Reading another man's book is probably the gayest thing you could ever do. It's like their powerful thoughts are penetrating your pink, moist, brain. Slowly at first. They always start off with a real gentle introduction, just to make sure you're receptive to their ideas. But then they ramp up the action, a paragraph here, a point there, and they keep coming at you faster and faster until your brain feels like it is going to be filled with the seeds of their knowledge until it finally bursts forth into a conclusion and climax. And then they are done with you. If they're a gentleman, they'll leave you with a little epilogue or addendum, but that's the author's equivalent of: >btw, I just ordered you an Uber, so we got 12 minutes left to talk before it arrives.