Let’s Talk About Academia

Claire
Let me start by saying that I am really enjoying this book (Slow Waltz in Cedar Bend, by Robert James Waller). The creativity and style of the writing, the tone, the voice, the flow of the story: it’s all fantastic. But let’s save that for a later post. First, I want to talk about this one passage that really stood out to me, probably because it reminds me of the kind of opinions I’ve heard Dad express about academia and intellectual pursuit in the modern university setting.

About Michael Tillman, the novel’s main character:

He’d begun graduate study with soaring thoughts of becoming a scholar and a teacher, indeed the highest calling as far as he could tell. In his early twenties he’d imagined bright students he would lead through the intricacies of advanced economic theory, maybe a Nobel Prize out there if the scholarship was diligent. But in some way he’d never been able to define, graduate school and his early years as a professor had taken the dreams away from him. Something to do with the emphasis on method, with plodding data collection and analysis. Something to do with social scientists trying to operate like physicists, as if the roiling complexities of social reality could be handled in the same way as the study of nature. And something to do with students who cared only for job preparation, who demanded what they called “relevance” and had no real interest in the abstractions he found so lovely, so much like a clear, cold mountain stream running through his brain. “Good theory is the most practical thing you can study,” he told them. They didn’t believe him.

I know this won’t be a discussion of the book specifically, but I think this is an interesting topic, so let’s have at it.

Liz

First off, this reminds me of Dad.

I’m not all that sure how I feel about this topic. I can respect the philosophical and theoretical elements that exist within every subject, and I find them valid and important.  I also think though that for most people, the more practical, applied, relevant end of academics is most important. I think scholars are necessary, but I think a real scholar is rare. Most people enter into higher education not in the pursuit of knowledge, but in pursuit of a job, and a purpose in life. And I think that’s ok.  The growing trend towards studying what is relevant, what you need to know to fill a position in the workforce, is a reflection of the growing requirement for bachelors degrees to get a job outside of the service industry. Undergraduate school is the new high school, a mix of learning social skills like being on your own for the first time, and completing requirements to get you through to the next stage: a job. Master’s degrees ensure a higher level of professionalism. Phds are for scholars.

I find this trend to be an upsetting one. In America especially where university degrees come with such enormous price tags, I think there should be options out there for a good life without a 4-year degree. Trainingships and high-level vocational schools that teach people how to be precision mechanics, not just nurses aids, should be involved in an educational system.  Not everyone is meant to go to university and the more people who are there just to end up with a job, the less possible it is to interest students in the intricacies of theory.

Claire
I too feel fairly conflicted about this.

In one sense, a college education is an investment. It’s becoming prohibitively expensive to get a college degree, and I think in many ways, it makes good, logical sense to expect a decent return on that investment. In what other aspect of life would people be willing to spend tens of thousands of dollars a year, without expecting to make most of that money back within a reasonable time frame? Going to college is essentially the academic equivalent of starting a business. You’re going to sink a bunch of money into it at first, but with the hope and intent of eventually making a profit. There’s a reasonable case to be made that if you are going to pay a ton of money to learn something, then you ought to be able to apply that knowledge in a way that helps you recoup that expense. I think a lot of people go into college with one idea of what they want to do, but come out of college with a completely different set of interests and career aspirations, and in many ways, that can make the experience feel like a waste of time and money.

But ultimately that opinion is really upsetting to me. In part because it ignores the inherent value in simply learning new things, and being introduced to new ideas and opinions. There are valuable skills that are learned, and more importantly developed, through the experience of doing academic research, thinking critically and analytically about a variety of topics, writing and creatively expressing your thoughts and opinions. I think people too rarely recognize that the development of those skills is more important in determining job aptitude and ability for advancement than simply being told “this is what you’ll need to know to do the following jobs…”

And I think it’s created a culture where anything that does not fall under the narrow categories of “down time” or “money making” is considered a waste. As someone who spends a lot of time writing, I often get the sense that other people think I’m wasting my time, and that I could be doing something more valuable. It doesn’t matter that I find writing to be stimulating, and that I try to pursue it in a purposeful way that will help me hone and improve my technique. If I’m not making money off of it, why bother? I feel that way too sometimes, but it’s an incredibly frustrating and narrow-minded sentiment. I think it’s made worse by those rare circumstances where someone has managed to make lots of money off of something that originally seemed like a big waste of time (think @shitmydadsays being turned from Twitter feed into a book, into a tv show. It sure would be nice to be that guy, no?) It makes it feel like everything you do–even silly little things that are meant to be for your enjoyment–should be guided by the underlying question of, can I eventually make money from this?

