In 2008, when I embarked on my mission to reread all of the books that I hated in high school (and was surprised to find that, for the most part, I really enjoyed them), I couldn't quite muster the strength to take on any books by Charles Dickens. For the better part of my life I've been quite convinced that I can't stand his work.
But this weekend, after much hemming and hawing, I picked up Bleak House at the library. And I love it. I'll have to wade deeper into the works of Mr. Dickens. I may even grow to enjoy his lengthy description of fog.