We’re all familiar with the strange mixture of sadness and joy that comes from finishing a really good book. Whether it’s been in your life for years or a matter of hours, a book can feel like an old friend. Sometimes you meet it in small moments—the bus ride home, the minute before bed—or you change your day’s plan to linger a bit longer.
When lockdowns first started, I collected page after page of book recommendations. Most of them are still in the depths of my Notes app, never recovered, but every time one comes up in conversation, I jump up and say: “I’ve been meaning to read that!” Others, I read immediately and spend the next three days convincing anyone who will listen to experience that spark for themselves. I appreciate reading alone, but I’ve never enjoyed a book on its own as much as I’ve loved the conversation afterward.
From book clubs to late night forums, we seem to have twin desires: consumption and generosity. We do not keep secrets well. Haven’t we all eagerly peered over a friend’s shoulder as they read a DM from you or said “this is the good part!” to every second of a movie? We don’t show people art because we want them to see that specific work. We want understanding, details, love that mirrors our own. Ideally, the one receiving the art matches the giver’s energy, noticing the same nuances and coming to the same conclusions about their value. To me, at least, an ambivalent response is the worst-case scenario. Sometimes, though, I have to remind myself that not all enjoyment is verbalized, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve wasted time. Maybe it could have been spent with a different book, even a different audience, something extra to make that connection.
Essentially, what we want and what we get from sharing art is not the same. Often, we go into conversations about art hoping to show someone else the magic we saw. When they agree, their eyes change both the art and our perception of it. We second-guess our initial judgments, reconsider character motivations, and soften our vitriol. Watching alone can make us outsiders to the world we view. Everyone else is coherent—their roles planned in advance, their lives shaped by their environment—while the audience tries desperately to orient themselves in this new universe. Perhaps this makes us defensive, sticking closely to early ideas and attempting to understand everything through personal lenses. When I ask my roommate to watch a movie with me, I’m asking her to make me feel less alone for a few hours. Look deeper into the film, and maybe you’ll see me at the bottom. I have now been submerged into the fictional world—please pull me from the depths and notice what I’ve left behind.
Emily Palmisano
Associate Student Representative, Midwestern Region, 2024-2025
Alpha Delta Tau Chapter
University of Evansville, Evansville, IN
Sigma Tau Delta
Sigma Tau Delta, International English Honor Society, was founded in 1924 at Dakota Wesleyan University. The Society strives to
- Confer distinction for high achievement in English language and literature in undergraduate, graduate, and professional studies;
- Provide, through its local chapters, cultural stimulation on college campuses and promote interest in literature and the English language in surrounding communities;
- Foster all aspects of the discipline of English, including literature, language, and writing;
- Promote exemplary character and good fellowship among its members;
- Exhibit high standards of academic excellence; and
- Serve society by fostering literacy.
With over 900 active chapters located in the United States and abroad, there are more than 1,000 Faculty Advisors, and approximately 9,000 members inducted annually.
Sigma Tau Delta also recognizes the accomplishments of professional writers who have contributed to the fields of language and literature.
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