Writing about Kamila Shamsie’s Home Fire the other day, I remembered that it was on a list from the BBC of so-called “Novels That Shaped Our World” that turned up at the end of last year. Returning to look at this list again now, it seems to me that it is an interesting resource. They are all English language novels, that in itself minimising the selection, and the choices (from a group of literary sorts – writers, critics, etc.) are as idiosyncratic as one would expect, but certainly well worth perusing just the same. The books are organised thematically – for instance, identity, society, romance – and there are also lots of internal links to related media.
On reflection, I must also say that it was often not the absolute classic that meant so much to me at a particular time in life and that I remember still, so that perhaps explains some choices that I see as somewhat abstruse. There are a also a few selections that surprise and delight me.
For instance, Cloudstreet by Tim Winton, chosen by someone (whom?) and included in the “family” section. Should I be asked to name my favourite books, or those having had a profound effect on me, I would not have immediately thought of it. But now prompted, it occurs to me that long ago it having been sent to me from the opposite end of the world somewhere, reading Cloudstreet was a little like carrying all the grandeur and smallness, all the cruelties and generosities of a whole continent around in my pocket. I loved it. It positively reeked of Australia, and maybe it didn’t “shape my world” exactly but it certainly gave me good company when that was sorely needed. And what more can one ask from a good read?