CHHHEEEEEYYYAAAAAA BUDDY. It's Friday and that means that I get to write about whatever my little heart desires. And what does my heart desire to write about? Much. Due to time restrictions I shall pick the most recent- authors and their egos.
Reading "A Rose for Emily" made me question many things. When I stopped asking myself what is even going on in this story, I began to question exactly who the author thought he was to create such a confusing story in the first place. Reading should be fun. Reading should also teach a lesson. However, when the story is so warped that the reader has no idea what is going on, the literature loses value, at least in my eyes. And since this is my blog, my eyes are the only eyes that count.
When did authors become so wrapped up in writing stories so full of symbolism and allusions and decaying dead people that story line was forgotten? Ask me to synopsis this and I couldn't. So what author sits and thinks "Wow, this story is so confusing it MUST be 'of high literary merit'." And on that note, I have read wayyyy better books than those "of high literary merit," why do those not count on exams? Why do teachers and test makers assume old stories must be better than the "trash" authors publish today? Makes no sense and it really is a shame. So many more students would love reading if they were given the chance to experience books that speak to them. Not speak down to them.
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