I’m not a fast reader. This was problematic for me, as an English major. In the four years of my undergraduate degree, I frantically motored through countless chapters of fiction, as well as theoretical material, and had to devote every spare moment to it.
It burned me out.
Since graduating, I’ve been trying to introduce reading for fun back into my life. Life and anxiety still hold me back, but still I try. Coming back to books after such a long time has meant having to determine what exactly I like to read. It had been so long since I’d chosen a book for myself. So I decided to fill in the gaps. It started as an attempt to read the classics—beginning with To Kill a Mockingbird—I’d never read in school. Luckily, as a bookseller with a tidy employee discount, I could (almost) afford to fund my own literary exploration. The effort, however, was quickly waylaid by the realization of what had really been lacking in my academic career.
Female authors. Where were they?