What a perfect autumn read. Right from the prologue, I kept stopping to marvel at the beautiful descriptions of the New England campus, from the buildings to the colors of the leaves, and eventual November chill so crisp I could almost feel it.
As a graduate of a small liberal arts college myself, I found a lot of familiarity in the classroom discussions. And I was fascinated by Lucy's struggle with student-teacher conferences, and where to draw the personal/professional line (i.e. please do not cry at me about your dead dad). I very much recognize myself more in the students than the professor, not least because I am 100% a Pippa in terms of average tear production, but I know a couple of people who teach English at the university level, and I kept wondering how much (or little?) of themselves they recognized in Lucy's struggles.
But the best thing about it is that on several occasions, I actually laughed out loud. It's not a humorous book per se, but some parts just tickled my funny bone, like Lucy being AGHAST that after trying to share her rapture for Thoreau, her seminar students are like "meh" and "what an irresponsible manchild" and my personal favorite, "nineteenth-century beatnik." THEY'RE RIGHT AND THEY SHOULD SAY IT.
I also got a cackle out of Lucy finally getting fed up with the lack of passion from her freshman class, and basically shouting at them that they are a bunch of dunderheads*. Gives them grief by reading out "a paragraph or two" from the worst papers about The Iliad -- shortly after telling them to "wake up! It's nine o'clock in the morning and you look like a drove of whales washed up by the tide" -- and telling them, "Here is one of the great mysterious works of man, as great and mysterious as a cathedral. And what did you do? You gave it so little of your real selves that you actually achieved boredom," and my personal favorite bit, "This is not a matter of grades. You'll slide through all right. It is not bad, it's just flat. It's the sheer POVERTY of your approach that is horrifying!"
(inexplicably, the class all applauds her after this because apparently being angry makes her interesting. weirdos. it will be funny in time (see below), but not in the moment when it's actually directed AT you!)
*personal in-joke because this is literally what my old-school 11th grade English teacher called us when OUR essays were not up to snuff, and it was just such a hilariously bizarre and specific insult that I have never forgotten it. She was scary, but oh so good at actually teaching us to write better.
The faculty gatherings weren't my favorite part, and some bits of them just went over my head, but I still appreciated the cast of characters. I also had to cackle at the fact that there is a significant debate over whether or not the college should higher a resident psychiatrist, with the grand-dame of a benefactor haughtily sniffing, "What the girls need is not more 'help' -- ugh, how I loathe that word! -- but greater demands on their intellects and souls."
That's right, if they seem to be heading for a crack-up, simply push them harder! (You're gonna love what college students are like in fifty years, Olivia. I imagine that if she heard the phrase "safe space" she would simply keel over and die of apoplexy.)
(I kind of love Olivia though actually. I aspire to have my attire described as "Girl-of-the-Limberlost stuff." I also aspire to be so spiteful and stubborn as hell about my word that I will burn down my own relationship before I back down on my threats if someone tries to call my bluff. Not to mention that every time my alma mater asks for money in the same breath that they're telling me about all their Great New Changes, I dream anew of having the power, like her, of several million possible endowment dollars dangling before them as incentive to not be dumb.)
Long story short, this engaged me far more than I was expecting. I read and love a lot of older books, but it is not often that older adult fiction, at least of the Literature variety, is so accessible to me. I suspect even this may not have been in my twenties. But at this point, I'm actually kind of craving a book club discussion about it, which is...not a thing I have ever said before, since I usually prefer to enjoy my books as an entirely independent experience, but something about this one just really begs to be shared. I would even write a paper about it, honestly. Who am I!