The exercise: Create a one-page autobiography.
****************************************
Does it need to be a given that I was born? It’d be nice if it was a surprise. I was a surprise, coming into a family of five siblings, each of which, my mother had sworn, would be her last. After me she made certain of it, with an additional procedure she referred to as “having her tubes tied,” and the significance of which would not hit me for decades. So, I was born into a large family, as an only child. The sibling above me, a brother, was in high school when I was born. My oldest brother was a Junior in college. And by the time I was old enough to even be cognisant of having siblings, they were all gone—other states, other countries, other realities, entire.
Is it significant that I grew up, went to school? That part should be boring and trite, except for the part about my being part of a pilot program, built on the heels of the forced-bussing-into-Boston era. The METCO program allowed Springfield youth to be bussed out to the suburbs of Southwick, Indian Orchard, and in my case, East Longmeadow. So maybe that’s significant, in that I was an only child who, on top of that, did not socialize with any of the kids I went to school with. I grew up with kids around my neighborhood, friends, until they went off to local other schools, and I went off to my hour-long bus ride to a town where the only people of color were bussed in from out-of-town, on what the other kids called a “mental bus. Maybe it’s meaningful to note that my best friend and next door neighbor was lost to drugs before we were both out of high school, and how that makes me wonder to this day, who him and not me?” And maybe suspect that mental bus was at least part of the reason. Mental-ly, I recall that period as incredibly happy, because of a gift I was given that was also a curse—to be aware that I was at an age when anything was possible, and in fact, likely. Like the freedom of dreaming and knowing that you are in a dream. Nothing is frightening, and the only dark certainty is that the time is finite, and will certainly end.
Maybe it’s important to note that I went to college? Maybe not. After all, I wasn’t the first one in my family to go to college. My other siblings went to get degrees in chemistry, in education, in management, in law. But I was the first one to go to art school. That should be significant, and in retrospect seems impossible, given my family. How can someone spend that much money on an education whose stated end isn’t even guaranteed to end up in a successful, pre-ordained career? In school, I found plenty of examples of students whose families had tons of money to allow them to move majors, and even squander talent while Mom and Dad footed the bill. I spend weeks living on peanut butter and ramen noodles, or packets of hit cocoa and candied orange slices, when the budget allowed for variety. And learning art.
It’s important to try and sift through the stuff that I learned later, and that I didn’t know at the time, but it’s nearly impossible to sift it out. Like trying to distill water from kool-aid after it’s mixed. Everything is candy-colored and sugar sweetened. So at this point, I leave it mixed, and try to remember what the color of the water was, originally. Though I know I won’t capture it. And in the end, I realize I’m not really even trying to.
I should talk about the best job I ever had, and love and loss and marriage and kids and all that, but that’s so much about now that it lacks the clarity of distance the rest of my life has developed. And without that clarity, standing in the middle of the mix, I can’t even tell what is water and what is the air surrounding the pitcher. And I’m coming up to the end of the single page. And my life's not even over, yet.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Andersons Night (story start)
So I'm taking a writing workshop, Thursday evenings. It's a great group, and it's a kick in the pants to produce. A kick I don't seem to be able to give myself, by myself.
So, I will be posting some of the fruits of that labor here in the next couple of weeks, as another kick in the pants. I mean, you know you're losing something when your son is more prolific in his writing than you. And he's not even out of middle school yet. Sheesh.
************
The exercise: Find a book that you like the title of. Take the first sentence from that book, and start a new story.
The book: Remember Me? By Sophie Kinsella
The first sentence: Of all the crap, crap, crappy nights I've ever had in the whole of my crap life.
Special note: I wrote the first sentence as the start of the exercise, but in the second edit of the text to come, I changed it. I loved the sentence, but it has a very specific voice that, once I got into telling the story, no longer fit the narrator. So I changed it. So there.
This is now the first part of what's developing to be a nice little crime short story.
************
Anderson’s Night.
It was a bad night.
And this morning isn’t getting any better. First, the car isn’t where it was supposed to be. I say “supposed to be,” Because I wasn’t the one who parked it. When I park a car, I make a point of getting out and spinning a quick, orienting 360, to tell where I am. I make note of landmarks, areas of the terrain, location in relation to prominent, memorable landmarks, and all that. But this time Ellen was the one driving the car, with me unconscious and sprawled in the back seat, across Reggie’s lap. It was Reggie who pulled me out, on arm under each of my pits, he swore. But by the throbbing in my head and the ache and bruises across my upper body, I couldn’t swear he didn’t pull me of the car and drag me inside, up three flights, by my ankles, my head thudding against each step and hm complaining all the way about how much weight I’d gained since he first met me three years ago. That would be Reggie.
