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 How cool is that, that I have children? 

I was sad I'd only have one child. Lucked into a beautiful teenaged girl, too

What I want my children to know as they approach college and beyond:

Join the Peace Corps.
Look for schools that offer exciting opportunities to study in the field. So many universities run innovative programs in developing countries.

Study environmental conservation. Understand how the world works, how it knits together, and heal this Earth we have abused so much.
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  1. I wore a purple Calvin Klein dress with a portrait neckline and a gathered waist at Delicious' Christmas party
  2. I gave Delicious a pasta maker, a cool wine opener, a handmade hat for Christmas
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 Armor. Our president has it, in the blue and grey suits he wears, the solid tie, the crisp white shirt. My son's therapist has it, in his graphic tees and Croc allstar knockoffs. Some people come in crystal clear in the symbols they choose to drape upon themselves, charms to ward against cruelty or derision. Charms to attract acceptance, wealth, happiness. Love. The newest kid in my son's class wraps himself in longer hair and a cool British accent. He was dropped into their midst, popularity assured, bulletproof in his otherness armor. The kids who come from India, from Palestine, from South America, are not afforded such coolness of place. Their color betrays them. My son befriends them. 

My son has no outward wardings to protect him from the offhanded, cruel vagrancy of other children, no symbols to proclaim, "I belong!" He wears handmedowns and thrift store clothes, utterly uninterested in fashion or labels. The cool DCs lie forgotten in his closet as he grabs the closest, easiest shoes to hand. He wraps himself in whatever I shove at him in the mornings, and goes out to life open, unprotected, unwarded against the world.

No wonder he's so easily bruised.
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Class was today. Late, me, because I'd been bound and determined to get decent brushes for the decoration I'm doing on my tea bowls.

I had eight porcelain tea bowls, a saki set, and various altered vases to trim and decorate before the bisque firing. And the residents had emptied the gas kiln, so eight of my teabowls from that process were waiting for me. I piled them up in front of my workspace and went to town on the porcelain. Everyone was touching the finished tea bowls. They really liked the bowls. One woman even stacked them up so they made a sort of totem of tea.

My teacher is pretty chill, and I like her personally, but our styles are very different. That being said, next week, we're going to put together some tea pots. I decided it's about time I started making complex forms again. On Friday, I'll throw some bodies and spouts, maybe pull a few handles, and see what we can make of it all next Wednesday.

I was late leaving class, and the director of the ceramics department came in, saw my pile o bowls, and said, "So you'.re the one making those. I saw them come out of the kiln and knew those had been made by a potter.':


He wanted to know all about what was going on, so I told him, black slip, white slip, black liner, shino... he loved it.

And asked if I was interested in being his TA. 

Um. Yes.

But, it would mean no more date night with Delicious. I'd have to TA both his Friday classes to get full tuition break, because his classes are small, only five or so people in each, and in order to get the breaks and the perks, the class has to have ten. But dood. Blair Meerfeld called me a POTTER. Said it's good to see someone in the Studio with some maturity and creativity.  or something to that effect. I was too busy squeeing in my head to actually listen.

He also strongly urged me to do the student pottery sale. So I did. I'm signed up and oh boy. Here we go.

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Two nights ago, I'd pretty much had it. My kid is a prickly sort of kid. He's not easy to love if you're with him 24/7. He's argumentative, loud, in constant motion, won't pay attention, doesn't listen, explodes about little things and is basically a landmine. We've come such a long way since December. I was rereading my posts from back then and our lives have really improved with the medicine and the boundaries, with CTY camp giving him a glimpse of what other smart kids are like, and with another year together, age and maturity.

But the kid's nervous about his new school and still mad at his father. honestly, I don't know how much of that is an easy excuse he knows we won't argue with if he throws a fit and we ask what's bugging him... and how much is truly his anger at his father, and at me, for not being together.

Sunday afternoon was hard. Delicious has been riding KoE hard, not tolerating any of his PITA behavior, and basically finding fault with everything the kid does. Which makes me snippy and miserable. Which makes K hide in her room. Which makes the KoE even more desperate for attention of any kind, so he keeps doing the loud, inappropriate, angry, argumentative shit that kills any hope I ever had of a normal weekend.

Taking out the trash is his responsibility. I told him that there would now be consequences for arguing about doing anything we ask him to do, whether it's his chore, or whether it's his duty as a member of this household to pitch in and help. I will be taking computer time away for bad behavior. I will be taking Pokemon cards away, which he can earn back. There isn't much else in his universe that he cares about. My parents would punish me by taking away extra curricular activities, to a point where I almost stopped signing up for them. I won't do that to him.

