'Martin Eden' & 'The Iron Heel'

Of all of Jack London's writings, it's slightly odd that these two make the 1,001 cut. This only because they were published a year apart and neither are London's more popular tales of outdoors and surviving in the wild.

Both are stories directly or indirectly related to his vehement socialism that he became a vocal leader for during the turn of the century primarily in California. He ran twice for mayor of Oakland and lost on the socialist ballot. He spoke publicly and wrote essays supporting his political leanings.

Martin Eden details the struggles of a young man who seeks a higher calling as a writer coming from an uneducated background. Staving off starvation, he teaches himself proper grammar and techniques in order to sell his stories to magazines. The laborious task turns into a pure struggle until he finds the upper echelons of literary success. Meanwhile, he struggles with his socialist ideals meanwhile becoming a stalwart of the upper class himself.

The Iron Heel is a dystopian novel and almost a long-form essay set to fictional characters of a young woman's whose capitalistic ideals are turned upon listening to the socialist leanings of her lover. She discovers the brunt of the upper class' "iron heel" that stamps out all hope for being treated fairly or, at the very least, as a human being. Something between ape and human. The novel served as a direct influence to George Orwell's 1984.

What you take the most from these books isn't some great ideal of socialism. London was an insufferable dick. He left his wife and kids. He was an alcoholic and philanderer. He was a intense racist and chapter seven of The Iron Heel is considered plagiarized as were some of his other works.

It's easy being a socialist when you literally don't think everyone is equal and you yourself are making more money writing stories.

'A Room With A View' & 'A Room With A View'

People always tend to forget that every generation looks super fucking weird to every generation before them.

No one's exempt from this. No telling what the older people during the Renaissance thought of the artists of the time.

If you are over the age of 35, you think everyone younger than you is screwing things up in some form or fashion. It's a vicious cycle because in 20 years, today's 21 year olds will be bitching about the 15-year-old kids in their flying cars and gelatin capsule meals.

In A Room With a View, we find a certain amount of tension amongst the generations. The medieval older generation that believes in a certain set of standards. Then there are the Renaissance characters that seek a certain amount adventure, art, music, romance and true love based on mutual attraction and regardless of class or circumstance.

The Renaissance always wins out because everyone wants to secretly be one whereas nobody really wants to be medieval.

One of the medieval characters is Cecil. He's Lucy Honeychurch's fiance once she returns from Florence. He's a bookish dweeb, a classist and a sort of party pooper. Lucy finally breaks up with him after he won't play tennis with Lucy's brother and George Emerson.

He is portrayed by the great Daniel Day-Lewis, who achieves a certain amount of acting cred when he makes the Cecil character 100 billion times more obnoxious than the guy in the book.

Although, Cecil is caught in a tough spot. He doesn't want to play tennis. He's no good at it, he doesn't like playing so what's the point in forcing himself to do something he doesn't want to do?

It's a familiar spot for all men. For generations, men have been forced to do shit they don't want to do only because it's expected of them. It doesn't make any sense, but it beats being alone or fighting all the time. It's ultra frustrating that Lucy wouldn't even kiss him.

It's a book that spans generations of male frustration.

'The Immoralist'

This is one of Andre Gide's "earlier" publications (1903) when he was about 34, but he was still set to write and publish a ton of things afterwards.

Gide was a bit of a rabble rouser.

He became a communist until he visited the Soviet Union and soured on the whole deal. He wrote about homosexuality and free and easy living. He was a beat and a hippie before there were beats and hippies.

In The Immoralist, our hero Michel travels to north Africa with his wife and he is near death with TB. He survives with a new viewpoint of life and ceases to function until the provincial rules of modern and social life. Although he can't completely come forward without bring embarassment to him and his wife.

He moves to the country and falls in love with the simplicity and quiet of his family farm and the attitude of his attendant's son, Charles.

Eventually, Michel is forced back into the social scene in Paris and eventually his wife dies. Although they are together, they're mentally miles apart. His wife, however, is very religious and very caring despite this separation. Both are kind of heart broken with this emotional divorce and Michel's guilt is palatable when she later dies.

Maybe ol' Michel wasn't such the immoralist after all.

'Billy Budd'

Poor ol' Billy Budd.

The guy doesn't have a thing going for him. All he knows is the sea and the stars. Gets yanked around like an indentured servant.

Just a good looking, young, athletic, charismatic kid trying to make his way in the world keeping his elbows greased and his head down.

