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Why (as in yaverbaum)
comprehend, much less write a paper about, much less take a test about. If I had the slightest doubt about that, it was removed when there was an unannounced test in class, one that I completely bombed, and one that I believe I might well have bombed even if it had been announced. That failure was, I believe, the first in my academic life. It was extremely pain- ful, and it was all the more painful because I realized that an incredible effort would be necessary just to pass the course, much less to perform respectably. This was not a case of War and Peace, nor was it a case of one or two all-nighters followed by an apparently well-thought-out paper. This was nothing that I had ever confronted before.
Things were generally otherwise uneventful as the semester moved on, except for one newsworthy event and one piece of academic fun. The headline-making highlight of the semester came on October 26, when President Kennedy made news by visiting Amherst to dedicate the Robert Frost Library (just about fifty yards from Morrow Dorm). Having Secret Service men on the roofs of the dorms and all over cam- pus was amazing, and the speech was, of course, extremely exciting and well received. The academic fun was brought about by an assignment in the Senior Seminar: We were required to purchase a book that was sold, literally, “under the counter” in Massachusetts. The book was Fanny Hill, which was banned by the Commonwealth (times, it seems, have changed) but was nevertheless available at Baucom’s Bookstore to the select few, courtesy of the Amherst College Department of English. The assign- ment? What made Fanny Hill pornographic? What is pornographic writing? How did Fanny Hill differ, if at all, from Pamela and Clarissa, which some regard as the first English novels? (They were also written in epistolary form and were also published in 1748.) That was an enjoy- able and welcome relief, but the specter of Chaucer remained.
On November 16, a Saturday, I drove to Williamstown with my friend Nick Hardin (who is now a Professor Emeritus at the University of Vermont Medical School, having specialized in pathology) and his girlfriend (now wife), Sue Duell. I started out with a mild sore throat, which grew worse as the Amherst-Williams game (a loss) moved on and soon seemed almost intolerable, receiving only mild relief when Sue’s
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