It's 800 pages, and I'm convinced they only pared it down that low by making the pages themselves huge. They're 6.5 by 10 inches. Only my Riverside Shakespeare can compete with this for sheer size. My arm got tired carrying it back from the library.
All of this would be of little concern but for the sticker on the spine:
Are they kidding? I know it's new and in high demand, but really, is this a joke? I haven't read that many pages in 2 weeks since grad school. And that was only because I had no job and I was walking into a three-hour discussion session each week during which it became painfully obvious if one didn't read the book. (There's no hiding behind the other students when there's only six of them.)
I will do my best, but alas I have one thing hampering me: the person who checked this book out before me was a heavy smoker, and must have lived with at least one other heavy smoker. No, make that a commune of heavy smokers. Perhaps in an actual cigarette factory. What I mean to say is this thing reeks. Every time I open a page I get hit with a waft of heinous stench. Mr. Twain will have to be witty indeed to justify the headaches I'm about to incur.
I trust he won't disappoint.
1 comment:
I would suggest leaving the book on a porch to air it out, but smoke sticks to things like nothing else. Wear plastic gloves. And maybe a dust mask.
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