Sherwood dies of toothpick error
About two years ago my Introduction to Fiction professor (not to be confused with my Introduction to Short Fiction Writing professor) introduced me to Sherwood Anderson. He had us read a story from Anderson's short story collection/novel Winesburg, Ohio. Immediatly, I knew that I would have to read the entire book - the short story (Hands, by the way) was not enough for me.
Granted, I was not a very motivated student at the time. Nor did I actually have enough ambition to actually GO to the bookstore and by the book. But a this year, as I began buying and reading every book I could find (through Half Price Books - my savior!), Winesburg, Ohio was one of the first titles I bought.
And guess what? It was good! Better even then I thought it would be! (This entry dubs as my plea to you to go out and buy the book yourself. I found all three of my copies for under two dollars, so trust me, if you go to a good used books store, you can afford it! ) The writing was beautiful. Each story introduced a new layer of the small Ohio town, and each enchanced the image narrator of the stories. Each story could work well on it's own, but was amazing as part of the whole!
So, your probably asking yourself, why is she telling me this now? Yes. I did read it three months ago. Yes, I have read numerous wonderful books since. But today, March 8, marks the anniversary of Sherwood Andersons death. In 1941, on this day, Sherwood Anderson died...OF COMPLICATIONS FROM SWALLOWING A TOOTHPICK!!
Okay. Question. Who dies from swallowing a toothpick? You would think a brilliant writer would not swallow a toothpick in the first place...I could see some meatheaded football player swallow a toothpick...but a writer? C'mon! And then, a new question enters my mind. Who dies from a toothpick? A TOOTHPICK, for christs sake. Isn't that a bit on the ridiculous side? Is that just a little strange? Or is it just me.
So, I have a resolution for you all today. Please, every March 8, remember Sherwood Anderson, and do not pick up that toothpick as you leave the resturant. (and buy his book from a used bookstore...it will be the best 75cents you ever spend!)
Granted, I was not a very motivated student at the time. Nor did I actually have enough ambition to actually GO to the bookstore and by the book. But a this year, as I began buying and reading every book I could find (through Half Price Books - my savior!), Winesburg, Ohio was one of the first titles I bought.
And guess what? It was good! Better even then I thought it would be! (This entry dubs as my plea to you to go out and buy the book yourself. I found all three of my copies for under two dollars, so trust me, if you go to a good used books store, you can afford it! ) The writing was beautiful. Each story introduced a new layer of the small Ohio town, and each enchanced the image narrator of the stories. Each story could work well on it's own, but was amazing as part of the whole!
So, your probably asking yourself, why is she telling me this now? Yes. I did read it three months ago. Yes, I have read numerous wonderful books since. But today, March 8, marks the anniversary of Sherwood Andersons death. In 1941, on this day, Sherwood Anderson died...OF COMPLICATIONS FROM SWALLOWING A TOOTHPICK!!
Okay. Question. Who dies from swallowing a toothpick? You would think a brilliant writer would not swallow a toothpick in the first place...I could see some meatheaded football player swallow a toothpick...but a writer? C'mon! And then, a new question enters my mind. Who dies from a toothpick? A TOOTHPICK, for christs sake. Isn't that a bit on the ridiculous side? Is that just a little strange? Or is it just me.
So, I have a resolution for you all today. Please, every March 8, remember Sherwood Anderson, and do not pick up that toothpick as you leave the resturant. (and buy his book from a used bookstore...it will be the best 75cents you ever spend!)