ian McEwan
155. Secrets, Jacqueline Wilson
156. The Silver Sword, Ian Serraillier
157. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, Ken Kesey
158. Heart Of Darkness, Joseph Conrad
159. Kim, Rudyard Kipling
160. Cross Stitch, Diana Gabaldon
161. Moby Dick, Herman Melville
162. River God, Wilbur Smith
163. Sunset Song, Lewis Grassic Gibbon
164. The Shipping News, Annie Proulx
165. The World According To Garp, John Irving
166. Lorna Doone, R. D. Blackmore
167. Girls Out Late, Jacqueline Wilson
168. The Far Pavilions, M. M. Kaye
169. The Witches, Roald Dahl
170. Charlotte 's Web, E. B. White
171. Frankenstein, Mary Shelley
172. They Used To Play On Grass, Terry Venables and Gordon Williams
173. The Old Man And The Sea, Ernest Hemingway
174. The Name Of The Rose, Umberto Eco
175. Sophie's World, Jostein Gaarder
176. Dustbin Baby, Jacqueline Wilson
177. Fantastic Mr Fox, Roald Dahl
178. Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov
179. Jonathan Livingstone Seagull, Richard Bach
180. The Little Prince, Antoine De Saint-Exupery
181. The Suitcase Kid, Jacqueline Wilson
182. Oliver Twist, Charles Dickens
183. The Power Of One, Bryce Courtenay
184. Silas Marner, George Eliot
185. American Psycho, Bret Easton Ellis
186. The Diary Of A Nobody, George and Weedon Grossmith
187. Trainspotting, Irvine Welsh
188. Goosebumps, R. L. Stine
189. Heidi, Johanna Spyri
190. Sons And Lovers, D. H. Lawrence
191. The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera
192. Man And Boy, Tony Parsons
193. The Truth, Terry Pratchett
194. The War Of The Worlds, H. G. Wells
195. The Horse Whisperer, Nicholas Evans
196. A Fine Balance, Rohinton Mistry
197. Witches Abroad, Terry Pratchett
198. The Once And Future King, T. H. White
199. The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Eric Carle
200. Flowers In The Attic, Virginia Andrews
I feel disjointed.
The past drags on my mind, claws screeching a mournful song as talons dig into my sanity. I’m not sure where I am now, not sure what I am. National Service does that to you. It takes all that you found familiar, all those sights and sounds, thoughts and feelings, and stamps a big “PAST” on them. As you walk down streets, lanes, what you once were is no longer who you are. All the things you took for granted. The air that you breathe, the sounds that you hear, the attitudes you bring around. They change.
And I find myself unable to change.
I miss walking with random friends at Buona Vista to school. I miss dining with people I know and love and still cherish for lunches and dinners. I miss the teachers, the classrooms the schools. I miss the crazy activities after school, miss playing with classmates. Miss running. I even miss studying. Habits that you’ve held for 6 odd years of your life are hard to break.
But more than that. I’m afraid. I’m unsure. I’m drunk (that is right now. A little confused.)
I am going nowhere in my life. I am forced to move directionlessly. Or rather just to stay put in time. There are so many places I want to go. So many people I want to see, so many activities and challenges and happenings for me to experience.
Perhaps I should really take a break now. Reassess my life, slow down the pace. Look far.
Will you be there in my future? You there reading this. Or are you just going to stay in my past?
When you need help one day, would you accept mine?
When you see me in the streets, would you say hi?
If you see my name one day in the papers, would you come look for me? Would you support me?
Are you reading this because it is entertainment for you? Because you derive pleasure from gossiping about me, and want to make sure I’m not gossiping about you?
Are you reading this because you believe you’re a friend of mine, and you ought to know about what I’m thinking? What I’m doing?
