I loved, loathed, and lip-synched your review of the all-time all-stars of American literature (and what an American thing to do!) [“So Big Deal, Hemingway
,” Letters at 3AM, July 25]. While I agree with your three choices (Twain, Miller, and Cather) and grudgingly concur with your astute analysis rejecting such giants as Hemingway and (by omission) Asimov, I hereby submit a fourth American master: Theodore Geisel. I’m not entirely sure Dr. Seuss’ books are novels, but please, can we set that aside, considering the attention span and the nature of the intellect of the iPhone generation? We need to have an unbiased consideration of such works as The Cat in the Hat
, The Lorax
, Horton Hears a Who
, and Green Eggs and Ham
. I’m serious as an albino white whale on steroids. Dr. Seuss is the guy who inspired such greats as Sesame Street
, Shel Silverstein, Stephen King, and a host of others. So, I’m sorry Steinbeck, Kesey, Salinger, Lee, Lewis. I read your best, your second-best, etc., and I agree with Ventura, you don’t suck, but you just aren’t eternal enough. In addition (and it’s more difficult to discern this part while living in a red state), what author looks to garner forever-favor when he/she writes nowadays? We writers simply endeavor to position ourselves to receive verbiage from the muse, and then type it out as verbatim as possible. Therefore, those ghosts who are now pissed off by this letter should return to RIP. In most cases, it’s merely the luck of the draw, or the hop of the Calaveras County frog, which determines the victor. That, and perspiration (apologies to Thomas Edison). Thanks for your column, Michael!