Moving turtle-pace through The Great Gatsby (because I am underlining passages, which take my breath away—I may as well underline the entire book)...has gotten me quite a few comments at work.
“Why are you reading that?”
“Haven’t you read that before?”
“That’s a short book, are you STILL reading that?”
1) Because it’s a classic
2) No, which is shameful, but I am trying to remedy that flaw.
3) Yes, the phrasing keeps hitting me like a ton o’ bricks.
Then I said something that even shocked me: "Well, one day I hope to be teaching the book--so underlining and soaking it all in, is a good thing!"
Vain? Practical? Delusional? Hopeful?
Then I went to the bookstore (danger! danger!) for "writing" and coffee one evening last week.
The writing was limited (I blame too much allergy medication and MJ), the coffee was grand (marble mocha something or other, instead of a "lite" something or other)...and the company was fantastic (of course)--UNTIL another book was suggested.
(No, pointing out books is not actually a "deal" breaker)
I grabbed a book NEXT to the aforementioned book instead. The Making of a Poem: A Norton Anthology of Poetic Forms...of course. I took a poetic forms class (as well as a poetry writing class) and can actually name examples of villanelles, sestinas, sonnets, ballads...
GUESS what I said about purchasing the book? "This is so I can brush up on my poetry forms, so when I have to teach it..." WHAT?
I'm already teaching F. Scott as well as poetry (in my head) and there aren't any letters after my name yet--BA/MFA--I am clearly off my rocker (high-back office chair).
I end with this:
A: "For someone who writes fiction, you sure have a lot of poetry books..."
J: "I guess I do."
I just counted...practically 30. Yes, 30.