Where’s the Merit in Magazines?

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If you’re like my father, you read a lot of magazines. It’s one of my dad’s many endearing traits, one that I’ve even tried to emulate. That’s not to say a magazine is a comparable substitute for a good book. In high school, it used to rattle my bones when someone responded to “what’s your favorite book?” with, “do magazines count?” Unfortunately, I am not making this up. That being said, I do think magazines can successfully fill in the gaps between books. They occupy breakfast time, subway commutes, and grueling minutes spent in waiting rooms. You can even cut them up once they become stale and make collages!

Despite Dad’s ridiculous number of magazines, my collage activities have never gone over well with him. He has multiple stacks that have reached impressive heights (the one in our guest bathroom now reaches my knees). They’re on his nightstand, in the dusty corners of his office, on the kitchen table, and in the back seat of his truck, but the suggestion of downsizing sends him into a tirade. Even more impressive is the variation in titles—The New Yorker, Money, Vanity Fair, Garden and Gun, Vogue, and Conde Nast Traveler, just to name a few. I know most people have a favorite, but at what point do you stop trying to cover all the bases?

Dad’s casual attire usually involves frayed jeans and a red L.L. Bean pullover from 1997, so I have questioned his loyalty to Vogue—does he really need a subscription to a magazine celebrating high fashion? His response—“there are some really interesting articles in there.” I can better understand Money for its practical implications, despite being quite literally the most boring thing I’ve ever picked up. Vanity Fair connects him to pop culture without having to endure a Keeping Up With The Kardashians marathon (I have no problem with this because I am disturbed by the prospect of my father watching the Kardashians). The New Yorker, the most consistent of his subscriptions (we have issues that survived my toddler years), keeps him intellectually sharp. Traveller is so he can visit exotic places in a more realistic timeframe, and Garden and Gun is so he can stay home. He likes the articles about people who love their dogs almost as much as he loves our Jack Russell/Cavalier King Charles mix, Russ. Russ prefers his dinner slathered in gravy and has his own seatbelt. Unlike my dad, he has several sweaters.

I laugh at his affinity for such an assortment of magazines, but let’s look at the bigger picture. My dad, like all of you, is a complex human being with a variety of interests. He has no desire to brand himself with titles. I have learned that this isn’t an excuse to read “trash,” but it is a lesson in broadening the scope of what I read. Why should my dad feel ashamed to pick up Vogue to read about what he’s unfamiliar with (he does live in rural Virginia, after all), and why should I feel out of place reading Money magazine? Variety and accessibility are where I find merit in magazines, and while my dad might never feel totally comfortable in New York City, he feels right at home reading The New Yorker.

What are your favorite magazines? Does anyone else have a magazine collection to rival my father’s?


Laura Berry is a senior English major and Poverty Studies minor at Washington and Lee. She is from Madison County, VA, where she spends most of her time with her dog, Russ.

Languages in Literature

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Take a look at any list entitled “100 Must-Read Books” or “50 Books You Have to Read before Leaving College.” No doubt those lists will include Candide, The Brothers Karamazov, Don Quixote, or Madame Bovary. All of these are essential pieces of classic literature. All of these were also originally written in a language other than English.

I’ve studied both French and Spanish for several years and have always remarked to myself the curious little inconsistencies in translation. These become different questions: why do they use the passive voice here? Why use the subjunctive mode there? Often I received the answer “because.” And though this answer is more or less acceptable for learning the languages, it doesn’t’ help when comparing an original text with its translation.

Having read both poetry and prose in original French and Spanish, I’m always interested in what little things get lost as they’re filtered through translation. While translation does communicate setting, action, and character, it lacks considerable capacity for communicating the nuances of a given language. This presents a problem: one’s native language is a barrier to the best understanding of great literary works.

That’s not to say English speakers shouldn’t be reading Maupassant and Tolstoy. Rather, it is incumbent upon the reader to discover where the nuances are lost in translation and to compensate for the deficiencies of the native language. Abstraction and metaphor rarely translate well; idiomatic expressions are often lost entirely. But these are the obvious limitations of translation.

