Academic
irreverence is nothing new. When I was a college student, we had a study guide
called English Lit Relit. As the
traditional curriculum evolved and the canon expanded to become more inclusive,
courses were developed in Women's Lit, Black or African American Lit, Native
American Lit, Latino/Latina or Hispanic or Chicano Lit, even Working Class Lit.
I personally used a sabbatical to develop an LGBT Lit course, which I taught
several times before retiring.
One of my
colleagues, who was not too keen on all the new "Lits," had been in a
wheelchair since he was twelve years old as a result of childhood polio. He once
sarcastically offered to develop a “Crip Lit” course to include disabilities in
the curriculum.
Such are the
stresses and strains when social change meets academia.
As a teacher
of early American literature, I found it useful to classify texts by such
genres as personal narrative, success story, sentimental romance, gothic tale,
mock romance, coming-of-age story, frontier adventure, moral journey,
cautionary tale, etc. While it sounds formulaic, it provided a way for students
to see how writers can achieve tremendous variety while satisfying certain
cultural expectations in their readers, not to mention enrich their texts by
tacitly referencing a whole range of other texts.
Recently,
I've come across a couple of new, irreverent genres in popular culture. The
memoir Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth
Gilbert inspired an essay on “Priv Lit,” the kind of self-indulgent literature
produced by those who can afford to finance travels, adventures, experiences,
or pilgrimages that provide fodder for their writing. (See https://bitchmedia.org/article/eat-pray-spend.) I
can imagine the academic argument for expanding the curriculum to include Priv
Lit. Just as mediocre office-holders were once defended because "even the
mediocre deserve representation," so it might be argued that even the
shallow and immature deserve inclusion, especially if they can afford to
finance their exploits.
The
redemptive narrative is the quintessential American story. We prefer the happy
ending, no matter how unrealistic or unrepresentative, to a tragedy, no matter
how probable or typical. We'd rather read the rare American Dream story than
the more common narrative of failure, disappointment, or resignation.
One example
is the recovery narrative, in which the protagonist suffers from illness, or
victimization, or destructive behavior, but eventually recovers, escapes, or
reforms, and achieves a healthy, productive life.
Usually
there is a degree of balance between the suffering and the recovery. Most
recently I read a novel of this type, in which the bulk of the narrative is
devoted to a long, drawn-out account of obsessive, destructive behavior. Off Course by Michelle Huneven lives up
to its title by narrating in tiresome detail the mistakes, missteps, and
misjudgment of a character who most definitely should know better. The recovery
occurs in the final chapters with little explanation or motivation.
Why did I
bother to finish it? Well, I was curious to see how it would turn out, but I
ended up shaking my head in disappointment. Curious, I went online to see if
anyone liked it. Surprisingly (to me), there were a lot of positive reader
reviews. Among them I found a new literary term, "Loser Lit." And a
lot of readers obviously either identified with or sympathized with the main
character, whereas I had been rolling my eyes and shaking my head at her from
the first chapter.
Of the
various definitions for “loser” in the urban dictionary, the one that seems to
fit best here is “Someone who generally sucks at life." I guess this is the
genre for the inept and misguided, who may or may not recover. No doubt, even
they deserve to be represented and included in the curriculum.
Such are the
stresses and strains when popular culture meets academia.
Lest anyone
think I’m mocking the expansion of the literary canon, let me assure you that I
have always been a supporter and practitioner of curriculum transformation,
including the study of “popular,” as opposed to “classical,” literature.
Whether it
be “Crip Lit,” “Priv Lit,” or “Loser Lit,” they all give English Lit Relit a whole new meaning.
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