That long list of books is making the rounds again (Jennifer, Chad, Jessica, John, and Bora have already jumped in), yet I can’t bring myself to join in the fun.

The list reminds me of something one of my high school English teacher once told my class. He was very concerned that we be “cultured” (no, not that way) and steeped in the classics, having us cut our teeth on Shakespeare and Dostoyevsky before hopefully starting up subscriptions to The New Yorker someday. I didn’t particularly care; his culture was not my culture, then or now. Indeed, glancing over the selections putting the book list up here would only be a waste of space. What