So, it's embarrassing as a writer, English major, and bibliophile to admit, I have authors I do not like. Faulkner is one of them.
Back in college, as a Freshman, I read and reread and reread "The Sound and the Fury." No matter what I did, the words did not make sense to me. The professor gave us a pop quiz. I vomited into that test everything I could think of to prove to the man, I'd read the book. Of the ten questions on the test, I got zero correct.
To make matters worse, the professor thought I'd written my answers as a parody of the actual book, as proof I didn't read. He read my answers aloud as everyone laughed. It stunk to high heaven, and after that, I swore off the man.
I also do not like Camus.
As a Junior, I contracted the chicken pox second semester. In the infirmary, in January, in Southbend, trapped in a windowless room, covered in sores, with a portable black and white television with two and a half channels, and an assignment in my Law and Politics class to read, "The Plague." Not a fun moment.
The course turned out to be an all you can eat Albert Camus buffet which to my and a few of my fellow classmates' sensibilities required a hot fudge sundae afterwards as a chaser to ward off discouragement. We read it, we discussed it, we wrestled with it, we still thought, who wants to spend time and a life thinking this way? Pass the hot fudge.
Fast forward to this semester at work, and I've spent two weeks reading "Light in August," and another week reading "The Stranger." If they'd given me a pop quiz on Faulkner, I think I'd have fared no better this time around. I could read it, I could understand it, I could discuss it. What I could not do, was tell you the sequence of events. It makes sense. Sequence of events did not seem to matter to Faulkner. I almost convinced myself that I liked it, until I got the next assignment.
Camus.
Reading "The Stranger," I found it much easier to understand than before, and while I don't need hot fudge to muddle through it, I woudln't have minded if someone said, "Hey, let's go get ice cream."
It wounded my psyche to think, I preferred French absurdist fiction to Southern Gothic.
Maybe I should have tried Faulkner with a scoop of Pralines and Cream.
It couldn't hurt.
Showing posts with label classic literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label classic literature. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 16, 2018
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
All Hail the EVIL OVERLORD!
This is a funny funny list...so I'm putting it here for you to cut and paste and visit. In honor of the Evil Overlord, I've added my ten below as well.
(The kids have been sick so writing time is at a premium).
http://www.eviloverlord.com/lists/overlord.html
This Evil Overlord List is Copyright 1996-1997 by Peter Anspach. If you enjoy it, feel free to pass it along or post it anywhere, provided that (1) it is not altered in any way, and (2) this copyright notice is attached.
10) I won't use my superpowers to simply destroy a single person, I use them to unfairly manipulate the market such that I make a killing on Wallstreet and can then buy all the influence and power I want. Or, I could just run for Congress, but then I'd have to be Completely evil.
9) When a flunky says that something is out of wack, out of date, or seems strange, I will immediately follow up by firing on whatever ship/seemingly normal cache of troops are seeking access to my base.
8) If the hero is male or even has a male appearance --and is actually a robot/alien/amoeba/whatever, all females will be forcibly removed from the premises to avoid possible defection due to sexual attraction; EVEN the ugly ones.
7) Any sage that has been long since considered old and crazy but has a glorious past shall be removed from the planet without the benefit of a space suit or ship.
6) I will raise taxes on the middle class.
5) I will employ a cadre of lawyers to sue for property damage and have the heroes arrested for breaking and entering by only planning and speaking about my evil plans rather than implementing them. I will claim it was for a book I'm writing.
4) I will not have vicious looking or ugly pets like snakes, pit bulls, mean fluffy white cats or Great White Sharks. To confuse the heroes, my lair will be populated with cute little bunnies.
3) I will not employ some oddly disfigured henchman with poor dental work or parapalygic devices made of precious jewels or metal. They tend to defect.
2) I will have a strict policy. No capturing prisoners...ever. All enemies shall be shot on sight. Violators who think people captured might have a strategic value or important information shall also be shot.
1) The codes to the machinery that accesses my secret labs/plans/power will be undecipherable. Even to me.
