The Scarlet Letter: My Experience Essay -- Literary Analysis, Nathani

As a child of the age of hyper-information, I am usually introduced to concepts in their rawest possible form. Concepts that are streamlined so that they may glide their way elegantly into my understanding like the 2001: A Space Odyssey union of shuttle and station, backed by strains of the lilting Blue Danube [1]. Digesting Nathaniel Hawthorne’s ultra-dense Scarlet Letter, therefore, felt more properly compared to a Surgeon’s retrieval of his Rolex from the open chest cavity of an ill-fated patient, perhaps to a score of pounding, rapid, multi-tiered baroque fugues. Yes, the ideas and connections were there, and they were fascinating and orchestrated beautifully. But I often found my head aching as I labored through the mounds of florid language and dated syntax they were buried so deeply under, and often found myself making estimates as to the number of Word-A-Day calendars Hawthorne must have owned [2]. It’s tragic though, really, because it is not Hawthorne’s fault that his novel has become the bane of so many high school English students’ existence. The times have a-chang’d, and along with them attention spans have decreased, and many systems for information extraction and condensation have been developed to accommodate them. Just as a surgeon presented the option of retrieving his lost wristwatch from either, A) a hinged jewel box, or B), the innards of a living human being would most likely check the box marked â€Å"A† with much gusto and not so much rumination, a student with the option to circumvent the pain of actually reading Hawthorn’s masterpiece, choosing instead to receive the concepts from the novel in the form of easy-to-digest Sparknotes tidbits, would likely do so [3]. The subject matter of the novel has al... ...f needs [12] and my ability to act upon it and endure far lesser consequences. But the oppression is still there. However, the positives remain as well. The prolific nature of the American college system can be attributed in large part to the Puritan’s value of knowledge and education. Reading The Scarlet Letter was a slog. But it never felt frivolous. The themes have become less groundbreaking and weighty but are still pertinent, and the writing style has been greatly dulled by time, but not to the point of being impenetrable. If nothing else, it expanded my mental lexicon, and gave me a new understanding for why someone would ever be compelled to endeavor in so self torturous an activity as running a marathon. I felt, at the novel’s conclusion, a euphoria of relief akin to that described by sweat drenched long distance runners. And I lost 20 pounds to boot.