If there were an Olympic event for the slowest bona fide effort to read through a particular book, article, or other text, I would be a promising contender, a quality which occasionally leads to the lamentable state of failing to read at all; depending on the density of the language, I can often spend considerable time reading and not feel as though I’m really getting anywhere. Yes, you can imagine the difficulty I had as an English major at Cal Lutheran. Two plays per week in Dr. Murley’s Shakespeare class was enough to drive any undergraduate to sweat a few beads and shed a few tears, but for yours truly it was altogether Herculean. That my slowness should at times deter me from reading is personally
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