Biopsy

This morning, I went to the dermatologist. I expected the visit to take 10 minutes, but then, I remembered to ask her about a weird bump on my nose. She looked at it, found a second one, and decided to biopsy them, mostly to be safe. After all, I have a family history of paleness. More importantly, my mom had skin cancer a few years ago, but all that really meant was she had a small tumor removed from her nose, and some reconstructive surgery performed by a very handsome plastic surgeon who she was just aching for me to meet.

I can imagine being very very nervous before a biopsy, running various worst-case scenarios through my head. But this biopsy came about so suddenly that I didn't have enough time to get nervous.

I was surprisingly fine with the shots of lidocaine and the first biopsy, right up until I caught a whiff of the scent of my own flesh being cauterized. Then I felt the second biopsy, and had to smell the burning flesh all over again.

Once it was over, I got up off of the table, and went to go get my purse and the post-procedure care instructions. I felt the room spinning, and went to go sit down on the chair. That was the last thing I remember until the doctor, the nurse, and the assistant were all standing over me. I had no idea when it was or where I was, and it took me a good 15 or 20 minutes to begin feeling like myself.

Vasovagal syncope. Common faint.

My mother would have seen this one coming from a mile away.

Mom used to joke about me passing out at doctors' offices. The story always went something like, ". . . It was just a shot. Then I looked across the room, and Dara's eyes were rolling around in her head. I got there just before she fell down. . . ."

I always took it as a thinly-veiled insult, implying that I was a girly little wuss, afraid of the sight of my own blood.

Sometimes Mom took a bizarre pride in my fainting episodes. "I told the nurse that Dara was no good with needles, but she ignored me. And of course she missed the vein. So, after Dara passed out (as expected), she threw up all over the sterile equipment tray."

The worst, though, was the time it happened when she took me for a pedicure at the beauty school and they cut my foot. That one led to an emergency room visit, a lot of fluids, and a whole host of lectures about the interplay between low blood pressure and dehydration. So, since then I try to drink more water and eat breakfast, yadda yadda yadda.

Today, when I got home, I commented about the event on Twitter and Facebook. Which led to some panicked friends, and a panicked phone call from my brother, about how I was supposed to let him know BEFORE any medical procedures.

Now, hours later, in the comfort of my own house, the idea that it might be skin cancer is slowly sinking in. But that's not the worst part. The worst part is the idea of going through this alone -- without my mom holding my hand and warning all of the nurses that I am a fainter. It made it all easier.

Bikinis, tattoos, and sarcasm

(Scene: A lovely tropical destination, where our brave and fearless heroine has been sent for work. She sits at a table on the patio of a resort hotel with her coworker, who is on his second or third rum drink. It is clear that she would rather be anywhere else, with just about anyone else.)

Coworker: There are a lot of women in bikinis here.
B&FH: Yes. We are at a beach resort.
Coworker: My wife says it's okay if I look, as long as I don't do anything else.
B&FH: Yeah, people say that.

(Several increasingly uncomfortable moments of Coworker commenting on the women of the resort as they pass by.)

Coworker: I don't understand why women get tattoos. It's trashy.
B&FH: Yeah, whatever.

(A few uncomfortable moments later.)

Coworker: Is that a tattoo on your wrist?
B&FH: Um, yeah. I generally keep it covered up.
Coworker: I don't know why you'd do something like that. I'd never let my daughters do anything like that.
B&FH: Well, I guess my dad wasn't paying enough attention.
Coworker: Looks like a star.
B&FH: Something like that.
Coworker: Why'd you do it?
B&FH: It was the only way I was ever going to be able to tell the difference between my right and my left.

A Cookie Experiment

For some reason, I got it in my head that I needed to bake hamantaschen for Purim. Forget that I hadn't been feeling well -- forget that I was busy with work -- forget that I had no time -- forget that I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. These cookies demanded to be made.

So I acquired a recipe from a friend, and on Sunday night -- the day after Purim -- I made the dough, which was the easy part. And then I struggled to make the triangle shapes. That night I used about half of the dough, filled most of the cookies with nutella and a few with strawberry jam -- and watched a bunch of soggy triangles emerge from the oven. Strike one. I put the rest of the dough back in the refrigerator overnight.

