I remember my first encounter with great literature. Before bedtime, my father would read Great Expectations to me, using different voices for different characters. I remember Pip and Miss Havisham, though I don’t think I fully understood Miss Havisham’s peremptory and eery commandment to Pip to love Stella. I remember the stygian scene with the convict in the graveyard. I also remember reading Sherlock Holmes under my covers, enamored with his brilliance and the game that was afoot. I re...
