by Evander Lomke on
This blog has little directly to do with mental health, and everything to do with pedagogy and its impact on later life. It is composed in memoriam.
Being on the English system, the lectures ran from early fall to late spring the following year. I well remember the solemnity of the large, packed room. Two older (and slightly pretentious) fellow-grad students typically sat in front of me. Occasionally they would nod to one another or raise an eyebrow.
I knew that I was nowhere up to the level of the lecturer. But I learned his lessons, and more about the construction of literature, as a portal of human nature, than I did from any number of classes.
Northrop Frye taught from a singular vision. He taught from his soul.
Thank you, Professor, for your time.