When I tell people that I’m basically a Child Lit major (easier/sounds less pompous than “I concentrate on the Cultural Implications of Modern American Children’s Literature”) they usually cock their head, kind of like my dog Max does when he’s confused (which is a lot), and say “Oh. That’s nice.”
I’m tired of that. Nobody cocks their head and says “That’s nice.” to an 18th Century Literature scholar, but which books matter more in the everyday persons life? The spark notes of Great Expectations they read in 10th grade? Or the book they read late at night under the covers when they were eight, because they just couldn’t put it down?
So I thought I’d share tidbits from the books I’m reading for my classes this semester. The beautiful bits that you just can’t find in adult literature.