So I'm reading Daniel Martin right now by John Fowles; who is a long standing favorite author of mine. It's huge, the pacing is well controlled and like all other books by him I've read, it's a book you expect to spend some time with as opposed to blowing through in a weekend. Fowles was English and not of my generation. It has taken me a while to figure out why I think I have such stumbling blocks with him concerning his writing.
I have a handful of reading disabilities and Fowles syntax is not always 'American' (which is not a fault) added to which he is really good at structuring his words to evoke certain thoughts and feelings in his readers. My biggest problem in reading anything is seeing what is actually written as opposed to what I want to be there: Fowles gives me fits. (You should hear me read aloud sometimes: it funny to hear someone else go back and read what was actually written instead of what I read.) That said, I think he needs about a tenth of the book's overall length before he hits his stride and things start to flow, or perhaps that's just me.
I've spoken before about reading a great book at a time when your mind isn't in it. Daniel Martin is exactly what I need to be reading right now. I've been in a rut and this book has made me fall back in love with the use of words and language to achieve a response from a reader. It's not the greatest thing ever committed to paper; it's merely the right book that I need to be reading right now.
Oh, and while not the greatest thing ever it does happen to be really good.