In case you hadn't noticed I really like books. I don't consider myself an expert or even a connoisseur, I just really like books. This semester I finally decided to go ahead and take a class at university called Great Books but when I saw the list of books we were yoked into reading I was more than a little disappointed. Luckily my disappointment proved misplaced and far from being a yoke, the books turned out to be a really good read....mostly. I think I understand why we had to read the book of Genesis and bits of it were actually interesting but geez those lineage lists were cumbersome and so boring and what was the deal with the weird wrestling match and the tendon on the inside of Jacob's thigh?
Anywho, the book we're currently reading has salvaged my respect for our heroic course convenor who gets up each week and patiently shares his educated insights with a class of nitwits, my band of brothers. Believe it or not I'm enjoying Beowulf. However surprised you are, I'm certain there's no one more surprised than me. It's beautifully written and I suspect that it will serve as the benchmark against which all other books will be compared. I feel spoiled but it's bittersweet: I'm not sure I can go back to the light reading of modern detective novels and actually enjoy them properly.
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