I finally bought myself a Kindle. And I downloaded a few of the classics, which, as a writer, I am apparently supposed to appreciate.
So, I opened Jane Eyre. And I discovered more than 400 pages of text.
Already my appreciation ebbed to a new low.
Then I noticed, in the lower left-hand corner of the screen, Kindle’s estimate on the length of time I would need to complete the book.
Fifteen minutes to finish the first chapter. Nine hours and several more minutes to finish the book.
And then it became a challenge.
That’s right. I read Jane Eyre, not to identify with her struggle between love and independence or to gain insight into the disparities between social classes during Bronte’s time. But to best Kindle in her little guessing game.
It may not have been my most shining intellectual moment.
But I won.