My fourteen-year-old friend sent me this e-mail today.
I was wondering if you could help my with something. I’m trying to understand the phrase “primacy of the individual” as applied to Romantic period literature.
Yes, I was an English major and, yes, I earn the glorious salary and respect that goes along with that degree, but, still, my ego could be stroked by his obvious faith in my knowledge of the Romantics. I didn’t even mind that he left the “e” off my name because I was flattered that he thought I could work up a few quick paragraphs on this topic off the top of my head.
So I got out my A Handbook to Literature, Sixth Edition, which was useless. Then I got smart and checked my old creepy, all-in-your-private-business pal, Google. I hit pay dirt. I wrote that boy a short dissertation on the Romantics and e-mailed it right over.
He hasn’t written back yet. He’s probably still reeling from my knowledge of absolutely everything.