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Like many upper-class Bostonians of his time and place, Eliot was almost more English than American. Ergo, no Federalist Papers, no Grant's Memoirs, no Huck Finn or Moby Dick.

Adler had a very different purpose - and achieved a very different result.

Adler was profoundly affected by the rise of fascism, which he interpreted as a radical and nihilistic repudiation of the edifice of Western thought dating back to the Greeks and as sustained by the Thomistic tradition of the Catholic church. Adler was baptised a Roman Catholic at age 98, shortly before his death in the summer of 2001.

A brilliantly effective lecturer and teacher, Adler won a national audience for his vision of a grand tradition of great books. Adler and his friend Robert Hutchins made the "great books" approach the core of the curriculum at the new University of Chicago, and in turn inspired similar curricula at St. John's and other colleges. (I took a version of the Adler course myself, the Directed Studies program at Yale.)

Adler includes virtually every surviving Greek play, almost all of Aristotle and Plato, and huge masses even of Greek mathematics - but only two Russian novels and nothing at all from 19th century France!

Adler is an advocate not only for a canon, but also for a certain way of reading that canon: his Thomistic "Great Tradition" or "Great Conversation." This advocacy can deteriorate into an attempt not only to direct our reading, but our thinking - and an attempt that does considerable distortion to the books themselves. In this regard, Adler's omission of Nietzsche begins to look almost like a deliberate act of suppression.

Nietzsche is not much of a guide to life, I'll agree. But he - and other similarly corrosive thinkers, like John Maynard Keynes - offer a challenge that intelligent conservatives cannot disregard. Otherwise, the so-called Great Tradition degenerates into an exercise in mere curatorship, not living thought.

The task of coming up with reading lists is never easy, and often arbitrary. Pressed once by a friend very actively engaged in politics and trans-Atlantic affairs, I fired off this off-the-cuff list of necessary books on politics and history:

Hayek's Constitution of Liberty - the best introduction to the conservative case for limited government.

Gordon Wood, The Radicalism of the American Revolution, a great introduction to the drama of what happened in 1776.

Tocqueville, The Old Regime and the French Revolution - everyone reads Democracy in AMerica, but this book is a better introduction to France & French history than anything the maitre wrote about the US.

Vol. 2 of Robert Skidelsky's Biography of JM Keynes - a great introduction to the financial history of our century.

R. SHerwood, Roosevelt & Hopkins. The best ever white House memoir, and one that summons up the most intense description of Washington in the olden days before imperial power. If you make it to the WHite House, it'll help you feel like you were there all along. It's long, but the last 1/3 is far less interesting ....

Richard Pipes, first volume of his trilogy on the Russian Revolution - shows you the continuity of Russian history and how Putinism throws back to czarism.

Hernando de Soto, The Mystery of Capital. Ignore the awful title - a great introduction to problems of third world development. (Disclosure: I ghostwrote it, but the research & concepts are all his ...)

Robert Axelrod, The Origins of Cooperation: very short but fascinating study of the robustness of human cooperation, growing out of a fascinating computer experiment.

Ron Chernow, Alexander Hamilton. My hero! - also the founder of the financial system of the United States, and a man around whom all practical govt debates tend always to revolve.

Philippe Roger The American Enemy - a great study of anti-Americanism, a dominant ideology of our time .

James Q. Wilson, Bureaucracy. The eternal subject!

When I was in law school, I devised my own idiosyncratic solution to the problem of studying a topic I knew nothing about. I'd wander into the library stacks, head to the relevant section, and pluck a book at random. I'd flip to the footnotes, and write down the books that seemed to occur most often. Then I'd pull them off the shelves, read their footnotes, and look at those books. It usually took only 2 or 3 rounds of this exercise before I had a pretty fair idea of who were the leading authorities in the field. After reading 3 or 4 of those books, I usually had at least enough orientation in the subject to understand what the main questions at issue were - and to seek my own answers, always provisional, always subject to new understanding, always requiring new reading and new thinking.

That's what I try to do here in this space. I'm glad to hear from so many that this bookshelf series has been helpful and enjoyable. It will continue in 2008, along with my best wishes for a happy and healthy new year to all who take the trouble to drop by. I thank you for your readership, your kind words, and (most indispensable of all!) your corrections and criticism.