I had made it four years as an English Major at Carleton without having read Moby Dick. I really, really did not want to read Moby Dick. It intimidated me. Not to put to fine a point on it, but it had become a bit of my own White Whale.
Senior year, taking a fantastic class called Natural Supernaturalism, I saw my nemesis listed on the syllabus. I girded my loins and purchased the book, prepared to slog my way through dense text and soggy scenarios.
But I was unprepared for how much I enjoyed the book, and how light and funny the first few chapters were! I would be giggling in my dorm room while reading it, and when my roommates asked what I was reading, I floored them with my answer.
Lesson learned? Never judge a book by its cover, perhaps. Or don’t psych yourself out when starting a book. And read Moby Dick — you won’t regret it.