I've already finished Dandelion Wine, and am diving right into this summer's behemoth series: Anthony Powell's A Dance to the Music of Time, twelve complete books collected in four movements. It isn't very portable, with each volume reaching at least 700+ pages. I happened to snag two of the books in mass market editions, so I have bright orange Penguin paperbacks of A Buyer's Market and At Lady Molly's to give me a brief break from carrying around the beautiful (but giant) volumes from the complete set.
Most of the year I can't quite stand to hold mass markets. I prefer hardcovers and trade paperbacks, sturdy independent things that can be propped open and don't need to be precisely cradled in your hand to read. Yet, when summer rolls around? I don't mind mass markets. They're full of badges of honor--pages torn from that time you gave a tourist directions, pages marked with directions from when you were a tourist that needed directions, folded pages, pages flecked with sunblock, back cover warped from the time you put your iced tea on it for a bit too long, pages turning yellow with age.