Books for Schooks.

Well, it's that time of year again, where I take a book off the shelf that I've tried on several occasions to get through, to no avail.  This year, it's SHAKESPEARE'S DOG by Leon Rooke.  I saw an adaptation of this book in play form in Chicago many years ago; I was dating a woman who was the stage manager for the production.  I liked the woman more than I liked the play.  The play was okay.  The woman was like finding a lee in a storm.

The book is like wading through cement.

I've been through this before, though.  I'll read a review of a book, and think that in order to justify my reputation as an erudite fellow, I need to read that book....and then I pick it up, and after a few pages here or there, I realize that being thought of as erudite is vastly overrated if I have to admit to liking this steaming pile of cr*p.

I'm not going to mention any titles.
A CONFEDERACY OF DUNCES. 

Oops. 

Now, it took me several years to get through that book; and several more to learn enough about life to begin to understand it.  And six months after that to understand why the author only wrote the one book.

So.

Here I go.

Chapter one.

ZZZZZZZ.