Like many who become English majors in college and train to
become teachers, I started out on the road to professor-dom simply
because I LOVED READING SO SO VERY VERY MUCH. I read at the dinner
table, I read during family get-togethers, I read in the car, I read
under the covers with a flashlight when I was supposed to be sleeping.
Reading was and is my addiction.
From middle school until college, I devoted myself to reading as many “classic” authors as I could: Dickens, Austen, Fielding, Flaubert, Dostoyevsky, Twain, Wharton, Ellison, Melville, etc. After all, I was also that kid who wrote out a timeline for her entire future, complete with the names of her future children and the date of her retirement (to the French Riviera, mind you). I had Plans.
From middle school until college, I devoted myself to reading as many “classic” authors as I could: Dickens, Austen, Fielding, Flaubert, Dostoyevsky, Twain, Wharton, Ellison, Melville, etc. After all, I was also that kid who wrote out a timeline for her entire future, complete with the names of her future children and the date of her retirement (to the French Riviera, mind you). I had Plans.