Bibliophiliac is the space where one passionate, voracious reader reflects on books and the reading life. You will find reviews, analysis, links, and reflections on poetry and prose both in and out of the mainstream.
A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. Franz Kafka
Saturday, May 7, 2011
One of the perks of being a teacher is the way former students pop up all over the place. One night I was at a movie with my husband, watching the previews, and a head popped through the gap in the row in front of us and whispered "Mrs. Sumner!" I still have no idea who that was.
So Wednesday afternoon, I saw this tall person walking toward me calling out "Mrs. Sumner!" and it turned out to be a student who graduated last year. He just finished up his first year of college, and is moving halfway across the country--and he stopped by the school to say goodbye to me. Don't you love that? It turns out that all those Shakespeare lessons (the sonnets, Macbeth) were not a waste of his time after all. You know how kids will say: I'm never going to use this again in my life (like Shakespearean sonnets are some sort of archaic tool no longer useful in real life). Well, apparently my former student's English literature class heavily emphasized Shakespeare. So as R. put it: "By the way, that Shakespeare stuff really came in handy." Glad to hear it.
Our Mutual Friend
For a long time I've wanted to read the last novel Charles Dickens completed, Our Mutual Friend. This seemed like the perfect opportunity:
Sponsored by Rebecca Reid at The Classics Circuit, The Dueling Authors Tour promises to be great fun. It's a wonderful excuse to read a classic that I've been wanting to read anyway.
Smarty Smarty McSmart Smart
I have to admit that this guy makes me feel smarter for reading him but dumber by comparison. The Reading Ape had an interesting post about why we do this book blogging blather, and he specifically mentions challenges and readalongs. I'm still thinking on it, but I like the questions this Ape asks. In this case, one question he asks is whether we mistake the trappings of reading with the thing we like about reading. And whether we are avoiding the real thing itself (writing about reading) and talking more about the things that are "easier to write about?" I don't really have an answer for these questions, but I'm continuing to let them percolate in my brain.
For All the Books You Read to Me, Gave to Me, For the Library and the Bookshelves
Thanks, Mom. You are my original storyteller. You took me to the library before I could climb those big stone stairs. You led me to believe that books, libraries, and story were as basic to life as breathing, eating and sleeping. You gave me so many gifts, and this is one we continue to share. Love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.