Three volumes comprise Mark Twain’s autobiography because he was a chatty man and had a lot to say. I am a fan so I enjoy reading his volumes very much.
I enjoy much less their heft. I didn’t weigh them but each one would be a deadly projectile if one had enough brawn to throw one.
More than 1/3 of each book, roughly 300 pages at the end, is explanatory notes and footnotes and acknowledgments and caveats and arguments and commentary. I think someone may have added some recipes in there just for fun.
I should applaud the care taken to verify his thoughts, put them within context, and display the kind of detail fixation prevalent among those obsessed with his work. But the book is so heavy, it should have its own lectern.
Considering Mark Twain dictated most of it while in bed or in a comfy chair, I suspect he would find this funny.