He was arguing and angry when he hauled the first bag of trash out. When he saw there was a second pile, he hit the roof, but still had to do it. He tripped on something going down the stairs--something Delicious had specifically told him to move out of the way before he carried the trash down, but of course KoE didn't listen.

I hear him outside screaming at the top of his lungs. SCREAMING. "AAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHH! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!" I go outside to see what's going  on and there he is, on his hands and knees, scooping dirt back into a little pot I'd thrown away. His little pot. With the tickle me plants he hadn't thought to take care of. Which had died. Which I threw away. This, coupled with the fact that he had seen, in the trash, the crumbled remains of something he'd made at CTY camp, set him up for a big blowout.

He was screaming, so I yelled back: "THEY WERE DEAD, DO YOU HEAR ME? DEAD."  Delicious was behind me and starting down the stairs but no thanks, he'd done enough already. This was my kid, who was yelling I hate you, about me, and I was going to deal with it.

Poor KoE. I held him in my arms and rocked him as he sobbed. "If you don't feed a pet, he dies. If you don't water a plant, it dies." He was so angry at me. I told him it wasn't fair to expect me to take care of everything for him. If the CTY thing had been important, it should not have been crushed at the bottom of his school bag with half an eaten something or other and a bunch of other trash. But apparently, it's my fault I can't tell trash from treasure. It's my fault I told him he would have to look after his plants, and that I'd try to remember but it was his responsibility.

And here we have it folks. When Delicious and I went to bed, he asked me why I was so miserable on the weekends. Gee. Let me think. I've married a man with no improv skills ) and have inherited a girl who eats six things and doesn't do anything exciting. And a son who is bonx most of the time. I laid it out for Delicious one more time. I have given up. I'm trapped in a house with people who can't improv. In order to do ANYTHING, we have to plan it weeks in advance. I reminded him that, whenever I make a suggestion, his first reaction is 'No.' I reminded him that, of all the people in this house, I'm the only one who actually seems to give a shit, and whenever I do, I get hurt and disappointed. Birthday cakes failed and unappreciated, Slobs sitting around the television watching Wipeout recordings. Doing the same old brand of nothing every fucking weekend. I'm over it. This house is a prison of apathy on the weekends. I also told him that it is abundantly clear that Delicious doesn't care for KoE right now, in fact, it's pretty obvious Delicious doesn't want to have anything to do with the kid. I reminded him that KoE doesn't have any friends. He's all sharp angles trying to fit into an obtuse world, is my kid, and he's hurting. He told me on Sunday he wishes he were 'normal.'

KoE is normal, in that who the fuck decides what is normal and what isn't? Fuck you very much, society. My son conforms to the rules as much as he can. Yes, I see a lot of his father's disconnectedness, his sneaking idea that some of the rules don't apply to him. I'm hoping having a normally fucked up mother, as opposed to the Wicked Witch of Paris, will count a long way towards tethering KoE to the world at large.  

But Fuck them all. I am going to come up with a list of things I want to do on the weekends. And I'm going to do them. And if anyone wants to join me, tra lala.

All this to say, KoE's nervous about school )

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My passport arrived on Saturday morning, thank goodness! Everything else about the trip is gravy, now.

I am also thrilled by the fact that my library has Mango language lessons online, so I am learning some basic Italian, although I'm having a hard time actually memorizing anything. I'll have to listen to it constantly, I guess. Too bad I can't download it to iTunes, but I think I've found an audio recording I can check out from the library. From my living room. That I can burn to CD or put on my mobile to listen to it while I wander around. Sweet!

My only editing client has at least three documents for me in the next two weeks. That is happy-making. I need more clients like them.

My son is being rebellious, obstreperous, and so many other not-so-good adjectives that end in -ous. And plain old WTF?  So he's on short rations vis a vis Pokemon, screen time, and so help me, I'll ground him so he can't play with his friends across the street this week. It's going to suck, but he will stop yelling at us if he wants to see the back side of eighteen.
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Last week, it started off innocently enough. "Mama, what's chlorophyll?" I started to explain, but then took out my Blackberry. Called up Wikipedia, and spent the next three blocks reading out loud as we walked. We followed links for things we didn't understand. We gawked at the information. We laughed out loud.

By the time we reached the office, we had traveled the breadth of space and washed up, defeated, against the shores of Dark Energy.

