What was fun about this paper (that I, er, had forgotten about until the last minute) was that I had been waiting since I was in tenth grade to write a paper on David Copperfield. You see, as a tenth grader, I went to a friend for shabbat, we shall call her Friend A, and she invited along Friend B, as well. On Friday afternoon, Friend B mentioned the fact that she would read anything and that she was going to even read Don Quixote. Well, I was not going to let her outdo me, so I picked up a rather fat book from a shelf at Friend A's house and said, "Oh yeah? Well, I'm going to read this!" 'This,' I discovered, as I belatedly glanced down at the title to see what exactly I had just promised to read, turned out to be David Copperfield. At that time, I had never read anything by Dickens, nor had I heard much about this David Copperfield character. I knew Oliver Twist, A Tale of Two Cities, and I'd heard of Great Expectations, but that was about it. And I had read none of those. But I was determined. I sat down to read that Friday night and I did not stop for about two or three months. No joke. I would read during lunch at school, during free periods, anytime, anywhere. Friend A had given me the book gladly, claiming that no one in her family read it anyway.
At some point later, I was finished. FINISHED. I couldn't believe it. I almost wanted to cry. I had worked so hard, looked up all the hard words, read for so long, gotten to know the characters on a real personal level, and now it was over? But I had a real sense of accomplishment, too, as I closed the book for the final time. I had read an entire nearly a thousand page Dickens book and I had survived to tell the tale. I was so proud of myself that I even told my English teacher as we were going up the stairs to class. I'm sort of embarrassed for having done that, now. I mean, who on earth goes bragging to her English teacher over having read a book? She sort of just nodded and smiled and told me that was very good. But I wasn't satisfied. I was squirming to show off. More than that, though. I wanted to tell everyone about all these characters I had come to know so intimately, the way someone else likes to talk about her best camp friends that live in Texas or wherever. But I knew no one would really like to hear about Mr. Micawber, or Aunt Betsy Trotwood, or anyone else I had met in my literary journey. So I waited. I waited until the perfect opportunity came. And then, to my delight, for my Film and Fiction class, I did my paper on David Copperfield.
There is a Masterpiece Theater production with Daniel Radcliffe as young David and Maggie Smith as Aunt Betsy that I really wanted to see, but my teacher wouldn't let us use Masterpiece Theater because she says they're not real films. I'm not film-obsessed the way I am book obsessed so I don't really know the difference, but I did as she suggested and saw the 1935 black and white version. I hated it. I hated basically everything about it, except for the woman who played Aunt Betsy. She was very good. So I emailed my teacher asking her if I could use the Masterpiece Theater production instead. This was her response:
Right. So the 1935 version it was. Still, I got to spend two pages talking about the book and gushing over the eccentric characters, which is what I really wanted to write about.
Erachet, the classic won an Academy Award, and the Masterpiece Theater version isn't exactly a film, still you can use it, but be very precise about matters of adaptation.
And as for Friend B, last I heard, she never had gotten around to reading Don Quixote.
7 comments:
I took that class with Hatvary two years ago (I'm guessing you're in the same one?), but we didn't read David Copperfield that year. I hope you get a good grade in the class!
Scraps - Oh, we didn't read David Copperfield either. We got to choose what we wanted to use for the paper, though. And yes, it's with Hatvary :) I wasn't a huge fan of what we did read in class, actually. They were all these really, heavy dramas.
And welcome to my blog!
Oh right, I remember, we had to do a paper on a fiction/film ourselves as our final project. I did "The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood". I didn't like most of the books we did in class, either, although "The Age of Innocence" wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.
I shall consider myself welcomed. You actually found me first, though. :)
I had a very similar experience.
At the age of 11 (though maybe 13- I think it was 11), I wanted my mother's respect for my literary prowess, so I decided to read David Copperfield. It was 830 huge pages (it was one of those really large thick tomes) of tiny print. I read it the ENTIRE week, read and read and read and then I finished it.
The feeling of accomplishment was intense.
And so, at the age of 11, I determined that I was now officially a literary master and my mother should respect me.
:D
Haha, Chana, mine was one of those thick tomes of tiny, tiny print, too. I'm amazed I didn't have a persistent headache while I was reading it. And that's amazing you were able to read it in just a week when you were 11(or even if you were 13)! At 15, I believe it took me something like two months, though I don't remember for sure. It was a while, though. But then again, I did also have to squeeze it in around high school and homework and things. But still, I'm impressed at your quick reading abilities!
Isn't David Copperfield just lovely? (Grr, using the word 'lovely' makes me feel like one of those prim ladies in England or something, except that David Copperfield is lovely, there's no way around it!)
What's wrong with the word lovely? I use it all the time!
I've never read Dickens. Feel free to spit on me.
*spits!*
You should read David Copperfield! It's gorgeous (to use the word all Britishy)!
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