3/31/09

Fugue #87


Ten minutes into an hour-long midterm, and her bluebook is empty. She tries to scribble some notes, an outline, inside the front cover, but she’s drawing a total blank.

Ana hates Flaubert. But he does describe light beautifully, detailing its effects at different times, on different people and places. Like, "And the light streamed through the late afternoon window, flickering motes of dust." She couldn’t remember, was it Emma who sat in that light, thinking? Good line, anyway.

But the question didn’t ask about Flaubert’s approach to light and what that all meant, symbolically. (How light can change moods or suggest emotions. How light can alter perceptions and illuminate memories. Direct and buoyant, indirect and subdued. Stippled dappled obstructed clear airy. Open shade and closed shade.) It asked about Emma’s fantasies - how they motivate her, whether they’re realistic. And the juxtaposition of her internal fancy/folly with the external style, or realism, of the novel. Ana’s got nothing. She writes for a few pages, just to get something down, and walks her bluebook to the front of the room.

On the bottom of the last page, where no one will see it (why look at the last page if the previous ones are blank), in block letters: Fuck.

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