[Prestidigitweeze]

Sometimes the gist of a book -- its substance for that particular reader -- is not reducible to the story and can be studied intently without actually being finished. What would you say in that case: "I scrutinized the book deeply but didn't actually read it?" I can see why someone might make a distinction between reading it and finishing it.

Ulysses is a great example. My teacher advised me to muscle through it whether I understood everything or not and then go back and study it, particularly the Proteus chapter. Because I did so, I can say I finished the book. But there are people (including grad students) who study Ulysses for years -- sometimes specializing in a single aspect or chapter -- and never actually finish it. How are those people supposed to say they spent their time?

And if I hadn't gotten that advice, I might still be making my way through it little by little, with two books of Joycean annotations checked off slowly beside it.

As an eighteen-year-old, I remember stopping myself from reading The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge too quickly. I knew that, once I'd finished it, a source of spiritual refreshment would have to be relived instead of experienced in moments of pain and doubt. Reading it, I felt close to tears but protected from them, too, as if, each time I had to pause, nictitating membranes of water slid closed beneath eyelids made of flesh.

I can see putting off reaching the end of a book I truly love for a lifetime, and perhaps finishing it at the very end. Isn't that how some of the most intense romantic relationships play out?