On the subject of remembering the essence of something without remembering the specifics, take Aldous Huxley's Those Barren Leaves for example. I picked it up with scorn, for some reason mocking something I saw on the back cover. Something about it being a comedy or something. Anyway, I never really expected it to be a serious read - it was originally something to pass the time.

But once I finished, lord! I was forever changed! Well, nothing as dramatic as that, but it did have a profound impact on me. It was another of those books that just seemed to speak directly to me. At the peak of my intellectual and philosophical search, reading some of Huxley's ideas were simply delightful. Yet again, I am ashamed that I cannot remember details. But the mood, the atmosphere, it was perfect for the time I was reading it. Sitting in my old house in Mysore, gazing at the pages of someone who thought about a lot of stuff I was thinking about. In particular I remember one of the characters musing about the various conceptions of his hand - physically, chemically, philosophically - I have often thought of much the same thing.

It's truly wonderful when something resonates, and captures a special place in your heart. I can think of other things apart from Huxley's novel. Plastic Ono Band. On The Beach, for some inexplicable reason. Coming Up For Air, as previously mentioned. A short list, to be sure, but one that I hold dear in some way. Perhaps they're not the cream of the crop, but they've got something special that I do hope I never forget.