I have told certain people I miss them. And it is true. I miss them because they are such a big beautiful chunk of the world I live in. I miss them because I know some of them don’t want to see me, some of them don’t even want to know me. But I will still tell you I miss you nevertheless. Maybe only once. But at least I know that this once in my life, I’ve told you how important you are to me. How your deeds have left such a deep impression. How your work has been appreciated.
I am selfish. It is my peace of mind I’m working for here.
And what peace isn’t it? Better the last line in our book written by me. Better that I need not close it.
Hoping that one day we will all give praise and thanks to the ones that have done the most for us. Hoping that we’ll see each other’s end.
Tell me a story people!
Tell me a simple story that suspends my disbelief.
Tell me a story that takes me away into another world.
Where all that is IS. And all that will be, WILL be.
And where everything is so plausible. So REAL.
Tell me a story of the real.
If
Joanna will work hard to answer my questions, I will work hard to better define my questions and arguments and make them understood.
Let me give a little background, of what I feel about Christianity from my perspective. History.
I've got a fancy story to tell, but I've decided that it'll be out of point, and too long.
I've never finished reading the Bible. I know. How can I argue about theology if I haven't read the complete text? I've read the early and more interesting bits, Genesis and Proverbs and Revelations. Everytime I start to read the Bible, the words fall like anvils, and I just get hammered hammered under. And it repeats itself after a while. I know cos I tried to skip ahead. It doesn't help that the version I like best is still the King James I think. Which is full of the Olde English. I like the way the words have flavour.
One important issue, that I will discuss, and of course place out of bounds immediately after, is the issue of the Word of God. This is no case of "I think therefore I am", but rather a case of "I am the Word of someone else." And that bigshot told a few people to write his messages in me. And one of those messages is that I am his word. And that anyone who adds or subtracts from his word will be dammed. (paraphrasing loosely)
It is good copyright protection, no doubt.
"And if anyone takes words away from this book of prophecy, God will take away from him his share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in this book" (Revelation 22:19) (New International Version)
"And if any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city, and from the things which are written in this book." (Revelation 22:19) (King James Version)
"If you take anything away from these prophecies, God will not let you have part in the life-giving tree and in the holy city described in this book." (Revelation 22:19) (Contemporary English Version)
"and if any one may take away from the words of the scroll of this prophecy, God shall take away his part from the scroll of the life, and out of the holy city, and the things that have been written in this scroll" (Revelation 22:19) (Young's Literal Translation)
Exercise for the reader. Is it a scroll or book of prophecy? Is it a scroll of the life or a life-giving tree or book of life? Two or three things? Take away life and city, or take away life, city and something else.
And of course, are all three writers doomed?
The fact is, the history of the Bible, and its formation as we came to know of it, is the result of numerous additions and subtractions over the passage of time. Each sect in Christianity follows generally the same sets of books, but also adds or subtracts minor bits of what is known as the Bible.
What do we do with a book that makes a rather strange and roundabout claim to existence? What do we do with a book that has been modified and reinterpreted through the ages?
We cannot doubt the fact that the book exists. Nor that it is generally consistent (or inconsistent!), except in the details.Just because I can't feel God doesn't mean I believe the book is a false book. The book may yet be true. (I for one know I haven't seen my brain, but I'm pretty sure it exists)
The problem lies in the creation of the book. For it is a work of many authors and interpreters, as a work that has been edited ruthlessly (and copyrighted too for commercial gain.). Maybe I'm just a new age hippie. But for a work of such importance, the people that crafted and maintained the book all had much to gain from their job. As a source of Political Power, a way to make money, to get more disciples and become famous. People who disagree are edited out of the Canon. People who agree and say pretty much the same things are accepted, anointed and immortalized.
What would you say to a book that claims to be the word of God?
What would you say to a man that claims to be the son of God?
The son has proved himself in deeds and bearing and miracles.
What has the book done for you today?
What has the book done for humanity today?
Yes. My god. 2+am IS a quiet and reflective time in my life. 2+ am is a quiet and reflective time in my life.
