Too good to overlook. In which PZ Myers tries digesting James Carroll’s Constantine’s Sword, and comes up gasping for air:
I haven’t finished it yet. It’s agonizing to plow through. There are some good bits of history sprinkled throughout, but you have to suffer through the author’s frequent, lengthy declarations of his Catholicism. Trust me, he’s very Catholic. So Catholic that he feels guilty about his guilt over guilt.
You can actually skip the first 60 pages altogether, which consists of nothing but his personal history and his loud protestations that he is deeply Catholic. I have never before read a book where the author intrudes so obnoxiously.