So I was in Dunkin Donuts yesterday, eating my lunch among the retirees, bus drivers, and Ethiopians that make up Chicago DD clientele. I had my book with me, and unlike when I was reading Jane Austen, no one talks to me about Middlemarch. I think maybe a lot of people don't know about it, or at least haven't read it. But this older gentleman who was eating lunch with his wife stood up, came to my table, tapped my book and said with bright, excited eyes: "This book is amazing," or something that sounded more educated and articulate. He said: "I think this is the best book in the English language. It's hard to describe what makes it so good." And I looked up at him and was like "Yas, Gaga, yas," and his wife, standing on her walker in her bad orange wig, hollered: "Arthur! Let's go!" He ignored her and continued extolling the virtues of Middlemarch, asked if I was reading for fun or for college (!), and then went to pay at the counter, which didn't stop her from demanding in a horrible mix of plaintive and domineering: "Let's go, Arthur!!!" 

When he came back around he leaned over the table and said: "Do you know what happens to Lydgate yet?" 

Since I haven't reached the ending, but I have a good idea, I said: "No?" 

"He makes a bad marriage." 

"C'mon, Arthur, let's go!"

He put on his coat and followed his wife out. Before they left, he turned back to me and raised his arms helplessly, gesturing to his wife, like "See?"