I'm currently reading a Classic for English and the first thing I noticed was the very tiny print. Then I started reading and the words made me go:
I needed to look up every second word in the dictionary. It was frustrating and totally killed the mood of reading.... However, I am slowly getting the hang of it.
I've found that this kind of piece of writing isn't meant for skim reading (like a lot of novels I read). This literature was a form of art, words used to paint a masterpiece.
Every word and sentence was chosen and written with purpose. Words were woven together and not merely printed on a page to tell a good story. The art is in the story-telling itself. So now I read this book out loud. Because it makes for a beautiful sound. It's has a sort of melody to it. If you were to ask me to summarise each chapter, it'll seem like nothing much happens and the story is moving slowly. Well, perhaps it is. But like nature, you miss the beauty if you rush through it. To see the beauty, you have to pause, if only for a moment and really look.
"On the morning appointed for her departure Tess was awake before dawn - at the marginal minute of the dark when the grove is still mute, save for one prophetic bird who sings with a clear-voiced conviction that he at least knows the correct time of day, the rest preserving silence as if equally convinced that he is mistaken."
I don't think I've ever heard bird's singing in the morning described that before.
Dey don' make 'em like dat no more.