I have finished, in one form or another, 62 novels and podcasts this year. I think I may end up at about 65 when it's all said and done (since there are some weeks remaining, plus the holiday break from school). For me, this is a great accomplishment--more than one piece a week--though I haven't documented my attempts before, so I don't know if this is more, less, or about normal.
There are a couple of reasons that I've started the reading list--which I attempted on the blog one time and it was rarely updated. One, I felt that I, as an English teacher and self-professed bibliophile, wasn't doing enough to back up the titles. Two, I got my new office halfway through the year, so having a quiet(ish) place to sit and read, even if that does lead to impromptu naps, has given me a place to focus on the words on the page. Three, I've been inspired by my friend, Dustin Simmons, who reads so prolifically that I'd almost qualify it as violent--I've never met someone whose desire to read was so pervasive and inspirational. Four, I know that the best way to improve my writing craft is to read more than I write, and since I've been increasing my writing, I need to increase my reading.
It's the third reason for increasing my input that I wanted to focus on. Dustin wrote a fantastic essay that got me thinking. He observed that his ivory tower snobbery (an endearing trait, I think, more than an off-putting one) had become eroded over the years as he branched out into other literary powerhouses, though he always remained aloof from modern literature. I am in the opposite position as my friend: I struggle getting any deeper into history than Shakespeare. If it antedates him--but isn't Dante--then I have a more tenuous interest. I've mentioned before that Shax is my anchor, and if he didn't touch it, I'm less likely to. So growing back into the literature of the past is my current difficulty.
I feel a touch of impostor syndrome when it comes to the classics: I've been struggling to finish The Iliad for over a year now, and I'm only about 60% done. I can knock out a Shakespearean play in a couple of afternoons (too much marginalia from me to simply read it), but Homer? I'm missing something about this fundamental piece--and that really bothers me, which makes me disinclined to read it. I'm waiting to read The Aeneid until I'm done with Homer, and I am looking forward to it (mostly because of how it'll feel having finished The Divine Comedy earlier this year). But, again, I don't look at the classics on my bookshelf and pine for the time to read them. I'd rather revisit Anne McCaffery than start up Lucan.
In a lot of ways, I'm the other circle of a Venn diagram with Dustin--we have plenty in the middle, but his area of literary weakness is more in my vein, and vice versa. That certainly explains why, in part, we're such good friends, as we have things that overlap but enough differences to keep things interesting. But since I aspire to be like Dustin when I grow up, I certainly sit on the side of not doing enough to improve myself. I believe that there's a lot that the ancients conceptualized that we are not only indebted to, but could benefit from. The point of a liberal arts education is to understand and maintain freedom, and the classics are the marrow of the liberal arts' bones. I guess that's why I'm feeling floppy when it comes to what to read: I want to have a spine, but I don't always do what's necessary to grow one.
There are a couple of reasons that I've started the reading list--which I attempted on the blog one time and it was rarely updated. One, I felt that I, as an English teacher and self-professed bibliophile, wasn't doing enough to back up the titles. Two, I got my new office halfway through the year, so having a quiet(ish) place to sit and read, even if that does lead to impromptu naps, has given me a place to focus on the words on the page. Three, I've been inspired by my friend, Dustin Simmons, who reads so prolifically that I'd almost qualify it as violent--I've never met someone whose desire to read was so pervasive and inspirational. Four, I know that the best way to improve my writing craft is to read more than I write, and since I've been increasing my writing, I need to increase my reading.
It's the third reason for increasing my input that I wanted to focus on. Dustin wrote a fantastic essay that got me thinking. He observed that his ivory tower snobbery (an endearing trait, I think, more than an off-putting one) had become eroded over the years as he branched out into other literary powerhouses, though he always remained aloof from modern literature. I am in the opposite position as my friend: I struggle getting any deeper into history than Shakespeare. If it antedates him--but isn't Dante--then I have a more tenuous interest. I've mentioned before that Shax is my anchor, and if he didn't touch it, I'm less likely to. So growing back into the literature of the past is my current difficulty.
I feel a touch of impostor syndrome when it comes to the classics: I've been struggling to finish The Iliad for over a year now, and I'm only about 60% done. I can knock out a Shakespearean play in a couple of afternoons (too much marginalia from me to simply read it), but Homer? I'm missing something about this fundamental piece--and that really bothers me, which makes me disinclined to read it. I'm waiting to read The Aeneid until I'm done with Homer, and I am looking forward to it (mostly because of how it'll feel having finished The Divine Comedy earlier this year). But, again, I don't look at the classics on my bookshelf and pine for the time to read them. I'd rather revisit Anne McCaffery than start up Lucan.
In a lot of ways, I'm the other circle of a Venn diagram with Dustin--we have plenty in the middle, but his area of literary weakness is more in my vein, and vice versa. That certainly explains why, in part, we're such good friends, as we have things that overlap but enough differences to keep things interesting. But since I aspire to be like Dustin when I grow up, I certainly sit on the side of not doing enough to improve myself. I believe that there's a lot that the ancients conceptualized that we are not only indebted to, but could benefit from. The point of a liberal arts education is to understand and maintain freedom, and the classics are the marrow of the liberal arts' bones. I guess that's why I'm feeling floppy when it comes to what to read: I want to have a spine, but I don't always do what's necessary to grow one.
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