That's what Slate asked a number of influential people in this
article. What's your answer?
Mine would have to be Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse, which exposed me to a much broader range of possibilities in fiction that I had before. I hated it the first time I read it. I thought it was pretentious and unnecessarily difficult. But on second
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To name a book by a title, I would say Thomas Pynchon's The Crying of Lot 49. Assigned not in a Lit class but an intro to Political Theory seminar (also my Freshman year), reading this following more canonical poli sci faves like Locke or Hobbes or Mill or Marx was a body blow to my sensibilities. Here was proof that ideas weren't only to be taken seriously if they were written by a bearded guy in dry prose. I had read a Pynchon novel in high school, Vineland, but was seduced by the ninjettes and dope jokes and really wasn't at all aware of an political or social commentary. It also made me want to write my own fiction, the sensibility of the prose being so natural to me, so much like the way I wrote. Needless to say, I had no inkling at the time that it was such a cliche to like Pynchon so much.
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dude, what's up with you? i called your cell on friday and you never called me back. i'm happy just maintaining contact on lj, but we did talk about going to the whitney.
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oh, and i hope you don't mind, but i'm going to use this episode to ask what people's etiquette thresholds are, because i myself am slightly unclear about it. if you do mind i'll just do a friends-only post and filter you out, so you i can either talk about you in front of you or behind your back.
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