Every reader has them: books that gather dust on shelves. Those thick tomes with tiny type that have edged open windows, propped up wobbly tables and weighed down loose paper. They invoke fear. It’s the size, the daunting literary baggage, sometimes the impenetrable language. Mobdy Dick doesn’t scare me as much as it bores me. I don’t mind the 900 pages digression on moral in Les Miserables. The three books above just invoke so much fear in me that anticipate a sense of crushing defeat. 2015 is time to blow off the dust, bite the bullet, and tackle these books.