Oscar Wilde used the phrase ‘golden books’ to describe the books that meant the most to him - the ones he’d lived with, and constantly re-read. I think in his case it was Walter Pater’s Renaissance, Keats’ poems, and Plato’s dialogues.
He meant books that you will re-read for the rest of your life, books that have changed you, books you turn to when you feel sad.
Stig Abel, the editor of the TLS, said Pride and Prejudice was his go-to book, that he’d read it so many times he knew it word for word, and that when he was ill it was the first thing he picked up. M. R. James, the ghost writer, spent his final years reading and re-reading nothing but Dickens and P. G. Wodehouse.
If I was trying to impress, I’d go for Kafka, Proust or Virginia Woolf. But here is my honest list. These are my real golden books:
Patrick Fermor: A Time of Gifts
Robert Graves: Goodbye to All That
C. S. Lewis: Narnia books
Dickens: David Copperfield
P. G. Wodehouse: Jeeves and Wooster novels
Evelyn Waugh: The Sword of Honour
Bill Bryson: A Short History of Everything
Aldous Huxley: Crome Yellow
Oscar Wilde: Dorian Gray
Roald Dahl: Boy and Going Solo
Anthony Burgess: Enderby
Kipling: The Jungle Book
I’d also add the collected popular essays of Bertrand Russell, plus his autobiographies. Funny, wise, cheerful, crystal clear and just a joy to read. The minute I pick him up I feel better. His voice is so distinct it’s like meeting an old friend. I also love the non-fiction of George Orwell, Robert Graves and Aldous Huxley. I’m only just getting into Douglas Adams as well. In fact, I’m working my way through his complete works. For sure he will be a writer I’ll return to again and again.