Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
One woman in our class immediately raises her hand.
“I knew what was going to happen when her husband pulled that ribbon off,” she says in a know-it-all tone. “I knew her head was going to come rolling off like it had been dismembered.”
Roland manages not to frown. Instead, he nods judiciously, even though our classmate has just given the story away.
“Thanks, Tricia,” he says. “And what clued you in to that conclusion?”
Tricia smirks and bats her lashes at him.
“Oh you know. Womanly intuition,” she says coyly. “Don’t you agree, Professor Moore? I’m happy to teach you about womanly intuition if you like.”
I stare at the back of Tricia’s head. Oh my goodness, is Tricia actually trying to flirt with Professor Moore right now? In front of all of us? It seems impossible, but with the way her lashes are flickering up and down furiously, I know it’s true.
Roland merely nods.
“Thanks, Tricia, but I’m good. Okay, how about someone else?” he asks. “How did you know what the green ribbon would represent? Is it a literal beheading, or is the author trying to say something figuratively?”
This time, Elisa raises her hand.
“Professor Moore, I think it was literal,” she says. “I mean, the protagonist describes her head bouncing down to hit the floor, and then seeing the ceiling and walls as the dismembered head rolls around.”
I try not to cringe because to be honest, horror is not my genre of choice. I never watch scary movies, and I was terrified when reading Frankenstein for the first time. There’s just something about the genre that turns me off, and I’m not sure what it is. It could be the blood, guts, and gore. Or it could be the fact that often, horror novels have a grim look on life, as if they’re painting a dystopian nightmare. I prefer lighthearted and uplifting novels, thank you very much, although Her Body was mesmerizing despite the gore.
“Good point,” growls Professor Moore. “I agree. The fact that the author visually describes what the head sees as it rolls along the floor makes for an interesting viewpoint, and supports the theory that the beheading was literal, and not just a figure of speech. How about you, Aria? What did you like about the book?”
The air in my lungs seizes, and I feel my face go hot. Oh my gosh, Professor Moore knows my name? I’ve never raised my hand in class although we’re midway through the semester now. I didn’t even know that he saw me during most lectures, although of course he can see me. This class isn’t huge, so he probably recognizes everyone by now. Besides, he’s not blind. If I can see him, then he can see me.
“Um,” I stammer. “I liked it. It was good.”
Professor Moore’s brow arches.
“That’s it?” he asks. “How did you feel about The Green Ribbon?”
I flush even hotter and look down at my hands.
“Um, the author had interesting technique,” I say dumbly. Oh my god, why do I keep repeating myself like some idiot drone? I read that first story and loved it! Why can’t I say something intelligent and witty, instead of coming off like a numbskull?
“Anything you liked about it in particular?” Professor Moore growls again, his blue eyes so dark that they’re almost navy.
I swallow hard.
“Um, I liked that she was on her hands and knees a lot,” I say before I hear my own words. “It seems like she liked it when she got it.”
The classroom is completely silent, and I shrink into the hard wooden chair, wishing that I could melt into the floor. Why the hell did I just say that? My sentiment is real – the woman in the story is promiscuous and constantly lets the male protagonist take her this way and that. The book is called Her Body for that reason, among others. Yet it feels so taboo to talk about this in the light of day, and in a dry classroom setting no less. Everyone must think I’m some kind of horny nitwit, blabbering about sexual subjects without any kind of introductory disclaimer.
But then, Professor Moore’s deep voice interrupts my thoughts.
“That’s a great point, and I’d love to discuss it more. Ms. Nelson, please see me during office hours,” he rumbles, his expression neutral. “Thursdays at 2 p.m. in my office. Now, did anyone get a different reading from the story? There are many dimensions to Machado’s work, and we’re here to discuss which points the author wanted to highlight, as well as any she wanted to bury.”
I sink even deeper in my chair as my cheeks flame. Oh god, I’ve been dismissed. Even worse, I’ve been summoned to office hours, probably to explain my extraordinary comments in person to this handsome man. What will I say? What will I do?