I’ve had this old set of Will and Ariel Durant’s Pulitzer-prize-winning Story of Civilization on my bookshelves, collecting dust for almost a quarter of a century. These books belonged to my grandmother, who willed them to me after passing. I inherited her love of reading, so I’ve treasured these books as heirlooms of my memory of her and our shared connection.

Earlier this year, I came across a blog post by Jamie Todd Rubin, who praised Durant’s writing and the monumental effort it took to write such a grand opus. Having recently retired, I finally decided to read these books myself. Weighing in at 13,500 pages, this is no small endeavor. I’m now midway through the Middle Ages in volume IV, The Age of Faith. At my current pace of around thirty pages a night, I’ll have read all eleven volumes sometime next year.

Durant’s writing is engaging, and the history here isn’t mere retelling of facts, figures, and lists of names. He delves into what life was like in these ancient times, what philosophical beliefs they held, what literature they read, what art they admired. You can tell Durant was a seeker himself of truth and beauty. And, despite being written so long ago, the wit and frankness are refreshingly contemporary.

But here’s the best part: as I read along, I have the wonderful benefit of my grandmother’s notes in the margins from her own reading some forty years or more ago. I recognize her slanted handwriting, her exclamation marks, her underlining. It’s like we’re reading this grand history together. I’m making my own notes alongside hers. Maybe someday, my daughter will join us in this shared experience of history on multiple levels. What a journey this has become.