I almost wish I could still treat [Rudyard Kipling's Kim] as a story and nothing but, not have to bring a critical eye on the happy servants of empire and benevolent father-British, but you can't do that, can you? Sometimes, you've just got to make it uncomfortable for yourself. That way understanding lies.
I hear you, blood. I've been doing the whole reading-between-the-lines bit for the last ten years or so, and the umpteenth round of Hunt The Political Sub/Con/Text is starting to lose its savor.
This is not to suggest that readings that emphasize the sociopolitical contexts of a work are not valid, perish the thought. I'm just saying I need a break from it for a bit. ...which, since I'm concentrating on history courses mostly these days, isn't too much of a problem.
Anyway. Point? What point? I'm going to bed and hoping the people who live upstairs don't play massive amounts of bass-heavy rap at loud volume on their stereo at 6:30 in the goddamn morning. Like they did today.