Friday, February 12, 2010
Kindling the fire of my shame...
Last weekend, while preparing for my trip to Albuquerque, New Mexico for this conference, I realized that I had neglected to purchase a copy of Aristotle's Poetics for my Adaptations of Othello class. Not wanting to spend the time or money in purchasing a copy at the UNH bookstore or the Durham book exchange (equivalent to the AS Bookstore and the College Store, for all the Bellinghamsters out there), I swallowed my pride.
I asked Ian, with much hesitation and a lump in my throat, to download Poetics on the Kindle, so that I could read it on the plane.
He did. And now, here I am in Albuquerque, with this infernal machine on the bedside table in my hotel. I feel as if I've committed a personal affront to Aristotle. A personal affront to all of the many thousands of monks that spent their lives copying and binding manuscripts. A personal affront to Shakespeare, to Wilde, to Fitzgerald.
I think I might throw up.