My Desert Island Library
Cast ashore on the proverbial desert island, I would want to have these books with me. They are ones I could read and re-read for a very long time. The only rule: one book per author.
Walter Abish. How German Is It.
J.G. Ballard. Empire of the Sun.
John Banville. The Book of Evidence.
Samuel Beckett. Molloy.
Thomas Bernhard. Woodcutters.
Michel Butor. Passing Time.
Robert Coover. The Universal Baseball Association, Inc., J. Henry Waugh, Prop.
Mathias Enard. Zone.
Julien Gracq. The Narrow Waters.
Graham Greene. The Heart of the Matter.
Peter Handke. The Goalie’s Anxiety at the Penalty Kick.
Franz Kafka. The Castle.
Ágota Kristóf. The Proof.
William Maxwell. The Chateau.
Herman Melville. Moby-Dick.
Alberto Moravia. Contempt.
Harry Mulisch. The Assault.
Robert Musil. The Man Without Qualities.
Vladimir Nabokov. Lolita.
Peter Nadas. A Book of Memories.
Fernando Pessoa. The Book of Disquiet.
Robert Pinget. Passacaglia.
Jean Rhys. Wide Sargasso Sea.
W.G. Sebald. The Rings of Saturn.
Patti Smith. M Train.
Rebecca Solnit. The Faraway Nearby.
Susan Sontag. The Volcano Lover.
Ronald Sukenick. Blown Away.
Virginia Woolf. Mrs. Dalloway.
Marguerite Yourcenar. Memoirs of Hadrian.
(Subject to change on pure whim.)