I SERVED THE KING OF ENGLAND – BOHUMIL HRABAL Though widely considered a masterpiece throughout Europe, Hrabal’s hilarious, sensual, and unforgettable portrait of Nazi-occupied Prague through the eyes of a Quixotic young waiter is–in my humble estimation–vastly underexposed stateside. Anyone who has ever worked in the food service or hospitality industry, must read this book, which was released in 1971 by Petlice, an underground anti-communist press in Prague, and not published in America until 1990. Hrabal was a bigger-than-life (though highly accessible) figure in Czechoslovakia, where he died at the age of 83, falling from a fifth-story hospital window while trying to feed pigeons. I rate Hrabal very high on my list of people I wish I could’ve had a few beers with before they fell out of windows–right before Chet Baker. 
OUR MUTUAL FRIEND – CHARLES DICKENS Dickens under-read? Sounds like an oxymoron, I know. But how many people do you know who have actually read Dickens’ final completed novel? In spite of what stodgy old Henry James had to say in his scathing review upon the release of OMF, it just may be my favorite Dickens novel. OMF finds Dickens at the top of his game, both as a storyteller and a wordsmith. While darker than any of his other works (with the exception of Bleak House), it may also be his funniest. For my money, Silas Wegg is one of the greatest comic inventions in all of literature. I’m guessing OMF was also among Evelyn Waugh’s favorite Dickens novels, as he pays it a roundabout homage in A Handful of Dust.
SEVENTEEN – BOOTH TARKINGTON Okay, this is certainly the most ephemeral and least ambitious of today’s three randomly selected books, which probably explains in large part why it has fallen out of fashion– that, and a slight tendency toward the anachronistic where certain racial perceptions are concerned. But holy cow is it funny! Sure, it’s a little Norman Rockwelly, but I’m not kidding, I busted a serious gut when I read this book. At the going rate of cultural acceleration “Seventeen” might be aptly be re-titled “Twelve” in this day and age, still Tarkington captures all the awkwardness and discomfort of adolescence brilliantly, with a comic verve arguably unmatched in America in 1916. Of note: I believe Tarkington is the only novelist to win the Pulitzer Prize twice. Weird, huh?
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