Confession: I am not actually done with Lolita, but I’ve progressed relatively far into the book during my English class’s brain fuel sessions – and from previous friends and acquaintances’ input and my own Internet sleuthing (my greatest weakness is my habitual Wikipedia-trolling in the moments where I should be doing anything but), I am already aware of how the book ends. However, I haven’t included any specifics, so for anyone who is planning to read the book and doesn’t want spoilers, it should be fairly safe.
In English the other day, we were given an assignment to write a funny story about our winter breaks, and why they were funny. Now, I thought I was the only one to have nothing exciting to say, but judging by the chorus of groans and “ugh”s i heard, I wasn’t alone.
As I was writing, I got to thinking. (And Lord knows, that’s dangerous.) yeah, maybe by conventional standards I “wasted” my break. Maybe I didn’t travel or do new things or fill my social calendar with exciting parties and events. But frankly, it’s unrealistic to expect such things.
For weeks, A Tale Of Two Cities has been a constant in my backpack, my English class, and my subconscious. The novel had become a huge part of my academic life – most notoriously, the night before my English test where I stayed up until midnight to go over and do notes until my hands were cramping. Dickens’ complicated 1800’s language and obscure Greek metaphors plagued my mind. Now, our journey is over.
And, predictably, I have a few thoughts.