The next evening I tried again. I took just a small bit of dough and rolled it out less thinly. I used a juice glass to cut out a half-dozen circles, filled them with black raspberry preserves, and pinched them into triangles. Much better, but the shape still needed work. Strike two.

So, with about a third of the dough left, I tried again the next night. Instead of rolling out the dough and using a cookie cutter, I rolled the dough into a log, as if it was the Pillsbury ready-to-bake cookie dough, and used a knife to slice it into quarter-inch circles. I filled half with nutella and half with lingonberry jam from Ikea. I folded them into triangles using the pinwheel method I read about on the internet.



I baked them for the perfect amount of time, until they were just barely golden brown.



The result was magnificent -- especially the lingonberry ones. Home run!



When I tasted them, I thought about my great-grandmother. When I was little -- essentially still a toddler -- I used to "help" her in the kitchen when she baked jelly cookies -- kosher jelly cookies. I think that's why I like to bake so much, even though neither my mother or my Nana were bakers.

And I know it's impossible for me to really remember the taste of those jelly cookies, but I imagine that these were pretty close.

Surprise in my work bag

I have a bunch of bags that I use for work. I have a Kate Spade tote, two Coach handbags, two Tokidoki for LeSportsac messenger bags, among others. But for some reason, lately, I've been using a cheap gray and black Old Navy houndstooth messenger bag. I think I've been using it nonstop since before Christmas, which is unlike me, since I usually change bags every other week or so.

I took the bag with me to Florida last week, and then to Chicago and Wisconsin this weekend, using it as my "personal item." When I got home last night, the bag smelled faintly peculiar, like rubbing alcohol or some cosmetic item had spilled in it. The smell got worse today, but for the longest time, I couldn't figure out what it was. Nothing had spilled; everything was in place. As the day progressed, the odor kept getting stronger, and I noticed that the contents of my bag looked peculiarly dusty.

I decided to take everything out of the bag for inspection. And then I saw it. Mushed into a corner of the bag was an orange -- or what used to be an orange. At this point, it was flat, dried out, and covered in a light green mold. I tried to get it out of the bag, but could only get part of it loose.

The bag is now in the garbage. And, in retrospect, I am so glad that this was not one of my more expensive handbags. But from now on, I'm either changing or cleaning out my bag every week.

Favorite Jeans

Originally, I was only supposed to be in Florida for a day and a half -- Friday night until Sunday morning. But, on Thursday morning, when I realized that the snow was coming, I changed my plans to leave that afternoon. I ran from work to my condo, threw some stuff in a suitcase, and raced to the airport. I forgot pajamas, but I did manage to remember to pack a few t-shirts, a pair of flip-flops, and my favorite jeans.

The jeans are my favorite jeans, but by no means do they fit me. They are at least three sizes too big; I can put them on and take them off without opening the button. Basically, they are denim sweatpants.

Saturday night, I found out that my flight home was canceled. Sunday morning, I ran to the grocery store with my dad, wearing the jeans and a very large Florida Law t-shirt that I had given him during my first year of law school. When I got back to the house, I walked past a full-length mirror and caught my reflection. I yelled, something to the effect of "Dad, why the hell did you let me go out of the house looking like this?"

He shrugged his shoulders and said that I looked okay in his opinion. But when pressed, he did say that I looked like I was twelve.

On Tuesday, I finally got to fly home. The security lines at Palm Beach International were very long, but I travel enough that I have it down to a science.

Or so I thought.

I remembered to take my liquids out of my bag. I remembered to take off my shoes. I remembered to take everything out of my pockets. My luggage did not set off any alarms. I did not set off any alarms. Still, I got selected for a pat-down. The TSA agent was very kind about it, and let me know that my baggy clothing was the reason. Apparently, people hide all sorts of things in baggy clothing.

My favorite jeans are now retired. I'm going to have to start wearing pants that fit me. For security reasons.

Driving to work

Today marked the end of my four-month long experiment with driving to work. And to be honest, there are a few things that I'm going to miss about it. I'm going to miss being able to stay in the office late and not have to worry about walking to the train or how long the wait is going to be. I'm going to miss being able to drive somewhere straight after work without having to work out the logistics of going home to get my car. Most of all, I'm going to miss not really having to worry about how comfortable my shoes are to walk in or whether my outfit is appropriate for the weather.

