I have not read most of the greatest books. But this is not to say I don't win my share of debates with Don. If he knows more about Salinger than I do, then I quickly change the subject again. It is an intellectual exercise which makes illusory my ignorance by enhancing the possibility that I am so well read that discussing the mere 100 greatest books is silly and we need to move on to a deeper analysis of how they compare with the rest of world literature. Today, there is great debate over what comprises the great books.
Compilers have their own standards and their own lists.
First they began dumping the more obscure British works and stuffing the vacuum with pre-war American novels. Then they began to recognize that there might be some fine works that are not Western, that do not start with Greece, work through the rest of Europe and cross the Atlantic to the United States. By the Eighties lists began to appear that reflected the fact that a woman may occasionally produce something of value, and it was stylish to include Emily Dickinson as Token Woman. By the Nineties Maya Angelou or Langston Hughes became Token Black. A list that came out two years ago in its revised edition exemplifies the shifting sands of greatest literature.