Listen up! There's this thing going on: used Book stores are GIVING AWAY GEM-GOLD CLASSICS!
And these are just a few of the ones I have picked-up for myself this year. Keep in mind not one of these books have come out in the Year of our Great and Divine Lord, 2006. Au Contrawrberrys, all of these authors have long since died. Though there words live on--IN MY BRAIN!!!! MUWAHAHAHAHA!
Also note I cannot quite recommend any of these books having not completed and/or started to read them--but I am a fan of all the authors other works. So please, indulge me:
1) The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (volume 1 & 2)
- somehow they fit it all into 2 volumes that read like biblical verse in the tiniest type you've ever seen. Mr. Shakespeare is known all over the world, but is not as well known for his tiny, tiny, tiiiinny fingers (though that's hardly relevant--ohhh silly jokes).
2) Demian, by Herman Hesse
- My favorite German writer (and I know I lived in Germany for 6 months!!!), his other novel, Steppenwolf, I consumed and and let loose a river of highlightation upon practically every other word. This, I presume, will be equally illuminating.
3) The Last Days of Socrates, by Plato
- Y'know, when he was all fucked up and shit.
4) (hahaha, sorry, I'm still enjoying no. 3)
Hiroshima, by John Hersey
- A detailed account of the atomic devastation in WWII Japan. Award-winning, Fear-gripping, Hershey-Chocolate associating.
5) Crime and Punishment, Dostoevsky
- My favorite all-time author. I read this a long, long, time ago. Like, 40 years ago. I just saw it and suddenly wanted to own the living shit out of it. So now I do!
6) You Can Never Go Home Again, Thomas Wolfe
- Not to be confused with that communist, goat-cursing, scrabble-cheating, laundry-pilfering, muskrat-face looking louse Tom Wolfe, Thomas Wolfe died in 1939 at the age of 39, wrote 4 novels in his short lifetime (each about 14,000 pages), and stole my heart and brain and soul and adidas. I read his "Time And The River" in my college years on a trip to Vegas with my fellow hooligans and was nearly spun into another dimension ('course I was drinking severely, but regardless...). He was a great writer, whose oft passed over in literary circles. How I know this, what "literary circles" I'm exactly referring to, and what gives me the audactity to use the word "oft," I don't know. I just don't fuckin' know anymore, man. Jesus. Jesus, man. Merry Christmas.