My last chance to
read whatever I feel like before punishing university reading lists
start ruling my existence.
- Lucky Jim, Kingsley Amis (because Oxford baybay.)
- Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh (see above)
- Candide, Voltaire (because my English teacher said it will teach you how to live your life and that kind of wisdom is always welcome.)
- The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway
- Things Fall Apart, Chinua Achebe (to honour this great Nigerian writer in the year of his death, and because I like the Yeats allusion.)
- The Art of Happiness, The Dalai Lama
- The Second Sex, Simone de Beauvoir (because women owe her everything.)
- The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera
- To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee (To my eternal shame, I never finished it.)
- Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov (likewise.)
- Catch-22, Joseph Heller
- Middlemarch, George Eliot
- The Communist Manifesto, Karl Marx (because why not and it is nice to make one's own mind up about things.)
- Hard Times, Charles Dickens (because I am already in love with that amazing opening.)
- What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, Raymond Carver
- The Accidental Theorist, Paul Krugman (because my friend lent me it and my understanding of economics is limited to the point of embarrassing.)
- The Portrait of a Lady, Henry James
- Something by Iris Murdoch (because I hear great things about this woman.)
- Wolf Hall, Hilary Mantel (to keep my finger on the literary pulse of the nation.)
- Think, Simon Blackburn (to indulge the philosopher within.)
'What you read when you don't have to determines what you will be when you can't help it.' - Oscar Wilde


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