But as a whole, I'm not going to miss driving that much. I'm looking forward to not being stressed out about traffic and not having to fill up my gas tank every few days. I'm looking forward to being able to go places after work without having to figure out the parking logistics. I'm looking forward to walking a bit more.

More than anything though, I'm looking forward to what I'm going to get back. In the last four months, I've managed to finish approximately four books, because instead of spending my commuting time reading, I've been spending it sitting in traffic, listening to the radio. So I'm really looking forward to the quiet time with my books. It's been sorely missed.

Resolutions

I'm sure I've said it before, but I'm not really one for making New Year's resolutions. Don't get me wrong: I understand the desire to change the way we do things, and starting over with a clean slate, and the symbolism associated with a new year, a new month, a new week, or even a new day. But for me, deciding to make changes has almost nothing to do with starting a new calendar.

Adding to the problem is that my desire for change is not necessarily focused on any one particular thing. I'm almost always trying to do better or to be better in so many facets of my life -- diet, exercise, finances, relationships -- and I fear that focusing on just one area might throw everything else off balance.

So no resolutions or promises from me this year. Instead, I'll just keep trying.

Unfinished novels

Last month, when I was at my father's house, I stumbled across a box of pictures and papers that my mom had kept. For years, she had been asking me to help her put the pictures into albums, and for years, I managed to avoid the task. But while sitting in the loneliness of that house, I couldn't help but look in the box.

There were our baby pictures. Our school pictures. Pictures from our vacations. Pictures of my mother's travels from before she was married. A few newspaper clippings, invitations, and other scraps of paper she had kept. And at the bottom, was a red file folder, one that I had seen before.

Her novel.

Sitting in her office, surrounded by memories of her unfinished life, I couldn't bear to read it. And I don't remember having ever read it. But I do remember her telling me about it when I was a little girl, when she was first figuring out that I was a writer. How she had started writing a novel, but could never manage to get it finished -- how she started feeling that in order to write well, she needed to read more. But she also promised me that one day she would finish it and let me read it.

She never did.

That's how I saw my mother: as a reader. She read anything, everything. So I grew up in houses that were always filled to the seams with books. And I read anything, everything. Just like my mother.

And like my mother, I want to write. I have stories to tell; I have words that are simmering just below my surface, wanting to be shared. And an unfinished novel that I can never bring myself to work on, because there are so many other things to do, so many books to read.

My mother's house

My father pulled his new car into the garage and immediately pointed out the new lights. Once we got inside, he showed me where he had shelving built into the closet in the office, after the old shelf fell down. But other than that, the house seems the same as she left it -- the same furniture she picked out, the same art on the walls, the same piles of things that she never got around to.

It breaks my heart to be here. So I can understand why he keeps talking about selling the house. It's like being in a museum.

On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur

To me, books are like comfort food. When I am sad or melancholy, I tend go back to the same ones over and over again.

Lately, one of those books is The Little Prince. I vaguely recall reading it as a kid -- I think I even read it in the original French -- but I don't think it had much of an effect on me then. But as an adult, I find it deeply moving. I think a lot about the episode with the fox, particularly the statement that "one sees clearly only with the heart," and the discussion of what it means to tame and to be tamed -- or, stepping outside the allegory, to love and to be loved -- and the responsibility that comes with it. It is so simple and yet, so very profound.

If you've read it, you know what I mean. If you haven't -- go read it now!

Albums of the Year(s)

Last year, the AV Club ran an article based on something they saw somewhere else -- which is essentially a highbrow meme -- where they picked a favorite album for each year they've been alive. Of course, I think it's kind of a neat idea. So, here are my favorite albums for each year that I've been alive:

