From Sweathog To Reader, or How Ice-Nine Saved Me
In a public high school in the Midwest, mid-1970s: Something I had said, done, written, or scored on an aptitude test got me slotted into advanced-placement English class. I don’t recall having any say in the assignment. Regardless, it wasn’t working; for me. Henry James? Steinbeck, Faulkner, the Brontë sisters, Fitzgerald? I didn’t get them. I […]
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