Class A by Lucas Mann
Lucas The Mann
I am not a fan of baseball. I don’t consider it a sport. This is most likely due to the idea being drilled into my head by my middle school lacrosse coach. He had a bumper sticker that had a little cartoon boy next to a lacrosse goal, whizzing on a baseball, but I digress. Walking into the room, I had the preconceived notion that it would be boring. Because baseball is a boring sport. They don’t even move half the time. I decided to keep an open mind anyway, because I needed material to write an essay for my English class and because I was at a new school, starting a new chapter in my life. The man sitting in the chair, the “on deck” position, looked like a cool guy. He was sporting a beard, a cardigan, and desert boots. All three I approve of. He was introduced by one of his former professors, and he stepped up to the podium. Before Lucas Mann started reading, he started off by telling the room which passages he was reading. It was a part in the beginning of his book, AND THE LAST PAGES. Talk about a spoiler. Then he said “It doesn’t really have a good narrative so it doesn’t matter”. This was amusing to me, and the rest of the room chuckled at his self-deprecating joke. Lucas started reading, and he had good material. It seemed like a book that I could pick up, read, and enjoy, much unlike the Jennifer Egan summer reading book. His writing wasn’t forced, it was as if he was letting us take a peak at his psyche, his way of being around Joyce, baseball, and weed. He was really comfortable talking about drugs, probably due to the fact that he was at his college. When he first mentioned mushrooms, I noticed a girl towards the front of the room in a Vassar Athletics jacket shift in her seat and look at her feet. She did it again near the end of his lecture when he read about his stoned car ride with Joyce. The second time she looked at her feet for a longer time. Maybe she was ashamed of being in the same category as this author; maybe she
I am not a fan of baseball. I don’t consider it a sport. This is most likely due to the idea being drilled into my head by my middle school lacrosse coach. He had a bumper sticker that had a little cartoon boy next to a lacrosse goal, whizzing on a baseball, but I digress. Walking into the room, I had the preconceived notion that it would be boring. Because baseball is a boring sport. They don’t even move half the time. I decided to keep an open mind anyway, because I needed material to write an essay for my English class and because I was at a new school, starting a new chapter in my life. The man sitting in the chair, the “on deck” position, looked like a cool guy. He was sporting a beard, a cardigan, and desert boots. All three I approve of. He was introduced by one of his former professors, and he stepped up to the podium. Before Lucas Mann started reading, he started off by telling the room which passages he was reading. It was a part in the beginning of his book, AND THE LAST PAGES. Talk about a spoiler. Then he said “It doesn’t really have a good narrative so it doesn’t matter”. This was amusing to me, and the rest of the room chuckled at his self-deprecating joke. Lucas started reading, and he had good material. It seemed like a book that I could pick up, read, and enjoy, much unlike the Jennifer Egan summer reading book. His writing wasn’t forced, it was as if he was letting us take a peak at his psyche, his way of being around Joyce, baseball, and weed. He was really comfortable talking about drugs, probably due to the fact that he was at his college. When he first mentioned mushrooms, I noticed a girl towards the front of the room in a Vassar Athletics jacket shift in her seat and look at her feet. She did it again near the end of his lecture when he read about his stoned car ride with Joyce. The second time she looked at her feet for a longer time. Maybe she was ashamed of being in the same category as this author; maybe she