I should really be working on a research essay for one of my classes.
But I am just having so much trouble caring about it. Which is never a good sign. It usually means I’m going to end up writing something weird just to make it fun for me.
I did my undergraduate degree in World Literature. In World Lit, we read a lot of translated books, and a big part of why I was interested in the program was because, while the English department’s reading list was filled with familiar names, World Lit featured a number of authors that I’d never heard of before.
Like any university reading, some of the readings were good. Some of them were exhausting. A handful of them I absolutely loved.
- Borges. Not an original recommendation, but he is awesome and he deserves a sizable chunk of the praise he gets. A sizable chunk.
- MAUS: A Survivor’s Tale
- Khirbet Khizeh by S. Yizhar
- 69 by Ryu Murakami
- The Storyteller by Mairo Vargas Llosa
- Hopscotch by Julio Cortazar
- The Abandoned Baobob by Ken Bugul
- The Pickup by Nadine Gordimer
- Waiting for the Barbarians by J.M. Coetzee
- Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
Okay, I should really write that paper.