Because I do this kind of thing every once in a while, and because it’s 4th of July week here in my beleaguered United States of America … and, finally, because I’m on vacation and won’t be able to post very often in the next few days, I’d like to spend this entire week on a single question: what is the greatest American book ever published?
It happens that I have an answer in mind. It took me a minute or two to settle on this answer, but once I began to ponder the question in the widest and most holistic sense I began to feel very sure that my answer is the best possible one — a no-brainer, even, when you consider the cultural impact this book has had since its publication.
I’ll reveal what I consider to be the greatest American book on Friday morning. Till then, I’d love to hear what you all think.
And, regarding my pick, I’ve got one hint and one rule.
HINT: my pick does not feature two beatniks riding in a car, nor does it feature a one-legged sea captain chasing a whale.
RULE: if you’ve been around LitKicks for a while, you can probably guess my selection, so please don’t post a comment revealing it. (This means you, Ectric).
The floor is open. What is the greatest book ever published by a writer who is a citizen of the United States of America?
UPDATE: my own answer to the question has been posted here.