I've been reading The Giant, O'Brien by Hilary Mantel and just finished it this hour, the tale of a soulful giant beset by all the monstrousness of science and modernity. In describing her prose recently I put her on a shelf with Nabokov, not so much for the structure and assemblage but for the sense of awe her works impose. Most writers I read I could daydream of emulating, equaling perhaps with enough effort. Considering Nabokov or Mantel is to confront a tremendous natural wonder, the existence of which humbles notions of equality.
In recent years I haven't been a re-reader of books. I've had barely any time to read them once, and only by dint of concentrated effort did I manage to finish a spare 50 titles last year. But in honoring Nabokov this quote was used-
A good reader, a major reader, an active and creative reader is a rereader.
Which came to me as I turned the final page and read the last word of The Giant, O'Brien, a slim volume, less than 200 pages, yet massing much greater in the mind, demanding revisiting in light of final revelations.
So, now I'll have a short, one book 're-read' pile next to the 'to read' pile.