Well, I loved The Fountainhead when I was seventeen, but I'd probably only read one of Rand's books nowadays if I were in prison and it was the last book on the cart. I also loved A Confederacy of Dunces though I'd have to admit to a certain prejudice, living not too far from New Orleans. And I like Stephen King. In fact, I'd love Stephen King if his books themselves had half the wit that his introductions to them usually have.

The only things (and I use the word "things" intentionally because "books" would be too kind) that I regret reading recently are a couple of paperbacks by Patricia Cornwall. (Yes, I said "a couple". I read one of them in its entirety but quit half-way through the other one.) Cornwall is best known for a series of crime thrillers, but she has written a couple of things in a style that blatantly rips off Carl Hiaasen. They end up being pale imitations of Hiaasen with one-tenth of his wit and none of the serious themes that underlie his humor. It's said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but if I were Carl Hiaasen I'd be insulted, not flattered.