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Jewish World Review May 9, 2001 / 16 Iyar 5761
Philip Terzian
In 1958 Mr. Hillegass was a book salesman in Lincoln, Nebraska, when he
stumbled upon the idea of producing brief "study guides" for students on the
great works of literature. Cliffs Notes, with their characteristic
black-and-yellow-striped covers, became immediate best sellers, furnishing
high school and college students with the rudiments of novels, plays and
poems without taking the time (or effort) to read them.
From a business perspective, Mr. Hillegass's career was a standard
rags-to-riches story. He had been a graduate student in physics and geology,
but his scientific career faltered, and he was working for the Nebraska Book
Co. when inspiration struck. His employer was not interested in the idea for
Cliffs Notes, so Mr. Hillegass borrowed $4,000 from a local bank, produced
the first editions in his basement, and the rest is cultural history. Two
years ago he sold Cliffs Notes to IDG Books Worldwide Inc. of Foster City,
California, for more than $14 million. Tens of thousands of undergraduates
earned diplomas because of Cliff K. Hillegass, who died a rich man.
There is a parable of capitalism in there somewhere. Mr. Hillegass did
have some sense that, in profiting from the Western canon, he was
not-so-subtly contributing to its neglect: In each edition of Cliffs Notes
he would primly caution students that "a thorough appreciation of literature
allows no shortcuts." But of course, Cliffs Notes were nothing but
shortcuts, and that brief warning message was removed from editions when IDG
Books Worldwide Inc. took control. Who needs "a thorough appreciation of
literature," anyway?
Good question. The irony is that those best equipped to furnish the
answer are least inclined to do so. The study of literature in American
universities is now captive to politics, or waist-deep in trivia.
It used to be fashionable to laugh at the meetings of organizations like
the Modern Language Association for the pleasure members took in
impenetrable subjects: "The Use and Misuse of Identity in the Novels of
Louis-Ferdinand Celine," etc. Now, of course, we should be grateful for
professors of literature who can identify Celine. And conventions drown in
papers on race, gender and pop culture: You are more likely to learn about
drag queens or Madonna videos at the MLA than Oliver Goldsmith. In my 1956
edition of Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass there is an
introduction by Prof. Gay Wilson Allen of Rutgers who laments the
pervasiveness of lowbrow culture in America with an offhand (and derisive)
reference to "I Love Lucy." Professor Allen is, of course, long dead, but
Lucille Ball is the subject of doctoral dissertations.
Where do Cliffs Notes fit into all this? Only as a symptom. On the same
day that Mr. Hillegass's death was announced The Washington Post published a
story on the decline of religious observance in Western Europe. The great
cathedrals are full of tourists but empty of worshippers. Guides at the
National Gallery of Art in London complain that young visitors are no longer
aware of what the "INRI" label stands for in crucifixion paintings (the
Latin abbreviation for "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews") and don't
recognize the gent with the halo communing with birds (St. Francis of
Assisi). For touring students the most exciting aspect of Canterbury
Cathedral is that Thomas Becket was murdered on the premises, although they
don't know why, and are otherwise impervious to their surroundings.
You can't blame Cliffs Notes for the ignorance of Europeans, nor should
we worry too much about a world where bookstores stock guides for "dummies"
or Sting is honored for his contribution to civilization. We are always
looking backward to a world that never was, and the truth is that High
Culture has always been the province of the fortunate few. In mediaeval
Europe, when Canterbury Cathedral was built and, presumably, teeming with
Christians, the vast majority of the faithful were peasants languishing in
ditches, cold, illiterate and largely engaged in avoiding starvation. The
Victorian England that featured middle-class families gathering together to
read serial Dickens novels, or flocking to concerts and uplifting lectures,
also witnessed the invention of the tabloid press, but was spared such
distraction as radio, television, movies and CDs.
You cannot expect young people who aspire to a Lexus to care very much
about "a thorough appreciation of literature," especially when the academic
world seems determined to sabotage standards of knowledge and culture.
Cliffs Notes were premised, at least, on the notion that the study of
literature is part of education, that there are such things as canons and
classics, and that knowledge is more important than
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