Thank You But Knots
Sitting in literature classes, I recall being bored out of my mind, absolutely unappreciative, and sometimes mystified by what was considered Great and Literary. Some works I embraced wholeheartedly, forever welcoming insights I could only hope to experience in “real life”. Others? Well. I remember thinking the editor for T.S. Eliot’s poems did a sloppy job. And that my grade ten Shakespeare class was taught by an incoherent incompetent woman who probably was a frustrated aspiring writer who hated the sight of our blank faces. (I omitted the commas in honour of her.) Continue reading