(The kids have been sick so writing time is at a premium).
http://www.eviloverlord.com/lists/overlord.html
This Evil Overlord List is Copyright 1996-1997 by Peter Anspach. If you enjoy it, feel free to pass it along or post it anywhere, provided that (1) it is not altered in any way, and (2) this copyright notice is attached.
10) I won't use my superpowers to simply destroy a single person, I use them to unfairly manipulate the market such that I make a killing on Wallstreet and can then buy all the influence and power I want. Or, I could just run for Congress, but then I'd have to be Completely evil.
9) When a flunky says that something is out of wack, out of date, or seems strange, I will immediately follow up by firing on whatever ship/seemingly normal cache of troops are seeking access to my base.
8) If the hero is male or even has a male appearance --and is actually a robot/alien/amoeba/whatever, all females will be forcibly removed from the premises to avoid possible defection due to sexual attraction; EVEN the ugly ones.
7) Any sage that has been long since considered old and crazy but has a glorious past shall be removed from the planet without the benefit of a space suit or ship.
6) I will raise taxes on the middle class.
5) I will employ a cadre of lawyers to sue for property damage and have the heroes arrested for breaking and entering by only planning and speaking about my evil plans rather than implementing them. I will claim it was for a book I'm writing.
4) I will not have vicious looking or ugly pets like snakes, pit bulls, mean fluffy white cats or Great White Sharks. To confuse the heroes, my lair will be populated with cute little bunnies.
3) I will not employ some oddly disfigured henchman with poor dental work or parapalygic devices made of precious jewels or metal. They tend to defect.
2) I will have a strict policy. No capturing prisoners...ever. All enemies shall be shot on sight. Violators who think people captured might have a strategic value or important information shall also be shot.
1) The codes to the machinery that accesses my secret labs/plans/power will be undecipherable. Even to me.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
The Sounding Fury of an English Tutor
Every time I’ve ever considered myself competent in English, someone has come along to set the record straight.
Back in high school, I took regular English instead of Honors freshman year. The kid next to me was blonde and blue eyed, just like the teacher. She asked him to look up, she called him “Son.” Being a literal child, I took this to mean there was a genetic or at least custodial relationship between the two of them. A few minutes later, I saw him write in large letters on a page of loose leaf, “I HATE YOU MOTHER….” I’ll let you fill in the blank, this is a family blog.
I said in shock, “That’s not a very nice thing to say about your mother.”
The boy, now convinced that perhaps I should have been held back further still, shook his head incredulously. “She’s not my mom.” We did not speak again the entire four years.
At college, I took my major seriously. I had learned poetry, read Shakespeare, I knew my 19th century fiction and could trace the development of the sonnet over the entire Renaissance period, I could even write sonnets, not that there was much demand for that sort of thing.
There was one author that thwarted me, Faulkner. I read the book. I reread the book. I read the cliffs. I reread the cliffs. I flunked the quiz. Zero. I had understood nothing. The teacher thought I had blown off the assignment and was just being funny, so he read my quiz aloud in class as a compliment. I didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise. After that, I avoided all literature born in the New World.
Then I entered the work force as a teacher.
My teaching assistant was at a community college and struggling with her English required course. I offered to help as a means of sealing a bond between me and her. She had to look at two poems, compare and pick the “best one.” Struggling with the criteria to pick a “best poem,” I gamely took a gander at the two choices and discussed it with my TA. We went through the pros and cons of both. I did have an opinion. I explained it. She went with it. The poem I didn't pick... the teacher described in her notes as "Faulkneresque."
The teacher said she had picked the wrong poem.
One would think I would have learned not to mess around with English classes to which I do not belong, but no, I am stubborn and remember, I wasn’t in the Honors class.
Enter my poor son. He is in Honors English. Faulkner. He read the book. He had me read the book. We discussed the book. We researched together and discussed his paper. He wrote. I make him rewrite. He wrote again. I make him rewrite again. Five days of pure English Major boot camp Faulkner Sound and Fury hell produced a beautiful paper ready for submission right under the wire.
I won’t tell you his grade but I’m now restricting my tutoring to math.
