Friday, April 10, 2009
Are Scholarly Concerns Detached From The "Real World"?
Throughout Straight Man, the novel that we have been reading for our class this past week, the main character has very little contact with his own father. We learn from William Henry Devereaux Jr. that his dad was always very engaged by his studies and that he seemed to have little passion for much else, including his family. The protagonist is very bitter and angry at his father for leaving him and his mom for a series of graduate students, and generally tries to avoid seeing his father when any opportunity to do so arises. Towards the end of the novel, William Henry Devereaux Sr. returns to W.H.D. Jr.'s mother, and she urges her son to forgive his father and to accept his presence. Jr. goes on a walk with his dad, who proceeds to tell him that he has begun to reread the works of Charles Dickens (an author he has castigated for years). He claims to now feel guilty for criticizing the famous British author whose works he realizes contain something of "transcendent" significance. When W.H.D. Jr. asks his father if this is what he feels guilty about, his dad answers "yes" and tries to say something more but is too overcome by grief, sadness, and tears to do so. In the book, W.H.D. Sr. was a very smart man and a renowned scholar, but he obviously was not able to successfully maintain relationships. He could effectively investigate and communicate scholarly subjects and ideas, but he was not even able to tell his own son that he was sorry for deserting him. I wonder if Richard Russo's crafting of William Henry Devereaux Sr. was simply a part of the plot, an explanation of why his son became the way he was, or if it was something more meaningful and suggestive, perhaps a comment on the misguided nature of academia. When reading the novel, I had an idea that the author was trying to show that academic subjects, literature being used as an example here, can be interpreted backwards and forwards by scholars who still never come to any definite conclusions (as demonstrated by Sr.'s change in his opinion of Dickens after many years). However, the world we live in (family, friends, home, etc.) is real, is actually there, and unlike subjects of speculation, actually must be maintained (which Sr. neglects to do). Do you think that Russo was pointing out some kind of flaw in higher education through W.H.D. Sr., perhaps that a great amount of focus is placed on subjects of little importance or relevance to the real world, or was his character simply a part of the plot line? If he was pointing out a flaw, what is it do you think, and is it true?
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In terms of the plot of the book and drive for its flow of events, I think that without question the relationship between Devereaux Jr. and his father contributes to Jr.'s temperament, personality, and overall demeanor. His father's inability to see past the academics in his life to his own family is definitely a big part of Jr.'s "I Don't Give a Shit" attitude. I think the point you make, specifically with regards to literature, is excellent. Regardless of what message an author is trying to weave into his or her words, it is up to the readers to interpret the messages and relate them to their own lives. If some piece of works speaks to you in a way that you feel comfortable with then no one should be able to tell you that the intended message was different. The transience and inconsistencies of literature are to be enjoyed but not at the expense of family and friends, perhaps the only things that should be constant in a person's life.
ReplyDeleteI think Christian is absolutely right to pick up on the depiction of Henry Devereaux, Sr. One of the major critiques of academic personalities is that professors tend to be socially awkward--the profession requires lots of schmoozing and networking, yet academics tend to isolated individuals who become uncomfortable in social situations: they feel like they must constantly be performing a specific academic persona in which small talk is taboo and major intellectual questions of the day must be pondered and debated.
ReplyDeletePlenty of faculty are able to maintain strong bonds to partners, spouses, and or family members, but many other stories circulate about rampant divorces, affairs, neglected children, etc. After reading Wilson's article about the obligations of a college instructor and the amount of time and energy a professor devotes to his/her academic life in terms of teaching, research, and service, it's not difficult to imagine that time left for family and friends becomes quite limited (if not nonexistent). This is how you get depictions of faculty who are virtual hermits. In graduate school, I was often told that being a "lone wolf" (i.e., a single person without a partner/spouse and children) is the best candidate for an academic job at the assistant professor level because that person would be 1) better able to move across the country to pursue a job because there'd be no one else in tow, and 2) seen as able and available to devote everything to completing university work and achieving tenure. Many faculty members put off having children until after tenure, which means they are raising teenagers when they are in the 50s and 60s (and even 70s). One could argue that without such "distractions" to detract attention from one's research and teaching means the value of their academic labor rises--perhaps students receive more attention and thus better educations, and perhaps the scholarship is of better quality. On the other hand, Russo is certainly questioning whether this widespread experience of lacking or deteriorating family/social life amounts to a real sense of "quality of life," no matter what one's CV (curriculum vitae, or academic resume) looks like.
Balancing work with other priorities seems to be key, not just in academia, for mental and even physical health--Russo's Devereaux, Jr. and Sr., certainly demonstrate what happens when such balance is not achieved. But Christian also asks whether Russo might be implicitly arguing that academics tend to focus on the small stuff--obscure debates, esoteric trifles unrelated to "the real world"--to the detriment of what should be the major concerns of human life. I think this is a valid question, especially given what we've discussed is the supposed point of the field of humanities as an academic discipline. In that sense, is Russo perhaps trying to suggest that professors of the humanities have, in fact, lost their sense of humanity?