Years and years ago (ohmigosh, it was almost 15 years ago and I'm so old and I can't believe it!), I walked into one of my first classes at Montclair State University. It was some sort of freshman year English Lit class, and almost as soon as class began, I noticed a girl sitting near me.
Her name was Rhea, and when the teacher asked who in the class liked poetry, she was one of the first to raise her hand. I quickly wrote her off as someone with whom I'd clearly have nothing in common (then, as now, I did not enjoy poetry, which is slightly embarrassing for a writer to admit).
But, as the days and weeks passed, we became good friends, and have remained such despite our differing stances on poetry. She's awesome, and as we took many, many classes together through college, our opinions on literature provided us with some feisty debates. (Incidentally, our rhyming names also confused lots of professors, especially when we sat near each other.)
Nowadays Rhea writes book reviews for Time Out New York, and I write them here, and for the first time we've reviewed the same book within a week of each other. Turns out we still have lots of different opinions. If you'd care to take a look at two divergent reviews of the same book, please check them out.
Rhea's lives here.
Mine lives here.
As a writer, it's a GREAT reminder to me. We're two people, two friends, similar is so many ways, but yet the same exact words can cause completely different reactions in both of us. Amazing to think what would happen if thousands of people get their hands on my book! The opinions I'd hear! Crazy!