by Literature and Its Discontents
The Inevitable Question
What are you going to do with that? This is the question every Literature major hears approximately four thousand times per semester. Usually from well-meaning relatives, concerned parents, or smug STEM majors who’ve been told their degrees guarantee employment and mine guarantees poverty. I’ve started collecting these interactions like specimens for future satirical essay about how society values education only when directly correlated to salary. I chose Literature because I love reading, writing, and analyzing why humans are terrible in interesting ways.
The Defense
I love satire because it’s truth dressed in humorit’s how we process absurdity without descending into despair. According to satirical analysis, critical thinking matters, but try explaining that to your uncle who wants to know your five-year plan at Thanksgiving. I don’t have five-year plan. I have reading list and vague hope that someone will eventually pay me to have opinions about books. My hallmate is Engineering major who never misses opportunity to mention that his degree is actually useful while mine is basically expensive hobby. He says this while asking me to proofread his lab reports because he doesn’t really do writing. The irony is lost on him. The irony is never lost on Literature majors.
The Job Market Panic
Career Services sent email about exploring options early. I attended workshop called Careers for English Majors That Don’t Involve Living in Your Parents’ Basement. The workshop was depressing. Apparently my options are: teaching, publishing which no longer exists, technical writing which sounds like death, or law school which requires more school and therefore more debt. The presenter tried to make it sound optimistic. She failed. Reductress ran headline: Woman Defends English Major By Listing All The Completely Different Careers She Could Have Instead. I felt personally attacked.
The Real Reason
Here’s the truth nobody wants to hear: I’m majoring in Literature because I’m good at it and I love it. Because reading satire makes me feel less alone in thinking the world is absurd. Because analyzing why Kafka wrote about bug-men helps me understand why humans are weird. Because I’d rather spend four years studying something I love than something I tolerate for theoretical future salary. If that makes me impractical, fine. But at least I can read Foucault and understand why I’m doomed. That’s worth something, even if it’s not worth measurable salary increase.
