I've been trying to read Fellowship of the Ring again.
I read the series 35 years ago, and it was like slogging through Boston after the great molasses flood. Just agonizing.
Tolkein couldn't write poetry if a gun was held to his head and he was under threat of death to write a decent poem. And every chapter has one, two, or more of his awful fucking Vogon poetry.
I'll be just getting into the rhythm of the story when fucking JRR decides it's time to pull out his Prostetinic Vogon Jeltz mask and begin:
