I rarely read classics anymore, although I've had both wonderful and awful experiences with them. But mainly I think it is because there are so so SO many new books published that I want to read (and of course never will be able to catch up on) and I prioritize those.
Once again the novella format comes to aid. I had never read anything by Marcel Proust before this one. Possibly because he's rumoured to be *difficult*. But you know what, this little short story about madame de Breyes melancholic summer was so beautiful. Wonderfully written - I can see that in an ideal world you should read it slowly slowly savouring each word - and surprisingly easy to relate to.
Love issues and emotions never change, deep down we are the same, it's just the way we express ourselves in words that varies through the centuries. I love how connected one can feel with the old classics. Even more so than with modern books, which in many cases, to be honest, leave me feeling rather more alienated than before.
Yes, I should explore more classics. And look for the novellas first.