The Once and Future King

I know I really enjoyed a book when I turn the last page, come up gasping for air, notice my poor children looking gauntly at me from the doorway, and realize that suppertime is three hours past.
This book was not it.

Now, don't get me wrong. I thoroughly enjoyed T.H. White's Arthurian tale.
I laughed out loud at the Monty Python like humor of the scenes with King Pellenore and those of the Grail quest. I was awed by the insightful, philosophical ramblings into the nature of mankind. I was even mildly appreciative that Disney didn't wreck The Sword in the Stone as badly as they have some of their other books-into-movies (although, I really would have liked to have seen them film the bit with the ants).

At times, I also hated this book. It was a bit like an enormous plate of pasta: the more you eat, the more is still left in the bowl. It tastes great in the beginning, but by the end, you just want to lay on the couch and moan. The fault is mostly mine. I have not read something this ponderous in quite awhile, and my brain is mushy. The other problem lies with Arthurian legends in general. You know they are going to end in tragedy, and it makes you want to hide with your fingers over your eyes.

Surely, with all of the time warping, alternate reality hi-jinx in the Science Fiction realm today, somebody could write a story where Arthur and everyone else live happily ever after? Just once? Pretty please?