Apparently, this summer will be spent reading All the Things I Never Read in High School. Because this next book fell into the category. And somehow, I missed it again in college. And graduate school. What? How could I have missed out on such a famous book?
Well, gentle bloggers, I picked it up, read it, and have only three letters to add: W.T.F.
Seriously, WTF DID I JUST READ.
Before I delve into my analysis, I’d like to offer a little confessional about myself: I’m obsessed with rabbits. As in, crazy-person, talk-to-the-rabbits, Kristen-Bell-sloth-meltdown obsessed.
I’ll admit, it’s not the super-healthiest trait I have.
But, whenever I see those big ears, those big, beady, inquisitive eyes, and those fluffy white tails bouncing after them, I get more than a little excited. I can’t help it.
There was one in our old house that would hang out in the yard, and I’d freak out EVERY TIME I saw him. And so that’s when The Chancellor and I started calling him Lil’ Sebastian.
As in, I would freak out like Leslie Knope, and The Chancellor would stare in bemusement like Ben Wyatt.
So…when I read about Lennie Small’s obsession with rabbits and petting sweet, furry things, naturally I felt a strange kinship. For those of you who have read this book, you know where this is going. It ain’t somewhere good.
Of Mice and Men is a novella about two men, the quick-thinking and ambitious George, and the cognitively impaired but gentle at heart Lennie. They want to own a ranch together, have enough to live on, and be independent. And Lennie wants to raise rabbits (hence, my kinship with him). Of course, Lennie’s inability to read social cues and his naivete about women get them in major trouble. And that’s where the story turns.
It’s tragic. It broke my heart. And now I wonder how high schoolers round the country have managed to read it without their hearts turning into bleeding shreds.