Kipling once wrote, “If we pay no attention to words whatever, we may become like the isolated gentleman who invents a new perpetual-motion machine on old lines in ignorance of all previous plans, and then is surprised that it doesn’t work. If we confine our attention entirely to the slang of the day-that is to say, if we devote ourselves exclusively to modern literature-we get to think the world is progressing when it is only repeating itself. It is only when one reads what men wrote long ago that one realizes how absolutely modern the best of the old things are.”

Some older books I have thoroughly enjoyed:

The Old Man and the Sea, by Ernest Hemingway
1984, by George Orwell
To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee
The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, by Mark Twain
Lord of the Flies, by William Golding
On the Road, by Jack Kerouac
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, by Ken Kesey
The Hound of the Baskervilles, by Arthur Conan Doyle
Animal Farm, by George Orwell
The Red Badge of Courage, by Stephen Crane
Of Mice and Men, by John Steinbeck
Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley
The Good Earth, by Pearl Buck
The Stranger, by Albert Camus
Breakfast at Tiffany’s, by Truman Capote
The World According to Garp, by John Irving
Trainspotting, by Irvine Welsh
The Satanic Verses, by Salman Rushdie
The Godfather, by Mario Puzo
Invisible Man, by Ralph Ellison
Travels With Charley, by John Steinbeck
The Magus, by John Fowles

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