the fact that it's obviously just one big, fat, juicy skive.'
I choose to ignore the last comment, and go straight into my number. 'Well, I wasn't sure what to do really. I had a fairly broad base of qualifications at O and A-level, and I thought about history, or art, or maybe one of the sciences. But the thing about Literature is, well, basically it encapsulates all the disciplines - it's history, philosophy, politics, sexual politics, sociology, psychology, linguistics, science. Literature is mankind's organised response to the world around him, or her, so in a way it's only natural that this response should contain a whole . . .' - take a little run-up - '...panoply of intellectual concepts, ideas, issues . . .'
Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. If I'm completely honest, this isn't the first time I've said any of this. In fact I used this little number in all of my university interviews, and whilst it's not exactly 'We shall fight them on the beaches . . .' it usually goes down a storm with academics, especially if accompanied, as here, with lots of hair tousling and emphatic gestures. I bring the speech to its shattering climax '...so as the eponymous Hamlet says to Polonius in Act Two Scene Two, it's all ultimately about "words, words, words", and what we call "literature" is in fact just the vehicle for what might more accurately be described as the Study of ... Everything.'
Rebecca contemplates this, nods sagely. 'Well, that's certainly the biggest pile of bogus horse-shit I've heard for some time,' she says, and starts walking off.
'You think so?' I say, trotting after her.
'I mean, why not just say you want to sit round on your arse and read for three years? At least it would be honest. Literature doesn't teach you about "everything", and even if it did, it'd only be in the most useless, superficial, impractical way. I mean, anyone who thinks that they can learn anything practical about politics or psychology or science by flicking through Under Milk Wood is talking out their arse. Can you imagine someone saying to you, 'Well, Mr-whateveryourname-is, I'm about to remove your spleen, and, okay, I haven't actually studied medicine as such, but don't worry, because I very much enjoyed The Pickwick Papers ...?'
'Well, medicine's a special case.'
'And politics isn't? Or history? Or law? Why not? Because they're easier} Less deserving of rigorous analysis?'
'So you don't think novels and poetry and plays contribute to the quality and richness of life?'
The didn't say that, did I? I'm sure they do, but so does the three-minute pop song, and no one feels the need to study that for three years.'
I'm sure Alexander Pope said something pertinent that would help me out here, but I can't remember what, and I contemplate using the word 'utilitarianism', but am not sure how. So instead I say, 'Just because something isn't practical, it doesn't mean it isn't useful.'
Rebecca wrinkles her nose at this, and I realise I'm on pretty sticky ground here, semantieally speaking, so I decide to take a different tack, and go on the offensive.
'So what are you studying then, that's so useful?' I say.
'Law. Second Year.'
'Law! ...right, well, I suppose law is pretty useful.' -J|
'Well, let's hope so.'
Law makes sense. If I was in a court of law I definitely wouldn't want to argue with Rebecca Epstein. She'd slap you around the face with her Glasgow accent, she'd bark things at you like 'define your terms!' and 'your argument is specious!' In fact I don't want to argue with her now, so I just stop talking and we walk silently through the City Museum, with its glass cases of fossils and Roman coins and antique farming implements. I suppose this is my first taste of the lively intellectual cut-and-thrust of academic life. There are those arguments in tutorials with Erin of course, but they're like Chinese burns; it's just a matter of how much you can take. With Rebecca, it feels like I've been stabbed in the eye. Still, it is only my
I choose to ignore the last comment, and go straight into my number. 'Well, I wasn't sure what to do really. I had a fairly broad base of qualifications at O and A-level, and I thought about history, or art, or maybe one of the sciences. But the thing about Literature is, well, basically it encapsulates all the disciplines - it's history, philosophy, politics, sexual politics, sociology, psychology, linguistics, science. Literature is mankind's organised response to the world around him, or her, so in a way it's only natural that this response should contain a whole . . .' - take a little run-up - '...panoply of intellectual concepts, ideas, issues . . .'
Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. If I'm completely honest, this isn't the first time I've said any of this. In fact I used this little number in all of my university interviews, and whilst it's not exactly 'We shall fight them on the beaches . . .' it usually goes down a storm with academics, especially if accompanied, as here, with lots of hair tousling and emphatic gestures. I bring the speech to its shattering climax '...so as the eponymous Hamlet says to Polonius in Act Two Scene Two, it's all ultimately about "words, words, words", and what we call "literature" is in fact just the vehicle for what might more accurately be described as the Study of ... Everything.'
Rebecca contemplates this, nods sagely. 'Well, that's certainly the biggest pile of bogus horse-shit I've heard for some time,' she says, and starts walking off.
'You think so?' I say, trotting after her.
'I mean, why not just say you want to sit round on your arse and read for three years? At least it would be honest. Literature doesn't teach you about "everything", and even if it did, it'd only be in the most useless, superficial, impractical way. I mean, anyone who thinks that they can learn anything practical about politics or psychology or science by flicking through Under Milk Wood is talking out their arse. Can you imagine someone saying to you, 'Well, Mr-whateveryourname-is, I'm about to remove your spleen, and, okay, I haven't actually studied medicine as such, but don't worry, because I very much enjoyed The Pickwick Papers ...?'
'Well, medicine's a special case.'
'And politics isn't? Or history? Or law? Why not? Because they're easier} Less deserving of rigorous analysis?'
'So you don't think novels and poetry and plays contribute to the quality and richness of life?'
The didn't say that, did I? I'm sure they do, but so does the three-minute pop song, and no one feels the need to study that for three years.'
I'm sure Alexander Pope said something pertinent that would help me out here, but I can't remember what, and I contemplate using the word 'utilitarianism', but am not sure how. So instead I say, 'Just because something isn't practical, it doesn't mean it isn't useful.'
Rebecca wrinkles her nose at this, and I realise I'm on pretty sticky ground here, semantieally speaking, so I decide to take a different tack, and go on the offensive.
'So what are you studying then, that's so useful?' I say.
'Law. Second Year.'
'Law! ...right, well, I suppose law is pretty useful.' -J|
'Well, let's hope so.'
Law makes sense. If I was in a court of law I definitely wouldn't want to argue with Rebecca Epstein. She'd slap you around the face with her Glasgow accent, she'd bark things at you like 'define your terms!' and 'your argument is specious!' In fact I don't want to argue with her now, so I just stop talking and we walk silently through the City Museum, with its glass cases of fossils and Roman coins and antique farming implements. I suppose this is my first taste of the lively intellectual cut-and-thrust of academic life. There are those arguments in tutorials with Erin of course, but they're like Chinese burns; it's just a matter of how much you can take. With Rebecca, it feels like I've been stabbed in the eye. Still, it is only my
Similar Books
