Inflation of the Colon; or, How I Learned to Read a Book by Its Cover
Dear Editor:
Some time ago I noticed a remarkable thing about the titles of the books reviewed in the AHR. The titles are becoming longer, and they have two parts; these parts are separated by a colon. One part, usually the first, is meaningless, but sounds exciting; the other part is dull, but does tell what the book is about.
In the October 1985 AHR, 58 percent of all books reviewed have such titles; 76 percent of the US History books do.
What are we to make of this phenomenon? Women, Nazis, and Universities: Female University Students in the Third Reich; The Road to Sedan: The French Army, 1866-70; Kinsmen of Another Kind: Dakota-White Relationships in the Upper Mississippi Valley, 1650-1862. Why so many long-winded titles? Are scholarly books so thick because otherwise there would be no room on the spines to put these lengthy names?
I suggest a reason why the majority of books are given these double-barrelled titles, a reason that is a comment on the profession itself: the great majority of scholarly books are written by people who would rather not write them, but must do so to punch their career tickets and get academic promotions; the books will not be read by anyone who can avoid it (a reviewer, a few long-suffering grad students, a half-dozen rivals and enemies who will ridicule their scholarship); they will be bought by no individuals at all, only by research libraries.
The unfortunate authors of these boring things do not, of course, wish to admit (even to themselves) that they are frittering away their lives to no real purpose, that they are wasting their own years and someone else’s money grubbing away in Stygian archives to produce stuff no one wants to read. So, when they at last finish a book, they try to show that they are really exciting authors, writers of books with wide appeal, by tacking to the pedantic but accurate title some catchy phrase which, they think, will enliven their dreary exhumations. Creating Rosie the Riveter: Class, Gender, and Propaganda during World War II. Shaky Palaces: Homeownership and Social Mobility in Boston’s Suburbanization. Bücherlust und Lesefreuden: Beiträge zur Geschichte des Buchwesens im 18. und 19. Jahrhundert. I could go on—just consult the contents pages of any AHR. It’s hilarious—but it’s not good.
I appeal to the professoriate to stop pretending that its books are other than what they are. Do not pose reviewers with the problem of using as a short title a phrase that conveys no meaning (The Tiger and the Shark:) or an accurate title which, however, is not what one would look it up under in a card catalogue (Empirical Roots of Wave-Particle Dualism). Do not, I say, thus seem to aspire to a readability or popularity you will never have. No, no, dear doctors, if you have squandered your life and Fulbright’s money in confecting an 806-page history of the role of Albanian beglerbegs in the economic life of the Sanjak of Novi Pazar, just call it that; don’t preface it with Sons of Skanderbeg in a vain attempt to show that it’s really a lively book. I mean, who do you think you are, Barbara Tuchman? Shorten your titles to words that describe the contents. The AHR will gain a couple of pages each issue. And maybe the time you save from having to concoct clever titles will allow you to teach more, so that we can reduce the number of young adults who think that Lenin was a Beatle, or who don’t know what happened at Sarajevo besides the Winter Olympics.
Sincerely,
Brian A. Libby
Shattuck-St. Mary’s School
The “Buddy” System
Dear Editor:
Much of the “subtle” sex discrimination in American academic life seems to be directed not against women per se, but against women who possess strong academic qualifications and self-assurance. Such women are perceived as a threat to the harmony of the “buddy” culture, especially in provincial institutions.
A few years ago I observed this problem at a Midwestern university. Three candidates were interviewed for a position. Two were women. The majority of the members of the department expressed strong preference for the least qualified candidate. She was an ABD from a marginal department, and her field did not exactly match the job description. The second woman was considered. She was a brilliant PhD from one of the top departments in the country. Her field exactly matched the job description. These qualifications, however, were held against her. It was agreed that “she is too intelligent for (this university).” The chairman even confessed that she was so brilliant he could not carry on a conversation with her. She did not get the job.
Finally, the male candidate, whose field was marginally related to the job description, was hired because “he seems to be low-key.” A report had to be filed with the affirmative action officer. I have not seen this report, but one doubts if its contents coincide with these observations. It is very likely that this sort of thing takes place all the time in our colleges and universities.
Sincerely
A. I. Samarrai
Visiting Professor of History
Kuwait University
