It’s happened to all of us.
A novel makes a “best of” list, maybe like Time Magazine’s—the critics love it—some of our friends say it’s great and some online reviews say it’s a good read.
Then we start reading the novel, and we’re like, Um, I don’t get it. But there’s something in the back of our mind saying, I’m supposed to like this novel! What am I missing?
I’m there right now. In reading Naked Lunch, I might have met my match, and I’m not sure what to do.
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