You Only Read the (Heath) Cliff Notes, So You Don’t Know Me At All
Literary Lies
Oh writer of an essay in which I am wrongfully included, how could you? You barely glanced upon the pages of our story! We sounded old-fashioned to you, and your school hath assigned our tale for a half a century, or more, and so you disregarded us, and used a summary guide. But you missed much about me merely gazing upon your Cliff Notes!
I am layered. I am complex. I am conflicted. I am wholly my own unique Catherine, even though yes, there are two characters with that same given name within the pages of the book you left unread. But you would not know that. Still, you forged ahead and decided to write a five page essay, not including citations, mostly about me. You are certainly cocksure, young scholar.
Cliff Notes cut all my essence entirely. Those notes missed my character development. Yet, you, without remorse, or shame at your ill-preparedness, compared and contrasted me to another character upon whom you also have no grasp as you only perused her Cliff Notes, too.
I saw you googling all the usual suspects: Hedda, Hamlet, Havisham, Huck, Holden, Hester, hoping to find the swiftest way to complete your literary task. There was no artfulness, no contemplation, no analysis of the works. You are a cheat, a fraud.
