Okay, enough of the bad reviews. Time to talk about something wonderful:
I read Max and Moritz
for the first time this weekend, and it's already become a part of my inner consciousness. I've been seeing Max and Moritz inside my head my whole life, and I haven't known what it was until now. Sure, I had heard of it, and I've always appreciated the idea and recognized its importance in the history of literature, but now I believe in it
. I feel like I should be making some kind of commentary on the psychosocial meaning of the book and its pervasiveness, but all I feel like doing is gushing about it. I'm going to have to write fully about this tomorrow.