Charlottesville Diaries (eBook)

Love, Literature and Life at UVA: 1976-81

Christopher Merton (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2021 | 1. Auflage
440 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-6678-0865-9 (ISBN)

Infos

Chris Merton began college at the University of Virginia in the late 1970s with typical concerns: earn good grades, find the right girlfriend, and join a fraternity. But Chris's real dream is to become a great writer-a goal that commits him to recording his entire life as truthfully as possible. The Independent Book Review calls the Charlottesville Diaries 'a thought-provoking glimpse into a young writer's romances on a 1970s college campus ... Here's an unfiltered look at a young man's social life at university in the late '70s that leaves us clawing to understand the man he would grow to become. Merton gives readers the intimate gift of his private being in The Charlottesville Diaries, a chance to witness this young man actively expanding and shaping his worldview on his own terms.'

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Chris Merton began college at the University of Virginia in the late 1970s with typical concerns: earn good grades, find the right girlfriend, and join a fraternity. But Chris's real dream is to become a great writer-a goal that commits him to recording his entire life as truthfully as possible. The Independent Book Review calls the Charlottesville Diaries "e;a thought-provoking glimpse into a young writer's romances on a 1970s college campus ... Here's an unfiltered look at a young man's social life at university in the late '70s that leaves us clawing to understand the man he would grow to become. Merton gives readers the intimate gift of his private being in The Charlottesville Diaries, a chance to witness this young man actively expanding and shaping his worldview on his own terms."e;This compelling coming-of-age memoir puts readers on campus in the most tumultuous years of a young person's life. "e;The Charlottesville Diaries"e; is about who we areand more importantly, who we want to be.

Textauszug

SUMMER 1976

July 30

It has been two days since I returned to America after a month-long stay in Europe. During my time there, I kept a diary. When I read through it again, I noticed my writing had improved. This book is a diary in the respect that I will be keeping a daily record. It will recount images, feelings, or whatever I deem necessary to improve my writing. That is the purpose of this book—to learn to transmit ideas from head to pen more easily.

Besides a diary, I am keeping a vocabulary list. I feel that I should have the broadest possible range of words at my command to communicate ideas in the clearest and simplest fashion. The end result of these labors? I cannot and shall not predict. In any event, it will surely aid me in improving my writing and spoken communication. I will also read a great deal.

He who knows nothing, loves nothing. He who can do nothing understands nothing. He who understands nothing is worthless. But he who understands also loves, notices, sees … The more knowledge is inherent in a thing, the greater the love … Anyone who imagines that all fruits ripen at the same time as the strawberries knows nothing about grapes.

–Paracelsus

August 2

In A Farewell to Arms, Ernest Hemingway endowed Lieutenant Frederic Henry with certain heroic traits. That character, not surprisingly, bears more than a little resemblance to Hemingway himself. Two of these traits were courage and physical endurance. Of course, the setting of the book—Italy in a time of war—was an ideal proving ground for these traits.

Heroes are seldom fat or stupid. Accordingly, my hero would have keen faculties, both mentally and physically. This hero would be skillful at a great variety of things, including sports and intellectual pursuits. He would always be improving, learning from his mistakes, and finding the quicker means to improve himself.

Another characteristic I’d include is adaptability: the ability to mix, perform, or survive in any environment. But to become versatile, he must purposely impose himself into a variety of situations—as uncomfortable as they may be.

August 3

Three days ago, my mother read an article on the recent popularity of women’s sports, which cited women’s improvements in track and swimming. The article noted how women’s times were improving at a much faster rate than those of the male athletes, suggesting that women athletes would equal male athletes in a few more years.

We’d had an argument earlier on this topic. Mom believes that the reason women are not as good as men at sports is because of existing social patterns that encourage girls to follow more demure pursuits. She says that before the time of puberty, boys and girls are equal.

I stated that the different hormones that boys and girls receive at puberty—testosterone versus estrogen—are athletically advantageous to the male. My mother disagreed. She said that if girls were as highly motivated as boys at an early age, their present performance would be at the same level.

I agreed that women don’t reach their athletic potential like men do. But I said that man’s potential was greater because of his physical differences. The average man is five inches taller than the average woman. I conceded, however, that in some sports, this physical difference might not be a factor in performance and that women could compete on the same level as men.

