Joining the Club

I must first confess to the participants of this blog that I always feel like a second-hand English major. Growing up, I spent hours upon hours reading Christian romance novels (where the couple would live purely and inevitably get married in the end) and failed to educate myself with even the most basic of classic literature. I still have no answer to the traditional English major question of "who's your favorite author?" Perhaps some day I'll discover my true passion. I am currently drinking a cup of tea while writing this, though, so perhaps that will return some English points to my name. ;)

While there is no particular point to this note, I would like to reveal some English-themed irony. Last fall, I submitted two papers for the Sigma Tau Delta conference. Last year, unfortunately, the conference rejected my paper. This year, however, (while in London), I received an email reporting that they accepted my nonfiction piece. A few weeks later, I got a second email that informed me that my second research paper was only accepted conditionally (and yes, I do believe it was in italics). The research paper was one that I wrote in Dr. Epley's British Lit class sophomore year and one of which I was exceedingly proud, (be proud of the fact that I wrote that without ending in a preposition...).

The humor resides in the fact that the nonfiction piece came from an situation I experienced this past summer. I wrote about it for the pure reason of posting it on Facebook. Yes, the paper I submitted with all of the beauty of a Facebook note was immediately accepted to an international conference for college English honors society. The other paper which I spent hours and hours of research on was only accepted conditionally. A bit ironic, eh?

Ah well, perhaps college is polluting all of our natural abilities and leaves us with uniformed styles. ;) I miss all of you English types in London. Y'all'd (oh yeah, I used it) better come back with a touch of british accents!

Instead of homework . . .

Hello my darling English people. You're my favorites. When we graduate, let's all get cardboard boxes in the same alley. 

Life in London sounds loverly! Eat an extra scone for me and give Jane my regards.

SO, for my very first post, I'm not going to talk about life back here in the States, and how Step-Sing is amazing but ruining my health, or how I walked barefoot in the gorgeous seventy-degree sun yesterday, or how if you ask really nicely that Starbucks people will still make you the chocolate banana shake even when they're out of banana and boy, does it taste good. 

Instead. I'm going to write about a really cool book. This book, in fact. 

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society

I like this book for Lots of Reasons. Here are three:

1. It is in England. Right after WWII. Be still, my heart. 

2. It is written as a series of letters - wild, wonderful, sad, gorgeous, witty, heartwrenching letters that make me want to rendezvous with some pretty stationery at my desk for a couple of hours. 

3. As you might have guessed from the title - it revolves around books, and the people who love them. Do you have trouble disassociating your identity from your library? If so, you will like this book. 

I was going to rave more about it but I just remembered that it was due two days ago and I still haven't finished it, which I need to do NOW if I am going to get any sleep, and I need sleep to survive Step-Sing, but I MUST read this book because it is beautiful and compelling and yes, now I will shut up and go read. 

You should read it too!

Warm regards,

Anna

The Daniel House Diaries

My fellow English Majors,

For those of you who have been living with your heads in the sand completely oblivious to the English Major society around you, there are seven of Samford’s English Majors taking up residence this spring at the Daniel House in Kensington, London. If there are any of you out there who have not considered coming to this beautiful country for at least a Jan Term, I will now endeavor to attain your consideration.

We are having a lovely time here in London. Every Monday we have afternoon tea with the Bronte sisters and Miss Jane Austen. Sometimes, when it fits her fancy, the Queen stops by to chat, and I can promise you that I’ve never had such pleasant company.

Well, I could say that, except that on Wednesdays we visit the theatres, and there, we spend time with all sorts of colorful characters including Bill Shakespeare (he prefers to be called Bill) and J.M. Barrie. Just to be honest, with all the pranks that these two pull I am shocked that they get through any shows here at the London theatres. The way they pick on Ben Jonson and Christopher Marlowe (the “nerds” of the theatre) is truly immature, but I find it humorous.

Tuesdays and Thursdays my fellow students and I meet in the libraries (and occasionally the church abbeys) for poetry meetings. Among the readers there I have heard Geoffrey Chaucer, Rudyard Kipling, T.S. Elliot, and Robert Browning. I have seen Byron hanging around before, but he is always too sulky to actually participate.

Perhaps the best part about going to school here in London is that Fridays through Sundays are free. That’s right, three day weekends every weekend! Most students take advantage of this extra time by travelling. A few of the students that I know will be spending their weekend roaming around the countryside with Mr. William Wordsworth. I believe they will be stopping at Tintern Abbey somewhere along the way, as Mr. Wordsworth said he had a poem he wanted to show them. As for me, I will be going on a trip along the coast with my new friend, Robert (Louis Stevenson). He claims to know of this amazing little café known as the Admiral Benbow.

So, there you have it people! Now come to London!!

Okay…so the majority of what I’ve written is completely fabricated, but we really do get three day weekends! EVERY WEEKEND!! And I might not have met all of the famous authors I mentioned above, but I have seen most of their graves! Alright, I realize that there is nothing awesome about bones in the ground, but I have been able to see many of the places in which my favorite stories of all time were first imagined. And, if you really want to meet a famous author, J.K. Rowling lives fifteen minutes away from the Daniel House according to our next door neighbor, Rodger (not to be confused with the Mr. Rodgers we all remember from our childhoods, but he did read part of The Chronicles of Narnia with us one night).

In all seriousness, life here at the Daniel House is amazing, and I have already learned so much just by being here in London. Anyone who has ever been interested in travel, this is your chance! Come to London!

Your fellow student,
Kayla Elise