Because since when should I obey fear? Maybe when yellow jackets are involved. Or sharks. But other than that, “Fear? You be quiet.”
Because isn’t that what we’re all trying to do after adolescence? Figure out what has happened to us? I’m not convinced the tragedy is unrequited love or two families who are unable to get along. I think the tragedy in this story is that Shakespeare knew these two did not have what it takes to figure out what happened to them and move on to adulthood. Goodness, I have so much to say about this and I don’t know if I can teach the story properly to my 8th graders. But I tell you what: if you want me to get psyched up about something, make me teach it. Which is why I should probably teach a class in how to scrub a toilet bowl or handle raw meat.
Because I’m still reading her journal (a few entries before bed) and because I wonder if walking day to day with wildness and a sense of brutality is what you do when you’re figuring out what it is that has happened to you.
Because The Common Reader changed the way I think and write about books. I love this book of Woolf’s so much and reading this entry made me sad. If she were still alive, I’d write her a note (I write authors all the time – John Krakauer wrote me back, Joyce Carol Oates did not) telling her the difference her book made in my life. For now, I thank Lauren Winner, who told me to read it. She also told me to read Woolf’s journal slowly, which is what I’m doing because I’ll do anything Lauren Winner tells me to do.
(Also – for those of you who want to write but worry that nobody will comment on your blog, or like your essay, or even read your stories – look at Ms Woolf. She was concerned about the same things. And she KEPT WRITING ANYWAY. Pencils up, folks.)
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