And the problem with that idea, as it relates to formal education, is that so much of what you learn is not something that will directly earn you money. But it doesn’t mean it’s not worth learning.

 

 

Songs In Ordinary Time is the Spiderman 3 of Books

When DT and I first got Netflix, one of the first movies we put in our queue was Spiderman 3. It was my belief that this would be the perfect Netflix movie, the very epitome of why Netflix exists and totally rocks: to watch movies that you would never deign to spend actual money on, but that you have at least a mild interest in seeing. Thus, Spiderman 3. We both liked the first two well enough and figured that 3 would be equally entertaining in a not especially good, but mindlessly enjoyable kind of way. Wrong. This movie sucked so much ass that it’s not even funny. Somehow the special effects had gotten worse since the first two movies. Toby Maguire (I’m not sure if that’s even how you spell his name, but I refuse to waste time looking it up because I’ll be damned if I’m going to do him any additional service, that’s how bad this movie was) managed to be even more irritating than before, which is almost impossible to believe since he already has such an obnoxiously smarmy, stupid face that is just begging to be punched. The villains were a disaster. The pacing was terribly slow. We kept waiting and waiting for something cool or exciting or even just borderline interesting to happen, but it never came. At one point I glanced at the DVD player and exclaimed “We’re already a full hour into this movie? Nothing has happened!” and that put an end to it. We turned the movie off and never looked back. I have no doubt at all that my life is better for not having seen that entire movie. I am a better person for turing it off half way through. The world is a better place because of it. Of this, I am sure.

Songs In Ordinary Time is the Spiderman 3 of books. There is nothing here that I have enjoyed. I cannot get into it. I keep on reading, keep hanging on, keep struggling through, but after 150 pages that felt like absolute torture, I’m turning this one off before the end. I think we’ll all be better for it. I have convinced Liz that we should abandon this book and move on to the next one. Part of me feels terrible for doing this. How can I give up on a book? What if the ending is amazing and makes it all worth it? Sometimes it takes a little while to really get into a book. Hell, the first time I read Atonement, I abandoned it after 50 pages. When I came back to it at a later date and started over from the beginning, it ended up becoming one of my favorite books ever. Shouldn’t I give Songs In Ordinary Time a real chance to convince me of its merits? No. Life is too damn short and I am too damn busy to be wasting my time on books that make me want to rip my eyeballs out of my head. We are moving on.

The next book we’ll be reading is Slow Waltz in Cedar Bend, by Robert James Waller.

April Wheeler

Claire

One of the things that is so great about this book is that all of the characters are quite complex and interesting and I think it’s worth it to discuss at least the central characters in more depth. Let’s start with April Wheeler, who is my favorite character in the book.

I think April is absolutely fascinating. She is both incredibly irritating and off-putting, but also one of the most sympathetic characters I’ve ever read, though a bit unintentionally, I think. She is extremely frustrating; she’s petulant and childish and overly dramatic in her reactions to life’s frustrations and disappointments. She comes off like a spoiled brat; like an ungrateful little housewife who loves nothing more than grand overreactions and holding grudges. She’s obnoxious.

But what’s fascinating about April is that it’s her obnoxious attitude that makes her such a sympathetic character. Here we have a woman who is beautiful and smart, who undoubtedly dreamed that she’d one day lead a grand, exciting life, one of purpose and intellect and creativity. Instead, she ends up stuck in the daily routine of a suburban housewife. She winds up unwillingly pregnant and from there, her fate as a mother and housewife is pretty much sealed and any dream of something more glamorous and more personally fulfilling is gone. She’s childish and petulant because she is bored. I think she comes up with the grand plan to move to Europe, where she’ll work and her husband will spend his life in pursuit of thought and creative enlightenment, not because she wants Frank to have a chance to be the man he wishes to be, no longer held down by a lifeless, empty job, but because she’s impossibly bored. Her Europe plan does much more for her life than it does for his. She can work. She can be the breadwinner in the house. No longer will she just be stuck at home, caring for children that she never really wanted in the first place and living a life that she was basically forced into.

