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I finally finished reading Paul Clifford, the book that no one knows, but everyone's heard of. (It's the one that starts, "It was a dark and stormy night.") When Mark Twain made his rants about brevity of writing, I think that this was the book he had in mind. Though the author makes some very good points about the criminal justice system, and there's one excellent pun ("make up for my absence with my presents") the whole thing is the very embodiment of tl;dr. My particularly favorite quote:

two freaking sentences )

JUST SAY SHEEP, DAMMIT.

It's actually considered by many to be one of the worst books ever published, and the horrible prose isn't helped by the author's enormous ego. At one point, he interrupts the story to rant for 60 lines about how Thomas Moore was full of shit on some point or other, and it's just like, dude, who the fuck do you think you are?? Then at the end, he's like, "Now that I've blown your mind with my amazing plot twists, I'll explain everything to you," when I had guessed the big surprise about 1/3 of the way in. Yeah, whatever there, Mr. "Let's End This Sentence With 168 Exclamation Points" Bulwer-Lytton.

In case you're wondering why I bothered to read the whole thing, the main reason is because I was in serious need of a hardcore English workout. But also because I hate myself. But now that it's out of the way, I can read about gay Arthurian knights! \o/ Yay!

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