Ah. Been having terrible catchy fever. 2 members of my family have already got it. I wonder how many more in Tekong Madhouse will get it. Apparently the MC list already spans 10+ out of 50 possible names. Whooo hooo to viruses and bacteria. I'm on a 3 day MC so you'll see me often. (after having a 4 day MC filled with terribly high temperatures and general weakness)
In my delirium, I saw the response to
Joanna's post, which was in turn a response to cuifen's reply (which I haven't read, silly me.)
I went blind, due to fever, and in those years there weren't any cures. I had a beautiful wife, who looked after my every need, and actually married me after my illness struck, because she was a supporter of the work I did, and she wanted me to keep on working.
One day, I received a call, telling me that i could regain my sight if I went for a cornea transplant.
Like a pebble falling into a calm surface, the repercussions of treatment were many.
1) The pleasure of finally seeing what your wife looks like
2) The pleasure of being able to work unaided.
3) Not being a burden to anybody.
4) Being able to pursue your dreams
5) Returning to your youth, or period of ability
6) The pleasure of vision itself and beauty.
And what I had to give up.
1) The status quo, the equilibrium of dependence.
2) The blind me. The me that has been my identity for years.
3) Reverting to the past, a past which is over, a past which I've lived foolishly.
4) The pleasures of not being able to see. The absolute darkness and peace.
5) My freedom in being dependent.
6) The world in which I am.
I decided to give the opportunity for the cornea transplant to someone else. Someone who wants to go back to the past, someone who is unsatisfied with his present. I am satisfied with my present. All my needs ever are fulfilled. I have someone to care for me, I have work to do, I am able to contribute to society. I am everything I believe a person should be, yet more. Though I am blind, my wife helps me see. Though I never step out of my house, my house is my world, and I am it's master. I am not proud, or deceitful, but humble, because I need other people for my daily living. And they need me, for I am working for society.
Perhaps not being Christian is a fault. Perhaps there is a God that wants us to follow His rules. Perhaps we should try and lead a life free of sin. Perhaps.
But I am content to be blind.
I am content to be where I am, because that is where I am.
This around me is MY world.
I don't live in the hope of reaching a divine plane free from evil and danger.
This is MY plane. This is where I make MY world free from evil and danger.
God is the force that I will respect. But he is a force.
Just as gravity pulls us down, just as light can't pass through a clouded cornea.
These are facts of life. Respect them, but by no means worship them.
For they cannot help but do their job. Worship or no, the Earth still draws me to it.
God has His jobs, his work to contribute to society.
Every day when I open my eyes, I see beauty because I choose to see it.
I am satisfied. Because I decide to be.
Sure I have things I want. But whether I have them or not, it doesn't change my contentedness one bit.
I can't respect a God that introduces fear into my life.
Nor uncertainty, nor doubt.
I can't respect a God that makes me pay a tithe,
For this is a God that drives me to poverty.
I can't respect a God that makes 10 commandments,
Which is a restriction to my freedom
And an insult to my common sense.
I can't respect a God that casts his son out from his own house,
And leaves him to die humiliated on a cross.
I can't respect a God that is all powerful, yet speaks to those suffering on Earth
And gives them dreams of places in Heaven.
I can't respect a God that is so weak, he cannot even ensure the integrity of his Own Voice.
Nor the integrity of His institutions.
I can't respect a God that gives men freedom,
only to tell them that there is only one right path.
I can't respect a God, that speaks truly to only a handful,
Telling them the importance of contentment, of fufillment,
While leaving the rest hankering over a place in heaven.
Or the Papacy.
Or a gazillion other Christian things.
really reflective and rare quiet time in your life?? I WANT CHICKEN RICE.
they give singing lessons here! the teacher's away though. and guitar lessons every wednesday by this man whose name sounds faintly greek.
Music Music Music!
