Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles, considered to be his greatest work, offers poignant and magnificent prose: She might have seen what had bowed her head so profoundly – the thought of the world’s concern at her situation – was founded on an illusion. She was not an existence, an experience, a passion, a structure of sensations, to anybody but herself. To all humankind besides, Tess was only a passing thought. Even to friends she was no more than a frequently passing thought. If she made herself miserable the livelong day, it was only this much to them – “Ah, she makes herself unhappy.”

And yet the story is plodding, indeed even interminably slow. The internal struggles of Tess, which many consider to be a strength of the book, is really more of an impediment for today’s reader. I would even venture to say that the antiquated vocabulary such as “swarthy” and “maladroit” create barriers as well. This isn’t to say the reading isn’t enjoyable just that he does require a substantial effort. Maybe he needs some memes.