Heart the Lover opens in a college class of the 1980s. The professor, a man, is teaching 17th-century British literature and he’s selected a student’s essay — a creative piece — to read aloud. But, first, he holds up the essay to remark on “its vulgar packaging” — the fact that it’s typed on “neon-orange” paper.
The embarrassed student-author is a young woman nicknamed “Jordan.” She tells us that Halloween construction paper was all she had available when she was typing the essay on deadline. Here’s how Jordan, decades later, will remember what follows:
“There are two smart guys in the class. They sit up front together … The professor runs things by them so often I assume they’re his grad school TAs. When my essay gets passed back to me, they both turn to watch where it goes.
After that day, the copper-haired one [Sam] begins migrating back. Three classes later, he takes a seat beside me.
Soon he is walking me across campus …
We talk exclusively about the class.
‘He’s not focusing enough on Cromwell,’ [Sam] says, …
I agree. What else can I do? I am a mere student, and he is a scholar. That much is clear right away. … And Sam isn’t even a grad student. He’s a senior, like me.
Later I go to the library and read about who Cromwell was, …
Ugh. Now, young Jordan is no pushover — she’s ambitious, putting herself through college on loans and waitressing jobs and she harbors a barely formed desire to be a writer. But her path will take longer to carve out.
The well-read bright boys, meanwhile, house sit and are invited to dinners by their male professors. They’re the heirs apparent to the kingdom of books and ideas; Jordan’s gifts are wrapped in the wrong packaging, just like her orange construction paper essay.