I’ve always been drawn to Christina Rossetti’s poetry, but it wasn’t until I stumbled upon her collection “The World is Too Much With Us” that I really began to understand why. Her words seemed to capture the suffocating weight of…
I’ve found myself returning to Gaston Bachelard again and again, not because I’m reading a specific book of his, but because I keep finding him in my own thoughts. It started with “The Poetics of Space,” which a friend recommended…
Nella Larsen. Her name has been stuck in my head for months now, like a line from a poem I’ve yet to decipher. What draws me to her, really? Is it the way she defied convention, embracing her mixed heritage…
I’ve always been fascinated by Wilfred Owen’s words, but it wasn’t until I stumbled upon his poem “Dulce et Decorum Est” that I truly began to grasp the depth of his emotion. The way he describes the horrors of war…
I’ve always been fascinated by A.S. Byatt’s writing, but it wasn’t until I stumbled upon her essay collection “On Histories” that I felt a deep connection to her work. Her musings on the complexities of storytelling and the blurred lines…
Roman Jakobson’s work has been sitting on my shelf for years, collecting dust alongside a bunch of other unread books and half-finished projects. I picked it up again recently, feeling drawn to the title “Language in Relation to Other Communication…
Rebecca West’s words keep coming back to me, like a refrain that I can’t shake. I first read her memoir, “A Train of Powder,” a few years ago, and since then, I’ve found myself returning to it again and again.…
Yasunari Kawabata’s writing has been a constant companion throughout my college years. I remember stumbling upon his short story, “The One-Armed Swordsman,” in a literature class and being struck by the quiet beauty of his prose. The way he described…
I’ve been reading about Alfred North Whitehead, and I’m stuck on his concept of “eternal objects.” It’s this idea that there are abstract entities that exist independently of the physical world, and they’re what give rise to the diversity we…
Isak Dinesen’s writing has been a constant companion for me over the past year, ever since I stumbled upon her stories and essays while rummaging through my mother’s old bookshelf. There was something about her words that resonated deeply with…
I’ve been fascinated by Jose Ortega y Gasset for months now, ever since I stumbled upon his essay “The Revolt of the Masses” while browsing through a used bookstore. There’s something about his writing that resonates with me, a sense…
Mary Beard. I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately, especially after finishing college. It’s funny how certain people seem to pop up at exactly the right (or wrong) moment in our lives. Maybe it’s because we’re all searching for…
Denis Johnson’s words have a way of getting stuck in my head, like a tune I can’t shake. It’s been years since I read “Jesus’ Son,” but the cadence of his prose still echoes through me. His writing is like…
Vera Brittain’s letters have been haunting me for weeks now, like a quiet echo that refuses to fade away. I first stumbled upon her name while browsing through a used bookstore, and something about the title “Testament of Youth” resonated…
I’ve always been fascinated by Geoffrey Chaucer, but not in a way that’s easy to explain. It’s like he’s hovering just out of reach, and I keep circling around him, trying to grasp what draws me in. As I reflect…
Martha Graham’s name has been floating around my mind since I first started dancing. It was during a particularly grueling ballet class, and our teacher kept referencing her as the “mother of modern dance.” At the time, I found it…
I’ll be honest, Wilhelm Reich’s name has always left me a bit uneasy. I stumbled upon him while researching for a writing project – his life and work are like a whirlpool that draws you in, but makes you feel…
Wallace Stevens. I find myself coming back to his poetry again and again, like a puzzle that refuses to be fully solved. It’s as if each time I think I’ve grasped one of his poems, it slips through my fingers,…
I first stumbled upon Svetlana Alexievich’s work while browsing through a used bookstore during my junior year of college. I was immediately drawn to the cover of “Zinky Boys: Soviet Voices from the Afghanistan War,” her stark, black-and-white photograph of…
I’ve been reading Erich Auerbach’s work for a few weeks now, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around his ideas about literature and history. What keeps drawing me back is the way he talks about how texts can…
