This is a prima facie case that Goodreads readers are not terribly discerning. Ishiguro is a genius.

Why are these kinds of posts so intense? Because the stakes are so low.

I looked at that link and the data behind it; there’s no mention of the average number of books read, just that just about half of those surveyed (48.5%) “read books” in 2022; when they included audiobooks, slightly more than half (51.9%) “read books and/or listened to audiobooks” in 2022. (Those figures are for books as a whole; for literary works, the figures are quite a bit lower.) And the study notes that this is down from 2017. But this survey does not address the average number of books read. As other comments have noted, avid readers raise the mean considerably.

Still worth a read, too! :)

Rascal, by Sterling North. Classic from 1963.

I suggest spellcheck as a general good principle. And words matter: if you say “canon of American classics,” most people are going to think it is populated by American lit classics. (Put another way, if you capitalize your ridiculous phrase and put it quotes, you’re treating as a literal thing.)

Again, it’s inconceivable that a Japanese novelist would be considered part of any sort of western canon.

And note well: the western canon IS based on Hellenistic (i.e., Ancient Greece) and European (i.e., Europe) cultural tropes and norms.

Perhaps just consider, if you can, that “smart big brain books” are worth reading.

I confess that I was bemused by the phrase “Canon of American Classics” – rendered as if this were a thing. And if it indeed were a thing, how could it not be western-centric? Of course it is western-centric, but the tent of American literature includes all kinds of voices (maybe not enough, but it’s a diverse bunch because America is a diverse country).

More seriously, on what planet would a Japanese novelist, writing in the Japanese language, be considered to be part of the so-called canon of American classics? (Or, for that matter, Lord of the Flies [English]?)

Perhaps the OP misspoke and meant the Western canon. The “canon” – such that it is – is challenged all the time and in myriad ways, by readers and by academics. Classics don’t become classics because of “fart-sniffing academic worship” (a truly hideous phrase), but because they speak to readers, including academics, and continue to do so for decades and centuries. (Have writers been excluded from the canon for various reasons? Of course! Are there writers who don’t deserve to be the canon? Almost certainly.)

It is shocking that you read Ayn Rand in any kind of academic setting, particularly high school ( there is zero room in any kind of canon that includes her, though clearly Rand has her fans). But the blame for that miscarriage of literary justice is on your teacher, not the “canon.”

This is interesting! I take it as more reflective of Brontë – her artistic/aethetic concerns – and the rising tide of romanticism in literature. Put another way: Even if Jane Austen wanted to write a la Brontë, it would not be possible when she was writing P&P at the end of the 18th century (of course it was revised extensively c 1810-11).

Plus, Brontë is assuming things about Austen (that the was “a very incomplete and rather insensible…woman”) based on what? Only the reading of the novels.

I have zero idea why you would use the adverb strangely here – literally millions of readers have enjoyed the novel and millions more will too; there’s nothing remotely strange about enjoying P&P.

Martin Amis, long before he was a writer, fell under the spell of the novel; he writes: "When I was introduced to the novel, at the age of 15, I read 20 pages and then besieged my stepmother’s study until she told me what I needed to know. I needed to know that Darcy married Elizabeth. (I needed to know that Bingley married Jane.) I needed this information as badly as I had ever needed anything.
“Pride and Prejudice suckers you. Amazingly—and, I believe, uniquely—it goes on suckering you. Even now, as I open the book, I feel the same tizzy of unsatisfied expectation, despite five or six rereadings. How can this be, when the genre itself guarantees consummation? The simple answer is that these lovers really are “made for each other”—by their creator. They are constructed for each other: interlocked for wedlock. Their marriage has to be.”

You are responding to a great plot, great wit, great prose–literally nothing strange about it.

It’s a hard book to read, for sure, as others have described. Sometimes it helps to read a good critical essay about a book before you read it; even reading the Wikipedia entry will help you see some of history/context around the novel, and appreciate its importance.

Of course, if you’re not getting anything from it, stop reading it.

I’ll say at the outset that I read this book recently and could admire it without loving it, but I believe the answer to your question – what you’re missing – is the importance of the book as social critique (in particular, societal corruption as an inevitable component of American life) and an exemplar of the hardboiled style/sensibility. It seems clear that he was using some of the convention of the crime novel, but he elevates prose (he is a superb stylist) and characterization over plot.

Reading it in expectation of a dated by cracking good crime novel doesn’t work. Its importance lies elsewhere.

Not sure if that helps you come to terms with it, of course. Your mileage will vary! :)

I think the OP meant to write “nonfiction books” (not “nonfiction novels”), but the nonfiction novel does exist with the textbook example often being “In Cold Blood” by Truman Capote. Norman Mailer wrote nonfiction novels, and a lot of Tom Wolfe’s books might be usefully characterized as such.

But I’m 100% the OP just misspoke.