In grade 10, my English teacher told me I was useless at modern languages and - at age 16 - I believed him, dropped it and instead concentrated on Latin for my language requirement. This called for boring boring boring hours of revising vocabulary and reading Cicero's speeches and his racist opinions on the Barbaric (i.e. not us) tribes and accounts of the life of warmongering males in general with the odd sprinkling of poetry and fables. An exercise calling for discipline not unlike what was asked from a Roman soldier - I dedicated one entire summer to it and it got me where I needed to get to and the moment this was achieved, not a minute more was wasted.
Two years later a mysterious and wonderful Irish man who had already been messing with my heart and soul for a couple of months gave me this book and said it mattered to him and maybe I would read it? It was a bit like learning to read again, remaining clueless for entire sections but getting the drift and no looking back after a short while.
Tried to read it again last summer. Couldn't get into it.
Searching for the movie version.