Generational resentment
Jun. 9th, 2014 09:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabotabbyI was reading "Isis In Darkness," in a collection of Margaret Atwood short stories. It's about a wannabe poet who falls in love with a Gwendolyn MacEwen expy. The character hangs around in cafés and writes his own poetry, but eventually realizes that he's a bit crap (especially compared to her) and retreats into academic work. Which he sees as a safe option, a consolation prize that isn't much consolation.
And what got me about the story is how much can change between one generation and the next, because no way anyone my age would see academia as a fallback career. I know people who would perform esoteric blood sacrifices to get tenure—well, if it were even possible to get tenure, which it isn't. "You can always teach high school English" is a grim joke now; if you haven't already been teaching English for a decade or more, enjoy your unemployment.
And poetry in cafés? I mean, does that even happen? Ain't nobody got time for that; we're too busy handing out résumés.
It is hard not to want to reach through the pages and strangle every one of these characters for having the luxury of ennui.
And what got me about the story is how much can change between one generation and the next, because no way anyone my age would see academia as a fallback career. I know people who would perform esoteric blood sacrifices to get tenure—well, if it were even possible to get tenure, which it isn't. "You can always teach high school English" is a grim joke now; if you haven't already been teaching English for a decade or more, enjoy your unemployment.
And poetry in cafés? I mean, does that even happen? Ain't nobody got time for that; we're too busy handing out résumés.
It is hard not to want to reach through the pages and strangle every one of these characters for having the luxury of ennui.
