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I read a column of a woman in a newspaper the otherday. She compared her resonse to one of the books she returned to two times in her life: First she read it when was a teenager, second when she was pregnant and then later, when her children were approaching puberty. She found that in her third reading the book became almost meaningless. But it can not be denied that it might have had some appeal for her children by now, and there is no need for her to read it for the fourth time.
With readers like her, who discover their lives while reading literature, and retuen to a book so often, a bad writing does not stand a chance. But she did not tell which other books she read too.