I sometimes find that there are certain classics which are difficult to read all the way through. This one ended up under my bed, becoming increasingly dusty and dog-eared before I could muster enough energy to finish it. Which is really too bad because it works on so many levels, except for those peculiar sentences. I am reminded of Rebecca West's criticism: "With sentences vast as the granite blocks of the Pyramids and a scene that would have made a site for a capital he set about constructing a story the size of a hen-house." ( )