I remember back when I presented that film I made about depression, there was another speaker at the conference who did a presentation about Valium. He talked about how when Valium was first released for public use in the sixties, it became essentially known as a housewife drug. All of these women were diagnosed with anxiety and treated with Valium, but, as he explained it, the diagnoses largely came about because of complaints from husbands about their wives being crazy and anxious and disobedient, I suppose. In reality, most of these women were just frustrated and bored. They were unsatisfied with their lives and felt disconnected from the roles of wife and mother and, in a way, they were punished for it. This is what I think of when I read about April Wheeler. This is a woman who didn’t want to be a mother, who probably didn’t even want to be a wife. She gets stuck in a dull, disappointing life and every attempt to do something more with it–joining the Laurel Players as the star of the community theater production, coming up with a plan to move her family to Paris–ultimately fails. She can’t break free of an existence that she loathes. So even though she’s wretched and whiny and immensely irritating, I can’t help but feel this overwhelming sympathy for her. I can’t help but think “what would this woman be like if she had remained April Johnson? Who would she be if she wasn’t stuck being April Wheeler?”

Liz

I feel the same way about this character.  Before I started reading this book I discussed it a little with mom. She said she didn’t remember much, but was sure that she found the female character loathsome. I was surprised when I started reading it to find that I sympathized with her.

April Wheeler is the personification of the depressed housewife. As you said, she’s bored, and there’s nothing worse in the world than being stuck in a perpetual cycle of boredom. Even when small tasks and hobbys are developed to add a little fun to the endless days, interest always fades and boredom sets in.  So you have to find a new one, and then one after that.

I have been thinking about housewives a lot lately.  I’m not sure if it’s just the family I’m living with and the those of the people I’ve met, or if it really is a German way of life to have most women in the position of Hausfrau, but I sure do run into a lot of them.  I find that these women are heavily relied on in their households. Take the family I’m living with: Nobody knows how to use a washing machine.  It doesn’t occur to them to put their dishes in the dishwasher.  Not only can they not cook, but they can’t even make themselves a sandwich without “mama” setting out the ingredients. Of course they love her, but no matter how hard she works they can’t help but disrespect her on a daily basis.  If she wants to add her opinion “she doesn’t know what she’s talking about” because she’s never worked “an actual job.” The food is never good enough and the laundry always takes too long to come back.  She talks on the phone too much and asks too many questions when you come home from school. I can’t imagine a less fulfilling life than taking care of a bunch of people that don’t notice what you do for them, of cleaning the bathroom every Tuesday and Saturday, and shopping for a household of people at 4 different stores every other day.  It seems like the most exhausting and least noticed work ever. How could you not grasp at every attempt to escape the monotony? And how could you not be dissapointed to the point of pouting like a baby when everything falls through?

Maybe this representation is too bleak. But looking at it certainly makes me understand the disdain April Wheeler has for her husband and even the haughty attitude she keeps up to set herself apart from the other women living mindlessly in the same position.

What’s Up With Everyone Getting Hurt in Dogland?

Claire


So before we actually get into really discussing this new book (which I’m enjoying quite a bit, by the way), can we talk about why everyone keeps getting hurt?

Within the first four chapters, Digger is bitten by the detached head of a rattlesnake, Little Bit falls out the window of a car, the dad is attacked by a doberman and then Digger falls and busts open his forehead. It feels like a bit much to me and I’m trying to understand the reasoning behind it from a storytelling perspective. Is it just that because Chris (the narrator) is a child, these traumatic family events seem more significant than other stories in his life, so he’s more likely to share them? Are we being set up for one of these characters to die? Are these rapid-fire injuries meant to serve as portents? Or are we just supposed to read about one accident after another and think, “geez, moving to Florida and getting Dogland set up sure was a stressful experience for this family”? Or are these accidents something that we’re meant to add to the list of things that might lead to the divorce of the mother and father? I mention this last possibility because it sure seems like the author is pushing the issue of Artie Drake being all hot and bothered about Chris’ mom.

