I'm still reading Big Trouble.

I started sometime in late September. I read it through my trip to Florida. I took a brief detour, to read Not to People Like Us, about domestic violence in upscale marriages. But, I'm trying to pick away at all 754 pages of Big Trouble.

And please understand, the sheer length of the book does not bother me. One of my favorite books of all time, Truman, was 1,120 pages. Master of the Senate, another terrific one, was 1,200. (That took up the summer of 2002 and cost me $10 in overdue fees to the Ida Rupp Public Library.)

Here's my problem, J. Anthony. This book is supposed to be about a murder trial.

I just read seven pages on the intrigues of the Idaho baseball leagues at the turn of the century.

I have no clue what that had to do with the mining union blowing up a former governor of Idaho.
Nor do I understand why Ethel Barrymore visiting the murder trial (which I vaguely recall at this point) was license for you to go into a deep and meandering explanation of the intricacies of theater syndicates and actors' unions at the turn of the centuries.

And the Elks. For Pete's sake, J. Anthony, you spent TWO PAGES talking about clubs such as the Elks, the Woodmen, the Independent Order of Gophers (I swear, I'm not making this up, look at page 170), the Prudent Patricians of Pompeii, and my personal favorite, the Concantenated Order of Hoo-Hoo. All of which has what to do with the murder of Frank Steunenberg, or whatever his name was?

(When I read a book about someone's murder, I should know how to spell his name by page 610. I don't. This indicates we're into too much surplusage.)

I'm starting to understand why this work frustrated you so.