Question For Readers

Just finished Curtis Sittenfeld's book Prep.  It made me think of a whole series of other books about class, of course, but it also made me think about the similarities of the narrators of those books.  Generally outsiders trying very hard to figure out the rules, while self-conscious of the importance of not revealing how hard they're trying.  What I'm wondering is, is such a narrator necessary to write on the theme of class?  There are obvious benefits, of course.  But is there a good treatment of social class in contemporary America written from the perspective of a narrator who feels like an insider?  Would such a narrative be possible? 

Comments

[The Happy Feminist]

I think such narratives are probably rare for a couple of reasons -- (1) An insider is less likely to be acutely aware of the class issues at stake because the insider takes his status as an insider for granted.The issues at stake are a lot more important to the outsider who wants to be in; (2) Talking about class is taboo for insiders. It's not really considered nice to say, "Hey, I'm an insider."

That having been said, I find contemporary cultural attitudes about class in America to be absolutely fascinating and I would love to read an "insider" narrative.

[PG]

Edith Wharton was an insider. Fitzgerald was an outsider.

And that reminds me of the beginning of my favorite non-fiction book about class: Our Kind of People, which pissed off so many readers, but which I liked at least at the beginning (it does get somewhat repetitive halfway through). One of the fascinating things about it is that the author first made his name by writing about the white elite, to which he was an outsider because he's African American, but OKoP is about the black elite, of which he's a member. He began his book by saying:
"Bryant Gumbel is, but Bill Cosby isn't.
Lena Horne is, but Whitney Houston isn't. [Nowadays I'm not sure Whitney Houston is even respectable, much less elite.]
Andrew Young is, but Jesse Jackson isn't.
And neither is Maya Angelou, Alice Walker, Clarence Thomas, or Quincy Jones.
And even though both of them try extremely hard, neither Diana Ross nor Robin Givens will ever be."

[hilllady]

There are always the "fall from grace" stories - like Wolfe's Bonfire of the Vanities or Coetzee's Disgrace - in which the privileged protagonists get dropped down a peg. It's their fault, of course, for being so oblivious and self-satisfied.

But BoV isn't first-person and Disgrace is South African, so neither really fit the parameters of your question. I'll have to consult my bookshelves when I get home.

Does a story have to be explicit about class issues to shed light on class issues?

[Bill Altreuter]

In the Fall from Grace catigory I nominate "Appointment in Samara". In fact, John O'Hara may be a good example of how it is possible to be a member of the social elite and still write about class. John P. Marquand, too.

[Joanna]

I second the recommendation for Appointment in Samara. A great little book.

[pjm]

Outsiders are almost always the best observers; they have a different perspective. Back when I was studying literature, I wrote a senior thesis on a particular living-in-exile essayist, and found stacks of writing about the literary experience of exile, which provides the unfortunate victim with outsider's views of both their homeland and their new home.

[misspixie]

For more privileged kids in the Northeast, try Fundamentals of Play by Caitlin Macy, or The Hazards of Good Breeding, by Jessica Shattuck. Both about insiders.

[l.]

I LOVED this book! It's so funny that I finished it just a week ago, because this is the first time we have read the same book. Personally, I think Curtiss just used class to illustrate the erosion of soul and loss of self women endure/self-inflict when seeking approval from an essentially indifferent, patriarchally-inclined audience - an audience interested, at most, in achieving women's compliance to group norms and, besides, for the most part exists only in each woman's head ("People will think I'm ____" just about anything can fill that blank). But I could be wrong. And from someone who grew up on welfare and went to a rich-kid college, I could definitely relate.

[l.]

Oh, and I think Clarence Day's treatment of his late-Edwardian childhood might qualify as a provocative insider's look at class - he's a mostly forgotten/understimated author but one I've loved forever. A New Yorker contributor from, I think, the 20s and 30s. He was raised upper middle class and is most famous for his essays about his family collected in "Life with Father." There were a couple essays on his family servants and a REALLY good one on his down-on-his-luck violin teacher.

