I'm still here!

Well to sum up the last four months as quickly as possible: the semester was absolute nuts, I suffered my first concussion, I ate lots of food at Thanksgiving and Christmas, I moved a bit more permanently to Bolivar, my step-brother and sister-in-law had their first child, I turned 21, and the Spring semester has begun. Whew. 

I'm actually really excited about this semester. Maybe it's the fact that I know spring, summer, and warm weather is on the way. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I'm genuinely excited about (most) of my classes. Linguistically, this semester I'm studying the History of the English Language. As with my other English classes, I know H.E.L. (as my professor affectionately abbreviates the course name) will be challenging yet incredibly fascinating. We'll be approaching the history of our language more from the people who have spoken English and the reasons why than from a statistical or logistical approach. I really enjoy learning from this professor and am looking forward to this class, so hopefully I'll still be giving a thumbs up at the end of the semester.

After somewhat of an absence last semester, I'm back in the world of literature classes. Last semester I took Contemporary Poetry, but it just wasn't the same as studying literature of the past. It sure isn't the same as 17th & 18th Century British Literature and the American Novel. The semester began only a week ago but I can already tell a difference in myself. Every time I say "17th & 18th Century British Literature" a tiny spark alights. Part of it is terror. I'm half way through my junior in college and I'm still not quite sure how I got here. (The same thing happened with my birthday. How in the world am I 21 years old already?) But the other (larger) part has everything to do with a love and wonder at the things I feel so blessed to be able to study. I found myself today beginning to complain about the amount of reading I had to do for my classes tomorrow. As I heard the words coming out of my mouth my head took a huge step back. Why in the world was I complaining? Reading is only one of the most enjoyable things in my life and I am doing it for homework. Seriously. FOR HOMEWORK. Other students are taking classes studying Death & Dying and Analytic Chemistry. I get to study British and American Literature. To each his own, but I consider myself unbelievably lucky. 

Over the course of the semester I will be reading nine (yes, count them, NINE) novels written by American authors for my American Novel class. We've already finished one of them. I read the entirety of The Scarlet Letter over five days. Nineteen of those twenty-four chapters I read in a single day. I know most students read the novel in high school. However, this was my first time reading the whole story. I've owned the book for quite a while and never managed to make the entire way through. Apparently I just needed the necessity. In hopes of blogging more and giving myself occasion to write my hope is to post my thoughts on each novel once finished reading (or re-reading) them. [I've started penny for your paperback so that my book thoughts don't overcome this blog.]

As I said, I'd been meaning to read The Scarlet Letter for a good while and had just never managed to make it through the first half. Honestly I had a bit of trouble making it through the entire book. The story does pick up toward the end, but by that point I was almost exhausted from swimming through Hawthorne's beautiful (and lengthy) descriptions. I did find his writing to be beautiful. I think if I had been able to read the story in smaller sections and really be able to chew on them, rather than feeling as if I had to swallow the story whole, I would have enjoyed the novel much more. Especially after discussing in class I know I really enjoyed the story. I'm also unsure of how I feel about the ending. With so much detail and description packed into the greater part of the novel, I felt as the end came almost abruptly. I guess Nathaniel Hawthorne was just a total rebel. He wrote fiction and played with common plot structure. Overall I did enjoy The Scarlet Letter, but I am glad I didn't read it in high school. I definitely wouldn't have been able to appreciate Hawthorne's work both on its own and for its place in American literature. 

After finishing with Hawthorne I turned to John Donne for some 17th century British romantic poetry. Never would I have guessed that the flea was "a popular erotic theme" among European poets. That's definitely a new (well, I guess old) one. It was certainly strange transitioning from reading American Romantic literature to the 17th Century mostly satirical poetry of British Donne. Strange, yet enjoyable. 

Here's to a strange, interesting, and enjoyable semester!