An old maxim states that the definition of a “classic” is a book that is hard to read. I think this story is an exception because it has been widely held to be a masterpiece of modern English literature since its first publication in 1915. The narrative is easy to follow and, while somewhat tedious in a few chapters, flows towards a conclusion that is both logical and touching. Basically it’s the story of Philip Carey, a handicapped orphan who is raised by his religious aunt and uncle. Philip grows to be a self-deceiving young man who searches for life’s meaning, or lack thereof, in art, literature, failed love affairs, and friendships with a variety of interesting characters. What makes the story interesting (and in a sense “hard to read”) are the painful truths of human existence that are periodically revealed to Philip and, by extension, the reader. From deep religious faith to a fierce atheism, the meaning of life as it is played out in unrequited love, broken health, and lonely death unfolds for Philip in a painful series of revelations. I picked up this book without the slightest idea what it was about, and I was not disappointed with the time I spent with it. Give it a try the next time you take a break from contemporary fiction .