If you loved this book because of its intricate, layered way to tell a story and its evocative, dense, dreamlike poetic prose, it means that you are far smarter than I am.
 In my case, I found it a slog. It feels that there has never been a time in my life when I was not reading The English Patient.
 A friend of mine reads books sitting at a desk. That to me is studying, but my friend likes genuinely literary fiction (I just think I do) so it makes sense in her case. For some books I've used an index card as a bookmark and written things on it to help me keep track. I should have done that for this one. If you're reading it and finding it hard to get through, consider looking it up on sparknotes.com. The chapter summaries there are clear and useful. I should have gone there from the start. As it was, I went when I was just a few chapters from finishing it, so my main reaction to what I read there was things like, "Ohhh. That's the guy they're were talking about this whole time."
 I hope anything I've said doesn't discourage anyone from reading it. It's beautifully written; I'm just too dumb to appreciate it. Much of the reason I read it is that it was a favorite of my late mother's. Realizing she understood and loved this book gave me a new jolt of respect for her intelligence and taste in literature.