Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again. Much as I love his novels, his last, posthumous release continues to dwell in my thoughts more than a decade after I first read it. Perhaps one day soon I'll manage to write coherently about what this book means to me.
Norman Mailer, The Executioner's Song. This "non-fiction novel" won the Pulitzer Prize in 1980 for its account of murderer Gary Gilmore's final moments. His portrayal at Mailer's hands is so chilling that over a decade later, it still continues to haunt my thoughts.
Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being. When I first read this a few years ago, I was touched in ways that I found then indescribable. Maybe I'll find the words the next time I read it.
Graham Greene, The Power and the Glory. It moved me three years ago when I first read it and I hope one day to describe in words just how so.
John Crowley, Ægypt Cycle. There is a reason why Harold Bloom includes Crowley in his Western Canon. I just wish I could write succinctly about my reactions to reading this four-volume series.
Flannery O'Connor, A Good Man is Hard to Find. I love her stories and the elements with which she infuses them with a looming menace. Maybe I'll find more words whenever I re-read this first collection or its succeeding volumes.
William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury. One of my favorite Faulkner novels. Much to be said, once the words are found.
William Somerset Maugham, Of Human Bondage. A favorite from my early 20s. I wonder what it'd say to me now and if I could express that in written words.
Stepan Chapman, The Troika. Weirdness on a scale that's challenging to describe. Soon, maybe, soon.
Albert Camus, The Stranger. Surprising that I haven't attempted this yet. Maybe when I re-read it in English and French.
There's 10 for your consideration and perhaps future review. Which books, if any, would you consider to hold a similar place in your affections but which you find it difficult, if not impossible, to relate to others?