But then, Ellen was there too, and I’m pretty sure…reasonably sure…almost positive she wouldn’t have let him do that. She would’ve lent him a hand, he at the top of my body and her at my feet. She's strong, I give her that. And Reggie, standing at every bit of her five foot five, was never much stronger for being a man. But he was never much of a man, in my opinion. But that's being snarky. And I hate snarky. That's more Reggie's territory.
The trek up to Ellen’s flat would’ve been difficult even just for the two of them. Those stairs are narrow, and the elevator non-existent. I can see her pulling her hair back with that scrunchy things she always keeps around her wrist or in her purse, or on the stick shift of my car. She's careful. She'd have carefully kept her long blonde locks free from the entangling velcro straps on my old sneakers. I may've gotten some footprints across her always-pristine leather jacket, given her significant breasts, and the awkward amble up those stairs. But no wear and tear would've been unloaded on me. And she'd've made Reggie be careful, too. She’s the responsible one. The one who said she loved me. Yeah, she would’ve made sure he was careful with me. Even though, at the time, she thought I was dead.
But then, how responsible was she really? I mean, she was the one who parked the car, and who should’ve known where I always park it when I’m at her place. Always, always, ALWAYS across the street, near the museum, where they let you park for free until about nine, when the meters, and the meter maids, kick in. But I’ve walked up and down this street four times, and I only have an hour until nine, and the damned car is just not here. And, of course, she’s not here to ask anymore, is she? She took off once the shooting started this morning. Not that I can blame her, for that. I never meant to get her into this mess in the first place.
But the car, that I blame her for.
Maybe I should go back and ask Reggie what he remembers. I’m pretty sure he’d still be able to talk. He’d said quite a bit already, before I left him. But I bet he’s got more in him. If he’s still breathing.
Continued.
So, I will be posting some of the fruits of that labor here in the next couple of weeks, as another kick in the pants. I mean, you know you're losing something when your son is more prolific in his writing than you. And he's not even out of middle school yet. Sheesh.
************
The exercise: Find a book that you like the title of. Take the first sentence from that book, and start a new story.
The book: Remember Me? By Sophie Kinsella
The first sentence: Of all the crap, crap, crappy nights I've ever had in the whole of my crap life.
Special note: I wrote the first sentence as the start of the exercise, but in the second edit of the text to come, I changed it. I loved the sentence, but it has a very specific voice that, once I got into telling the story, no longer fit the narrator. So I changed it. So there.
This is now the first part of what's developing to be a nice little crime short story.
************
Anderson’s Night.
It was a bad night.
And this morning isn’t getting any better. First, the car isn’t where it was supposed to be. I say “supposed to be,” Because I wasn’t the one who parked it. When I park a car, I make a point of getting out and spinning a quick, orienting 360, to tell where I am. I make note of landmarks, areas of the terrain, location in relation to prominent, memorable landmarks, and all that. But this time Ellen was the one driving the car, with me unconscious and sprawled in the back seat, across Reggie’s lap. It was Reggie who pulled me out, on arm under each of my pits, he swore. But by the throbbing in my head and the ache and bruises across my upper body, I couldn’t swear he didn’t pull me of the car and drag me inside, up three flights, by my ankles, my head thudding against each step and hm complaining all the way about how much weight I’d gained since he first met me three years ago. That would be Reggie.
But then, Ellen was there too, and I’m pretty sure…reasonably sure…almost positive she wouldn’t have let him do that. She would’ve lent him a hand, he at the top of my body and her at my feet. She's strong, I give her that. And Reggie, standing at every bit of her five foot five, was never much stronger for being a man. But he was never much of a man, in my opinion. But that's being snarky. And I hate snarky. That's more Reggie's territory.
The trek up to Ellen’s flat would’ve been difficult even just for the two of them. Those stairs are narrow, and the elevator non-existent. I can see her pulling her hair back with that scrunchy things she always keeps around her wrist or in her purse, or on the stick shift of my car. She's careful. She'd have carefully kept her long blonde locks free from the entangling velcro straps on my old sneakers. I may've gotten some footprints across her always-pristine leather jacket, given her significant breasts, and the awkward amble up those stairs. But no wear and tear would've been unloaded on me. And she'd've made Reggie be careful, too. She’s the responsible one. The one who said she loved me. Yeah, she would’ve made sure he was careful with me. Even though, at the time, she thought I was dead.