I forget the names of Day's contemporaries, but I think the New Yorker essayists from around his era also had some interesting observations influenced, probably, by living through both the 20s and 30s. For more modern authors, though, I don't know. I leave that stuff to y'all smart people types.

[l.]

Wait, I meant provocative as thought-provoking-in-a-similar-style-to-Curtiss, not provocative in the-writes-about-things-that-make-you-go-ew sense. Sorry to clog the comments...

[Bill Altreuter]

Clarence Day is an excellent call-- an elegant writer with a deft, humorous touch. His writing captures New York when telephones were new, and cabs were horsedrawn. He's unusual also because he writes about a happy childhood. Like happy marrages ("The Thin Man" is one of the few books about that I can think of) books about happy childhoods seem very rare to me.

[girltuesday]

Fundamentals of Play (Caitlin Macy) is a story that is equal parts Fitzgerald and Wharton. The story alternates between past and present, New England and New York City. The narrator, although squarely middle-class, comes from "pedigree." His station in life provides him a unique perspective with respect to his own social acceptance of his wealthier friends (does his pedigree override his status? is it his personality? not sure), but also provides him the opportunity offer bemused commentary on the status and acceptance of others. Macy offers a panoply of characters who wander in and out of the story: the class-conscious roommate from Dartmouth; the poor "year-rounder" from the coast of Maine (with exceptional sailing prowess); the socially inept Dartmouth dropout, who "makes it big" as a high-tech venture capitalist (and through his wealth gains admission to their world).

(I am waxing Michiko Kakutani or something . . . I don’t mean to sound like a book review, only to say this is an interesting Gatsby-esque discussion about class, from someone who feels like an insider, although he might be an outsider.)

I read Prep last year. Although I think it was well-written, and I would recommend it, I am not sure I liked the story. Maybe I need to read it again.

[misspixie]

Girltuesday, I just wanted to say that I, too, had conflicted feelings about Prep. I admired the technique, was riveted by the book, and thought that she clearly understood the dynamics of the world she described. But the protagonist was so dang annoying that she almost ruined it for me. I kept wanting to shake her by the shoulders and say, "Get your act together!"

[girltuesday]

Miss Pixie: That's exactly it. Good articulation, thank you!

[Scheherazade]

I read Fundamentals of Play, in conjunction with Gatsby (on which it is obviously based) with book group, a few years ago. (Caitlin Macy and I sailed together at Yale, so there are some familiar characters and places in that book.) I see George in Fundamentals as occupying essentially the same insider/outsider position that Nick Carraway does in Gatsby and Lee does in Prep, and indeed as Toby Woolf occupies in Old School.

My book group has also read Wharton together, and Tobias Woolf's Old School. Prep is a book group pick, and so I'm interested in pushing forward on this theme, with a different narrative perspective if such a thing is possible.

[girltuesday]

Several years ago, there was an article by Caitlin Macy in the NYT Sunday mag (a rather romantic take on her fashion do's & don'ts). There were many elements of FoP to which I could relate; I felt as though I was reading about people I knew.

I also read Gatsby & FoP together. The parallel between Nick & George is clear, although I see it less so with Lee (from Prep). I guess I saw Lee as more the Henry character from FoP (but not quite Gatsby). I am being completely inarticulate, but I felt as though George/Nick "got it" (i.e. "spoke the language") and Lee just didn't, which, I suppose, is the point?

I've picked up Old School many times at the bookstore, but I haven't purchased it yet. Recommended reading?

[Marcin]

I think that "The picture of Dorian Gray" might well fall into that category, although it deals with other issues as well.

[Bunny Elder]

As to John O'Hara - I'm a fan, but he was not a mamber of the social elite, and noone felt that more deeply than he. When asked why, after leaving his literary estate to Yale, O'Hara didn't receive an honorary degree in return, Kingman Brewster said 'Because he wanted it too much.'!