Misadventures of the Monster Librarian

It is possible to go to New York multiple times and never retrace your steps. I am sure yesterday was that kind of day. I saw only things that I had never looked on before. We began the day at the Morgan Library where we had planned to see the exhibit on Jane Austen, and upon showing up I was pleasantly surprised to see that the Library also had an exhibit on William Blake’s illustrations from a variety of projects--as an English major I was most familiar with his illustrations for the Book of Urizen, Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience. Jessi and I wandered through the galleries, looking at (among many things) some of Jane Austen’s letters to her beloved sister Cassandra. It was quite wonderful to see writing in Austen’s own hand, to see the handwritten letters which referenced some of my most beloved stories; letters which talked about the possibilities that lie open for Austen’s antagonists and heroines. Magical. The exhibit on Blake was nice, less interesting to me, since he...

"THE TIGER," William Blake (1757-1827) Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And, when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand and what dread feet? What the hammer? What the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? What dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears, And water'd heaven with their tears, Did He smile His work to see? Did He who made the lamb make thee? Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? This poem has been swirling around in my head lately, mostly in pieces, mostly the first two stanzas. It has gotten in there for two reasons; the first being th...