Part of my New Year’s Resolution is Completed

As I’ve mentioned before, my goal is to read an essay-a-day the first third of the year, short stories the second third, and poems the last third.  A day is defined as Monday through Friday and holidays or vacation days don’t count.  Well, I’ve completed the essay third (78 essays) and updated the Essay Challenge page!  Please check out the page.  I’d love to hear your thoughts on an essay you loved, just leave a comment.  If you want to delve into essays  yourself, join the essay challenge sponsored by Books and Movies.

I liked reading essays before I started this lark, but now I have fallen in love with the genre.  The gift of a good essay that draws the reader in and shows her the author’s perspective on life, all in relatively few words, is a treasure.  Some of the essays were fun (Nick Hornby’s essays from the Believer), others were very challenging (Lionel Trilling, I wish that I had him as a professor) and my favorites are cozy–I have a serious reader crush on E.B. White.  I read current writers (my favorite living essayist is Anne Fadiman) and lots of classic essays. 

What comes through in the essays, as with good literature, is the universiality of human emotions regardless of where geographically or in time the author is from.  I found I agreed with Seneca’s “On Noise” as much as I agreed with Anna Quindlen’s essay last week in “Newsweek.” 

I learned that everyone loves Charles Lamb.  Really.  And while he has a fascinating back story, I’m not in love with him.  E.B. White, yes.  George Orwell, yes.  Charles Lamb, not so much.  I had a similar reaction with Virginia Woolf, I always think I’m going to like her much better than I do.  I start out so expectant when I read her works and am usually left flat.  However, I’ll never look at a moth the same way.

Now I’m “resolved” to move to short stories.  I have short story books that I’ve been stacking up and while I’m looking forward to it, I’ll miss my essays.  In fact, I just bought a new collection last week, Seven Pleasures by Willard Spiegelman, I’m sure I’ll be able to squeeze it in.