By: Megan Conley
If Gilmore Girls was the television show that inspired me to declare an English major, Frankenstein is the book that solidified it. But how does the chronicles of spunky Yale bibliophile relate to an obsessively passionate scientist? And how do these seemingly opposite works of art coincide to inspire a skeptical writer? Flash back to my senior year of high school.
Sitting in the back of my AP English Literature class, my mind had never been stretched quite as much as when I read Mary Shelley’s masterpiece. Connections between characters rapidly formed a web in my brain. My pen could not keep up with my mind as I filled the margins of my old paperback to their capacity. Honestly, I never knew so much genius could be packed within such a thin novel. And the best part was, I knew my own perceptions were only scratching the surface of how readers interpreted Shelley’s words. Being completely overwhelmed had never felt better.
In such as short amount of pages, themes ranged from Christianity, to romanticism, to knowledge, and individuality. Even the secret classics enthusiast in me geeked out at the allusion to Prometheus. Suddenly, I felt like all of my knowledge was coinciding, helping me to look at the world from a new perspective. At the time, I wasn’t exactly sure what this perspective consisted of. All I knew was that I wanted to keep exploring.
And that is what exactly what I did. Because of my love for Frankenstein, I began reading as much British literature I could get my hands on. From Jane Eyre to Northanger Abbey, I loved discovering how the context of the time period affected the author’s motives. As soon as I realized how significant history was in relation to literature, my idea of the reading experience was turned upside-down.
Further encouraging me to pursue a degree in English, I ended up writing my final paper for AP English Literature on Frankenstein. At a mere four pages (a tiny speed bump compared to the seemingly hundreds of pages I write in college), I had never been so proud of my own writing in my life. I spent weeks searching for “credible” authors (someone didn’t know the agony of real research then). I learned that editing my paper actually meant more than skimming it after I finished writing my first draft. And although it seemed to take forever to complete (again, four pages…funny in retrospect), I finally felt like the work I was doing in school was worth it. And more importantly, I felt like I could actually be successful at this kind of work in the future.
Suddenly I realized my passion for analyzing all kinds of writing, let it be literature or journalism. I knew that writing was exactly the thing I wanted to pursue as a career. And although I am still testing the waters and deciding which type of forum best suites my writing, one thing is for certain, I will write. Although I may not become a foreign correspondent or work on the campaign trail of a soon-to-be presidential candidate like Rory, I trust that I will find my own path soon.
If Gilmore Girls was the television show that inspired me to declare an English major, Frankenstein is the book that solidified it. But how does the chronicles of spunky Yale bibliophile relate to an obsessively passionate scientist? And how do these seemingly opposite works of art coincide to inspire a skeptical writer? Flash back to my senior year of high school.
Sitting in the back of my AP English Literature class, my mind had never been stretched quite as much as when I read Mary Shelley’s masterpiece. Connections between characters rapidly formed a web in my brain. My pen could not keep up with my mind as I filled the margins of my old paperback to their capacity. Honestly, I never knew so much genius could be packed within such a thin novel. And the best part was, I knew my own perceptions were only scratching the surface of how readers interpreted Shelley’s words. Being completely overwhelmed had never felt better.
In such as short amount of pages, themes ranged from Christianity, to romanticism, to knowledge, and individuality. Even the secret classics enthusiast in me geeked out at the allusion to Prometheus. Suddenly, I felt like all of my knowledge was coinciding, helping me to look at the world from a new perspective. At the time, I wasn’t exactly sure what this perspective consisted of. All I knew was that I wanted to keep exploring.
And that is what exactly what I did. Because of my love for Frankenstein, I began reading as much British literature I could get my hands on. From Jane Eyre to Northanger Abbey, I loved discovering how the context of the time period affected the author’s motives. As soon as I realized how significant history was in relation to literature, my idea of the reading experience was turned upside-down.
Further encouraging me to pursue a degree in English, I ended up writing my final paper for AP English Literature on Frankenstein. At a mere four pages (a tiny speed bump compared to the seemingly hundreds of pages I write in college), I had never been so proud of my own writing in my life. I spent weeks searching for “credible” authors (someone didn’t know the agony of real research then). I learned that editing my paper actually meant more than skimming it after I finished writing my first draft. And although it seemed to take forever to complete (again, four pages…funny in retrospect), I finally felt like the work I was doing in school was worth it. And more importantly, I felt like I could actually be successful at this kind of work in the future.
Suddenly I realized my passion for analyzing all kinds of writing, let it be literature or journalism. I knew that writing was exactly the thing I wanted to pursue as a career. And although I am still testing the waters and deciding which type of forum best suites my writing, one thing is for certain, I will write. Although I may not become a foreign correspondent or work on the campaign trail of a soon-to-be presidential candidate like Rory, I trust that I will find my own path soon.