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Ariel's Booklist
Mary Oliver poems, Dog Songs collection
Robert Frost poem, “Nothing Gold Can Stay”
Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird
From George:
C. S. Lewis: Narnia Series (especially The Horse and His Boy)
Robert Louis Stevenson, Kidnapped
Jerry Spinelli, Maniac Magee
Jean Craighead George, My Side of the Mountain Trilogy
Christopher Paul Curtis, Bud, Not Buddy
Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, Shiloh
Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower
John Knowles, A Separate Peace
J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye
From Emma:
Gail Carson Levine, Ella Enchanted
Tamora Pierce, Protector of the Small series
Jerry Spinelli, Stargirl
Judy Blume Teen Collection: Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. and more
Veronica Roth, Divergent series
Gregory Maguire, Wicked series
Emily Dickinson poems: “Hope is a Thing with Feathers,” “To Make a Prairie,” “Fame is a Bee,” “Bees are Black, with Gilt Surcingles”
Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Merlin’s Song”
Kwame Alexander and Mary Rand Hess, Swing
Harry Potter series
Brian Jacques, Redwall series
T. H. White, The Once and Future King
Shakespeare: Romeo and Juliet, The Tempest
PBS Great American Read https://www.pbs.org/the-great-american-read/books/#/
BBC Top One Hundred Books http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/bigread/top100.shtml
O. Henry’s “The Gift of the Magi”
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
S. E. Hinton, The Outsiders
John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath
Ernest Hemmingway, The Sun Also Rises
Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre
William Golding, Lord of the Flies
Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden
Lois Lowry, The Giver
Markus Zusak, The Book Thief
L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables
E. B. White, Charlotte’s Web
Laura Ingalls Wilder Little House series
Beatrix Potter books
Jack London’s Call of the Wild
And just for fun, two of my favorite Mary Oliver poems:
LUKE
I had a dog
who loved flowers.
Briskly she went
through the fields,
yet paused
for the honeysuckle
or the rose,
her dark head
and her wet nose
touching
the face
of every one
with its petals
of silk,
with its fragrance
rising
into the air
where the bees,
their bodies
heavy with pollen,
hovered—
and easily
she adored
every blossom,
not in the serious,
careful way
that we choose
this blossom or that blossom—
the way we praise or don’t praise—
the way we love
or don’t love—
but the way
we long to be—
that happy
in the heaven of earth—
that wild, that loving.
THE SWEETNESS OF DOGS
What do you say, Percy? I am thinking
of sitting out on the sand to watch
the moon rise. It’s full tonight.
So we go
and the moon rises, so beautiful it
makes me shudder, makes me think about
time and space, makes me take
measure of myself: one iota
pondering heaven. Thus we sit, myself
thinking how grateful I am for the moon’s
perfect beauty and also, oh! how rich
it is to love the world. Percy, meanwhile,
leans against me and gazes up
into my face. As though I were just as wonderful
as the perfect moon.