Disagreements have always been a discomfort area for me. Speaking up in class and prefacing my speech with, "Actually, I disagree with so-and-so," was never a moment of joy. I did it for the participation grade.
My first assignment for my summer/fall internship was to read a manuscript which is set to go to the printer so that I can promote it. The owner of the publishing house I'm working for (I'll call her Lady and the house LittleHouse) loved this book and thought it was well-written. I finished the book still waiting for it to get good. It was everything I don't admire about literature. It went nowhere in terms of plot, it was corny and at times too emotional. It had spelling, grammatical and translation issues. It failed to grab my interest at any point. The worst part, I suppose, was that it was told from the point-of-view of an anthropomorphized animal who was unable to communicate with humans. So the entire novel was a long stream-of-consciousness narrative from an animal and it was about the typical life of this animal.
Lady has asked for my opinion on the novel. Of course. While I'd love to sing its praises and have something in common with Lady, from whom I believe I can learn, something is screaming at me, "Don't lie!"
And so I suppose I'll have to tell the truth--that the novel wasn't what I would typically pick up for enjoyment, but that it was cute and original. And "C'est la vie" was spelled incorrectly. How ironic.
Lesson #1 of LittleHouse Internship: How to respectfully disagree.
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