I’m more interested in the little things, less evident but still important. To demonstrate what I mean why I think it’s important, I’m going to reference a book I know backwards and forwards: The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. You could argue that it’s not great literature (I would vehemently disagree), but it is perfect for the purpose of this post.

From the text I’ve picked out three major kinds translation differences:

Changes in person: In French and other languages, there is frequent use of impersonal expressions. In English, we use the passive voice less frequently. Instead, the translation usually adopts a personal pronoun, creating a more direct link between the action and the subject. In the case below, I think the change makes it appear that the action will take place. In the French, the impersonal expression lends an abstract feeling.

  • French: “Il faudrait les mettre les uns sur les autres…” (Literally: it would be necessary to put them one on top of the other…)
  • English: “We would have to put them one on top of the other…” – Chapter 5

Word replacement: In lieu of a direct translation, sometimes a translation changes word which gives a more appropriate meaning in the new language. In the second chapter of The Little Prince, the English translation substitutes “rub” for “blink.” In French, one would generally say they blinked before something they could hardly believe. In English, we usually say we rubbed our eyes, just to make sure we aren’t looking at a mirage.

  • French: “J’ai bien frotté mes yeux.” (Literally:I blinked my eyes well.)
  • English: “I rubbed my eyes hard.” – Chapter 2

Changes in Familiarity: This is a problem that, as far as I know, is unique to English. English lacks different versions of the pronoun “you.” In the romance languages and most others, there are two or three (and sometimes more) variants of the pronoun: one familiar and one formal, at least. The lack of this distinction in English can change the dynamic between characters in a story, especially if the shift from formal to familiar signifies a shift in a relationship. In chapter seven of The Little Prince, the eponymous character addresses the narrator with the informal “tu.”For most of the book however, he had used the more formal “vous.” As mentioned above, this change reflects their increasing closeness. In chapter one, the Little Prince uses “vous,” but the translation shows no difference.

  • French: “Tu parles comme les grandes personnes!”
  • English: “You talk like the grown-ups!” – Chapter 7
  • French: “S’il vous plait…” Chapter 1
  • English: “If you please…”

Translation is tricky. There are a lot of nuances to be aware of in both the original language and the new one. Skilled translation can account for most of these discrepancies, but if you can, it pays to read a work in its original tongue.


Mac McKee is a junior Business Administration major at Washington and Lee.  He has a passion for writing and the study of languages.

Mastering Mischief

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“…passionate understanding, formal accomplishment, and serious mischief.”

By Grace Haynes

 Shenandoah displays artistic work that meets the standards of “passionate understanding, formal accomplishment, and serious mischief.” This phrase touches on each aspect of creativity a writer seeks to achieve. After reading this statement on the first day of class, I felt excited to explore what Shenandoah is really about.

 As writers, we begin our process with a passionate understanding. We feel a deep connection to an aspect of the world around us. We establish personal connections with our surroundings. We observe the minute details of everyday life. This could be the rich color of our favorite sweater, the crispness of autumn air, or the smell of old library books. We describe the relationships we value with friends or family members. We develop a passion for the details of life and expand upon it through our individual, creative interpretations. We express ourselves through this passionate understanding.

 As writers, we mold this passionate understanding into formal accomplishment. Some qualify this achievement as getting a story or poem published in a literary journal. Others reach this goal by receiving an “A” on a school paper. I have watched my peers attain this formal accomplishment by reading their poems and short stories for an audience at Studio 11 in downtown Lexington. For me, reading one of my own stories to my grandmother fills me with this sense of accomplishment. But at its very basic meaning, it is the act of successfully transferring our thoughts—our passionate understanding—to words on a page through which reader directly relates.

 And as writers, we stir up a little mischief along the way.

 A spark of madness—a moment of disobedient thought—fuels our journey from passionate understanding to formal accomplishment. A muse strikes our attention, and an idea pops into our minds. Intrigue sends us on a quest to develop this thought. We silently observe situations like flies on the wall, careful not to spook our subject. Investigation, examination, consideration of our subject. Writing against the norm and establishing a new, unique voice of our own. Scheming and envisioning the ultimate idea we wish to portray.

