How to Open an Academic Essay, Part IV: The Self-Aggrandizing Personal Anecdote

The majority of Americans laugh at the Academy.  "You think you're so important," they say once they can catch their breath.

To counter this and similar withering denunciations, many academics fluff up their introductions with the Self-Aggrandizing Personal Anecdote (SAPA).  Since the SAPA frequently involves the dropping of names known to no one outside the academy, institutions often bear the load.  For instance, in an essay entitled "Mao II and the War on Terrorism," one SAP (Self-Aggrandizing Person) informs general and academic readers alike of his important contributions to the New York Times' coverage of September 11th:

Shortly after the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center towers and the Pentagon and the crash of hijacked United Airlines Flight 93 on September 11, 2001, I received a call from a reporter at the New York Times. Emily Eakin was working on a story about modern literature's response to earlier forms of terror, in particular the fictional representations of Russian revolutionaries in Fyodor Dostoevsky's The Possessed (1871–72) and European anarchists in Henry James's The Princess Casamassima (1886) and Joseph Conrad's The Secret Agent (1907). Eakin reasonably assumed that great literature offers us means of coping with crises like September 11 and that this specific event was not historically unique. We talked by phone and e-mail about the national agendas of early modern revolutionary movements and the global terrorist aims of the Islamic fundamentalist Al-Qaeda, including the aesthetic means required to represent these different political cultures and historical periods. Call Don DeLillo, I urged Eakin, and read Mao II, his literary analysis of postmodern terrorism. Then call Jody McAuliffe and Frank Lentricchia at Duke, who are producing a dramatization of the novel in the spring of 2002. Eakin phoned none of the above and certainly did not read Mao II for her story. Reporters have deadlines; her story appeared eleven days after September 11.

In a single introductory paragraph, this SAP earns his name.  Through a personal anecdote readers learn that his name and number grace a card in one of the 4,397 rolodexes owned by people affiliated with New York Times; that he not only knows everything a person ought to know about forms of terrorism historical and contemporary; that he knows big shots like Frank Lentricchia and possesses inside information about upcoming theatrical performances of mediocre works of contemporary American literature; and finally, the reader learns how much better this SAP is than the one who called him for information on a topical news story because she didn't fulfill what this SAP, in the first sentence of the second paragraph, calls "the luxury and responsibility" of the scholar. 

Reading this SAP's introduction one would think Eakin didn't take any of his advice.  (One would also think this SAP consulted because of his expertise about "the aesthetic means required to represent these different political cultures and historical periods."  In her article, however, it's clear that Eakins consulted this SAP because, in her words, he's "a James scholar."  I'm sure our SAP meant to imply that instead of what he actually implied; then again, one of the virtues of being a SAP is never having to apologize for being a SAP.)  If you read Eakins' article, however, it becomes clear that not only did she not take his advice, she had the nerve to write the story she'd been assigned to write instead of the one he suggested.  She lacked the requisite luxury and sense of responsibility and so instead of following this SAP's advice, she wrote an article about "the literary preoccupation with terrorism" that goes back "to at least the 1870's." 

In other words, the SAPA enables the run-of-the-mill SAP to appear extraordinary because the SAPA need not bear any relation to the SAP's actual achievements.  Drawbacks to the SAPA include 1) the easy availability of newspaper archives that discredit the SAP's aggrandizing claims, 2) the potential for readers to grasp with theretofore unknown profundity the disconnect between the SAP's evaluation of him or herself and the forum in which the SAP publishes, and 3) the jealous stares of friends and colleagues who can't build themselves up with such effortless regularity.

Comments

[Mr. Canoe Head]

A dramatized version of Mao II? The very idea makes me shudder. Especially since all of DeLillo's dialogue sounds exactly the ^$^%#^##$ same.

[Some Hyper Guy]

Gah!!!

[A. Cephalous]

The Real Eric Strand,

A little Laxatone should help you pass that hairball.

[A. Cephalous]

P.S. All "The Real" people don't seem to understand "the anonymous."

[David]

Does the P stand for Person or Pissant, Jew? Be honest, now.

Best,
The other Jew

P.S.:
DAL 9000 v2: Should I feel guilty for never having seen Citizen Kane?
MadCow Dragon: Meh
MadCow Dragon: Synopsis
MadCow Dragon: No
MadCow Dragon: Reaction
MadCow Dragon: IT'S A FUCKING SLED. JESUS.

[David]

How would you categorize /Nate's/ introduction there? BTW, I later drew him out on the subject and he elaborated thusly:

MadCow Dragon: Well seriously.
MadCow Dragon: Here's a guy that runs a newspaper
MadCow Dragon: Has buried countless politicans
MadCow Dragon: Has more money then God
MadCow Dragon: And all he cares about is a sled?
MadCow Dragon: HE COULD BUY A FUCKING SLED FACTORY AND FUCKING SLED DOWN A PILE OF BODIES OF PEOPLE HE COULD HAVE KILLED BEACUSE HE'S FUCKING RICH!
MadCow Dragon: HE COULD FUCKING RIDE THE FACTORY THAT PRODUCES SLEDS DOWN A FUCKING MOUNTAIN HES SO RICH
MadCow Dragon: THEN CRASH IT AND GO, "Tee he he! That was fun!" AND NOT CARE HE JUST CRASHED A FACTORY THAT PRODUCES SLEDS