I confess that when it comes to choosing books, size matters. The other day I was considering the purchase of Infinite Jest and the reason I returned it to the shelf was the question: "Do I really want to spend that much time with this giant?"
It seemed more infinite than amusing.
Don't misunderstand me. I've heard great things about the novel and will probably tackle it some day.
But not now.
And yes, I frequently read mega-volumes - Tolstoy's War and Peace and Hersey's The Wall are on my re-read list - but those had a guarantee of greatness before I started them.
With books of unknown quality, more is less.
In the days of extensive business travel, I always had an Elmore Leonard or Ed McBain novel within reach. Those were quick and very well-written reads that would keep me entertained from New York to Phoenix.
And they were conveniently small. Imagine trying to cram Infinite Jest into your briefcase.
You could always cut it into two..
I was completely underwhelmed by Infinite Jest. I probably wasn't smart enough to appreciate it. I waving you off. You have more important things to do with your time. Check thy toenails. E.
Nothing captured me when I thumbed through it. Thanks for the warning.
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