For the majority of my teenage and adult life, people have asked me who my favorite author is. As if being an English major with shelvesfull of books were any reason for them to ask about authors I like.

I’ve always responded something to the effect of “Shakespeare. And F. Scott Fitzgerald. And Jane Austen. And Haruki Murakami. And Virginia Woolf. And…”

The “favorite author” question always has presented a sort of quandary to me, as I have very specific things I love about many, many authors, but there isn’t just one I would say is “The Best Ever.”

Sure, Shakespeare probably is the best writer to ever have lived. Thousands of scholars and “Best Of” lists throughout history will agree with me on that. But, there are things about Shakespeare that I’m not always fond of, and those dozens of other authors on my list fill those voids.

I think it’s kind of funny how people expect, just because book-lovers read a lot, that we know everything about books and can have a very specific opinion on them. Well, we do, but opinions aren’t always so clear-cut that everyone can choose just one favorite.

As book-lovers, we know how to read well and appreciate the differences amongst different authors. We develop our own sets of likes and dislikes, our own criteria for evaluating “greatness.”

There isn’t just one “great” or “favorite.” And yet, it’s a little difficult to list every single author we consider “great” in casual conversation.

If we are asked our favorite author and proceed to list off three dozen names, many which the listener doesn’t recognize, it’s akin to asking someone how they are and getting a full description of his or her health and well-being.

Does anyone else run into this problem?