(He also had us read "The Hobbit" and "Watership Down" for class, which was a nice change from the usual selection of high school English novels.)

We did Watership Down in ninth grade. I was always pages and pages ahead of whatever we were assigned. And one day, I decided to memorize the names of all the rabbits, and it turned out to be the bonus question on the quiz.

We spent five weeks on Richard III in my Shakespeare on Film class. We watched both the Olivier and McKellen movies. I love that play.

Quizzes were Mr. B's forte. Every week, ten questions on something. I had him for both Junior and Senior English. Once I figured out that most of his questions on various books were taken from the footnotes, I stopped reading the books. Never did finish Moby Dick, but I got an A+ on the test. His tests were a trivia mavin's wet dream. Most of the thematic issues were dealt with in class, and if you disagreed with him and could back your statements up with at least an attempt at intelligence, you could count on getting a better grade.

We did Watership Down in ninth grade. I was always pages and pages ahead of whatever we were assigned. And one day, I decided to memorize the names of all the rabbits, and it turned out to be the bonus question on the quiz.

That's... a lot of rabbits.

We never did that as an assigned book, but I had a teacher... fifth grade, I think? Anyway, she suggested it to me, so I took it home and read it. Came back the next day halfway through.

TEACHER: Wow, you got that far? ME: I finished it. I'm just re-reading the good parts.

To her credit, she went back to my teacher from the previous year to ask whether this was likely to be true.

Like I said, it would infuriate me less (edit, Richard III, not Watership Down) - as the gossipy, cheap, backstairs level of Clintonesque backstabbing it is - if it didn't contain some of his most potent language. And I hated the film versions, as well, because the historian in me can't stomach the carricature.

I'll stick with the Scots play, thanks. And Lear. And The Tempest. And Othello. And Henry V. And Romeo and Juliet (yeah, shmoopy, tough). And that gorgeous little thing he wrote about the Danish prince, even though it could have used an editor. And...

That's... a lot of rabbits.

I think there were only, what, seventeen?

Here's a can of worms, Deb, re: Hamlet movies--Branagh or Olivier? To get the ball rolling, I prefer Branagh's, despite his usual excesses in places.

I think there were only, what, seventeen?

Yeah, okay, you knew the reaction that was going to get.

Hazel, Fiver, Acorn, Speedwell, Dandelion, Blackberry, Hawkbit, Bigwig, Pipkin, Buckthorn... that's all I've got for the group from the very beginning.

ETA: Oh, and Silver.

I think there were only, what, seventeen?

Oh, hell. This is going to drive me bonkers.

Now I have to reread WD, damnit.

Nic just gave me an early birthday present: Border Crossing, by Rosie Thomas. She's a romance novelist, I think, but this is nonfiction; it's her chronicle of the 1996 Beijing to Paris road rally, using all vintage cars. We've been watching the multi-part documentary about it, and I'm fascinated.

Strawberry! There's a Strawberry too, isn't there?

No, I don't still remember all of them, dammit. Hell, I don't even remember as many as Katie does. Do love the book, though.

Is Hazel the big fighter? The one who, even though he's battered all to hell and gone, gets up and says, "My Head Rabbit told me to hold this position," and freaks out the enemy rabbits, who can't conceive of a rabbit tough enough to give this one orders?