 As humans we are all born with a bit of mischief inside of us. As kids, we broke the “no talking during announcements” rule at school. As teenagers, we broke curfew and gave our parents fits. One summer, I pierced my ears without my parents’ permission, and needless to say, this disobedient act got me in a lot of trouble. I knew that I was doing the wrong thing, but the mischievous nature of the act was far too intriguing.

 That’s the attraction—we’re drawn to the mischief that comes along with writing. There’s a temptation in writing about a complicated, sensitive subject. There’s a risk in portraying debatable topics. But the rebellion entices us and sends us on secretive missions to follow twisted plotlines or to uncover hidden truths. I’ve noticed rebellion in the submissions for Shenandoah, where some writers argue topics like race and religion and others reveal family secrets. The writers take a risk in exposing personal viewpoints or private information.

We are troublemakers, stirring up mischief that provokes thought within the minds of the reader. We present a story that makes the reader pause for a moment from their hectic routine. Something that makes the reader think. Something that evokes a quiet moment of self-reflection.

 Or maybe we’re just giving a new perspective on a small, unremarkable detail of the world. It’s different and unique—there’s a rebellious nature embedded within the simple acts too.  

 As writers we pinpoint small moments of life through our passionate understanding and reveal the hidden beauty of the ordinary, completing a formal accomplishment by mastering the art of mischief.

 So blog readers, what sparks mischief within you?

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Nick Smith is a senior English and History Major and Creative Writing minor from Alexandria, Virginia. Nick loves all flavors of literature, but he has always had a fondness for science fiction and fantasy, especially when paired with comedy.

Romance or Love-Which do you prefer?

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In light of red roses, the color pink, and heart-shaped boxes of dark chocolate, it is only fitting that Shenandoah dedicate a blog post to all of the hopeless romantics out there. From Jane Austen’s classics to the work of modern authors like Nicholas Sparks, there is no denying that books about love are satisfying and perfect.

According to Google search engine, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen is the number one best selling romance novel of all time. Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre follows at number two and Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander comes in at number three (Twilight takes the number four spot).

I admit that I wasn’t too surprised with the rankings. All of the tops are well deserved (with the possible exception of Twilight). But then I started thinking about the romance genre as a whole—isn’t it somewhat limited? Think about it—in the end, the two characters are either together or they aren’t. That’s the gist of it. So what exactly are these romantic readers falling for?

Is it the individual characters that readers adore? Is it the “cute meet” that the author creates for the couple that readers drool over? Is it the epic end where the two finally come together that makes us turn the page? Perhaps, the real hook is the notion that because love is written about, it isundoubtedly out there for everyone, specifically the reader.

But this leads me to my point—haven’t you already found love? Seriously, answer the question. Even if you are #single, I am sure that you have. And if you are limiting your idea of love to having a partner, then I am disappointed and I challenge you to think bigger. In fact, I’ll answer the question for you—yes, you certainly have found love.

Would you say that you love your dog? Or maybe you have a best friend who you love? I’m sure you love your dad or your brother. Maybe you even love your bed? What about Cheez-its or Friday night football? If you’ve got kids, (hopefully) you love them too.

Maybe, you see what I’m getting at here—the idea that there are many kinds of love. It is practically limitless. But, when people want to read a novel about love, they don’t think to grab Wilson Rawls’s Where the Red Fern Grows to read about a boy’s love for his dogs. Instead, they’ll go for books that classify as romance.

But if it is the idea of love that readers are obsessed with, then why do we limit our horizons to a love between a girl and a boy, when we could be reading about all of the types of love that are out there? So, really the question, I leave you with is—would you rather read a novel about romance or love?


Anna Dibenedetto is a junior English major with a minor in Creative writing at Washington and Lee.  She is from Greenville, S.C., but hopes to migrate to NYC and flourish in the magazine industry.

Best Book of the Year

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by Bella Zuroski

This Christmas, my family all packed into the car and ventured three hours east through heavy Western New York snows to spend the day with my dad’s side of the family.  After dinner, I curled up in front of the woodstove with Mona, my Aunt Ellen’s sleepy pit bull.  After about an hour or so of typical after-dinner conversation, my cousin Gena’s husband Derek asked me if I had my pick for Best Book of the Year yet.  I had no idea what he was talking about, and experienced a slight panic – was this a thing I should know about?  Gena looked at me expectantly.  She is an English professor, so I was sure she expected her English major cousin, a senior in college, to know about it. 

