The vanishing interest curve

My daughter the writer listed Wilkie Collins on an otherwise unobjectionable list of things she likes. The only reason I have uttered his name for probably 40 years is captured in the following story.

I became an English major at age 18 thanks to the life-shaping mentoring of Robert K. Thomas. The next year, I took a Shakespeare course from Dean Farnsworth that was stunning -- my first time to really savor the Bard's mastery of the language. But when I found myself reading Collins as a senior, I couldn't stay awake.

Not to worry though. At about the same senior time, I began an intense study of classical Greek in the summer, then read Plato's Apology in the fall and Homer's Iliad in the spring. I still quote insights from Plato and have yet to read as gripping poetry as Homer in the original . But my Greek teacher, Doug Phillips, spent 3 years studying the diction of Leonidas of Tarentum (check it out -- copyright 1975 -- google says so).When you read Leonidas, you find out why he was obscure; no justification in being anything else.

So I thought I was doomed to getting jazzed by the great stuff and whimpering my way through the literary filler. Then I discovered that I probably wouldn't make much of a living as a comparative literature scholar, so I started studying business weekends. The first course was managerial economics. Uggh. When we discussed economies of scale, I thought the topic was the price of alligator hides. But several children encouraged me to keep pursuing pay-worthy subjects, and you know, it got increasingly interesting. Now, more than 30 years on, my fascination factor with business strategy, product development, and astounding customers continues to swell. I see no likelihood of ever hitting an inflection point like the one that dragged me down to my encounters with Wilkie Collins and Leonidas.

Help me out here. What did I miss? Is it worth re-looking? Can Wilkie do for me what Jim Collins does?