So what’s your thought on this? After Digger’s second accident did you find yourself rolling your eyes and thinking they should just lock that kid in a padded room and be done with it? Enough with the family emergencies already, no?

Liz

I also find the constant accidents a little annoying.  I think you’re right about the reasons on both counts. I think certain things are elevated in the story because the story is told through a 5 year-old’s (ok 4 and 3/4 year old’s) eyes. His siblings’ injuries are not just about a different lifestyle for the family and the difficulty coping with those changes, but also about Chris being left out. He wants the attention that a serious injury brings, so both the severeness of the accidents and the fact that he is pushed aside probably contributes to their importance. But then again he did almost get carried away by a river…

I also think there is some upcoming marital strife and the accidents will relate to that when it comes about. Not only does  Artie Drake have the hots for the mom, but it seems Mrs. DeLyon is being a little too obvious about her hots for the dad. So we shall see.

Little Women Wrap Up

Liz has been out of town for the past week, maxing and relaxing on a beautiful beach in Turkey. I would be totally jealous of her amazing vacation, followed by her trip to Oktoberfest, but whatever, I’m going back to Ann Arbor in a couple of weeks for a football game, so I think we all know that Liz is the one who should be jealous. Suck it, Liz.

Anyway, now that she’s back, we’re wrapping up our discussion of Little Women and will be moving on to talking about our next book, Dogland, by Will Shetterly.

So before we say goodbye to Little Women for good, let’s talk about what we liked and what we hated about this book…

Liz

I am jealous of you going to Ann Arbor. I would enjoy a visit. But yea my life kind of rocks…so you can suck it!

To be honest, I have to say that I was disappointed by this classic. Yea, I said it. It’s too preachy. Too long. And huge portions are just boring.  At the end did I really need a whole chapter about Meg’s twins? No. I didn’t.

Overall I did enjoy reading this book though. It was fun to read a classic style and to see how life was in a different era through 4 lives. It also gave me an opportunity to receive some history lessons from my very intelligent older sister. I’m always happy to have read a classic, but for this one, just as for others (I’m looking at you Frankenstein) I am happy to be done and moving on.

Claire

Hmm, I actually kind of liked Frankenstein, but that could be because I had to read it the same summer that I read Go Tell It On The Mountain, which was by far the least enjoyable book I have ever read. Seriously, if someone said, “you either have to stand here for two hours holding a pile of dog poop in your hands, or you have to read Go Tell It On The Mountain,” well I’d just punch that asshole in the face and run away, but I think you get my point: I’m never reading Go Tell It On The Mountain ever again.

As for Little Women, I actually remember enjoying this book much more the first time I read it. I didn’t love it this second time around. Perhaps when I was younger, the story’s focus on growing up and navigating the transition from child to adulthood just resonated with me more. Now, it just felt kind of silly and overly long and much too fixated on really mundane details of the sisters’ lives.

I do appreciate, however, that this is ultimately a novel for and about women. While men do factor into much of the story, it really manages to remain largely focused on the lives and feelings of these four women and the bond they share as sisters. I think that’s pretty rare and special in literature and is what probably made me like the book so much the first time I read it.

Also, reading this book really made me want to watch the movie again. I think I might do that sometime soon, like, you know, as soon as I’m done drinking and having a blast at Oktoberfest. Oh no wait, you’re the one going to Oktoberfest. I’m the one drinking alone in my tv room catching up on Tivoed sitcoms. Sad face. Drink an extra torso-sized stein for me!

Is Jo A Good Role Model?

Do you think that Alcott wants readers to view Jo as a role model and if so, has she succeeded in doing so? Is Jo a good role model for young women of Alcott’s time? What about for young women today?

