Buried in Books

I started the MA full-time last week, and I’m already a little overwhelmed. I’m in three classes this term: 19th Century Canadian Lit, The Canadian and American Novel Since 1980, and Victorian Sexuality. I think I’m going to love the classes: the reading list for the novel course is fantastic; the Victorian Sex will be super interesting (I think I have a paper about lesbian vampires in me begging to be written). The 19th Century CanLit might be a little tough going: it’s at 8:30 am on Mondays, and there’s only 9 of us in the class. No flying under the radar. Some of the reading is a little, um, let’s call it dry. But the profs seem great so far, as do my classmates (the classes are a nice mix of people—my worries about being the oldest were unfounded).

But it’s so busy already. Cakes is in school three days a week now, but I’m reading three novels per week, plus presentations, papers, and research work. I already have a bit of a sick feeling in my stomach. On the other hand, I think I’m pretty fucking lucky to be getting paid to read books.

On the positive side, I received my first masters level grade, for the summer course I took: an A! That gives me a little more confidence. Plus, I’m 90% sure I won’t go for the doctorate, so the pressure for grades is a little lightened (it’s more a matter of pride).

Oh, and if you’re interested, I’ve posted the Alice Munro paper here (I’ll warn you, it’s long!)