In Uncategorized on August 11, 2009 at 8:28 am
Doesn’t matter if you know the ending. There’s a whole book in front of it, and it’s awesome, and devastating. But most of you probably already knew that.
If we’d read this in high school, I might have actually enjoyed it even then. Alas, ’twas not to be, for the book discusses both sex and Communism in rather frank detail, thereby promoting both.
I heart John Steinbeck now, and that makes me feel smart(er)(ish)(esque). How in god’s name did I ever get an MFA? Pathetic.
In Uncategorized on August 4, 2009 at 10:22 am
Maybe if I’d been allowed to discover Fitzgerald on more sober terms instead of having him shoved down my throat as An American Icon, or if I hadn’t been convinced I was stupid because of my failure to embed his Iconic Greatness in my bone marrow, or if I’d had an eleventh grade English teacher with imagination enough to expand our unit on Gatsby beyond “What is the theme?” and “What is the symbolism of the green beacon?”, it wouldn’t have taken me until last night to be able to read the damn book and actually like it, thus sparing me years of unnecessary self-loathing and contempt at the hands of pompous asswipes who merely know how to sound smart about literature.
Livid, just livid.