Well, I'm sorry about not posting regularly, now that I've all the time in NS, but there's just so much so much to do on weekends that blogging is like one of the lowest priorities around. Everyone's gone into NS, so the only people who are free are guys like me, downgraded to C9L3, which means I can't do my bit defending the country, nor take the IPPT (even though I passed), nor wear the army uniform (cos it's too bloody hot). Going to see the Medical Officers(read doctors) also sounds like visiting some really concerned parents. They keep asking if I've downgraded yet. And being so willing to downgrade me, I feel almost ashamed.
Just sent Daph off the other day. Really interesting person. Had this long long conversation with bits and pieces I can use and quote with. Anyway it was one of those really reflective and rare quiet times in my life. Really not getting those very much now. At least I know she's kinda well. But if a bit disconnected (in both senses of the word) from civilization.
Just bought a guitar recently as well. I just feel this bond with it, being able to pick it up and play whatever single notes I desire. It's just the chording that my fingers can't cope with. As well as the fact that I've gotten a steel- strung acoustic that has been chewing up my fingers, so I can only play for a few minutes before my fingers complain. It'll get better with time I'm assured. Played a friend's classical, and it was so unbelievably easy. But nice sounding classicals are pretty expensive. My cheapo acoustic will do for now. Need to bang the music out of it. Kinda like polishing boots (which I don't have to do anymore)
Having a guitar is one of those magical things that happen once in a lifetime, like the first time I heard a concert, and took up the organ so I could play something cool a long time ago in primary school. I used to love the way how playing a low note on the organ would cause the whole chair to rumble and shake. I still love how playing my guitar has all these weird vibrations and overtones with every note. Like there were all these sounds that you've never heard before in your life, lost in recordings, but so evident in your own guitar. I find myself irritated by high pitched overtones even though I've stopped all the strings. It's just so rich. Like my guitar has so many things I've yet to explore, so many facets I'll discover in the weeks to come.
Part of the fun of course, is also singing a note and feeling the string corresponding to that note rumble on the guitar. Resonance!
And somebody finally appreciates my singing! Yay!
I'm thinking of classes. But with classes there's always this feeling that you've got to get a decent instrument first, cos the classes cost so much. Maybe one day I'll go for singing classes anyway since I can't exactly buy a new voice box. Need to expand range! Need to expand range.
What I've really been doing today, is listening to all my favourite songs again. I love Jay Chou. And Fish Leong. It's art, infusing a song with your own feelings. Acting as it is, with nothing but the power of sound. And just floating away in bed, carried by the strength of emotion, feeling the resonance of pain in your own heart. We're all human. We all listen to the same things and feel.
But there are things one cannot feel. There are things that people hide in their hearts, block them up with stone walls. Things that must not escape or be made known, or shared with others. Things that cannot be released because we can never know the full impact when they're released. Pressures, burdens, stresses, all piling up behind that stone wall, until the day the wall cracks, and we panic and do something to alleviate the stresses. We just throw out the baby with the bathwater, let the pressures and burdens and stresses all flow out, obliterate our dreams, our fascinations, our feelings. Let the rivers flood, and the plains go under, and wait for another sun, on another bright day, we'll rise again.
People who take the most stress, build the strongest walls, don't survive to see the morning. Share the stress. Morning comes earlier.
I am exhausted. Three computer tables from Ikea carried by one strong man = one exhausted man.
Ah.. but I managed to pursuade my mum to buy them in purple and orange. Which must count for something. Beware house. I am so going to release my pent up creative juices on your drab brown white frame. Just pray I stick to purple and orange.
NS NS NS day. I'm so happy to go away. (RIGHT.)
Daph! Are you there yet? Are you there yet?
Hobbitz! What are you doing right now? Found a job?
And my headache tells me to go rest. Carry on soldier! or clerk.....
MWAHAHAHAHAAAAAA
*PERMEATES*
I think I'm going muts. Nuts. I could have backspaced. I'm leaving in two days! It's your birthday in two days!
You're in camp! Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad.
