1st year: The cave (Richard Church), The magician's nephew, The hobbit.
2nd year: The old powder line (Richard Parker), The Pit (Reginald Maddock), The Red House mystery (AA Milne - still love it), The Otterbury Incident, Chocky (John Wyndham). We were also required at one time to read any biography. I read LTC Rolt's biography of Brunel and got into trouble, because two other people chose it as well and our English teacher wrongly suspected a conspiracy to choose a short book (which it isn't). Another time we had to read any science fiction. I know nothing about sf but a friend lent me one. This was kind, but the book bored me and I gave up half way through. Luckily the year was nearly over by then and we were never asked to write about it.
3rd year: The pearl and The red pony (John Steinbeck - both insufferable), The land God gave to Cain (Hammond Innes), Joby (Stan Barstow, who became one of my favourite novelists), The merchant of Venice, 1984. Possibly others I've forgotten - a peculiarity of this year was that several of these we never finished.
O level: Lord of the flies, Journey's end, The lost world of the Kalahari, The mayor of Casterbridge, Julius Caesar, Portrait of the artist as a young dog, a nondescript poetry anthology.
A level: The franklin's tale, King Lear, A handful of dust, The return of the native, some modern poets, HG Wells short stories and a book on the history and use of English. I managed to avoid answering a question on Wells, who I found unreadable, by choosing an optional language question instead.
What impact have the O and A level books left? King Lear and some of the poetry still reverberate in my mind. Journey's end interests me because our treatment of it shows the limitations of school criticism. We did not really get beyond platitudes about the 'horror of war'. I now see that it is about the failure of the officer class and its education. Stanhope, the hero of the school rugby field, goes to pieces and becomes an alcoholic when faced with a real shooting war. A similar backhanded compliment might be paid to Hardy. I was not over-keen on either of the novels we studied, though The mayor of Casterbridge was easy enough to read. But I now think I might have got more out of them if we had been enabled to see to the heart of their theme rather than taking character and incident piecemeal. So I have thought more about them in the years since, and have given Hardy another go by reading Far from the madding crowd. The style still does not quite suit me, but I won't stop turning all three books over in my mind, and I might read still more of him.