There are certain books I like to pretend, even to myself, that I have read. That list of 100 you must read before you keel over. I read most of them studying English lit at varsity, but honestly, some I have not finished and others I don’t remember. James Joyce’s Ulysses is one, The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon is another (there are loads more). I still have no idea what those novels are about thematically or otherwise. I don’t think I will revisit them, so they will always remain a big question mark for me. But I’ll happily tick them off as being read when I look at those lists...