Between The Lines

I started to become seriously interested in literature around the age of 16; a late starter, you might say, considering the way in which it has dominated my life ever since. During my A Level lessons, I scribbled notes in my book incessantly: furious underlinings, serious circling, and more sprawling arrows than the opening credits to 'Dad's Army'.

I know that some people think that books are sacred artefacts and should never be defaced in this way. Yet I always felt a rush of arrogant nihilism when I heard such complaints - I was adding to the book, enlivening and enriching it. And anyway, it's not like I'd ever afford a hard bound first edition of anything, so what was all the fuss about? If I were an author, I thought, I'd rather see a tattered and graffiti'd copy of my work (proof that it had been purchased and enjoyed) than a pristine copy, taunting me with the implication of never being bought/read/enjoyed.

And then I really don't know what happened... Perhaps it's an indictment of the way that Higher Education teaches us to focus on everything in literature (interpretations, theories, special interests, context, philosophy, history) except the literature itself. Perhaps it reflects my increasing dependance upon computers - rarely was there a pen 'to hand'. Whatever the reason, I got out of the habit of writing 'between the lines'.

That is, until last week. I was tired of re-hashing the comments and questions from the exam syllabus, to my students, and decided to generate questions more organically - put myself in the students' shoes and ask the questions that arose as I read. It now seems quite symbolic, but in order to do this, I picked up a pen and started scribbling. Soon my copy of Wuthering Heights looked as tatty and weather-beaten as the eponymous house itself. It felt exhilerating - as though the book truly became mine for the first time. The lessons were much better, and my appetite for reading has grown enormously: I bought two books at the weekend, dug-out a book I'd been meaning to read and devoured each of the texts I'm currently teaching. It feels fantastic, and it has snapped me out of the habit of just watching TV no matter how bad the programming. Instead, I sit with a pen in my hand and a cat at my side: bliss.

If your interested, my current reading 'feast' includes:

'Philosophy - The Classics' by Nigel Warburton

'God Is Not Great' by Christopher Hitchens

'Derrida for Beginners' by Jeff Collins and Bill Mayblin

'Othello' by William Shakespeare

'The Kite Runner' by Khaled Hosseini

'Wuthering Heights' by Emily Bronte