Nathan's Master List of Books I'm Jealous of Not Having Written.
All Hallows' Eve by Charles Williams. Okay, I'm not jealous of the weird quasi-anti-Semitic-quasi-anti-anti-Semitic stuff that really didn't need to be there, but the rest of the book is just GUH. It's everything that Joss Whedon seems to wish his work could be, if you're willing to indulge the half-century that elapsed between the different corpi just a little. Also, lesbian overtones.
The Region of the Summer Stars by Charles Williams. I love Taliessin through Logres but Williams can keep it; it's his, it's what he's probably most widely known for (or second-most widely, after creeping out Tolkien with Shadows of Ecstasy). Region, on the other hand, is not only EVEN BETTER than Taliessin but also everything that I strive to make my own poetry.
The Book of Margery Kempe. This spot WOULD go to Sixteen Revelations of Divine Love, but Julian of Norwich wrote that book after a long illness that nearly killed her and gave her terrifying Satanic hallucinations, and I'm NOT jealous of THAT. But still. Mediaeval religious woman's travelogue. Awesome.
Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen. Rips the shit out of Stephenie Meyer FROM THE PAST. Also, Catherine is Austen's most epically hilarious, tragically ludicrous, and/or ludicrously tragic protagonist.
Lady Snowblood by Koike Kazuo. If only for the bragging rights of being able to say 'I inspired half of Kill Bill, and you know what inspired the other half? Noir.'
Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds by Charles Mackay. It's a foundational text in sociology, economics, trivia, and modern satire. What's not to like?
Arrowroot by Tanizaki Jun'ichiro. Trippy and sad. The finest explanation by a progressive of why, in the end, some traditions really do matter. I've read it five times and never stop crying at the Fox-Mother.
The Nine Tailors by Dorothy L. Sayers. No, I'm not jealous of Gaudy Night. It may be the best thing that she ever wrote, but as with Taliessin through Logres, it is undeniably and gloriously and properly hers. The Nine Tailors is more up my own alley.
The Narrow Road to Oku by Matsuo Basho. In this case, I do wish that I had had the relevant personal experience. It seems unutterably beautiful.
A Story of First Love by Uehara Chigusa. This might be cheating since it's a short story. But this is, quite simply, the most beautiful, poignant, evocative, heartrending work of yuri (broadly defined) I have yet read (as opposed to watched...). And it's based on real-life experiences, too. I think this might be another one of those instances where I am not jealous of the experiences but am jealous of the result.
Kara no Kyoukai (The Edge of Emptiness) by Nasu Kinoko. I hope this one needs no introduction or explanation. The corpus of fantasy literature that began with All Hallows' Eve reaches its apotheosis. From somebody who's better known for very good works that end up hamstrung by the conventions of their market, his one true, nearly unqualified masterpiece (so far; I have high hopes for Witch on the Holy Night, actually). It is what I want my prose to be as The Region of the Summer Stars is what I want for my poetry.
The Region of the Summer Stars by Charles Williams. I love Taliessin through Logres but Williams can keep it; it's his, it's what he's probably most widely known for (or second-most widely, after creeping out Tolkien with Shadows of Ecstasy). Region, on the other hand, is not only EVEN BETTER than Taliessin but also everything that I strive to make my own poetry.
The Book of Margery Kempe. This spot WOULD go to Sixteen Revelations of Divine Love, but Julian of Norwich wrote that book after a long illness that nearly killed her and gave her terrifying Satanic hallucinations, and I'm NOT jealous of THAT. But still. Mediaeval religious woman's travelogue. Awesome.
Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen. Rips the shit out of Stephenie Meyer FROM THE PAST. Also, Catherine is Austen's most epically hilarious, tragically ludicrous, and/or ludicrously tragic protagonist.
Lady Snowblood by Koike Kazuo. If only for the bragging rights of being able to say 'I inspired half of Kill Bill, and you know what inspired the other half? Noir.'
Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds by Charles Mackay. It's a foundational text in sociology, economics, trivia, and modern satire. What's not to like?
Arrowroot by Tanizaki Jun'ichiro. Trippy and sad. The finest explanation by a progressive of why, in the end, some traditions really do matter. I've read it five times and never stop crying at the Fox-Mother.
The Nine Tailors by Dorothy L. Sayers. No, I'm not jealous of Gaudy Night. It may be the best thing that she ever wrote, but as with Taliessin through Logres, it is undeniably and gloriously and properly hers. The Nine Tailors is more up my own alley.
The Narrow Road to Oku by Matsuo Basho. In this case, I do wish that I had had the relevant personal experience. It seems unutterably beautiful.
A Story of First Love by Uehara Chigusa. This might be cheating since it's a short story. But this is, quite simply, the most beautiful, poignant, evocative, heartrending work of yuri (broadly defined) I have yet read (as opposed to watched...). And it's based on real-life experiences, too. I think this might be another one of those instances where I am not jealous of the experiences but am jealous of the result.
Kara no Kyoukai (The Edge of Emptiness) by Nasu Kinoko. I hope this one needs no introduction or explanation. The corpus of fantasy literature that began with All Hallows' Eve reaches its apotheosis. From somebody who's better known for very good works that end up hamstrung by the conventions of their market, his one true, nearly unqualified masterpiece (so far; I have high hopes for Witch on the Holy Night, actually). It is what I want my prose to be as The Region of the Summer Stars is what I want for my poetry.