Ah,
The tale of young lovers, divided by a wall, speaking through a niche to one another, taking into confidence those that contrive to have the sweet lady fake her death using a mysterious poison; the lad misunderstanding then attempts his life—I am of course talking about the Count of Monte Cristo.
Prepare to be subjected to several weeks on The Count of Monte Cristo, the book that is actually several books and one diatribe on the belief that Lord Byron was actually a vampire, which I read out of spite.
At 1400 pages it may be the longest book I’ve read.
Aliactast 