Andrea Laiacona Dooley

Jul 17, 2018

3 min read

In Defense of Small Books

I love big books. When I was a twelve, I read “. . . And the Ladies of The Club,” in paperback. It was a whopping 1,433 pages and it probably weighed almost as much as I did. In the weeks before law school, I tore through Infinite Jest, which, at 1,079 pages, felt meager by comparison. I read Underworld by Don DeLillo (827 pages), all but the last six pages of Russell Bank’s Cloudsplitter (758 pages), and Jonathan Franzen’s novel, Freedom (562 pages, but still fat enough to hold open a door.” I’ve read every book in George R.R. Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire series (4,228 words) and NK Jemison’s Hundred…

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