Frankenstein
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley · 232 pages
The book almost everyone means to read and almost nobody has. Written by a nineteen-year-old, and it shows in the best way: nothing in it is cautious.
Six hundred and nine volumes is an intimidating way to be welcomed back to reading. So here are eight, chosen by hand: short enough to finish, by writers you already half know, and each with its own century around it — the paintings, the moment, the afterlife.
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley · 232 pages
The book almost everyone means to read and almost nobody has. Written by a nineteen-year-old, and it shows in the best way: nothing in it is cautious.
Arthur Conan Doyle · 128 pages
The first Holmes. Two hours, and you meet Baker Street before it became a museum of itself.
Henry James · 120 pages
A ghost story that refuses to tell you whether it is one. Short, and it will keep you arguing with yourself for a week.
Jane Austen · 240 pages
Austen with the joke on the surface: a girl who has read too many gothic novels, walking into a house that half obliges.
Oscar Wilde · 232 pages
Wilde saying the quiet part aloud for three hundred pages. The epigrams are the bait; the ending is the hook.
Leo Tolstoy · 120 pages
Tolstoy at twenty-three, before the great machines. A hundred pages on what it is to be nine years old and to notice everything.
Emily Brontë · 352 pages
The longest here, and the one that goes fastest. Nobody in it behaves well and nobody can be put down.
Robert Louis Stevenson · 240 pages
Stevenson in short measure: shipwreck, a haunted sound, and a sentence rhythm that carries you whether you meant to keep reading or not.