Then Claggart gets jealous, trumps up some bogus mutiny rumors, Budd takes a swing and -- lo and behold -- kills Claggart.

One swing of the arm, a clenched fist. Maybe hadn't thrown a punch in his entire life and the first time he takes a swing at a guy, he dies.

Leave it to Herman Melville to write the most simple story about good versus evil. And with evil winning. Whereas the hero of, say, "Moby Dick" is ambiguous, at best, the line is pretty clear in "Billy Budd" where both the white whale and Ahab perish.

'Strait is the Gate' & 'The Violent Bear It Away'

There's something about religion that inspires so much.
Whether we'd like to admit it or not (many atheists would like to think they're immune), there is an allure to faith and religion.

For artists, it's inspired generation after generation of writers, painters, sculptors and musicians. Frankly, without religion, Flannery O'Connor might have become a bus driver.

Instead, she became a pretty devout Catholic, but still wrestled with some inner questions and doubt that oozes out of her characters and stories.

To me, that's what religion is all about: Not necessarily believing, but questioning. The acceptance of the idea that there's some form of higher power, that there's something behind this universe is just as much doubt and question than it is belief. Without one, you don't have the other. I enjoy O'Connor's stories immensely due to her awareness that there's a dark side to everything and the minute there isn't question, there won't be a belief.

Ironically, Andre Gide's books -- including the incredibly sweet "Strait is the Gate" -- was placed on the Roman Catholic Church's List of Prohibited Books.

'The Great Train Robbery' & 'A Trip to the Moon'

All I could think about while watching "The Great Train Robbery" (1903) and "A Trip to the Moon" (1902) was that all those people, silently acting and basically looking like a bunch of doofs, were dead.

They once lived, and, at the time, thought they were doing something so fun and so innovative. They had a spark of life and it was captured for the 15 or so minutes each film runs. Their energy is immortal.

But it's gone now in a physical sense. Plus, those people never (probably) got to enjoy the Internet, fantasy football, the Fleet Foxes, Netflix, "The Office," light rail, lap-band surgery and other luxuries that seem just about impossible to live without.

That's what I thought about for 30 minutes the other night.

'The Hound of the Baskervilles'

Again, isn't Sherlock Holmes kind of a dick? I mean, he completely uses poor Watson -- a doctor, no less -- as if he were some useless pawn. And as a means of placating his friend, Holmes tells Watson how invaluable he is and blah, blah, blah.

If I were Watson I would ask Holmes who the doctor was and go on my way. Especially if I'm having to travel halfway across the country to stay at some one-horse town in some spooky house where people are dying left and right.

And how much is Watson being reimbursed? Does he get like 20 percent of whatever Holmes is making?

Also, why was the escaped convict treated with such little regard. Was he created for the sole purpose of weaving the web of the story and arbitrarily lived and died along with the ebb and flow of the story? How cruel, even for a murderer.

'Where Angels Fear to Tread'

What defines us as a people? Or, more to the point, what defines us as individuals? Is it money and material items? Is it how we treat each other? Is it how we live? Is it how our culture evolves? Is it how we evolve? 

How the hell do we get it in our heads that somehow we (no matter where you live, how much you make or how you spend it) are better or worse off than someone else? 

Why are some gracious with much and others trapped within the prison of their own pretensions with just as much? 

When does the "stuff" outweigh the thought? 

'Ethan Frome'

Certainly, the man bedeviled by the woman is a very common theme in the books I'm reading.

Ethan Frome is no different than King Arthur, Charles Bovary, Hardy's Jude or John Flory.

Females always strutting their stuff for the menfolk and, of course, the men can't control their privates and all hell breaks loose.

Let's see: Charles and Jude die after a major heartbreak. King Arthur is pretty down about his situation when he goes. John Flory kills himself. Ethan Frome might as well.

'Burmese Days'

Considering the chaos currently gripping Myanmar (formerly Burma), finishing this book about four days before the gigantic cyclone killed thousands seemed poignant (certainly not poetic).

'Cause, you see, "Burmese Days" is about chaos. It's about a ruling class that is mostly barbaric and unaware and bigoted. It's about a beautiful country that doesn't really know what to do with itself. It's more about the have nots than the haves.

Not to put any comparative value on a cyclone that wipes out entire villages, but, frankly, this isn't the first time Myanmar or Burma has had to fight against a storm that would just as well see the people swept into the sea than saved.