One Hundred Years...

Around this time last year, I started One Hundred Years of Solitude. I remember toting it around to my interviews. Then, I dropped it and started reading other books. Recently, I've picked it up right where I had stopped. I was re-inspired after it was mentioned in an article that I read in GQ. I've been working on it for the past couple weeks; honestly, I don't know if I'm going to make it. It seriously feels like its taking a hundred years to read. Don't get me wrong, the prose is beautiful. There's just so many characters and plot lines woven together. Keeping it all straight involves a lot of careful reading and re-reading. Should I just quit? I would hate to be a quitter. My hubster never lets me quit at anything.