Liz

I think Jo represents an alternative lifestyle more than a role model.  If she is meant to be a role model, I don’t think Jo is a good one.  I imagine by the end of the book that Jo comes into her own, grows up, learns to control her temper, and becomes an amazing woman.  But at the point in the story that I am currently at, I certainly don’t see her as a role model.  Take Chapters 29 and 30: These chapters infuriated me because they are all about little-miss-perfect Amy and what a successful young woman she is becoming. Though these chapters fail to make me appreciate Amy (I just don’t like her and I’m not sure why) they do succeed in making Jo look immature and petty and illustrate the consequences of that behavior.  In Chapter 29 Jo speaks her mind a little too readily and far too curtly and loses her chance to go abroad with her aunt, who favors Amy’s manners over Jo’s negativity and pride.  I would actually argue that Jo’s character (at least at this point) acts as a cautionary tale about what can happen if you’re too self-absorbed and set in your ways.

Though I still find this book far too preachy I do think Jo’s character and the lessons Marmee has tried to teach her about temper has made me more thoughtful about my own.  I have always had a bad temper, but especially now, when I am often stressed and agitated from language barriers and loneliness, I have spoken my feelings too quickly without considering that they may hurt the person I love the most.  I have tried to focus on this flaw and be mindful of controlling my emotions.  I still have a long way to go, but it’s a lesson I am glad to have picked up during my reading.  I still don’t give a damn about my neighbor though.

Claire

I’m sort of conflicted as to whether or not we’re meant to see Jo as a role model. I think Alcott very likely put a lot of herself into that character. I imagine that she must have felt fairly frustrated with the conventions of her time and the discrepancy between the kind of life she was expected to lead and that which she wished to create for herself. I think that’s what we largely see in Jo: an anger toward social conventions and angst about finding her own place in a world that doesn’t really have a space for her. In that way, I think we’re meant to sympathize with Jo and see her frustrations as kind of reflecting common feelings of growing up, having our voices heard and making a name for ourselves. I think that was a struggle that Alcott felt and that many young women have experienced over time. Again, I don’t know that that inherently makes Jo a role model, but I think she’s meant to represent a strength of character and resolve that Alcott sees as worthy of emulating.

I think the March sisters as a collective unit are meant to serve as a role model. They each possess certain admirable traits that, when combined, represent an intelligent, honorable, kind and passionate young woman.

Lastly:
“I have spoken my feelings too quickly without considering that they may hurt the person I love the most”

Aw, you don’t hurt me all that often Lizzy

Amy Is Such A Samantha

Claire

I like to think that when this book was published way back in 1868, groups of four girlfriends sat around arguing over which one of them was “the Jo” of the group, like people did with the four characters from Sex and the City, or like we used to do with the characters from Now and Then. Now and Then was tricky, though, because when they were little, Roberta (mostly by virtue of being portrayed by Christina Ricci) was obviously the girl you most wanted to be like (she’s clearly the most awesome and she’s the only one who gets to kiss a boy!), but then when she grew up, she ended up being Rosie O’Donnell, and let’s be honest, no one wants to be Rosie O’Donnell.

Hands down, I’d want to be the Jo of my group. I think anyone with any sense would want to be Jo. She rocks. I kind of feel like I’d be unwillingly pegged as the Meg, though, which is a total bummer. No way would anyone ever think of me as Amy. Being the Beth of the group would pretty much suck, what with the early death and all.

Your thoughts on this absolutely inane topic?

Liz

I always did think that was total crap that Roberta ended up as Rosie O’Donnell. Thumbs down to that casting.

I think Amy’s a total Charlotte though… and yea, you’re a Meg. I’m a Jo.

Claire

Bullshit. You’re an Amy. 1. You’re the youngest. 2. You’re into art and painting and all that. 3. Remember how when you were little you would sit around writing the word boys on a piece of paper?* That’s totally something Amy would do.

(*Liz never actually did this, but it was one of our dad’s running jokes throughout most of our childhood.)

Let’s Get This Party Started

To kick off our international book club, we have decided to read Louisa May Alcott’s, Little Women. Really, what better way for two sisters to begin a book club than with a book that’s all about sisters?