1975: Fleetwood Mac, Fleetwood Mac
1976: Hotel California, The Eagles
1977: Rumours, Fleetwood Mac
1978: Outlandos d'Amour, The Police
1979: London Calling, The Clash
1980: Boys Don't Cry, The Cure
1981: Escape, Journey
1982: Thriller, Michael Jackson
1983: Madonna, Madonna
1984: The Unforgettable Fire, U2
1985: Songs From the Big Chair, Tears for Fears
1986: Slippery When Wet, Bon Jovi
1987: The Joshua Tree, U2
1988: New Jersey, Bon Jovi
1989: Disintigration, The Cure
1990: Violator, Depeche Mode
1991: Ten, Pearl Jam
1992: Wish, The Cure
1993: August and Everything After, Counting Crows
1994: Grace, Jeff Buckley
1995: A Boy Named Goo, Goo Goo Dolls
1996: Crash, Dave Matthews Band
1997: Whatever and Ever Amen, Ben Folds Five
1998: Wide Open Spaces, Dixie Chicks
1999: There is Nothing Left to Lose, Foo Fighters
2000: No Name Face, Lifehouse
2001: Room For Squares, John Mayer
2002: Songs About Jane, Maroon 5
2003: Elephant, The White Stripes
2004: How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb, U2
2005: X&Y, Coldplay
2006: Stand Still, Look Pretty, The Wreckers
2007: Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, Spoon
2008: Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends, Coldplay
2009: Middle Cyclone, Neko Case

I'm shocked by how hard it was to make these choices, and how mainstream these choices are.

Flu vaccine game theory

One of the things people don't know about me is that, in college, I minored in Humanities -- which, if you don't understand, roughly translates into me minoring in being a dilettante. To complete the minor, I had to complete a certain number of units in a certain number of disciplines. Since it's been 15 years, I can only remember four of them -- Art History, Theater, Spanish (Yes, I can translate Spanish poetry -- or in my case, lyrics to pop songs), and Economics.

(Cue "One of these things is not like the other.")

Yes, Economics. Which mostly means that I was the only hippie in a class full of libertarians studying Law and Economics. But which also means that I have a slightly better-than-average understanding of concepts like game theory.

Last night, I was thinking about this in the context of the flu vaccine. You see, I was out with a friend and mentioned that I got my flu shot, and she, in turn, noted that she did not plan on getting a flu shot this year because she never gets the flu. My mind started racing with the implications.

Ideally, the flu vaccine works best when large populations are vaccinated. But it bears a cost -- money, time, pain. Moreover, people can't really prove that the flu shot works -- if they get the flu shot and don't get the flu, they can't just assume that it worked. They may have a natural immunity or may not have been exposed to the virus. But if they get the vaccine and it doesn't work, they know.

So what is the vaccine other than a way of hedging your bet? If you decide not to get the flu vaccine, aren't you really just counting on the probability that the people you come in contact with are not contagious, i.e. got their vaccine?

Clearly some economist or public policy grad student out there needs to contemplate this more fully.

Buddhism

I've been reading a lot of Buddhist philosophy lately. It all started when I stumbled across a quote that changed how I've been trying to deal with people over the past few weeks. To paraphrase, the quote is: "Stop having expectations of others and just be kind."

Don't let it fool you: It's not that easy -- especially the first part. But I'm working on it.

And while I'm not necessarily ready to give up on my personal version of Judaism just yet, there's a lot of little Buddhist nuggets of wisdom that appeal to me. Like the idea that we don't need to improve. Or how we can't control the uncontrollable. And how we should stop dwelling on the past or the future but live in the present.

I'm going to take these and blend them in to my personal life philosophy. And as I've been reading, I've found more and more of these little nuggets that I want to keep -- or at least try on and see if they work. So every time something jumps out at me, I add it to the list I've been keeping next to my bed, in a little Strawberry Shortcake notebook.

I wonder if this is how cult religions start.

Contemplating U2

Here is a confession that should surprise no one: U2 is, by far, my favorite band, and have been since high school. And I've seen them on every single tour since I've been old enough to drive myself to wherever it is that they are playing. So it should surprise no one that I will be attending their concert here next week.

In gearing up for said concert, one of the music critics at the Washington Post posted a blog ranking the 12 U2 studio albums from worst to best. Here is his list:

12. October (1981)
11. How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb (2004)
10. POP (1997)
9. No Line on the Horizon (2009)
8. War (1983)
7. All That You Can't Leave Behind (2000)
6. Rattle and Hum (1988)
5. The Unforgettable Fire (1984)
4. Boy (1980)
3. Zooropa (1993)
2. The Joshua Tree (1987)
1. Achtung Baby (1991)

At first I thought this list was dead wrong, but now I'm not sure. Like them, whether I rank Achtung Baby or The Joshua Tree as #1 or #2 depends on the day and whether I'm leaning towards dark and ambient or earnest soul-searching. As for the rest, I'd probably put The Unforgettable Fire as my #3, and move Rattle & Hum into the top 5. And I liked How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb a lot more than some of the other newer records. But they're clearly right on one thing: Generally speaking, newer (as in post-1990) U2 < older U2.