But then, how responsible was she really? I mean, she was the one who parked the car, and who should’ve known where I always park it when I’m at her place. Always, always, ALWAYS across the street, near the museum, where they let you park for free until about nine, when the meters, and the meter maids, kick in. But I’ve walked up and down this street four times, and I only have an hour until nine, and the damned car is just not here. And, of course, she’s not here to ask anymore, is she? She took off once the shooting started this morning. Not that I can blame her, for that. I never meant to get her into this mess in the first place.
But the car, that I blame her for.
Maybe I should go back and ask Reggie what he remembers. I’m pretty sure he’d still be able to talk. He’d said quite a bit already, before I left him. But I bet he’s got more in him. If he’s still breathing.
Continued.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Curriculum Vitae 1: The Story of Mary and Bob
From my curriculum vitae, here is my teaching philosophy: All kids inherently can draw. It’s the first and ultimate form of non-verbal communication. By showing kids shortcuts to success in drawing skills, you open the door to a world of possibilities and expression. My classes are about empowerment, exposing capabilities, and developing potential.
I stand by that statement. My first class of any drawing session, be it a seminar or the full semester art course I did last year at Kiley Middle school, I start off at a blank bulletin board, and tell a story. This is that story:
“How many of you like to draw? How many of you feel like you are good at drawing? (Get one student’s name-let’s say Bob). Let’s ask a different way-who is not good at drawing? (Get a student’s name from this group-let’s say Mary). Why do you think that everyone in the room didn’t raise their hand when I asked who was good at drawing? Maybe we’re just in a class of especially modest geniuses?
“I know why. By virtue of my own personal WayBack machine, I’ve watched each and every one of your life stories from when you were babies, scooting around the floor in dirty diapers. At that time, your parents maybe put you in the corner with the sharp writing instrument of your choice—a crayon—and said go to it.” So you, being the good little genius, crawled over to a blank section of wall, and started working!
(Start scribbling on the paper. It must be scribbles, formless, messy and without reason. And it has to look fun. While doing this say: )
“And you had fun. You were just playing around, making a mess, figuring stuff out. And before you knew it, you started making something.
(Gradually, over the couse of the board, develop the scribbles into a rough loop, then a cleaner loop, and on until you get to a perfect circle.
“And being the great genius you were, you named it. “This is a (students will say “circle,’ but you should say “Mary! This is a Mary! And I’m s proud of my Mary, it will make me world famous and be an amazing thing to share with everyone and anyone who will look!”
“And before you know it, the first dsy of Kindergarten came, and you were prepared. You had your favorite writing implement, and a world of blank paper. And you walked into that class and couldn’t wait to show everyone what genius you had developed. You walked up to the board and drew a perfect Mary! (Draw the circle).
“Suddenly, a hush fell over the classroom. From the back, up came Bob. (whistle the theme from “The Good The Bad and the Ugly”)
“From the back of the class, Bob walked forward, ‘ching, ching, ching…” And he pulled his piece-another crayon. “That’s nice,” he said, “but can you make a Bob?” And right next to your Mary, he drew a Bob." (Draw a near perfect triangle.)
“Mary approached the board with a trembling hand, and tried to act like it was no big deal, “No problem,” she said. And she drew a Bob. (Draw a triangle that is only vaguely so-looks much more like another circle.) And she tried again. And again. And finally she gave up in frustration. She threw her crayon down, and walked away, and never drew again. (mimick each of these actions for effect.) And today, Mary says she can’t draw at all, and Bob considers that he’s a great artist."
“But what did Mary forget? What was she doing way way back, when she first started drawing? (Point to the scribbles. Continue to press for answers until you get someone to say, or you suggest. The answer is “to have fun.”) When she first started, she wasn’t about impressing anyone, or showing what she could do. It was about finding things out, and exploring, and having a good time doing it. And that’s what she forgot."
"But I bet with anything that Mary is good at today, she has not forgotten that. Because anything you become good at you become good at because of the encouragement, and the positive feedback, but also and as importantly, because you enjoy doing it. That’s Mary’s story. And I’ll bet it’s the story with a lot of you."