I conceded that the existing social patterns that prevent girls from becoming athletic are the greatest and most tangible reason for male superiority in certain sports. But I called such sports “pussy sports” and Mom became quite mad. She maintained that women could compete in those sports in which endurance is a great factor, including swimming and long-distance running. Women, she said, have as much, if not more, endurance as men. I pride myself on my open-mindedness. “Time will tell,” was how I ended our discussion.

August 9, 1976

There are two things that drive me the hardest—success and defeat. I compete in many activities. I thrive on competition. Winning is a major goal in my life. Fame—the end result. At 17, I sometimes believe that my life is structured around tests of my ability. During this year, I competed on the tennis team, took part in piano competitions, and competed on “It’s Academic,” a televised quiz bowl team. Last spring, I was asked to enter a statewide forensics competition because the regular contestant got sick. I won the district and regional sections of the boys’ prose readings—the only person in the school to do so.

In addition to these organized competitions, I compete in other ways—in my schoolwork, in pickup basketball games, and at cards. I am continually comparing myself to others to be better than they are. I realize I pick girls to get a better girl than the next fellow.

August 9 August 10—it’s past midnight

I can’t sleep tonight. I’ve been jilted by Becky Snowden. I brought it upon myself, I suspect. My mind is replaying a dozen memories of the past six months, all the way back until that night I spoke to her for the first time. Four of us were playing spades in Ned Snowden’s basement. It was me, Ned, Tom Bensdorf and Daniel Schwartz. Becky came into the room and starting talking to us. Somehow the subject of their family cat came up. Ned called it an ugly cat and Becky defended it. During the conversation, I said “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” and Becky looked at me, smiling. The next day at lunch, Ned told me that Becky liked me and wanted to go out sometime. I had just gone on my second date with Sandy Grant and liked her, but Becky was somehow more appealing to me. (Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.) For the next six months, I was … well, I won’t write anymore about her until later. Instead, I will write a poem. A sucky poem. Tom Bensdorf calls them Rod McKuen poems. Same thing. Anyway, it will keep me amused and keep my mind off my loss. To write these poems, you have to think of something stupid and then expand on that theme. But tonight, I will begin with a serious subject (Becky) but will nevertheless expand on it foolishly, for I don’t really feel like thinking about her.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Yes, that’s what I told her.

Well, her eyes weren’t quite right

And her nose was a sight

Becoming someone much older. (Her nose isn’t that bad, but it rhymes.)

Her hair is of lemon, her cheeks just like peaches,

Her lips – a fine rose. (Chateaubriand ’42)

I’m no connoisseur,

But I think—yes, I’m sure—

That beauty is hers in most ways.

But one facet of beauty eluded this girl,

A facet you find in the head.

Something was lacking

In her words, in her acting,

Something as solid as lead.

Oh, her heart was of gold,

For that I can’t scold,

And her nature as mellow as hay.

But just try discussing Plato or bussing—

Oh brother, better call it a day.

End of poem. Not strictly McKuen. Not strictly garbage.

August 11, Letter to Aunt Annie

I was supposed to write to Aunt Annie while I was in Europe. She was upset that I didn’t, so here is a rough draft.

Dear Aunt Annie,

The Winged Victory and the Mona Lisa were marvelous, as was the entire trip to Europe. My visit to the Louvre, however, was most greatly anticipated. I was not disappointed. I had previously seen the Winged Victory, in photographs, of course, and from many different angles. I almost felt familiar to the work. But I did notice certain aspects of the work that film had failed to capture, such as the wet, salt-sprayed garment as it clings to the woman’s torso. Beautifully realistic. I wish she had a head.

My first impressions of the Mona Lisa, however, were less inspiring. It was a much smaller picture than I had expected, and it seemed dwarfed by the huge Italian frescoes in the same room. But, upon closer examination (this can only be accomplished by pushing through the crowd) one can understand why it is the most famous picture in the world.

I was also greatly impressed by Venus de Milo and a score of lesser-known works by artists such as Reubens, Rembrandt, Delacroix … I could spend weeks there.

But our visit to the Louvre was only a small segment of our journey. We began in Germany, where I met our traveling companions: my friend’s cousin and his friend. After a two-day stay in Mannheim, the four of us crossed...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 11.10.2021
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Biografien / Erfahrungsberichte
• ISBN-10: 1-6678-0865-6 / 1667808656
• ISBN-13: 978-1-6678-0865-9 / 9781667808659