There is not another book in all of literature that I hold as dear as this one; I never expect to find another that gives me half as much pleasure. It would be impossible to count how many times I've read it over the years (it has to be dozens and dozens by now), and it remains a locale of constant pilgrimage, as I still return to it at least once a year. I'm always a bit nervous whenever I take it up again that my education of postmodern "isms" will have made me suddenly immune to its charms