"Well, that changes today. Because in this class, it’s not about being the best at making a Bob or a Mary or a landscape or a portrait or a figure drawing. It’s about having fun, trying to figure something out, and finding what is easy and maybe not so easy, but enjoying the journey, not the destination. This is going to be about the art of getting there, not about being wherever “there” is. If you do something you like, that’s great, and I’m sure your parents would love to take a look at it if you want to bring it home. But that’s not what this class will be about. This class will be about struggling and playing and failing and starting over, and pushing past mountains and swimming over oceans and being proud of the fact that you can keep going."
“Is there anybody here that thinks they can’t do that?”
I stand by that statement. My first class of any drawing session, be it a seminar or the full semester art course I did last year at Kiley Middle school, I start off at a blank bulletin board, and tell a story. This is that story:
“How many of you like to draw? How many of you feel like you are good at drawing? (Get one student’s name-let’s say Bob). Let’s ask a different way-who is not good at drawing? (Get a student’s name from this group-let’s say Mary). Why do you think that everyone in the room didn’t raise their hand when I asked who was good at drawing? Maybe we’re just in a class of especially modest geniuses?
“I know why. By virtue of my own personal WayBack machine, I’ve watched each and every one of your life stories from when you were babies, scooting around the floor in dirty diapers. At that time, your parents maybe put you in the corner with the sharp writing instrument of your choice—a crayon—and said go to it.” So you, being the good little genius, crawled over to a blank section of wall, and started working!
(Start scribbling on the paper. It must be scribbles, formless, messy and without reason. And it has to look fun. While doing this say: )
“And you had fun. You were just playing around, making a mess, figuring stuff out. And before you knew it, you started making something.
(Gradually, over the couse of the board, develop the scribbles into a rough loop, then a cleaner loop, and on until you get to a perfect circle.
“And being the great genius you were, you named it. “This is a (students will say “circle,’ but you should say “Mary! This is a Mary! And I’m s proud of my Mary, it will make me world famous and be an amazing thing to share with everyone and anyone who will look!”
“And before you know it, the first dsy of Kindergarten came, and you were prepared. You had your favorite writing implement, and a world of blank paper. And you walked into that class and couldn’t wait to show everyone what genius you had developed. You walked up to the board and drew a perfect Mary! (Draw the circle).
“Suddenly, a hush fell over the classroom. From the back, up came Bob. (whistle the theme from “The Good The Bad and the Ugly”)
“From the back of the class, Bob walked forward, ‘ching, ching, ching…” And he pulled his piece-another crayon. “That’s nice,” he said, “but can you make a Bob?” And right next to your Mary, he drew a Bob." (Draw a near perfect triangle.)
“Mary approached the board with a trembling hand, and tried to act like it was no big deal, “No problem,” she said. And she drew a Bob. (Draw a triangle that is only vaguely so-looks much more like another circle.) And she tried again. And again. And finally she gave up in frustration. She threw her crayon down, and walked away, and never drew again. (mimick each of these actions for effect.) And today, Mary says she can’t draw at all, and Bob considers that he’s a great artist."
“But what did Mary forget? What was she doing way way back, when she first started drawing? (Point to the scribbles. Continue to press for answers until you get someone to say, or you suggest. The answer is “to have fun.”) When she first started, she wasn’t about impressing anyone, or showing what she could do. It was about finding things out, and exploring, and having a good time doing it. And that’s what she forgot."
"But I bet with anything that Mary is good at today, she has not forgotten that. Because anything you become good at you become good at because of the encouragement, and the positive feedback, but also and as importantly, because you enjoy doing it. That’s Mary’s story. And I’ll bet it’s the story with a lot of you."
"Well, that changes today. Because in this class, it’s not about being the best at making a Bob or a Mary or a landscape or a portrait or a figure drawing. It’s about having fun, trying to figure something out, and finding what is easy and maybe not so easy, but enjoying the journey, not the destination. This is going to be about the art of getting there, not about being wherever “there” is. If you do something you like, that’s great, and I’m sure your parents would love to take a look at it if you want to bring it home. But that’s not what this class will be about. This class will be about struggling and playing and failing and starting over, and pushing past mountains and swimming over oceans and being proud of the fact that you can keep going."
“Is there anybody here that thinks they can’t do that?”
