When I was 12 I bought a copy of The Communist Manifesto for fifty cents at a library book sale. I knew that this was a book you were Not Supposed to Read so the allure was irresistible.

What I chiefly remember is the elaborate marginalia, obviously provided by a right-wing critic. It was all in green highlighter: because while he had started off using it to highlight passages he found particularly risible, he eventually took to using it to write his own withering critique along certain passages.

I wish I still owned that book. As I've grown older the political aspect of it interests me less and less, but reading one man's personal and wholly Quixotic crusade against Marx and Engels was actually pretty damn entertaining.