Tonight, we wondered out loud if zero was even or odd. We explored prime numbers, figured out somebody's algorithm for finding primes, and by the time Delicious came home, we were talking about squares, square roots, and the idea of the infinitely divisible, approaching but never reaching the terminus.
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Last night, the husbandcreature asked me what I wanted for my birthday.

inasmuch as I'd had to ask him, "Is my birthday next week?" I haven't given it much thought.

Today, I hoisted my ridiculously heavy laptop bag onto my shoulder and said, "I've got to find a rolling computer case for this thing if I don't want to end up in traction." I spent a few minutes looking on line today and damn, everything I liked was way too expensive.

But Delicious asked which ones I was looking at, and I showed him, and he said, "I know this isn't very romantic, but we were talking about birthday presents last night..."

And I'm thinking, hey, my love... it's beautiful. It's practical. It will save my poor back another four weeks at the chiropractor's office. It's on sale on Overstock.  It's even detaches from the rollers if I want to be all swank, and not a forty-something broad with back trouble and a pet computer. What's not to love about a present like this? Now, do I want it in black or red? 

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When i was a little girl, I had a red, lucite doll house. I was fascinated by it. Translucent. Red. No normal people could live in that house, but oh the adventures we had.  I think it was mostly a home on the moon, or in outer space, to me. Very Courbusier in its lines.

I remember retreating to that doll house when my mom had a 'friend' over. I had lots of places in which to escape when that nasty man came over. All of those places were in my head.

I do remember a lovely man, Uncle Paul, I called him. I don't think my mom ever dated him, though I'm sure he had a crush on her. He gave me a play vacuum. I loved it. He was a very kind person.

I also loved loved loved that push-toy with the popcorn bubble of rattling colored balls. I could run around with that for hours.

Somehow, I'm thinking of all the things I lost somewhere along the way, tonight. I can't remember all the CDs I'd burned to my computer/external drive that are now gone forever... but these lost toys are tangible, today.
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I'm on my way back from dropping KoE at school, with a detour to the mall to pick up an app store gift certificate.

There's a good chance that Apple didn't let us down and KoE's iPod Touch will arrive today. Not that I'm home to receive it. I have faith.

I sold the glass-fronted cabinets that housed a mountain of junk but were wrong for our dining room.

My folks are coming over for dinner tonight. I have a metric ton of stuff to shift in a house without room.

Then I have to get dinner into the crock pot. Make a birthday cake. Clean the house.

And somehow get two pots of soup to the church this afternoon for the simple supper, without a car. Maybe I'll get a Zip car for an hour.

And that's just today'a madness. There are three websites to design tis week.
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My angel. Mine. He's back. We handed him over to my folks on Wednesday after school and got him at three on Saturday. No school on Friday, and administrative day for the school already on the books before little mr. fourth grader brought coke to school on Thursday.

KoE was a total sweetheart. helpful, sweet, cooperative.   lovey. Didn't lose his shit when he found out K would be home late on Saturday.  Helped with chores, was a gem in church on Sunday, oh he was such a sweetie. And then he had some cookies and threw a temper tantrum.


Didn't I mention? We went gluten-free this weekend.

Gods, wouldn't that be amazing if his behavior improves this much just by eliminating wheat???
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Just finished:
  • The Windup Girl-- Paolo Bacigalupi Another in the cyber-punk social commentary vein as Altered Carbon. But not as well written
  • Interworld - Neil Gaiman. I think it's a good book for the Kid...
  • Chill - Elizabeth Bear. I love her books. finis.
  • Worldwired - ditto and ditto
  • Scardown -- need I say more?
  • Kill the Dead: a Sandman Slim novel by Richard Kadrey. If you like punk noir, this and Sandman Slim might be right up your alley
  • Thirteen -- Richard K. Morgan If you've read this, you will laugh to know I was reading Scripture and The Language of God at the same time
  • The Language of God by Francis S Collins, head of the Genome Project. My kind of argument for God.
  • The Childhood Roots of Adult Happiness by Edward M Halloway. Self-explanatory and worth reading
  • We've Got Issues: Children and Parents in the Age of Medication by Judith Warner. A must-read for any parent, grandparent or educator who is contemplating medication for a child, or facing a medicated child or the hostile relative of a child who should be medicated.
  • A slew of Melody Beattie titles on recommendation. Small doses, but she's helping sort out interdependencies
  • The Miracle of Mindfulness in tree form, so I don't have the author. Some Master.
  • Mindfulness in Plain English by Bhante Henepola Gunaratana.
  • Sensational Meditation for Children by Sarah Wood Vallely
  • Smart but Scattered: The Revolutionary 'Executive Skills' Approach to Helping Kids -- there's more to the title, but that's all Amazon can show me! by Peg Dawson and Richard Guare
  • The Gospels, read Luke, reading John, and have to go to Delicious's office today to pick up the Annotated Oxford Bible, plus some books Delicious picked out on religion, God, Christianity et al for me to read. Us to read.
What's on deck:
  • More Elizabeth Bear, my happy escape quality time
  • Words to Live By -- CS Lewis
  • The Mindful Child -- Susan K Greenland
  • ADHD workbooks for me and the kid
  • The Mindful Path to Self Compassion: Freeing Yourself from Destructive Thoughts and Emotions -- Christopher K Germer (This one looks like something I should just go ahead and buy)
  • Learned Optimism by one of the guys listed above somewhere.
Names to keep in mind:
Kristin Neff - research psychologist into self-kindness
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I would like to find a classic modern, sectional sofa with chaise and loveseat. No more than 74" long. Whose loveseat folds out to become, along with the chaise, a convertable bed.

