My boyfriend asked me yesterday why, when I read so much, I do not do any literary analysis. He knows that, when I read, I do not do so with a reader’s guide, even to the point of reading a dense work like without any external input. After some faltering and inane attempts at an explanation, I had to admit that it is largely due to misplaced pride in my ability to “get” whatever I am reading. So, I am going to try to change that. For books of that sort, the books that make me think or confuse me or inspire me, I will begin writing longer, more analytic reviews. I hope they bring you pleasure in some way.