"Remembrance of Things Past" (Volume 1) by Marcel Proust (1913)
I TRIED to read this book, I really did, but it's like being trapped in a very small room with an extremely annoying man who keeps reminding you about some pointless incident from his childhood.  Honestly I have better things to do, and better books to read.  Life is too short for Proust.
 
 
 
          
      
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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