I'm re-reading all the classics they made you read in high school. Melville, Darwin, Machiavelli, Kafka, Camus, Kant, you name it. At the time, I didn't realize why they were so highly regarded. Now that my mind matured somewhat I'm beginning to see.
A good example of this is The Grapes of Wrath by Steinbeck. I read it a good 20 years ago as part of an English literature assignment. It wasn't too hard to read, but I didn't think much of it at the time. I re-read it last year, and was blown away, not only because I read a lot more on the Great Depression/Dust Bowl period, but also because of the writing style of Steinbeck. Hemingway: the same. The tone, the rhythm, the choice of words... pure art. Like this gem from The Great Gatsby (it's about turning 30): "Thirty: the promise of a decade of loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know, a thinning brief-case of enthousiasm, thinning hair". One sentence, perfectly describing the anxiety of turning 30... I could go on forever, but all I want to say is: don't forget the classics!
