I'm still getting mail about my recent post on the discomforts of academic relativism. The latest comes from an English department chair. He writes:

I canít thank you enough for your blog on this topic. ÝYouíve hit the nail on the head in identifying the link between trendy philosophical relativism and academic fakery. ... Itís a sad situationóI feel a mixture of disgust and shame for all the times I looked the other way as the frauds preened and posed. I derive some comfort, though, from learning that there are others who are willing to acknowledge whatís going on.Ý

Hereís my story. After ten years at my current institution, the last four as the chair of English, I decided to try myself on the job market last fall. I applied for a job as chair of the English department at a public university in New York, and, after an interview at MLA, was invited for a campus visit as one of three finalists for the position. The head of the search committeeóan amiable fellow, and pretty seriously interested in my candidacy, as far as I could tellóasked me to devote about a quarter of my job talk to describing my ìscholarly approach and accomplishments.î I agonized over this, because for the past five years or so Iíve been trying to wean myself from my grad-school-induced reflex to doing the sort of ìtemplate-drivenî writing to which another of your correspondents referred. How truthful could I afford to be about my growing dissatisfaction with theory? Should I trump up some ghastly theoretical allegiances, or should I just come clean about my desire to leave theory behind to try to become genuinely learned? Hereís what I finally came up with, taken verbatim from my job talk script:

"In my writing I approach the study of literature from an interdisciplinary standpointóI use a lot of history, politics, economics, and psychology in my work. I do the same thing in my teachingóin my lectures for courses on Romantic and Victorian lit, for example, I always strive as much as possible to portray for my students literatureís contextsóboth from a larger, cultural point of view and from the standpoint of the writersí own lives. This makes me, I think, a good fit for this department. Your curriculum strikes just the right balance between exposing students to the various schools of contemporary theory and encouraging them to read widely in the literatures of various traditions. Though I teach theory and believe very strongly that students need to be made aware of what kinds of approaches are available to them, Iím not a theoretical axe-grinder myself. The writings Iíve published draw on a number of different theoretical perspectives: Iíve done a lot of work with the neo-mimetic theories of Rene Girard, but Iíve also used Julia Kristevaís concept of abjection to explore the psychoanalytic dimensions of Dickensís Oliver Twist. The overarching goal Iíve set for myself in my scholarship, though, is gradually to lessen my reliance on the theories of others. Instead, I want to become a learned personóthat is, I want to be one of those scholars who has read so deeply and widely, and who has such a comprehensive grasp of Ýthe time and circumstances that surround whatever Iím writing about, that my conclusions carry a weight of indisputability that mere theoretical coherence canít give them."

As you know, many years of teaching give one a pretty sure sense of when your audience is with you and when theyíre not. Up to this point, the twenty or so faculty gathered for the talk had responded well. But once Iíd finished this paragraph, I could see that Iíd lost about three quarters of them. The five or so who appeared to like this statement, not surprisingly, were the most senior members of the faculty (one of them later told me that she hadnít heard anyone say something like this in twenty years). I wasnít offered the job.Ý

A few years ago, I happened to be in the company of a senior professor of English at Oxford, a man whoís had a long and distinguished career as an editor and interpreter of the important works of English romanticism. He was recounting the various theoretical steamrollers heíd seen come and go over the past forty years when someone asked him, ìWhat comes after theory?î He paused dramatically, crooked one eyebrow, and said, ìHonesty.î I often think of that moment when the flim-flammery of our profession swellsóas it periodically doesóto manifestly absurd levels. Thanks again for your work, and for serving as an inspiration to those of us struggling to be deprogrammed from grad school. May they someday say of us, ìThey were honest.î

Saying to an audience of prospective colleagues that he wants most of all to become truly learned, that he distrusts "theory" and believes absolutely in acquiring knowledge the old-fashioned way, by reading widely, deeply, thoughtfully, and well, cost this individual a job. But my guess is that it felt damned good to say it all the same, and that perhaps the reaction he received revealed to him that this was not a job he wanted after all.