When the folks at Atlantic magazine recently named the “great American novels” of the last century, they said they expected disagreement on their 136 picks. So, here goes.

Obviously, these lists are meant to be debated. They generate controversy and snag clicks — probably one reason the story is now behind a paywall. That’s because we all have different tastes and definitions of “great American novel.”

For starters, people used to talk about writing “the great American novel” (meaning: one greatest novel), but now we’re supposed to believe there are 136? That number is random. Even picking one from each of the last 100 years would make more sense. But Atlantic created the list, so they get to make the rules and withstand our scorn.

If my math is correct, Toni Morrison has more books on the list than anyone else (“Sula,” “Song of Solomon,” “Beloved”), which seems right. No scorn there. And titles like “Catcher in the Rye” and “Native Son” are slam dunks. “On the Road,” too, even if I think it’s misogynistic, dated and hogging a spot that could be filled by John Irving’s “A Prayer for Owen Meany.”

Like most people, my main objections are to omissions. I’m shocked there’s no Flannery O’Connor. Even if classics “Everything that Rises Must Converge” and “A Good Man Is Hard to Find and Other Stories” are ineligible (they’re not novels), it would make sense to include her novel “Wise Blood” — especially since several novels that made the list are more like story collections, anyway. (Eudora Welty, also best known for stories, isn’t included whereas Jhumpa Lahiri, whose stories are better than her novels, sneaks in with the latter, “The Namesake.”)

Kudos for including noir (Dorothy Hughes’ “In a Lonely Place”), graphic novels (Alan Moore’s “Watchmen”), horror (Shirley Jackson’s “The Haunting of Hill House”) and children’s literature (“A Wrinkle in Time”). All belong there. But if I were to list the best children’s books ever, I’d start with the MIA Beverly Cleary’s “Ramona the Pest” and Norton Juster’s “The Phantom Tollbooth.” As beloved as Dolly Parton or ice cream and wildly prolific, Cleary, especially, is a huge miss.

So is Kate DiCamillo (I’d pick “Flora & Ulysses” but it’s tough to decide). Several Minnesota-connected writers made it, including F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby,” Marlon James’ “A Brief History of Seven Killings” and Louise Erdrich’s “The Round House.” But there’s no Sinclair Lewis, whose “Elmer Gantry” and “It Can’t Happen Here” fit the criteria.

It’s been a while since I read “To Kill a Mockingbird,” but it’s a surprise omission, along with “A Confederacy of Dunces” and “Stoner,” which many novelists say is their favorite (I have not read it). I’d list Ann Patchett’s “Commonwealth,” for sure. Same for Edward P. Jones’ “The Known World,” one of the best novels I’ve ever read.

I also wonder about specific titles. Colson Whitehead was included of course, but for “The Intuitionist” instead of masterpiece “The Underground Railroad?” James Baldwin for “Another Country,” not “Giovanni’s Room?” Stephen King, sure, but “The Stand?” Maybe the Atlantic wants us to take another look at books that are less obvious choices? Not including Irving, Alice Walker and Truman Capote must be a sign they’re out of fashion.

The best surprises are books I’ve whiffed on. That’s the coolest thing about a list like this, which draws attention to gaps in our reading. “East Goes West,” by Younghill Kang, “Stone Butch Blues” by Leslie Feinberg and “Perma Red” by Debra Magpie Earling are just a few titles I’ve added my to imaginary nightstand to read in my imaginary free time.