Vida la vida by Coldplay
Today - in fact, just a few seconds ago - I rediscovered my love of English Literature. It had been lost all year, somewhat buried beneath my overwhelming fear of failure as Ph.D (please, feel fear to point out the ridiculousness of that), but has been miraculously recovered while perusing the table of contents of my new desk copy of the The Norton Introduction to English Literature. So that's it, then.
However, I do want to stand by my claim that for a book about a whore, Moll Flanders could not have been more dull.