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
School starts (for some…)
Both my sons are now back in school, my oldest at a new Middle School and my youngest still at Conway Grammar. I meet the new school year with mixed emotions. On the one hand, I was really looking forward to returning back-to-school with them, as an Art Teacher (capitalization on purpose). I was enjoying the vocation. I was in a challenging school district—so challenging, in fact that I did not know how to approach blogging about the work all of last year, and consequently didn’t. The silence stretches back to last February. I started writing some ideas longhand, at lunchtime during school, but soon found that time taken up by classroom needs, outside of actually eating my lunch. And after a while, the story I would’ve told felt like it was so far into itself that the recap became unwieldy. And somewhat pointless. And was eventually abandoned.
In the name of a fresh broom sweeping clean, I then made a plan to incorporate blogging about teaching at the start of the school year. And I prepared lesson plans, and solidified methodologies and documented a lot of what I had not, before. And I called myself ready to hit the ground running.
But, sadly, that wasn’t to be. It turns out that I’m not teaching this year, due to budget cuts which, eliminated the Art teacher position from the middle school I was teaching at at the same time as it increased the class size. I feel sad most for the students at that school, as they had a time testing me, and seeing if I would stay or go. My choice and what I proved to them, was that I was going to stay. Until the district changes the game, and made a liar of me.
Okay, that sounds angry, and that’s not my intention. I’m really just a little sad. I have the work at Idea MechaniX to keep me busy in the short term, as I look to move back into publishing full time, keeping teaching open as an afterschool sideline. And, really, I have no regrets, having had a good experience at M. Marcus Kiley Middle School. I feel I made an impression, and left a mark, if only for a year. And I even helped their overall identity by doing a bit of digital design, free of charge, as well. Here is a link to the Vision and Mission statement posters I developed and designed for the school, now posted on their website. So I’m gone, but not forgotten.
And now, on the other hand, I have a bit more time on my hands. With that opportunity to do a bit of catch up, I plan to take the time to explore my own teaching philosophy in a way that I haven’t done, concretely, in a while. And in doing so, I plan to tell some of my success stories in teaching. A lot of the lessons and stories are applicable to any area of teaching. And, since this is my own subjective, personal blog, I can do with it what I will.
For the next several blog entries, I will be exploring some of my fallback introductory lessons, and the ways that I’ve used these stories in teaching. Please feel free to pass them along, and if they work for you, make them your own.
Next: Curriculum Vitae 1: The story of Bob and Mary
In the name of a fresh broom sweeping clean, I then made a plan to incorporate blogging about teaching at the start of the school year. And I prepared lesson plans, and solidified methodologies and documented a lot of what I had not, before. And I called myself ready to hit the ground running.
But, sadly, that wasn’t to be. It turns out that I’m not teaching this year, due to budget cuts which, eliminated the Art teacher position from the middle school I was teaching at at the same time as it increased the class size. I feel sad most for the students at that school, as they had a time testing me, and seeing if I would stay or go. My choice and what I proved to them, was that I was going to stay. Until the district changes the game, and made a liar of me.
Okay, that sounds angry, and that’s not my intention. I’m really just a little sad. I have the work at Idea MechaniX to keep me busy in the short term, as I look to move back into publishing full time, keeping teaching open as an afterschool sideline. And, really, I have no regrets, having had a good experience at M. Marcus Kiley Middle School. I feel I made an impression, and left a mark, if only for a year. And I even helped their overall identity by doing a bit of digital design, free of charge, as well. Here is a link to the Vision and Mission statement posters I developed and designed for the school, now posted on their website. So I’m gone, but not forgotten.
And now, on the other hand, I have a bit more time on my hands. With that opportunity to do a bit of catch up, I plan to take the time to explore my own teaching philosophy in a way that I haven’t done, concretely, in a while. And in doing so, I plan to tell some of my success stories in teaching. A lot of the lessons and stories are applicable to any area of teaching. And, since this is my own subjective, personal blog, I can do with it what I will.
For the next several blog entries, I will be exploring some of my fallback introductory lessons, and the ways that I’ve used these stories in teaching. Please feel free to pass them along, and if they work for you, make them your own.
Next: Curriculum Vitae 1: The story of Bob and Mary
Saturday, February 21, 2009
According to Google, Marcus needs...
Another challenge received and forwarded:
Instructions: Go to Google.com and do a search. Type in your first name and the word "needs" after it. Then copy and paste what are the top ten things Google says you "need".
My results:
1. Marcus Needs A Home. (Having recently lost my home-away-from-home in Boston, I guess the one is just not enough anymore.)