Observation #5

Often, when someone goes to a new hairdresser, the hairdresser will try to upsell them on additional services -- for example, hair color. After the customer politely declines, asking "Are you sure that you don't want to cover the gray?" will not work to change the customer's mind, and will, in all likelihood, reduce the hairdresser's tip.

Compromise

Compromise is a tricky, tricky thing in interpersonal relationships. Somewhere, there's this line demarcating things that are negotiable and things that are inherently part of who we are, and in the process of trying to satisfy the others in our lives, we can lose track of that boundary.

I think that this is why I'm no good in relationships: I am both unyielding and too willing to compromise. I hold myself and the people I love to very high standards and I have very high expectations -- ideas of the way things should be. At the same time, I am all too willing to give the people I love whatever it is that they need, without necessarily thinking about how it may negatively affect me -- until, of course, I suddenly reach a point when I stop to wonder what it is that I'm getting in return. Once you get to that point -- the point where you start keeping a ledger -- the whole thing is doomed.

I can't even begin to count the number of times I've found myself thinking that some of the choices and compromises that people make in the service of their relationships are too exacting, and I wonder whether I could ever bring myself to do it, day in and day out. I like to think that for the right person, in the right circumstances, no compromise is too great -- but I'm not sure if that's really true.

States Meme

Put an X next to the states (51 counting DC) you have visited. Airports don't count!
Just for fun, put an O beside the states where you have lived. The average is 8; how do you match up?


USA BY REGIONS:

NEW ENGLAND:
Maine - X
Vermont - X
Massachusetts - X
Rhode Island - X
Connecticut - X
New Hampshire - X

MID-ATLANTIC:
New York - X
New Jersey - O
Pennsylvania - X
Maryland - X
Delaware - X
Washington DC - X

SOUTH:
Arkansas - X
Louisiana - X
Mississippi - X
Alabama - X
Tennessee - X
Kentucky -
West Virginia - X
Virginia - O
North Carolina - X
South Carolina - X
Georgia - X
Florida - O

MIDWEST:
Michigan - X
Ohio - X
Indiana - X
Illinois - X
Wisconsin -
Minnesota -
Iowa -
Missouri - X

GREAT PLAINS:
North Dakota -
South Dakota -
Nebraska -
Kansas -

MOUNTAIN:
Montana -
Wyoming -
Colorado - X
Utah -
Idaho -

SOUTHWEST:
Nevada - X
Arizona - X
New Mexico -
Texas - X
Oklahoma -

PACIFIC:
California - X
Oregon -
Washington -
Alaska -
Hawaii -


33 of 50, but likely to add Hawaii and Utah soon.

35 33 Things You Wouldn't Think To Ask

Answer these 35 Things You Wouldn't Think To Ask. Then tag me so I can come and have a look.

1. Have you ever been searched by the cops?
No.

2. Do you close your eyes on roller coaster?
Yes. I love the feeling of the wind in my face, but the sight of the scenery passing by is likely to make me hurl.

(3. There is no 3. Next.)

4. Would you rather sleep with someone, or alone?
It's taken me a long time to admit this, but I like having someone next to me.

5. Do you believe in ghosts?
I am open to the possibility.

6. Do you consider yourself creative?
Yes.

7. Do you think O.J. killed his wife?
This question is vague, as O.J. had more than one wife, and at the time Nicole Brown Simpson was killed, she was no longer legally O.J.'s wife. But yes, I think he probably did it.

8. Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie?
I think I'd have more fun hanging out with Angelina. Plus we're closer in age.

9. Can you honestly say you know ANYTHING about politics?
Yes.

10. Do you know how to play poker?
Yes.

11. Have you ever been awake for 48 hours straight?
Yes. And you don't want to be anywhere near me when it happens.

12. What's your favorite commercial?
Mark McGwire, Greg Maddux and Tom Glavine, "Chicks dig the long ball." Check it out.

