![]() ![]() I’ve previously referred to her as a Victorian Ramona Quimby, but that’s insufficient because we never encounter Ramona as an adult. I could fill a library with the texts that offer me these varieties of sustenance, but below are ten titles that always call me back.ĭorothea Brooke is George Eliot’s most famous heroine, and I love her-but few literary characters are as dear to me as Maggie Tulliver, the spirited protagonist of Eliot’s 1860 novel The Mill on the Floss. In the latter case, I recalibrate by summoning empathy from my own reservoir, rather than demanding it from some external source. Perhaps I am specifically seeking solidarity or empathy in my too muchness, or need to bear witness to a narrator or character’s own glut of feeling. I run to books when I am overwhelmed and need to pace my thoughts and breath with the steady absorption of another person’s words. Reading is a safe harbor, and it is also my pressure valve. Despite my best efforts, I am not chill, and will never be chill-I possess only meager crumbs of that coveted asset. And while I would not choose to be otherwise, I also cannot pretend that it is easy or comfortable to be inclined towards these sorts of keen and unwieldy responses to everyday circumstances. I feel too much I am, it seems, too much. ![]() For me, living in the world means to throb at saturation point, brimful of restless, inchoate emotion. Since I was a little girl, I’ve often felt as if I were spilling everywhere. ![]()
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