I experienced a few firsts on Christmas Eve. First Number One I read A Christmas Carol (1843) by Charles Dickens for the very first time. I had never read it because I kept telling myself that I already know the story, so what is the point? I have images of Donald Duck, Goofy, and Mickey Mouse... Continue Reading →
I am fully aware that love is traditionally given and received through touch. We hug and kiss, caress, and hold hands. This love, although romantic and exciting, is also physical. However, I find that more genuine and platonic love is often shown without physicality. I often feel this sort of love more intensely, and it... Continue Reading →
I had not read Charlotte’s Web (1952) by E. B. White until now! Growing up, my sisters and I always watched the cartoon movie version, which I absolutely love. I’ve seen it well over 100 times. The music is great and the story follows the book closely. I loved it, and now I love the... Continue Reading →
I recently read Zora Neale Hurston’s masterpiece, Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937). It is the second time I have picked up this book. The first time occurred about a decade ago, and I got intimidated and stopped reading. Sometimes I do that. I let the first few pages of a book slide through my... Continue Reading →
I’m not a big fan of Henry James (1843-1916), pictured below. I’ve dutifully read him for class assignments, but never for pleasure until last fall. My favorite professor, whom I still see often because we teach at the same university, recommended that I read James’s The Portrait of a Lady (1881). He was reading it... Continue Reading →
The shock on my students’ faces when I tell them that there is such a thing as self plagiarism always reminds me of The Wife of Bath. They don’t believe me. They try to argue with me. They think I’m kidding. Inevitably, we find a description of self plagiarism in their writing handbooks, and they... Continue Reading →
As a child, I had no idea why Carol Lynn Pearson was important to my mom. I knew that my mom owned many books of Carol Lynn Pearson’s poetry, and I have a vague memory from the late 1980s of driving by a house and my mom saying excitedly, “That’s where Carol Lynn Pearson lives.” ... Continue Reading →
The Bookshelf of Emily J. 