Abstract
As A COLLEGE FRESHMAN I spent a good deal of effort attempting to stir my composition instructor. I filled my writing with statements designed to make him angry, diction designed to make him laugh, conclusions designed to make him wonder. It seemed to me that he was the most bored man I knew, and that the classroom hours we spent together bored me only slightly more than they bored him. My first year was almost over when I discovered that my composition instructor was, in fact, a practicing, published novelist. Still, that realization seemed to make little difference. Com-
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