How to curate your personal canon
In the third grade, I read a book about an arrogant porcelain rabbit who falls from the safety of a little girl’s doll collection into the unpredictable world beyond. Edward Tulane is lost at sea, buried in a landfill, passed between drifters, lonely children, and grieving parents. Along the way, he is broken and repaired, abandoned and found. Each of his adventures strips him of his vanity and indifference, forcing him to feel love, grief, and hope.
I have, of course, read many “serious” and “important” books since the third grade. I’ve read Plato’s Symposium, Dante’s Inferno, Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov—long, winding classics considered “essential reads” in intellectual circles. And, in those years since third grade, I’d mostly forgotten about the book from my elementary school library that had once made me feel so deeply for a porcelain rabbit.
It wasn’t until I found the book at a second-hand book sale a few months ago that I recalled the story. I immediately purchased The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane and went home to read it for the first time in nearly a decade.
At nine years old, I couldn’t have articulated what exactly it was about the book that stuck with me. But now I can realize how the book shaped how I view loving and being loved. How love matters because the fear of losing that person (or object) makes it all the more fragile. How, even though Edward Tulane was sometimes spoiled and selfish, he still deserved love and was ultimately changed by the love he received.
It was these reflections on it after re-reading it that earned it a place in my recently curated personal canon.
In academic contexts, a “canon” is a collection of works deemed essential. We think of the official lists—books, films, art, and ideas that are considered important by institutions or critics. These lists are often presented as universal or foundational, representing the best or most significant works that everyone should know.
But a personal canon is something entirely different. It’s not handed down from universities or intellectuals, but a set of works and ideas that you’ve chosen—consciously or unconsciously—to carry with you. A personal canon is the books, essays, films, and even conversations that have shaped how you think and see the world. It’s not necessarily a list of favorites or even the best works you’ve consumed. Sometimes it might include works that you struggled with or maybe even disliked, but what’s important is that they stayed with you in a meaningful way. Your personal canon reflects your intellectual and creative foundation, the influences that have formed your worldview, guided your thinking, or left a permanent mark on you.
So why create one? I consider a personal canon a tool for intentionality. When so much of what we consume is determined by algorithms, trends, or what everyone else is talking about, it’s a way to reclaim control over your intellectual life. It encourages you to reflect on what you’ve internalized and the works have shaped your values and beliefs. It reminds you that you’re allowed to decide what counts as meaningful or influential, not based on what’s popular or required, but on what’s resonated with you.
It is also, perhaps most importantly, a kind of compass. When you’re unsure of what to focus on next or in need of guidance, you can return to these works. Maybe there’s specific kinds of creators or ways of thinking that are missing from your canon. It can help guide you to what’s next.
And of course, you can continue changing and adding to it. But the point isn’t to simply fill gaps according to someone else’s standards. It’s to notice the works you’ve already internalized, the ones you keep circling back to.
In a world constantly pushing you towards the new, popular, and officially endorsed, a personal canon is a way to center what actually matters to you, rather than what’s supposed to matter.
I perceive value, I confer value, I create value. I even create — or guarantee — existence. Hence, my compulsion to make ‘lists.’ The things (Beethoven’s music, movies, business firms) won’t exist unless I signify my interest in them by at least noting down their names. Nothing exists unless I maintain it (by my interest, or my potential interest).
—Susan Sontag. As Consciousness is Harvested to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks
So, where and how do you start?
One of the most helpful things for me was to simply ask myself the right questions.
Start by looking for patterns. What are the books, essays, films, or artworks that you find yourself revisiting? What exactly is it about the work that makes you keep coming back, that continues to draw your interest?
What works challenged you the most? The ones that made you uncomfortable, forced you to think differently. Maybe it completely changed your mind about a belief you had. Or maybe you hated it, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it afterwards. (The 2004 film Birth was an extremely uncomfortable and difficult watch at times, but its portrayal of love and grief have stuck with me so profoundly that it has earned a place in my personal canon.)
Are there ideas or stories you quote often? Things that have woven themselves into how you talk, write, or think? Writers or artists who have influenced how you create art?
What works have helped you through a difficult time or gave you a way to understand something you were struggling with? Sometimes a book or film matters not because it is necessarily important, but because it helped you at that specific moment. (I think this applies especially well to works that we consumed at a young age. Even if they were not the most “intellectual” or “profound” works, they found you at a certain moment in your youth and stayed with you.)
And if someone wanted to understand your influences and how you think, what works would you recommend for them? Imagine curating a list for reading, watching, or listening for someone who wanted to step into your intellectual mind palace.
As you start identifying the works that belong in your personal canon, it can be helpful to determine the set categories you want in it.
I personally prefer, rather than an all-encompassing 'literature’ category, to split written works into ‘books’ and ‘essays/articles’. Other categories in my personal canon are films, art, music, ideas, and the creators themselves—writers, artists, directors. If you enjoy podcasts and video essays, you can dedicate categories for those as well. If you’re interested in fashion, consider including categories for designers, runway shows, or collections that have shaped your aesthetic preferences. If music is your primary influence, you can focus specifically on albums or musicians who have shaped you. There is so much creative freedom to be had here.
