I was told in elementary school that I only could read at half the speed for success in college. Oh well, one benefit of slow reading is you get to live with the characters a longer period of time. I read in a vain attempt to better understand people. At my other homes, I'm known as a spouse, pop, guy in the choir, physical chemist, computer/web dilettante and child-care provider. In theory, I'm a published author, if you consider stuff like Quenching Cross Sections for Electronic Energy Transfer Reactions Between Metastable Argon Atoms and Noble Gases and Small Molecules to count as publications. I've strewn dozens of such fascinating things to the winds.
Early on, I worried this might be a bit racist: yellow peril and all. But, although racist, it wasn't nearly so odious as Fu Manchu, which made me sick, although the guy who commented on my review of that book said I didn't understand crap about racism. I asked why, but he didn't respond. So, I think this book is mildly racist, but there are people who have gone on record to claim I don't know jack about racism. Anyway, although a tad racist, I didn't find this particular book to be odiously so. At some point, if you want to read older literature, you've got to put up with some racism. Racism was a part of the the good old days.