Our plan is to read the book a few chapters at a time and periodically post questions and topics for discussion and each offer our thoughts. So, without further ado…

Let’s just cut to the chase and say that it will be unavoidable for either of us to make it through this book without comparing it to the (1994) movie, so why not face that comparison head on. In the first chapter, Alcott describes each of the sisters (both physical characteristics and general temperament) as they sit around the hearth chatting. How well do you think the characters from the movie match the descriptions provided in the book?

Liz

I’ll take them in the order they’re listed:

1. Meg- No way film Meg could be 16 as she is in the book.  I understand 1868 is another time, but I stand by that critique.  I prefer film Meg who is practical and responsible considerably over book Meg, who seems vain and fickle. I do like, however, that we are able to interpret some of that behavior through our understanding that she experienced life in the family while they were very wealthy and could afford all of the things the girls fret over.  The film doesn’t really reveal that the family has fallen from wealth…or maybe it does and that just never stuck in my mind.

2. Jo- Winona Ryder is far too beautiful to accurately portray Jo who is described as awkward with “a comical nose” and “sharp gray eyes.” In the film, after Jo cuts off her hair and Amy exclaims “Jo! Your one true beauty!” I always thought “uh, fuck you Amy,” but according to the book it actually is. Looks aside, I think the character was represented well in the film.  She possesses the same wit, temper, and boyish manner.

3. Amy- Dead on. Pain-in-the-ass.

4. Beth- It may be because I’ve only read through chapter 8, but I’ve yet to find shy Beth endearing.  Every time something of any excitement happens Beth is described as rushing to a corner with tears welling in her eyes. Uh, chill out spazz. In the film Claire Danes comes off as so sweet and pretty that you immediately find the soft nature of the character charming. I’ve warmed up to her a little since the scene where she receives her piano and thanks her elderly neighbor for it, but that scene also doesn’t compare to that of the film, which is a goddamn tearjerker.

They don’t describe Marmee, but it’s certainly worth mentioning that Susan Surandon plays that character flawlessly.  She has the perfect voice for preaching, while remaining likable. I hear it in my head when I read her dialogue.

Claire

I hear you on the age thing. It’s been a really long time since I’ve read this book and the image of the characters in the film version is certainly stronger in my mind than any memory I have of them from the first time I read the novel. I’m pretty sure I audibly guffawed when I read their ages this second time around. The only one in that entire cast who even seems close to the age of her actual character is Kirsten Dunst as Young Amy. Movie Meg could be mistaken for 30 before she could pass as 16. Ridiculous. And I too prefer movie Meg over book Meg, but that may have something to do with having changed the character’s age (I refuse to believe that movie Meg is meant to be 16). She comes off as more practical and responsible in the movie because she is older. She still displays some of the vanity and wishfulness that we see in the book, but it is tempered by age and experience. I think movie Meg definitely still wishes that she could live like the Sally Moffats of the world, but more fully recognizes and accepts that there are more important things in life. In the book, it seems that, while Meg recognizes this point, she doesn’t gracefully accept her frustration, so much as become kind of obnoxiously pompous and overbearing toward her sisters as a means of coping with it. As a big sister, I would like to think that book Meg is not meant to be taken as characterizing all older sisters.

It’s kind of funny that the description of Jo as tall and lanky and kind of awkward more closely resembles Claire Danes than Winona Ryder. I can’t really picture Jo as she is described in the book. I only see Jo as Ryder, who so perfectly embodies the character’s temperament and pluck. And although she doesn’t really match the physical description of Jo in the book, Winona Ryder does have a bit of a boyish quality that really works for the role. But yeah, in the movie when Amy cries “Your one true beauty,” my response was also pretty much “Why don’t you shut the fuck up, Amy?” God Amy is so irritating! I really despise that character. Movie, book, whatever. She sucks.

As for Beth, I think she may be one of literature’s earliest examples of Autism. What is the deal with Beth in this book? Sure, in the movie she’s pretty timid and she never really laughs so much as smiles meekly and barely speaks above a whisper, but you at least got the sense that it was more that she sort of just enjoyed a quiet, simple life, rather than being physically terrified and emotionally undone by everything that happens around her. Geez, no wonder she dies.

Lastly, I totally agree: Marmee is Susan Sarandon. There is just no way I will ever picture that character as anyone else.