" Zzzzzzzz...zzzzzz... Oh, what? No, I'm sorry Mr. Keneally, but I didn't hear a word you said after 'the'. You put me right to sleep. I know I'm not supposed to sleep in class. I'm not trying to be funny. Now wait just a minute, sir. Don't blame me for your tone and monotonous droning. I won't tolerate it. I love history, always have, always will. It's not the history to which I'm opposed- its you. Had you decided to make this introductory lesson entertaining I could have kept my eyes open. Had you written it in a scholarly manner I would have eaten it up with a spoon and most likely had arguments with you in my head about whether or not your hypothesis and conjecture were correct or warranted. You did neither of these things. Please, please, please Mr. Keneally do not interrupt me, I'm speaking. You wanted to know why this was such a tremendous bore and now I'm telling you. There is no life here. Popular histories are popular because of the life their authors breathe into them with anecdotes and amusements and all sorts of devilishly delicious factoids that can be seen a funny or irreverent or scandalous or joyful. This was nothing more than a rote account of facts. It sounded to me like an elongated chapter in a high school World History textbook. Rubbish. Just absolute rubbish. There is no information here we couldn't have gathered ourselves in a week and put into a PowerPoint presentation that would have been over in 10 minutes tops. And I could understand the lack of juicy bits had you this been a scholarly work that focused on a simple thesis and extrapolated data and present us with primary and secondary documents, but this was not the case either. Instead we get a list of names, a list of dates, a few dry anecdotal histories and a handful of facts that read like a wiki. Now I'm going to go back to napping. You may have done your research, dear man, but you don't know how to present the facts worth a damn. "
— William, 1/2/2014