Back in high school, I took regular English instead of Honors freshman year. The kid next to me was blonde and blue eyed, just like the teacher. She asked him to look up, she called him “Son.” Being a literal child, I took this to mean there was a genetic or at least custodial relationship between the two of them. A few minutes later, I saw him write in large letters on a page of loose leaf, “I HATE YOU MOTHER….” I’ll let you fill in the blank, this is a family blog.
I said in shock, “That’s not a very nice thing to say about your mother.”
The boy, now convinced that perhaps I should have been held back further still, shook his head incredulously. “She’s not my mom.” We did not speak again the entire four years.
At college, I took my major seriously. I had learned poetry, read Shakespeare, I knew my 19th century fiction and could trace the development of the sonnet over the entire Renaissance period, I could even write sonnets, not that there was much demand for that sort of thing.
There was one author that thwarted me, Faulkner. I read the book. I reread the book. I read the cliffs. I reread the cliffs. I flunked the quiz. Zero. I had understood nothing. The teacher thought I had blown off the assignment and was just being funny, so he read my quiz aloud in class as a compliment. I didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise. After that, I avoided all literature born in the New World.
Then I entered the work force as a teacher.
My teaching assistant was at a community college and struggling with her English required course. I offered to help as a means of sealing a bond between me and her. She had to look at two poems, compare and pick the “best one.” Struggling with the criteria to pick a “best poem,” I gamely took a gander at the two choices and discussed it with my TA. We went through the pros and cons of both. I did have an opinion. I explained it. She went with it. The poem I didn't pick... the teacher described in her notes as "Faulkneresque."
The teacher said she had picked the wrong poem.
One would think I would have learned not to mess around with English classes to which I do not belong, but no, I am stubborn and remember, I wasn’t in the Honors class.
Enter my poor son. He is in Honors English. Faulkner. He read the book. He had me read the book. We discussed the book. We researched together and discussed his paper. He wrote. I make him rewrite. He wrote again. I make him rewrite again. Five days of pure English Major boot camp Faulkner Sound and Fury hell produced a beautiful paper ready for submission right under the wire.
I won’t tell you his grade but I’m now restricting my tutoring to math.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Reading Lessons
"Why should I read these when better versions are availble on DVD?" It was hard to beat the logical issues raised by one so young. Saying "The books are richer." didn't satisfy the way a good musical number with singing crabs could.
With my first child, I read to him every day from the time he was two. I was obsessive about it and sure enough, my diligence bore fruit. He entered Kindergarten already a solid reader. By second grade, he was handling the third Harry Potter book when it first came out without my help.
My subsequent daughter took a little bit longer, but dove into big books as soon as she got the hang of things. My third child, always striving to ensure I didn’t mistake her for her older sister, held out on falling in love with reading until third grade. Then she discovered…if you’re reading, Mom doesn’t make you clean…and it became a favorite and preferred activity.
Three kids past third grade, three solid readers…a good track record.
But numbers have begun to wear down my endurance for returning to Green Eggs and Ham and Curious George. I have allowed the later children to delve into questionable reading material like Captain Underpants –in part because my son would read with his older brother –and I didn’t have to look at it.
For my fiver, she delighted in such fare as "Tinker bell finds Her Place," a story so sugary I considered the possibility of injecting insulin after the fifth reading. Plus, reading aloud, both my son and daughter like interrupting and that drives me nuts. They are not into the reading world yet, not in the transported way my older three are. The words haven't yet successfully cast a spell over their brains.
When I introduced Charlotte’s Web, my son wanted to know when we’d get to the part where the gosling danced with the pig. In the Gingerbread Man, my kids asked where Donkey and Shrek were. My daughter was thoroughly put out by the unhappy ending of Hans Christian Anderson’s Little Mermaid, and they were completely outraged by the way some authors had the audacity to rework the stories of Winnie the Pooh, Stuart Little, and even Harry Potter. My son, being a visual learner saw books as being so old fashioned. "I'll just wait until the movie version.”
I wanted my son and daughter to take to reading with a bit more enthusiasm than they do vegetables, or my husband does leftovers.