2. Marcus needs a father who will guide and teach him the essential to becoming a proud and productive man. (Ouch. Any volunteers?)
3. Marcus needs to talk who he really is. (Also, Marcus needs to talk English learn.)
4. Marcus needs a hug! (Always.)
5. Marcus needs your help to promote CoSponsors for HR 8. (Because they are so unpromoted, even he doesn’t know who they are.)
6. Marcus is very sick & needs our prayers. (Wow. Way to put it out there.)
7. Marcus needs to stop handling people weapons. (No comment.)
8. (Neiman) Marcus needs work. (Well, duh.)
9. Marcus needs to get a ride by rElEAsIng mY whOlE rOstEr tO stArt AnEw tEAm I gOt. (I’m not kidding, this is how the entry came in. Google it yourself and see. I think I need some shift key withdrawal.)
10. MARCUS NEEDS TO GET HOOKED ON PHONICS. (Better than crack, and twice as expensive. And the shift key problem seems to have turned to FULL CAPS LOCK ADDICTION)
Instructions: Go to Google.com and do a search. Type in your first name and the word "needs" after it. Then copy and paste what are the top ten things Google says you "need".
My results:
1. Marcus Needs A Home. (Having recently lost my home-away-from-home in Boston, I guess the one is just not enough anymore.)
2. Marcus needs a father who will guide and teach him the essential to becoming a proud and productive man. (Ouch. Any volunteers?)
3. Marcus needs to talk who he really is. (Also, Marcus needs to talk English learn.)
4. Marcus needs a hug! (Always.)
5. Marcus needs your help to promote CoSponsors for HR 8. (Because they are so unpromoted, even he doesn’t know who they are.)
6. Marcus is very sick & needs our prayers. (Wow. Way to put it out there.)
7. Marcus needs to stop handling people weapons. (No comment.)
8. (Neiman) Marcus needs work. (Well, duh.)
9. Marcus needs to get a ride by rElEAsIng mY whOlE rOstEr tO stArt AnEw tEAm I gOt. (I’m not kidding, this is how the entry came in. Google it yourself and see. I think I need some shift key withdrawal.)
10. MARCUS NEEDS TO GET HOOKED ON PHONICS. (Better than crack, and twice as expensive. And the shift key problem seems to have turned to FULL CAPS LOCK ADDICTION)
Rappin' Singapore
I meant to post this bit a long while ago. Having worked with a group from Singapore, I always imagine them in this music video. Never have I seen a more inappropriate group of suits in a more believable and enjoyable setting. This should not work, but they pull this off beautifully!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Books Read
I got this list from a Facebook friend. It's posted here as I copied it, but the "X"'s are all mine. Given, about seven of the titles below were read as "required" in school. But I like to read.:
According to Matthew Olson, apparently the BBC reckons most people will have read only 6 of the 100 books here...
Instructions:
1) Look at the list and put an 'x' after those you have read.
1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen X
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien X
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte X
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling X
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee X
6 The Bible (not thw WHOLE Bible...)
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell X
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens X
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott X
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare X- (Not the COMPLETE works)
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien X
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger X
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger X
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll X
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens X
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis X
34 Emma - Jane Austen X
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis X
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden X
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne X
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell X
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown X
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez X
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood X
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding X
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel X
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen X
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens X
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley X
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez X
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck X
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tart
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas X
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens X
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker X
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens X
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert X
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White X
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle X
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad X
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery X
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole X
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare X
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl X
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo
My total: 42
Please pass it on!
According to Matthew Olson, apparently the BBC reckons most people will have read only 6 of the 100 books here...
Instructions:
1) Look at the list and put an 'x' after those you have read.
1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen X
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien X
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte X
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling X
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee X
6 The Bible (not thw WHOLE Bible...)
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell X
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens X
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott X
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare X- (Not the COMPLETE works)
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien X
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger X
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger X
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll X
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens X
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis X
34 Emma - Jane Austen X
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis X
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden X
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne X
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell X
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown X
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez X
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood X
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding X
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel X
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen X
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens X
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley X
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez X
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck X
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tart
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas X
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens X
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker X
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens X
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert X
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White X
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle X
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad X
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery X
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole X
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare X
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl X
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo
My total: 42
Please pass it on!
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