I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end,
But I do not talk of the beginning or the end. – “Song of Myself”

As it was with Walt Whitman, so it is with Joe and me now. As a culture, we are often obsessed by the top, the end, the apocalypse. We can see this play out in small matters before our eyes—why else would this list be serialized? We’re just trying to draw out your death-drive as long as possible and, hopefully, spark more of your interest. But you should rest assured: numbers 9-12 are no less rewarding than numbers 1-4, and, as with the beginning of the list, they still invite (nay, demand) your criticism. As always, the success of our project and our shared, overall level of fun depends on your suggestions. The list goes on.

12. Harmonium, Wallace Stevens

Harmonium, Stevens’ first published collection, was not released until he was 44. Perhaps that is why the table of contents reads like a greatest hits collection.  Harmonium contains 85 poems and few are not wonderful, imaginative and challenging.  Stevens’ capacity to make the reader reassess their worldview with only a simple turn of phrase may be unparalleled.  I would love to weave a quotation in here and convince you how good this really is, but since most of the collection is free of copyright, I leave you to Stevens.

“Disillusionment of Ten O’Clock”

The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,
Or green with yellow rings,
Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange,
With socks of lace
And beaded ceintures.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots,
Catches tigers
In red weather.
—J.D.

11. The Sound and The Fury, William Faulkner

Benjy’s chapter, the first and most striking section of Faulkner’s masterpiece, abandons the traditional convention of chronological thought, and reduces experience to memory and image. It alone is enough to justify The Sound and The Fury’s position on the list.

Benjy himself is a tragic exaggeration of the human condition; he can neither possess nor lose anything because, for him, time is a kaleidoscope and the years turn and glitter within his shifting thoughts. In Benjy’s narration, a 30 year leap between a current and a past vision requires no segue, objects exist without names and characters fade in and out without even being announced. Needless to say, this has led some careless readers to deem the book incomprehensible, and give up. Surely, whether they realize it or not, they throw down the book in horror only because Benjy’s helplessness strikes too close to the core and the power of Faulkner’s images can be too much to bear.

Don’t worry, Faulkner fans, if #11 seems like a paltry showing. There may be more to come…  —J.F.

10. Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad

No list with our aim would be complete without a mention to writer Hunter Thompson once called “one of the best writers in this language” and “a crafty little polack.” Though many of Joseph Conrad’s novels are great candidates (Lord Jim, Nosstromo, The Secret Agent, et al.), Heart of Darkness is the one that stays with you the longest. Marlow experiences colonialism in the most violent way possible—through a series of unforgettable, jarring encounters—and Conrad’s un-dogmatic prose reflects Marlow’s struggle. The writing itself; Of Kurtz’s face in the novella’s climax:

“I saw on that ivory face the expression of somber pride, of ruthless power, of craven terror–of an intense and hopeless despair. Did he live his life again in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that supreme moment of complete knowledge?”

All this from a man who didn’t speak English until his twenties. Word? —J.D.

9. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Hunter S. Thompson

Raoul Duke and Dr. Gonzo head to Sin City with a trunk full of “two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline” and many, many more psychoactive substances. Things that come out of the trip: 224 of the most exciting pages ever written in English—I have a brick-throwing friend who professes that reading the book takes less time than watching the movie—and the most stark, terrifying and heart-breaking account of the death of the American dream. Cormac McCarthy calls it “a classic of our time” and who is going to argue with him. —J.D.

Photo by Flickr user 2fs used under the Creative Commons