i’m taking this american literature class right now with the theme of women and the houses they live in. we started with some pretty typical stuff: anne bradstreet’s “upon the burning of our house”, emily dickinson’s “there’s been a death in the opposite house”, but now we’re moving on to more contemporary stuff. last week, we were supposed to read toni morrison’s beloved and i absolutely hated it. i know that toni morrison is supposed to be this amazing writer, and i don’t doubt for a millisecond that she is. it’s just that i’d never read anything by her, and all of a sudden, i’m expected to read beloved and it’s crazy. definitely too heavy for me. there’s all this talk about dead babies and their angry ghosts and cow-fuckers and i hated it. i couldn’t get past the first few chapters. i know i’ll have to, because i’ll be tested on my knowledge of the course content, but i’m not looking forward to it. i’m simply not. (more…)