Ok. Here comes the blesphemy. I'm never gonna get the time I spent reading this book back. Nor will I retrieve the time spent writing this review, but I see this as a public service, so there's a purpose. Voltaire took three days to write this? About right. Yes he is clever, yes he is witty, yes, in the author's time this was a masterwork of satire, but now ... sigh. When every character is introduced with a litany of their misfortunes, they all begin to sound alike. Events slide together like a messy old run on sentence. The whole book could be reduced to one of those lineage of misery stories and save everyone a lot of time and agony. Bottom line, unless you fancy 18th century lit, steer clear. The best of all possible worlds in one in which I wouldn't feel the need to read Candide.