Study, coffee

No one told me Carlyle was going to be funny. I was expecting Sartor Resartus to be incredibly dry, but so far it's like a wacky 19th century version of Pale Fire, full of lines that, if you'd been with me in the late night tea shop, I would have interrupted your work to read out loud to you.

The tendency to do that is both one of the tragic flaws of social studying and probably my strongest native readerly impulse. I wish there was a kind of criticism you could do that rests on "Isn't this funny? Isn't this WEIRD?"

Speaking of weird, that's how my prof described this book (multiple times, and as a warning, not an inducement). That is more evidence in favor of my suspicion that she is a somewhat plodding, ponderous reader, not very interested in what my high school dropout calls the "deeper meanings." Other evidence (just an example, one of many): reacting to someone's astute point (not mine) about a fascinating moment in the Prelude with "That's very 19th century of Wordsworth."

The tea shop, by the way, doesn't mean I'm not still loyal to my local coffee shop, Cafe Wannabee, described a few posts ago, dreadlocked dog and all:



But it closes at 8:00 every night, so I've had to venture further afield. I was excited to discover a tea shop less than five minutes away that stays open till midnight and which features my ideal white noise: animated talk in Asian languages. I also have high hopes for a coffee shop called "Star Life on the Oasis," but I arrived to discover they are closed on Tuesdays.