What are the greatest books you've ever read? Or, if you lack the pomposity possibly requisite for an objective analysis of literature, what are your favourites?
My list (purely fiction):
1). 1984, by George Orwell
2). Invisible Man, by Ralph Ellison
3). The Stranger, by Albert Camus
4). The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck
5). Watchmen, by Alan Moore
6). The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame
7). A Confederacy of Dunces, by John Kennedy Toole

9). Of Mice and Men, by John Steinbeck
10). Orlando: A Biography, by Virginia Woolf
11). Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley
12). The Remains of the Day, by Kazuo Ishiguro
13). To Kill A Mockingbird, by Harper Lee
14). Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll
15). Never Let Me Go, by Kazuo Ishiguro
16). The Fountainhead, by Ayn Rand
17). Lord of the Flies, by William Golding
18). Animal Farm, by George Orwell
19). Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, by Roald Dahl
20). Fahrenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury
I debated with myself on including The Fountainhead & Fahrenheit 451; the former is of course a vehicle for Rand to convey her, er, unique philosophy, one which I have objections to, but I find it enjoyable despite this. It does raise some thought-provoking points and Howard Roark is a fascinating character - an unrealistic archetype, certainly, but an unusual and intriguing one. And I think what Rand has to say about abandoning your true ambitions due to the pressures of others (I.e. in the form of Peter Keating) is very astute. Ultimately, objectivism is an ideology which understandably beguiles people, and while I sympathise with Rand's issues with planned economies, I don't think it's practical or reasonable. Still, I enjoy her prose and her characters.
Fahrenheit 451 meanwhile is an incredibly mixed bag. On the one hand, Bradbury twists language into marvellous new shapes, and his descriptions can be delightful. On the other, I think the ending is very lacklustre. After the incessant sense of anticipation that impels the reader forward, especially when Montag goes on the run from the police, the ending is one hell of an anticlimax. And I was disappointed by Clarisse's failure to reappear and be reunited with Montag/the reader.
The other books are virtually all perfect and excellent. Evidently, the best books are the ones which unite beatifically beautiful language with fascinating ideas related to individualism, ethics and life within different forms of society.