Being a good mom, I summoned my inner Sebastian…(Sung to “Under the Sea”)
“Inside a book…
Inside a book…
The story is better
A real Page turner
Just Take a Look!
Those Words Create a bigger scene
Of a Place You’ve Never Been!
And in Full Color
If You Take the Trouble
To Just Read a Book..”
Maybe I’d have fared better if we hadn’t been in the library, or if I had a backup band of singing bass and clams.
However, he did grudgingly put back the movie book version of the Pirates of the Caribbean Part III and agree to check out “The Trumpeter Swan.” (the assigned book for the next book report). And she checked out the original Peter Pan. "Tinker Bell is in this one too!" she told me in a knowing half secret. "The librarian told me!"
I picked out "The Rough Faced Girl," an American Indian version of Cinderella and a younger version of "The Once and Future King."
Eyeing me with suspicion, my son glared at my selection. "I bet it doesn't have any pictures."
Some day they’ll thank me I’m sure.
In the meantime, I’m going to work on my Swan and Dance number.
For more reading material as exciting and entertaining and transporting as dancing fish, try http://www.humor-blogs.com/!
With my first child, I read to him every day from the time he was two. I was obsessive about it and sure enough, my diligence bore fruit. He entered Kindergarten already a solid reader. By second grade, he was handling the third Harry Potter book when it first came out without my help.
My subsequent daughter took a little bit longer, but dove into big books as soon as she got the hang of things. My third child, always striving to ensure I didn’t mistake her for her older sister, held out on falling in love with reading until third grade. Then she discovered…if you’re reading, Mom doesn’t make you clean…and it became a favorite and preferred activity.
Three kids past third grade, three solid readers…a good track record.
But numbers have begun to wear down my endurance for returning to Green Eggs and Ham and Curious George. I have allowed the later children to delve into questionable reading material like Captain Underpants –in part because my son would read with his older brother –and I didn’t have to look at it.
For my fiver, she delighted in such fare as "Tinker bell finds Her Place," a story so sugary I considered the possibility of injecting insulin after the fifth reading. Plus, reading aloud, both my son and daughter like interrupting and that drives me nuts. They are not into the reading world yet, not in the transported way my older three are. The words haven't yet successfully cast a spell over their brains.
When I introduced Charlotte’s Web, my son wanted to know when we’d get to the part where the gosling danced with the pig. In the Gingerbread Man, my kids asked where Donkey and Shrek were. My daughter was thoroughly put out by the unhappy ending of Hans Christian Anderson’s Little Mermaid, and they were completely outraged by the way some authors had the audacity to rework the stories of Winnie the Pooh, Stuart Little, and even Harry Potter. My son, being a visual learner saw books as being so old fashioned. "I'll just wait until the movie version.”
I wanted my son and daughter to take to reading with a bit more enthusiasm than they do vegetables, or my husband does leftovers.
Being a good mom, I summoned my inner Sebastian…(Sung to “Under the Sea”)
“Inside a book…
Inside a book…
The story is better
A real Page turner
Just Take a Look!
Those Words Create a bigger scene
Of a Place You’ve Never Been!
And in Full Color
If You Take the Trouble
To Just Read a Book..”
Maybe I’d have fared better if we hadn’t been in the library, or if I had a backup band of singing bass and clams.
However, he did grudgingly put back the movie book version of the Pirates of the Caribbean Part III and agree to check out “The Trumpeter Swan.” (the assigned book for the next book report). And she checked out the original Peter Pan. "Tinker Bell is in this one too!" she told me in a knowing half secret. "The librarian told me!"
I picked out "The Rough Faced Girl," an American Indian version of Cinderella and a younger version of "The Once and Future King."
Eyeing me with suspicion, my son glared at my selection. "I bet it doesn't have any pictures."
Some day they’ll thank me I’m sure.
In the meantime, I’m going to work on my Swan and Dance number.
For more reading material as exciting and entertaining and transporting as dancing fish, try http://www.humor-blogs.com/!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
If you sneak my work, No Chocolate for You!
Proud Member
Click Here to Join
