They may be masterworks, but that doesn't mean everyone will--or should--like them.

I find it more useful to organize influential works like trees rather than as lists. That way, you can find a branch that you like, and walk up and down its nodes.

For instance, if you like Twelve Monkeys, you could walk up the branch to Brazil, further up to _1984_, sidestep to cousin _Catch 22_, skip to uncle _The Trial_, and go up to _Crime and Punishment_ and _The Brothers Karamazov_.

Whereas if you like The Magnificent Seven, you might walk up the branch to The Seven Samurai, sidestep to Yojimbo, and go back down to A Fistful of Dollars.

When you put out lists of finite length, featuring only the brightest stars in the sky, you lose quite a lot of detail in your constellations.

Right on. I'd add that the value of having such a large and diverse canon is that each person finds their own branch or branches that eventually ramify down to tiny twigs unknown elsewhere on the tree, but that have immense personal beauty and significance. The value of canonical taxonomies in lit isn't that all the books are good, but that there's something in them somewhere for anyone. But not necessarily all of it for everyone.

The Idiot and Daemons are incomparably better that Crime and Punishment.

Now you see, how many worthy titles are curiously missing?)

There are more than 100 good books. Therefore, whenever anybody assembles a list of exactly 100, some must necessarily be left out. Also, each person can decide their own criteria for determining whether a book is good.

That is why I think it is more useful--and more polite--to discuss one's own favorites, rather than criticize another's set of favorites for its omissions.

And the primary utility of such an exercise is, in my opinion, to help other people discover works that may appeal to them. So the closer your set of favorites aligns with Bowie's, the more likely it is that you may enjoy those works on the list that you haven't yet read.