Hardcovers: The Glory and the Horror

I have a hardcover book (yes, it's Going Bovine, yes I am loving it) that is about 800 pages long. I take it on the subway. I put it in my purse. I lug it from bedroom to living room to laundry room only to read 10 pages at a go. It's like take your brick to work week and I've had about enough. Oh, it's good. I love the cover. I love that I was so excited to read it I simply could not wait for the paperback edition that was sure to follow the hardcover release. I love how I feel like a 10 year old girl reading the library's copy of Little Women. But seriously. It's become my albatross and I'm itching to finish it, just to give my triceps a break. Oh, the kids today are all about the paperbacks, slide a copy into the back pocket of your dungarees on your way to the drag race or sock-hop and as a modern girl how can I blame them? I also seem to remember getting hardcovers from the library and they often had tiny paper-colored mites on them that you were never quite sure were real until you lightly smashed one with an index finger. And that they smelled like vanilla and the desert. Oh dear readers (all 3 of you), what was the last hardcover YOU read? I'm dying to know...