 Best Book of the Year was not the big, official “thing” I had imagined.  It was a tradition started by my Uncle Greg (Gena’s dad), who passed away last spring.  It’s simple:  at the end of each year, he and his friends would all get together to discuss the best book they had each read that year.  This was the first year that would come to a close without Greg at the helm, and I could sense that Best Book of the Year had gained extra significance because of that.

 When I tried to come up with my pick, I felt embarrassed.  Sure, I could name a heap of books I had read for class.  But had I read anything else on my own outside of the brick walls of Payne Hall, Washington & Lee’s English building?

 I will never forget the rainy afternoon when Greg handed me my first copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, or the bright summer day when he sat down next to me on the old concrete stoop by the front door and gave me Betty Smith’s A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.  I read those books day and night with no regard for sleep or any other apparent priorities.  I had no cell phone buzzing in my pocket or plans to make – just the pure, unbridled delight of more pages to turn.  As I struggled to come up with a Best Book of the Year that hadn’t been assigned on a syllabus, I realized how much I missed the little girl who used to get lost for hours, days, even whole summers at a time in the pages of a book.

 As our lives get hectic, it is easy to forget how to take the time to get lost in a book.  It starts to feel like there is no time for anything outside of our daily routine.  Are you a college student, tired parent, professional, and/or someone who has to read a lot for your job or in your daily life?  If you are, I am sure you know how flipping on the TV or playing another round of Candy Crush often seems easier than opening a book.

 There is magic in language that cannot be found anywhere else.  In the hustle and bustle of life, this magic can be easily forgotten.  Greg was the person who really showed me what it means to be a reader. I think we all have our own Greg – not necessarily the person who taught us how to read the letters on the page, but the person who helped us to see the magic.  Recently, I saw a post on his Facebook page that said, “Book of the year just isn’t the same without you.”  When I clicked on this woman’s profile, Facebook told me that she lived in Seattle, Washington.  Missing Greg, my heart swelled in bittersweet happiness when I thought that somewhere, somehow, he had crossed paths with this woman and shared that same magic with her.  This Christmas, I received a very well timed reminder to never let that magic go.

 Next year, I promise to have my pick for Best Book of the Year ready.  Will you?


Nick Smith is a senior English and History Major and Creative Writing minor from Alexandria, Virginia. Nick loves all flavors of literature, but he has always had a fondness for science fiction and fantasy, especially when paired with comedy.

The Significant Author

By Elise Petracca

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Let’s explore loyalty with authors.  Have you ever thought about “author loyalty”?  Is there one author you read again and again, an author who never fails to make you laugh or think, “Yes! Someone actually gets me!” ?  I have read every single one of David Sedaris’ books, and I have long awaited the chance to read his most recent collection of essays, Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls.  Upon starting this new book, I quickly realized how much I have missed his outlandish anecdotes, conversational style, and quirky habits.  I have hardly put it down since I pressed “purchase” on my Kindle.  I feel like I’m catching up with an old friend.

9780316154697_custom-9c47976cfb5d17b29023c72778d0409f83ba4601-s6-c30  I had never considered the concept of “author loyalty” until I began Sedaris’s most recent book.  As I picked it up, it occurred to me that I am likely not the only person who does this.  I asked my friends if they have one particular author whose books they read habitually, and they all responded immediately with their go-to author. Their answers included Andrew Clements, Pat Conroy, Ken Kesey, and Tom Wolfe.  It doesn’t matter who it is, a favorite author is as cherished as a childhood friendship.

I realize that I have had these loyalties all of my life.  When I was in elementary school, it was Kate DiCamillo. In middle school, it was Lurlene McDaniel. By high school, I had convinced myself I didn’t have time to read books for fun, until I was given Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, and then it became David Sedaris.  His style is colloquial but his stories are far from typical.  He brings freshness to storytelling by humor and self-deprecation that entices his readers, making us want to know more.  When reading Sedaris’s stories, I find myself next to him, strolling the streets of Paris or visiting his childhood home in North Carolina.  His vivid descriptions and realistic dialogue take me wherever he goes.  Not only do I feel like I know him personally, but also his family, his friends, and his longtime partner, Hugh.

