Sean Tucker
Professor Mary Boland
English 329
26 January 2009
Autobiographical Essay #2
The first time a book really affected me was when I read Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. I was eleven or twelve and my grandmother gave me a collection of paperback novels by Dickens, H.G. Wells, and some other writers. Although I “shelved” these books for some time, I decided a year or two later that I would read some of these. I ended up reading most or all of them, I really do not remember, but Great Expectations really grabbed me and I could not stop thinking about Pip, the main character, and his love, Estella. By the way, I had to look her name up on the internet because I just remembered her as that girl, the one Pip or I would love but could never have. I must admit that I am really embarrassed telling you all this, but the prompt for this essay asked about the first time a book affected me in some way and I honestly could not make anything less humiliating up at the moment. I simply was drawn into this novel for some reason, and I became Pip—I felt what he felt and I yearned for what he desired. Without getting into any specific and far too personal details about my life, I will simply say that Pip and I had some things in common and I think I was glad that I was not the only one that felt how he felt and wanted what he wanted. I told none of my friends or family that I was reading this book in fear of the laughs or the questioning raised eyebrows I thought I would get from them. None of my friends read novels, they read comic books and watched T.V., and I did not want to look like a nerd. I read secretly next to a nightlight by my bed after I knew my parents thought I was asleep and I never told anyone my secret.
Books figured quite prominently in my childhood home. My parents, especially my dad, read constantly. I remember the two bookcases we had in the house were jammed with novels, college texts, reference books, and even various cookbooks. There were so many books that my parents put the books in double rows on the deep shelves—one row all the way to the back and another row directly in front. After some time, books were piled on top of the existing double rows of books. The bindings were all cracked and worn from being handled. My parents always seemed to have a paperback novel spread out on their nightstands. My dad read war novels and historical novels and my mom read mostly historical or religious novels; although, there was a time when she was reading various “self-help” books. I never read the books they read simply because I was not interested in what they were reading. I never understood my dad’s obsession with war novels and my mom’s self-help books seem gimmicky to me. I think that their heavy reading has left an impression on me and I continue to read leisurely when I can, but my schoolwork has really put a damper on this for the time being.
Although this may sound odd to most, the last book I read with real enjoyment was the assigned text for my Grammar II course, Explaining English Grammar by George Yule. What is odd indeed is that although many grammar texts are dull, dry, and absolutely a bore to read, this book was devoid of the drowsy effects that every other grammar text has had on me. Yule’s text seemed real, as if what he wrote would actually work. For example, most grammar texts use simple sentences and structures that are really too simplified and not really how people use the language to get a particular point across, but Yule used actual transcripts from real, everyday speech. He also approached language from a functional stance, i.e. the way people actually use language, not the way prescriptivists hammer out the way English should be spoken or written. Furthermore, every chapter ended with various lesson plans that an educator could use to teach the material that is covered in a particular chapter. These lessons even accounted for varying levels of proficiency so that the lessons could be tailored for just about any class. Yes, very dorky here, but I highly recommend this book to anyone that is interested in language.
Professor Mary Boland
English 329
26 January 2009
Autobiographical Essay #2
The first time a book really affected me was when I read Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. I was eleven or twelve and my grandmother gave me a collection of paperback novels by Dickens, H.G. Wells, and some other writers. Although I “shelved” these books for some time, I decided a year or two later that I would read some of these. I ended up reading most or all of them, I really do not remember, but Great Expectations really grabbed me and I could not stop thinking about Pip, the main character, and his love, Estella. By the way, I had to look her name up on the internet because I just remembered her as that girl, the one Pip or I would love but could never have. I must admit that I am really embarrassed telling you all this, but the prompt for this essay asked about the first time a book affected me in some way and I honestly could not make anything less humiliating up at the moment. I simply was drawn into this novel for some reason, and I became Pip—I felt what he felt and I yearned for what he desired. Without getting into any specific and far too personal details about my life, I will simply say that Pip and I had some things in common and I think I was glad that I was not the only one that felt how he felt and wanted what he wanted. I told none of my friends or family that I was reading this book in fear of the laughs or the questioning raised eyebrows I thought I would get from them. None of my friends read novels, they read comic books and watched T.V., and I did not want to look like a nerd. I read secretly next to a nightlight by my bed after I knew my parents thought I was asleep and I never told anyone my secret.
Books figured quite prominently in my childhood home. My parents, especially my dad, read constantly. I remember the two bookcases we had in the house were jammed with novels, college texts, reference books, and even various cookbooks. There were so many books that my parents put the books in double rows on the deep shelves—one row all the way to the back and another row directly in front. After some time, books were piled on top of the existing double rows of books. The bindings were all cracked and worn from being handled. My parents always seemed to have a paperback novel spread out on their nightstands. My dad read war novels and historical novels and my mom read mostly historical or religious novels; although, there was a time when she was reading various “self-help” books. I never read the books they read simply because I was not interested in what they were reading. I never understood my dad’s obsession with war novels and my mom’s self-help books seem gimmicky to me. I think that their heavy reading has left an impression on me and I continue to read leisurely when I can, but my schoolwork has really put a damper on this for the time being.
Although this may sound odd to most, the last book I read with real enjoyment was the assigned text for my Grammar II course, Explaining English Grammar by George Yule. What is odd indeed is that although many grammar texts are dull, dry, and absolutely a bore to read, this book was devoid of the drowsy effects that every other grammar text has had on me. Yule’s text seemed real, as if what he wrote would actually work. For example, most grammar texts use simple sentences and structures that are really too simplified and not really how people use the language to get a particular point across, but Yule used actual transcripts from real, everyday speech. He also approached language from a functional stance, i.e. the way people actually use language, not the way prescriptivists hammer out the way English should be spoken or written. Furthermore, every chapter ended with various lesson plans that an educator could use to teach the material that is covered in a particular chapter. These lessons even accounted for varying levels of proficiency so that the lessons could be tailored for just about any class. Yes, very dorky here, but I highly recommend this book to anyone that is interested in language.
No comments:
Post a Comment