I’ve been steadily collecting books since my undergraduate year of college. (Or, perhaps, more accurately, since my childhood.) Once my husband and I bought a house, I actually had a place to put them. That meant in boxes in the cold, dark basement. Then I had my first baby and I quit my job. I... Continue Reading →
Consorting With Great Books
A few years ago, a favorite professor of mine, Dr. R., suggested that I read Great Books: My Adventures with Homer, Rousseau, Woolf, and Other Indestructible Writers of the Western World (1996) by David Denby. It’s an account of Denby’s return to Columbia University as a middle-aged film critic to retake two courses: Literature Humanities... Continue Reading →