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As a younger schoolgoer, I hated English class. First it was my natural expertise at spelling and grammar that bored me; then it was the constraining styles of writing that frustrated me (Five-paragraph essays are WORTHLESS). However, as a younger student, I also enjoyed the reading portion of the class. I liked the novels they gave me to read. I enjoy childish, fairy-tale type stories, the stories with conflict and fighting and difficulties, but a somehow happy ending (or sometimes not very happy, but somehow satisfying). They also stick to themselves. They don’t try to reach out and mess with me, or point to things outside of itself.
As I’ve gotten closer to college level classes, however, things have changed. The average writer’s skill gets closer to my own, so more freedom is allowed, and I can use my skills as much as I please. Writing is a pleasure, even those boring essays. The situation has… inverted.
So has the reading situation.
College-level literature isn’t hard. It is not particularly difficult for me to understand. It’s merely intolerable. I hate it.
I like to read a story that’s only a story. I like to read a novel that’s all about plot and characters, and whose plot advances by a character’s actions, not by what happens to them. (If you can’t imagine a story that advances by events, think of tragedies - all the characters seem to just be watching each other die.) I like a story that’s told for the sake of the story, like the Dark Tower, like Night’s Dawn, like Orson Scott Card’s books and Stephen King’s books and Robert Heinlien’s (spelling…?) books, not these collages of symbols and themes. Read More »