And there's nothing that inspires me more than cemeteries.
Let me tell you why: I love dead people. Also, cemeteries are so full of history and mystery and tragedy and melancholy that it sends me off into some sort of reverie. It's completely delightful and decidedly romantic.
I mentioned in class on Friday that the deceased will be part of my audience as I explore my project question. I imagine that I'll spend as much time around cemeteries as I possibly can. You see, the classical essayists of London had resting places in London, and I intend to be familiar with the places they were laid to rest. There's something beautiful in studying the arc of life from birth to death, and I hope as much as I can to trace the lives of the authors that I study by seeing where their they intersected with London. Writing essays is studying lives, not only my own life but the lives of people around me, who have lived before me. Not only is it the study of lives, but it is the study of the world. You may think it odd, then, to hear me think that essays are often about the mundane things of life while I also say that they are the study of lives, the study of the word. I think the question lies in perspective. As Alexander Smith said, "the world is all around us, whispering essays, and the essayist need only be the world's amanuensis" (paraphrase). (Amanuensis: A literary or artistic assistant, in particular one who takes dictation or copies manuscripts.) In other words, the essayist must have the ability to discern and discover meaning from even the smallest things in life. The meaning of the world, in other words, can be found in the most mundane aspects of life. Sounds very Wordsworthian, yes, but asi es.
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