Why is that so hard to find? I have a small home. I have guests coming. I want to maximize the space we have. Harumph.


Feb. 2nd, 2011 11:15 pm
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 Alexandria's public schools have a lottery program

I am driving around to schools next week. If the Kid is game, we will put him in a new school. Next week if we have to. If we can. If he wants to.

Fuck this. In all his five years in school, he has NEV ER said he didn't want to go to school.  I'm taking this seriously. I want to find my kid were he'll be happy. Gonna get on that.
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Dear, Beloved Authors,

Please do not get prickly when you do not agree with my suggested corrections. They are merely that, suggestions, and I have no ego in this project. My only purpose is to make you look good, so if you wish to write a report that spouts two or three statistics (and often four or five) in a single sentence... indeed, in each sentence... exact, to the decimal point, and bristling with % across the page... AND include the Annex and Table Number in which each set of statistics might be found, right there in the body of your report, in demure parentheses, far be it from me to move these parenthese'ed references to the footnotes, or try to suggest that, in a report, a more narrative approach would better serve your audience.

And if you are writing about something in a country whose language of diplomacy is still French, but the main client of your report is British, might I suggest that, even though you yourself are French Canadian, the use of commas to mark the radix point, rather than the British standard point, might be a bit annoying for the people interested in funding your further research into this program?

But as I said, this isn't my work. This is yours. I have agonized for hours over each Franglais phrase you've mangled into your report. I've offered you three and four different interpretations of a single sentence, where the placement of a comma radically alters the intended meaning. These are the details I wish for you to approve or not, with the understanding that I am sympathetic to your situation. I myself could not have written a sentence of this report in French. I am here to make you look good.

So please, do not get snooty and pissy with me about anything I have suggested.  Simply go through the document and accept or reject items as you will.

Not that there will be a next time for us, but next time? Don't accept all changes to a document and THEN find issue with my suggestions. I now have to cross reference your submitted document with my original changes and painstakingly verify, myself, that the meaning is accurate, or write yet another comment asking you that you do this, yourself. You know. That thing you were supposed to do two weeks ago?


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I'm struggling to remember anything about Saturday, it went by in a blur. Let it be noted that my mother stopped speaking to my father by the time we got to the rendez-vous point, Delicious called in a very calm state of not-panic to say he'd been swept off into another state due to bad traffic and construction and didn't know if he could get back to Virginia, let alone to the venue, in time, and the kid spilled hot chocolate all over his pants before we got to Glen Gardens. I refused to let my mom's crazy ruin my mood; ditto weird traffic and hot chocolate. Delicious actually arrived at our appointed Starbucks in time to race to Glen Gardens if we'd wanted to hit it, but I'd already spoken to Bonnie, who assured me everything was fine, their noon wedding had canceled, so we had plenty of time and to just get there safe.  So he got a chance to catch his breath, so to speak, while I dabbed at hot chocolate that miraculously hadn't soaked into his pants and came out like it had never happened, and well... there's nothing I can do about my mom.

Bonnie and Dick were wonderful, their Glen Gardens wedding venue was so charming and perfect.... I got big hugs from them, strangers both. I wasn't at all nervous, I was so ready for this.  Got dressed in their little lovely dressing room, hung the pearls around my neck (Delicious's Christmas present to me last year) and mom did up the zips and snaps of my dress. Bonnie came in and the three of us chatted for five minutes until I finally declared we should get this road on the show.

