In just six days I finally get my hands on a book that I have been waiting to read for over a year.  Umberto Eco‘s The Prague Cemetery will arrive at my door next Tuesday, and I feel like a child waiting for Christmas morning.  When this book was released last year in its original Italian, I attempted to work my way through it, to no avail.  My Italian is not nearly good enough to be able to appreciate the sheer beauty of Eco’s writing and the subtleties of his ideas.  I tried in Spanish, and although my Spanish is decidedly far better than my Italian, it was just not good enough.  So I waited, and pre-ordered, and then waited some more.

Now let me explain about my love (obsession?) with Umberto Eco.  I first encountered him during my freshmen year of college in an English Comp…

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