Louise. That was what her students called her. Not Professor Glück, and not even simply Professor.
She came to campus for two days each week, to teach her classes during the fall semesters. I have a sense, now, of what kind of stamina this requires, but at the time, the fact that she lived several hours away made her mysterious. She traveled with minimal luggage—a small overnight bag. One outfit, she once told me. It almost always included a bracelet of skull beads, carved and strung on a thread. I don’t reveal these details in the interest of fashion, but more to say how exacting she was about taste, how she held everything about herself to a predetermined standard, with a decisiveness that approached the oracular. I don’t think she ever missed a class. Tuesday would arrive and she’d appear, in her office at the top of the stairs.
Read Full Article »