Sedaris is the second of six children, and I am the youngest of five.  I have to wonder if our shared experience of having a large, dysfunctional family is what allows me to relate to him. His writing inspires my own; my stories, whether fiction or fact, are often based on my own family.  Even when my siblings bring me to the end of my wits, I wouldn’t give them up for anything.  Plus, they make for pretty entertaining characters, as Sedaris has realized.

I continue to read his books for thepain I get in my side from laughing so hard.  I remember reading Me Talk Pretty One Day on a plane to Florida.  I was sitting in an aisle seat and two men gave me looks to suggest they didn’t appreciate my audible snickering.  The emotions his writings evoke are so real that they’re impossible to stifle, even when it’s discourteous to those around you.

What drew you to your favorite author in the first place?  And what makes you continue to go back?  Is it the alternate reality he or she creates for you, or the ab workout you get from laughing so hard?  What do you look for in a significant author?  I urge you, dedicated readers, to revisit your favorite writers.  Read a book by him or her you haven’t read yet, or if you’ve read them all, reread one.  There’s a comfort in the words of a favorite author, even if you already know what is going to be said.


Laura Berry is a senior English major and Poverty Studies minor at Washington and Lee. She is from Madison County, VA, where she spends most of her time with her dog, Russ.

How Fast Do You Read?

 bookSomething that many avid readers may not be very familiar with is the speed at which they read. My interest in this subject was initially brought on when a friend directed me towards the article, “14 books you could read in the time it takes to watch the Super Bowl” This article points out that in the time spent sitting on the couch watching a football game, you could also be reading a number of works of great literature. The author cites F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, George Orwell’s Animal Farm, and Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea as examples. I was not confident in my abilities in completing some of these books during this amount of time, and I began to question my speed-reading ability.

Coincidentally, I later stumbled upon a speed-reading test created by Staples as part of an e-book promotion. This test measures the time it takes for the reader to complete a short passage, and asks three short comprehension questions after. The test demonstrated that my speed-reading skills are equivalent to the average high school junior, but surprisingly enough, still 30% above the national average. Although I cannot speak for the accuracy of the test, I was a little disappointed that the average college student was reading 150 more words per minute than I was. My disappointment motivated me to research this subject further.

 According to the Forbes article, “Do You Read Fast Enough To Be Successful?, the national average for reading is 300 words per minute. The author of this article points out that at this rate, the average adult spends two hours reading basic material throughout a typical day. A high level executive reads closer to 600 words per minute, twice as fast as the regular adult. I began to question how I could improve my reading speed. After finding some entirely unhelpful guides, I was able to come up with a rough list of some accepted practices that enhance how fast you can read.

 Eliminating sub vocalization is supposed to help you read faster because your brain can actually register words much quicker without having to wait for you to talk to yourself.

 Eliminating re-reading by reading at a pace where you are not skipping over sentences can help you to stay focused. It is estimated that about 30% of what people read is re-read.

 Meta-guiding is the practice of using a pencil or a notecard to keep pace and smooth direction while one is reading

 Utilize peripheral vision by taking in groups of four or five words at a time instead of reading linearly from left to right. This method takes practice to get the reader used to using a different part of their vision, but can greatly increase the speed at which you can read.

Although Staples’ unsettling reading test did make me question my ability, I was glad to be able to find some tips that I had never thought about when reading. I recognize that there is much more to being a skilled reader than just the sheer speed at which you can inhale words. To view many other methods to become a proficient and successful reader, check out Mortimer J. Adler and Charles Van Doren’s book How to Read a Book. This is a valuable guide to perfecting many of the other aspects of reading and comprehension. Although reading quickly is far from the most important aspect of reading, I would say that speed-reading is an often-overlooked skill that can have great benefits for the reader if improved. Do you know any helpful hints for increasing reading speed? Or is this an aspect of reading that is not important enough to spend time improving?


Christian Kennedy is an English and Accounting and Business Administration double major at Washington and Lee. He enjoys writing music and loves spending time outdoors exploring the Shenandoah Valley.