Assignment 1 Good readers and writers

Reading  Strategies To Think About

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Bruce Robertson

Eng 102

01-24-11

Mrs. Laura Cline

Good Readers and Good Writers

            Personally, I believe Nabokov to be quite over the top. He insinuates that a story read only once, just hits on an emotional level. In order to be a good reader, one must reread the story 3, 4, or even 5 times. We must dissect every descriptive phrase and analyze it scientifically. He then goes on to say that good readers must have a balance between an emotional and a scientific thought process when taking in a book. In my opinion, becoming a cold, scientific, analytical machine that disassembles writers every fiber of imagery and description is to become devoid of the emotion that makes a story enjoyable. Thus, I find Nabokov’s description of a good reader to be contradictory.

            That being said, I do agree with his assertions that a good reader must have imagination, memory, and some artistic sense. I believe a good reader should take the time to mentally picture what the author is trying to portray. A good reader shouldn’t be naïve enough to let their emotions be twisted without exercising some literary analysis. I guess my point is this: don’t swim so deep in the analytical, that you drown in it. I believe myself to be a good reader in that aspect. I can enjoy a book emotionally and analytically, without having to dissect every letter and send it off to forensics. Call me shallow, obstinate, or naïve; or just call me a good reader.   

eng 102 intro

Day 1

It's the first day of the semester, 0800 hours, and I'm out of bed. I saunter over to the coffee pot. One omelette and 2 cups of joe later, I'm ready. I mosey on over to the computer, but only after watching "Sportscenter" the allotted one and a half times. Let these other suckers get up early and stress over their classes. This is my 2nd semester of the online thing, and I'm a seasoned veteran. I sit down and start browsing through the syllabus for each class. The aura of invincibility around me is thick. Life is good. I check math. The instructor wishes us good luck on the semester and to contact him if we need anything. I realize there will be little contact. The smirk on my face gains momentum. Next is accounting, and... the daily double! There will be limited communication here as well. The smile on my face is now pushing my cheeks somewhere up near my forehead. As I sit on top of the world, I move on to the English class. Wait... What the... Noooooooo! I give an audible gasp that blows a few papers and all of my hopes of tranquility and solitude onto the floor. She wants us to interact; with other humans. I sit dumbfounded and crushed as I reread and try to comprehend the unholy terror that is unfolding before my eyes. In a state of total shock, the only thing I'm remotely aware of is the vein in my neck bulging out. Gradually my senses return. I pop a few tums and try to massage the throbbing headache that has made a rather sudden appearance. Where's the valum's when you need them? My suspicions have been confirmed. English is not only the worst class, but it is also designed and taught by evil witches that grow more powerful with the suffering of their oppresed subjects. I think to myself, "doesn't she know that's why we choose online, so that we don't have to interact?" Then I realize, of course she knows, that's why she tortures us so. I run through my options, and there's not many. Murder, flight, and fake visas : too costly. Dropping the class: I have to have it. Just shut up and deal with it: never my favorite option, but the one I'm forced to take most of the time. So, begrudgingly, here I am; a man defeated and broken on the first day of class.