I’ve been reading this weekend for my American Literature class. We’re reading Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises. It’s not touching me or moving me in any way yet. Jake and Bill went fishing and the bulls have been let out. Chop. Chop. Chop.

I’m casting about in the other texts for the class trying to find one I can live with long enough to write a paper. Yesterday, I tried Black Hawk Down, thinking I could try a “peacemaking” angle. I’m only a few chapters in and I’m already sick of the violence and military culture. I considered this book first because it’s the last book on the syllabus and as such would give me the most amount of time to write my paper. I’m not going to make it with this one.

This morning I read a bit of The Names, by Don DeLillo. I’ve only read the first chapter and already love his way of putting words together. I’m a little nervous about the reviewer’s words on the cover, “a…haunting book.” Yet I think I’ll stick with this one a little longer to see how it feels.

My other choices are Dogeaters, by Jessica Hagedorn or Giovanni’s Room, by James Baldwin.

The assignment for the paper (20 pages) requires me to ground myself in a close reading of the text and use at least one history book in my research. Yeah, sure, I can do this (she says optimistically).

I’m going to go read Lacan now for my critical theory class, or more accurately, I’m going to go read a chapter on Lacan in an Introduction to Critcal Theory text that I’m hoping will explain more of Lacan so I can understand more of the required text, which is a translation of one of Lacan’s seminars.
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