I suppose that most people don’t really like very large books, and in conjunction with G. K. Chesterton I can only wonder why. It might be the size, the only reason I don’t like large books; my copy of Les Miserables suffers from its immensity (it’s held together by tape!). I suppose that’s why they used to print books in, well, books.
Charles Dickens’ books are an excellent example of big books being better than their smaller counterparts. I’ve begun reading his Little Dorrit, and to be eighty pages in, and feel that I’ve only scratched the surface of the story, and to know that it will take hours and hours is a pleasure in itself.
At any rate, I do suggest that you try a larger sort of book; as long as you don’t try to rush it and lose the best parts, that is. Enjoy!