I would recommend just going for it. Start by reflecting on the above questions and simply brain-dumping any works that come to mind. Usually, the ones we think of first are first for a reason.
After that, browse through whatever you currently use to track your media consumption. From your Goodreads to Letterboxd, go through and take note of any media that you think might fit in your personal canon. Don’t worry about being selective right now, just note down every single work you might want to add and go from there.
Once you have this longer list, work on narrowing it down. Again, return to those questions to decide if a work is truly one that has shaped you or whether you simply enjoyed it at that moment. This distinction is what makes a personal canon so meaningful.
I would also recommend keeping it simple. Maybe have only ten to twenty works per category. If you allow the list to grow endlessly then it loses its significance. Each work should hold a specific, irreplaceable place in your canon.
It might seem daunting at first to try to categorize every single significant work you’ve consumed. But as I started to narrow down my own lists, I realized there were much fewer works than I expected. Many works I initially included had no significant impact on me. Yes, I enjoyed watching or reading them, but they hadn’t stuck with me in an important way. It’s often easier to let things go than you might imagine.
Once you’ve started identifying the works that belong in your personal canon, the next thing to figure out is what you’re going to do with these works. It’s one thing to have as abstract sense of what’s shaped you, but it’s another thing to give it form, to make it visible and intentional.
Of course, there’s no single right way to organize a personal canon, but there are many effective approaches.
I think one of the more common ways of organizing media is by its medium or format. Books, films, essays, artworks, music—especially if you draw influence from a wide range of sources. This can help you see where your center of intellectual gravity is—are you shaped more by literature? Visual art? Music?
You could also group works thematically, by the kinds of influence they’ve had over you. Ideas that shaped your worldview, ones that influenced your aesthetics, or ones that shaped your values. This approach lets you see connections between seemingly unrelated works and build a map of your intellectual and emotional influences.
A more unique way could be to trace your intellectual and creative development chronologically. What works mattered to you in childhood, your teenage years, and early adulthood? How was your personal canon shifted over time? Seeing it as a timeline can highlight not only the important influences on your life, but the different phases of your thinking.
Once you determine how you want you organize your personal canon, you need to figure out how you want to display or archive it. Some people enjoy creating physical representation—a shelf dedicated to the influential works, a gallery wall, a list in a journal. If you prefer to organize it in a digital format, there are some great options. There are the well-known Goodreads, Letterboxd, and Storygraph, but there are also more niche alternatives. Some might prefer a simple spreadsheet that organizes everything simply and plainly, without excess aesthetics. Notion is also a great option, there are some great online templates created by others that you can use. A blog—like this!—is a great option for both organizing your personal canon and sharing with others. A zine is also a great option for people more artistically inclined!
For media in your personal canon that is more visual and aesthetic based, there is of course Pinterest, but there are also some great alternatives if you're moving off that platform—like Are.na, Cosmos, and mymind.
The point isn’t to make it impressive-looking, but to make it yours. By organizing and displaying your canon in a way that feels meaningful and intentional to you. It’s not simply a record of your influences, but something that you can return to and use as a guide for what’s next.
Lately, I’ve been loving reading through other people’s personal canons online. Many are over five years old, and it’s so fascinating to get this glimpse into someone’s mind. That, from their personal canon, I can gauge the kind of content they enjoy, the themes and ideas they’re drawn to, the person they might have been when they wrote the list. It’s also a great way to get some format or category inspiration for your own personal canon! Here are some I found online, most from older blog posts and many specifically focused on literature—
Brendan Schlagel, LouLouReads, Shigekuni, The Book Binder’s Daughter, John Pistelli, Bensonian, The Solute (this one is especially expansive with lots of categories and is updated every year, super cool!), Fanda Classiclit
Remember: a personal canon isn’t a checklist of “essential” works or a trophy case of cultural capital. It’s a record of the things that have shaped you—intellectually, emotionally, and aesthetically. It’s personal by definition and unfinished by design.
By curating your canon intentionally, you’re not just keeping track of what you’ve consumed, but noticing what has stuck with you. You’re tracing the lines of your influences, the ideas that you keep returning to, the works that have formed the foundations of your intellectual life.
It’s easy to lose sight of that in a culture obsessed with what’s new, trending, or urgent. But your personal canon is a way of looking back and asking what has mattered most to you. And, just as importantly, what do you want to carry forward.
Maybe having a children’s book about a porcelain rabbit in my personal canon isn’t reflective of a “serious” thinker, but that’s the beauty of a personal canon—it’s personal. It doesn’t need to impress anyone else, it simply needs to feel like you.
I’m re-reading pieces of things that have always been important to me, and am amazed at my evaluations.
—Susan Sontag, Reborn: Journals and Notebooks
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Thank you for this. I am inspired to start this for myself. Also - I was thrilled to see Lolly Willowes on your list!!
I love this idea and has inspired me to start creating my own canon. I kind of already have one but nothing succinct and so well thought out as what you describe.