Unorthodoxy threatens more than the life of a mere individual; it strikes at Society itself. (Huxley)

Last night I finished reading Brave New World, the third of 100 in my quest to read all of the Modern Library's 100 Best Novels.

I have to admit that I'm not loving this task.

This book, like the two others (I keep thinking this should be three...but I can't remember what the other may be) before it, ended tragically.

See, I'm the type of girl who names her dog after a Jane Austen character, who cries at every episode of the Biggest Loser, and who always always goes for a romantic comedy she's seen a million times over the new, edgy film that's supposed to be amazing.

Always.

So this whole death-or-lunacy-as-a-criticism-of-life-and-the-societal-norms-that-destroy-our-souls thing these "classics" have going on is quite a shock to my system.

Quite frankly, the message is lost somewhat on me. Sure, I have some societal angst. I wish life was more equal than it is. I wish that I had the freedoms and opportunities that wealth affords. I know that money gives some folks an easy excuse to treat their fellow humans with flippant contempt.

But I don't get these novels. I don't understand writing about these dark topics, without even a glimpse of hope. I don't understand how they became so well-esteemed, so classic, when the story lines are so depressing. Catcher in the Rye is hardly a book I want to run out and tell all my friends to read.

And maybe that's the point. Maybe they debuted into a world where the only real option for written entertainment was just that...pure entertainment. Nothing more. Nothing deep, nothing real, nothing that exposed the truth of humankind.

Maybe.

I've now moved on to Lolita. It's awful. I found out today, from Time Magazine, that it was first published by a pornographic press. Being already 9 chapters in, the news came as no surprise. The book is wretchedly graphic in describing Humbert Humbert's fascination with little girls, supposedly stemming from the loss of his first love and sexual encounter at the age of 13. And yet it's captivating. I breezed through the first several chapters (short as they may be) as if I were reading a magazine article. And I plan to finish the book.

I think my quest just to know more about these novels that have secured such a high place in society has turned into something even more -- a quest to understand what defines a classic.

I'm not sure if I'll ever understand.

P.S. Why am I still awake at 12:08am?? Oy.