The literary classics are a haven for that part of us that broods over mortal bewilderments, over suffering and death and fleeting happiness. They are a refuge for our secret self that wishes to contemplate the precious singularity of our physical world, that seeks out the expression of feelings too prismatic for rational articulation. They are places of quiet, useless stillness in a world that despises any activity that is not profitable or productive.
Today was the first paper of the EOYs. As much as the essays and short answer questions sucked, I absolutely loved the actual passage itself. As I was reading through, I was silently thankful that the GP department managed to wrangle such a beautifully written article for our final paper.
I don’t even know what to say about the article. It echoes some of my thoughts – and more into ;as the author himself would put it; rational articulation. I have always been a reader. Even as a baby, apparently I was inseparable from books, maybe ruining one or two when I was flipping through them with porridge in my hands.
There has never been a period in my life where I have disliked or found reading to be a chore. It’s an escape, a drug, therapy… everything good about life basically. You escape by yourself for a bit, maybe playing some good music along the way, immersing yourself into the author’s world.
Some books suck you in right from the very first page, some gradually build up momentum… and the best are books that you can read ten times over and not get bored of. I am honestly glad that I’ve found at least 3 books with that kind of spell over me.
The author does bring up a very valid point though, more often than not, education ruins the love that a person can have for a subject. It’s two completely different things- to become fascinated by something, and see that very same thing get squashed and compacted into horrid tests that force you to swallow it in the most unpalatable way.
And yet, for literature it was a whole different thing. Sure, staying back whilst everybody could go home was the most horrible thing, and there were a couple of times where I didn’t want to go for Elit lessons, but at the end of the day, I loved the prose that we could get to analyse. If anything, it made me love literature more. Speaking of which, I figured I should get more into the classics. First thing I shall do after exams are over is to go borrow a ton of books, and maybe buy some to add to my bookshelf.
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