The Fall, by Camus. Sometime after a friend of mine killed himself, I went to the library and picked this up basically by accident. I read it in the space of an

The Fall, by Camus. Sometime after a friend of mine killed himself, I went to the library and picked this up basically by accident. I read it in the space of an afternoon. It was the beginning of my thoughts about the meaning of death. A Spell for Chameleon, by Piers Anthony. It was the first of my mom and dad's sf books that I chose to read for myself. It started a lifelong love affair. I outgrew the Xanth, but not the sf. Anna Karenina, by Tolstoy. An unassailable Mount Everest in the peaks of high literature. It's a spiritual journey I've taken repeatedly over the years. The Mind of the Maker, by Dorothy L Sayers. A meditation on the intersection between art, creativity, free will, and the Trinity. My copy is getting worn out. The Analogical Imagination: Christian Theology and the Culture of Pluralism, by David Tracy. This book was the cap to my spiritual journey in college. It is about finding authentic experience in classics, whether they are from your own tradition or not. It is a synthesis of modern Christian (also Catholic) thought, but also about how Christianity should be mediated through lived beliefs and culture, and how people should be open to real experiences from a culture not their own.