I consider myself a pretty well-read person. I nearly finished Livy's history of Rome; would have finished Gibbon's but for an error in shipping (two copies of Volume 5 in the boxed set!); I've read Churchill's The Second World War twice, along with The World Crisis and The Aftermath and a bunch of other stuff; I've got most of Evelyn Waugh covered, etc.
But somehow G.K. Chesterton has been outside my scope.
Well, that's now changed. My wife got me a pair of his books for my birthday, and so I've got a new author to explore.
He's a Catholic convert like me, so at least we have that in common. Unlike Ford Madox Ford, the conversion "stuck," which is nice.
I've just started The Man Who Was Thursday and he has a nice turn of phrase, which in my opinion is critical. I know a lot of people who can get past Stephen King's odiously crude writing style because they like the stories. Nope, can't do it. It's like driving on a punishingly rough road - at a certain point, the promised pleasures of the destination just isn't worth it.
All of which is to say: I may have a new favorite author. I'll keep you posted.