Monday, November 17, 2008


Never have I cried so often. These blogs; this book; this paper has changed me as a person. I have reconsidered what literature is and what its function in my life is; I have reconsidered analysis of both fiction and reality, and I have wept and wept and wept through the whole thing.The crying began when I was reading the novel: the unfair reality of the tragdeies, the sickening truths coursed through me like revitalizing venom. It made me feel traumatized...and both too full and too hungry. I read it several more times, and the sheer intricacy of the blasted book frustrated me. I could not possibly discuss the depths of it in less than a thesis paper. I did eventually resolve all that and just talked about what I could, in both explication and apologia, and I felt satisfied given the constraints. I had written them and edited them, and the bulk of the real work was behind me. I didn’t cry for a little while.
The next crying came when my computer ate both my Apologia and my Explication. It happened on the day it was due. I hadn't posted them yet: foolishly waiting so that I might edit them on my familiar word-proccessor. When I opened both the files and blank pages glowered back at me I cried for an hour. I missed English class re-typing out the fucking things. Though I am still a little bit upset, I'm glad it happened, all of it. It wasn't nice or easy or encouraging but it was an experience. And an experience I will remember for a very, very long time.

1 comment:

Nancy Stotts Jones said...

Well good.
I hear you, my friend. It changed me too.
You should read some Russel Banks.