I had to read this when I was in seventh grade English, along with Beowulf and Travels with Charley. And I HATED IT--hated ALL OF THEM with a ferocious hatred that only a seventh-grader is capable of. I thought they were all the worst things ever written and refused to enjoy them in any way. But I saw this old, beat-up copy at my favorite used bookstore in Raleigh when I was there procrastinating the other day and bought it for ten cents. I figured it was worth a dime to figure out if it was THAT BAD or not.
It took me FOREVER to read this tiny little book. (I guess it's not that tiny, but the copy I have is one of those small classics.) I was reading only when I exercised, and I guess that says something--that I was never excited about it enough that I wanted to read it when I wasn't exercising. The book itself was actually really good--Twain's irony and sarcasm is awesome, of course, and I found myself laughing at parts throughout--but I never REALLY got into it too much. The plot isn't really the main point of the story--it's the commentary you get through Hank Morgan's head about Camelot and the improvements he's making, etc. So I think Twain did a good job, but I was kind of glad it wasn't any longer. I even ended up skimming through the last few chapters because I was feeling ready to be done, and I knew exactly what was going to happen.
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