I chuckled out loud almost as much as I stopped to reread a paragraph aloud to myself in awe of the language.

Obviously many consider this to be the best book written in English, and, on a personal level, Bartleby and Benito Cereno were watershed reads for me in college, but somehow I kept delaying reading Moby Dick, I think waiting until I felt like I'd read enough or learned enough in advance, worried that I would sully the experience if I went into it wrong (or just end up hating it).

I finally started it when I found an awesome old disheveled leather copy at an estate sale for $5 (which the owner seems to have tried to rescue with leather balm or something, but succeeded only in making permanently sticky), and reading it has been a wonderful experience.