Gravity's Rainbow, by Thomas Pynchon. The uppity-ups in The New Yorker magazine sang the praises of this book to the skies, so I read it during college in the early 1970s, being an
English major and all. All I remember now is sitting in the school library with this book in my hands, looking at the clock on the wall and marveling at how slow time was passing. A strange memory, because I can't even remember what the book was about, and I'll be damned if I'm going to google it at this stage in my life...
