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Quixano is dead--Quixote lives!

Starting on 18 February, I tackled what many consider to be the first novel--Don Quixote--and today I finished it. If you're at all interested you might try it for yourself. Be warned, however. My interest in all 982 pages waxed and waned. It was at turns, funny, tedious, interesting, compelling, and repetitive. I did sympathize with Quixote though, because so many people took advantage of his delusion--perhaps that was Cervantes' aim--of course, when the narrative was dragging I wished one of his tormentors would have just killed him.

Next for fiction? Either Tolkien's The Children of Hurin or Spenser's Mutabilitie Cantos.

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