13. Do you write in a journal?
Isn't that what I'm doing right now?

14. If you're driving in the middle of the night, and no one is around you, do you run a red light?
No.

15. Do you have a secret that no one knows but you?
Yes.

16. Boston Red Sox or New York Yankees?
I tend to root for underdogs, so I dislike them both almost equally now. When I was little, it was the Yankees b/c my dad is a fan -- and because they weren't very good in the 80s. As an adult, it was the Sox, until they started winning like the Yankees. Barf. Go Nats!

17. Have you ever been Ice Skating?
Yes. Ask my sister how it went. (But, for the record, I was a damn good roller skater as a kid.)

18. How often do you remember your dreams?
Often.

19. What's the one thing on your mind?
Food.

20. Do you always wear your seat belt?
Yes.

21. What talent do you wish you had?
Patience. Oh, wait, that's not a talent, it's a virtue.

So, time-travel.

22. Do you like Sushi?
Yes.

23. What do you wear to bed?
Depends on the day. Usually, not much.

24. Do you truly hate anyone?
No.

25. If you could sleep with one famous person, who would it be?
Wow, tough question. Probably Jon Stewart or Robert Downey Jr, but those are too trendy.

26. Do you know anyone in jail?
At the current time? Not that I'm aware of.

27. What food do you find disgusting?
Brains.

28. Have you ever made fun of your friends behind their back?
Yes. But I'll do it to their face too.

29. Have you ever been punched in the face?
Yes.

30. Do you believe in angels and demons?
Not really. I wish I did. I wish I believed that my mother was looking out for me.

31. How old were you when you think you actually became a 'grown-up'?
Always? Never? When I got a full-time job? When I bought my condo? When my mom died?

32. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
I really loved Napa. Maybe New York City. Maybe in the South of France, near the Mediterranean, where I could work on my poetry.

33. Have you ever been in the hospital?
Yes.

34. Are you happy with your life today?
I am aware of all of my blessings and want for very little. So I suppose so.

(35. There is no 35. That means there are only 33 questions in total. Who did the math?)

More Threes

My life in the 3's

You've been tagged, so you are supposed to write a note with the 3's of YOU. At the end, choose people to be tagged. You have to tag me. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you - but not in a creepy stalker kind of way...


Three things I couldn't live without
1. Sleep
2. Food
3. Water

Three cars I've owned
1. 2001 VW Jetta
2. 1999 VW Jetta
3. 1996 Mazda 626

Three things I'm addicted to
1. Diet Coke
2. DVR
3. Chocolate

Three things I couldn't do if my life depended on it
1. Run a marathon
2. Eat monkey brains, or any type of brains for that matter
3. Work in customer service

Three things I'm decent at
1. Baking
2. Organizing
3. Decorating

Three of my favorite foods:
1. Italian
2. Steak
3. Seafood

Three of my favorite restaurants
1. Ray's the Steaks (looking to going back now that I am no longer being a pescetarian!)
2. Chinatown Express (the place with the noodles in the window)
3. Willow (and it's next door!)

Three of my favorite clothing items:
1. my Nanette Lepore dress
2. my "Please touch my monkey" t-shirt
3. the Kate Spade handbag I bought for my mom for her 60th birthday

Three things that make me cry:
1. Missing my mom
2. Telephone conversations with my Nana
3. Not feeling well

Three things I CAN'T STAND
1. Poor grammar
2. Hypocrisy
3. Religious fundamentalism

Three (more) things I'm looking forward to
1. Going camping and whitewater rafting next weekend
2. The return of Mad Men and Project Runway in the next few weeks
3. Jayden's first birthday (I'm going to spoil that kid rotten!)

Fifteen Books

Here are the rules: Don’t take too long to think about it. Fifteen books you’ve read that will always stick with you. First fifteen you can recall in no more than 15 minutes. Copy the instructions into your own note, and be sure to tag the person who tagged you.

My 15 Books:

1. Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible No Good Very Bad Day (Judith Viorst)
2. The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry)
3. Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery)
4. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
5. 1984 (George Orwell)
6. Gone With the Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
7. A Wrinkle In Time (Madeleine L'Engle)
8. To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
9. Generation X (Douglas Coupland)
10. Waterland (Graham Swift)
11. The Handmaid's Tale (Margaret Atwood)
12. The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald)
13. The Stranger (Albert Camus)
14. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
15. Slaughterhouse Five (Kurt Vonnegut)