The cottage was just lovely, and our kids looked so beautiful. Dick began the ceremony but Bonnie interrupted, insisting that there be music. She fiddled with the stereo, which by the way took its sweet time working... we were finally ready to get married and all I can remember was looking into Delicious' eyes, willing him not to let those tears well up and over, or I wouldn't be able to keep from crying. As it was, I just stood there grinning like an idiot, marveling at the beauty of the ceremony and the vows we exchanged.

The photos are up on Facebook, if you don't have me over there, look me up. Comments are screened just in case you don't know my real name and need it.


Dec. 12th, 2010 11:23 pm
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We were married on Saturday, after a close call on Delicious' part with bad traffic sweeping him into the wrong state.

The ceremony was lovely, the vows perfect. Delicious was closer to tears than I.

More when I'm on a real computer.

Suffice to say, I'm happy.
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Logan the kitten has probably just solved 90% of my troubles.

You see, a few months ago, there was this sad little mewling from the alley that wedges up against the jumble of housebacks that touch on my patio. I couldn't find him, but he was definitely insisting that someone in my building come and adopt him. The next night, same thing. The third night, some Spanish lady started leaving him offerings of cat food and water on my patio steps, and then I came home to find a business card taped to my gate saying there was a little black kitten in my back yard and if I didn't own it, could he have the little guy?

So I called the number on the card and said sure, come on over. I went over to Delicious's house with the kid and thought nothing more of it.

He called as the KoE and I were nearly home. On the way over, is it still okay to get the cat? When I pulled up, three fabulously tenderhearted gay men were running around on my historic building's perfectly manicured lawn, absolutely beside themselves. One had blankets and towels. One had a cloth bag. One had absolutely no equipment but sported the biggest grin and he was dancing up and down, up and down, he was so thrilled that they had heard the kitten.

Mark, o he of the kitten-desire, dashed into my back yard as soon as I'd opened the gate, threw himself over the back fence, and reappeared two minutes later with the most adorable little bundle of WTF. Kitten Whisperer saves the day.

The scene was just frabjulous. We were all laughing and crying, didn't know which end was up. My son mooned about with cartoon puppy eyes, tenderhearted and all choked up with overwhelming emotion. The kitten was mostly nonplussed until too many human faces peered into the bag at once.

Nice claws, kitty.

They all oohed and ahh-ed over the apartment, the building, the historic-ness of it all, and Mark wondered if any units were available... all and sundry waved bye bye, TTFN as was my son's favorite affectation of the moment. I asked Mark to keep me up to date on how the kitten was faring and if it be a boy kitten or a girl.

Well, he is a funny man who sends me pictures of the kitty from time to time. The kitten's name is Logan, and he is a boy.

I texted the Kitten Whisperer tonight and asked, "know anyone who wants my apartment?" and got back MEEE CAN I CALL YOU NOW?

Well, seems his house was sold and he has to have his stuff out by the 16th of this month and he wants the apartment and he can give me two or three months' rent in advance and so if the landlady allows cats and I think my lease says yay, I CAN HAS TENANT.

The end.
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Have you read more than six of these books? The BBC believes most people will have read only six of the 100 books listed here.

Bold those books you've read in their entirety, italicize the ones you started but didn't finish or read an excerpt.

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen

2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien

3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte 

4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling  Um, that's seven books

5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee

6 The Bible

7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell

9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman

10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens

11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott

12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy

13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller

14 Complete Works of Shakespeare I once owned the Harvard press, hardback collection. Asshole has it now.

15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier

16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien

17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulk

18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger

19 The Time Traveler’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger Read the book. Never saw the movie.

20 Middlemarch - George Eliot

21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell

22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald

24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy

25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams

27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky

28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck

29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll

30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame

31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy

32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens

33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis

34 Emma -Jane Austen

35 Persuasion - Jane Austen

36 The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe - CS Lewis

37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini   Preferred A Thousand Brilliant Suns

38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres

39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden

40 Winnie the Pooh - A.A. Milne

41 Animal Farm - George Orwell

42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown But nothing else by him

43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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

49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding

50 Atonement - Ian McEwan

51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel

52 Dune - Frank Herbert

53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons

54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen

55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth

56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens

58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley

59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon

60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck

62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov

63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt

64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold

65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas

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

72 Dracula - Bram Stoker

73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett

74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson

75 Ulysses - James Joyce

76 The Inferno - Dante

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

82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell

83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker

84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro

85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert

86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry

87 Charlotte’s Web - E.B. White

88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom

89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton

91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad

92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery

93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks

94 Watership Down - Richard Adams

95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole  I just couldn't stomach it after a while...

96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute

97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo


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