The Millions is counting down the 20 best books of the century (“so far,” as they add). They’re only halfway through, and I’m curious what the top 10 will look like, because my favorite book came it at No. 11.
It’s not easy to explain why I liked Oscar Wao so much. But one reason is the ability to weave lines like this:
Instead of finding himself in nerd heaven- where every nerd gets fifty-eight virgins to role-play with- he woke up in Robert Wood Johnson with two broken legs and a separated shoulder, feeling like, well, he’d jumped off the New Brunswick train bridge.
Dude, you don’t want to be dead. Take it from me. No-pussy is bad. But dead is like no-pussy times ten.
And, finally, this:
Nothing else has any efficacy, I might as well be myself.
But your yourself sucks!
It is lamentably all I have.
Into something that actually made sense. Go read it – it’s got a money-back satisfaction guarantee from me.
Oh, and let me know what book’s been better than this.
Update: The people side with Meanderings.