Six months of classic literature

Last May, I shook hands with the president of my alma mater, and left a stage with a college diploma in my hands. After three years of English literature classes, I felt empowered to know that I was no longer slave to a syllabus. Learning was now optional. Reading was too.

And yet, after a few short weeks, I was moved by an overwhelming desire to read and learn. I can't explain why, but the craving for books was stronger than it had been since my first year of college. I rushed to a used bookstore one day, and came home laden with about ten volumes of classics. Steinbeck, Hemingway, Fitzgerald--the gaping holes that had embarrassed my reading repretoire for years were finally fated to be patched. My parents rewarded my college graduation with a trip to Maui. I was grateful, but not overly excited. I thought Hawaii had few pleasures to offer to anyone other than a surfer or a sunbather. I was so wrong. Unless someone has ever tried reading a beautiful work of literature in paradise, he hasn't lived. A great book enjoyed on a warm lanai is heaven. Accompanied by warm breezes and the pound of waves, I devoured Animal Farm and Brave New World. With my feet cooking in sand, I ate up Candide. The merger was perfect. I will never think of tropical islands or books in the same way. They should go together, like popcorn and a movie.

After I got back from Hawaii, the gluttony continued. I wolfed down Catch 22, Tristram Shandy, and The Little Prince. I've never read such a good set of books in so short a period of time--not even as an undergraduate. And now I don't want to stop. I'm afraid to read anything that hasn't been in print for at least thirty years. I don't want to break the spell.

Bald Words

"Everything can be written about." Garrison Keillor quoted those words, or something like them, on the radio a while back. They were first spoken by a female author whose name I have forgotten. The quotation stuck with me, and rattled around in my head for two months. This blog is a test of that quotation. I have said for years that I wanted to be a writer, but like so many, I haven't written much. I suppose my excuse has been a lack of ideas or a lack of time. Work is precious slow thanks to the economy, and now I have a blog. So goodbye excuses. It's time to write about everything.