Prose


The Great Gatsby
1984
The Stranger
The Catcher in the Rye
Animal Farm
The Picture of Dorian Gray
Crime and Punishment
To Kill a Mockingbird
Lolita
The Metamorphosis
Frankenstein: The 1818 Text
Fahrenheit 451
A Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire, #1)
One Hundred Years of Solitude
The Hobbit, or There and Back Again
The Boy Kingdom by Achy ObejasMilk and honey by Rupi KaurThe Princess Saves Herself in This One by Amanda LovelaceThe Sun and Her Flowers by Rupi KaurThe Witch Doesn't Burn in This One by Amanda Lovelace
Poetry and Prose–Female Authors
308 books — 138 voters

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor DostoevskyMilena by Olja KnezevicThe Master and Margarita by Mikhail BulgakovThe Trial by Franz KafkaI Served the King of England by Bohumil Hrabal
Best Novels from Eastern Europe
200 books — 86 voters
Midnight’s Children by Salman RushdieGravity’s Rainbow by Thomas PynchonThe Blind Assassin by Margaret AtwoodThe God of Small Things by Arundhati RoyBlood Meridian, or, the Evening Redness in the West by Cormac McCarthy
Nobel Prize Contenders
79 books — 70 voters

Clover by Dori SanderssThe Queen's Envoy by Lord David ProsserHis Dark Enchantress by Victoria ChathamSpeak Gigantular by Irenosen OkojieThe Mothers by Brit Bennett
Call Number Curated Book Selections
57 books — 3 voters
Exotic Neurotic by Kenneth Jarrett SingletonAn Old Man by Eric M. BlackBetween The Lines by Céline ZabadAnxiety by Danny WinterLullaby of Love by Rebecca Winning
Best Poetry Collections
39 books — 38 voters

Milan Kundera
The characters in my novels are my own unrealised possibilities. That is why I am equally fond of them all and equally horrified by them. Each one has crossed a border that I myself have circumvented.
Milan Kundera

Charlotte Eriksson
I am not a finished poem, and I am not the song you’ve turned me into. I am a detached human being, making my way in a world that is constantly trying to push me aside, and you who send me letters and emails and beautiful gifts wouldn’t even recognise me if you saw me walking down the street where I live tomorrow for I am not a poem. I am tired and worn out and the eyes you would see would not be painted or inspired but empty and weary from drinking too much at all times and I am not the life ...more
Charlotte Eriksson, Another Vagabond Lost To Love: Berlin Stories on Leaving & Arriving

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