In my header I mention reading. But, I rarely talk about anything that I'm actually reading. Outside of the 100+ blogs that I follow (and I love every one.) I do read books. Real books. However, I usually keep this to myself because I have to write papers quite frequently, and I don't want my blog to become "just" another paper. My blog is my "room of one's own." I am honest. I share what I love with you. And, while I enjoy writing papers, I get enough of that in academia.
But, I am currently reading a book that I have feelings about that could definitely not be written in an academic paper. Strong emotions.
I am reading "Three Guineas" by Virgina Woolf for my Critical Feminist Readings class. Woolf is a pillar in feminist theory and literature. She had incredibly progressive ideas that would be world-changing. As a feminist, I feel obligated and pressured to like her. But, I just can't. She's wordy and indirect. She wastes time, energy, space. She dances around her points, dragging her readers through the mud. After reading even just a few pages, I feel as if I have been trodden on by a team of mules, swung by an ape over a ravine, and then kicked in the face by a kangaroo.
Hoorah for feminism, socialism, and pacifism. I am happy for her influences on literature and feminism. I am proud that she was a liberated intelligent woman who is a burning star in history. It's just so painful and laborious to read this work.
Forgive me, Virginia. I want to like you. But honestly, I think your writing style sucks.
The Hare and the Carrot
1 hour ago