8. All the Names, Jose Saramago. This book took me almost two years to read. That's about 10 pages per month. No good reason for that slow pace other than I kept getting interrupted. Compared to the above #7, it starts the "man on a search for some missing or mysterious woman" story from entirely the opposite end of the chart of possible starting points for the "man on a search for some missing or mysterious woman" story. A very sad book and able to stay sad b/c (SPOILER) the Kafkaesque elements never add up to a Kafka story. It will be interesting to read The Pale King later this year to see how differently a maximalist writer like Wallace handles the details of working in an institution like The Central Registry. Saramago's book is pretty much perfect.
I'm skipping All's Well That End's Well. I can come back to it. Othello's next, so, yeah, I can some back to it.