Lemmings
I was listening to a podcast of a knitting show on my way home from work today.
I have a long drive, and instead of listening to the radio and the commercials and the traffic reports (even on NPR, which is doing fundraising this week and breaks into the flow of "All Things Considered" even more than usual), I download and listen to an hour of radio rebroadcast over my Ipod.
Some of my favorites: the Tavis Smiley Show, for its point of view and its diverse cast of regulars and interviewees; "On the Media" for its liberal-leaning point of view and its witty unraveling of the stories behind the news; and "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me," a dryly funny but strangely kind quiz show about the week's news.
My all-time favorite: "Good Food" from KCRW, the best show on food and cooking and the business of anything to do with food. Today I listened to an episode that ranged from the moratorium on salmon fishing in California and its effects on the fishermen and salmon fishing in the future; to vending machines, how they work (new technology means every patron walks away with a food item!), the rise of no-cash vending machines (more reasons to have to use a credit or debit card but less scamming by those wily folks who put a line on their dollar bills and then pulled them back out of the machine), and the fact that seven to ten people die every year from vending machines falling on them, usually because they are trying to secure a food item without paying by thrusting their arms inside the machine and rocking it (you are safe on this point, as more vending machine operators are bolting the things to the wall); and the American chef who will be representing the US at a big food competition called the Bocuse Dore (he will make his two-platter meal some 35 times before the event AND have a doctor monitoring him and his 21-year-old assistant for their peak body measurements so that they can compete on the very best day).
After this incredible array of topics had been covered and the show ended, I went to the knitting show. And, while not "Good Food," it was okay. The host has a fluty British accent and can get away with saying lots of stuff that just would not work in an American accent. Why don't we call sweaters "jumpers"?
And she asked some good questions. And the guest seemed patient and happy to plug her many projects and books.
But, at some point, I began to feel like a lemming. Repeatedly, the host pointed out that knitting has become wildly popular, that there are a plethora of new books on knitting coming out, that the market of books for beginner knitters is especially crowded, and that knitting blogs have driven the popularity of MovableType and the Internet. (Opportune moment for Al Gore joke here.)
At the same time, both host and guest were careful to note that they had been blogging since 2002, as though one is not part of a movement or fad if one starts way at the beginning of said movement.
And, while I began to want to distance myself from all this popularity and group behavior, I also began to ask myself why something that touches many people seems to lose value in direct relation to its popularity.
Is an idea or behavior necessarily any better because it is more rare? Or, is it possible for what is wildly embraced, what becomes a fad, to be just as significant as what is singular?
It strikes me as a particularly American question. That may be because my degree is in American lit. But did you know that John Adams, in the 1700s, was questioning whether America is a meritocracy, where people succeed on the basis of their intelligence and achievments, or a plutocracy, where majority opinion determines one's worth?
We're still struggling with this question. Bookending every "American Idol" winner is the Better Artist who ends up making a Better CD and more money. And do you feel comfortable confessing your habit of watching reality TV to your boss? Look at the ridiculous claims of books read and music listened to in InStyle. Last month a celebrity claimed to be reading Night by Elie Wiesel. No one reads Night, which is amazing, unless it is assigned.
I could say more about this. But I have to go make a fruit salad and watch my Netflix copy of "Dead Like Me" while I knit a lace shawl. There, that's at least two fads or more in one sentence!
I have a long drive, and instead of listening to the radio and the commercials and the traffic reports (even on NPR, which is doing fundraising this week and breaks into the flow of "All Things Considered" even more than usual), I download and listen to an hour of radio rebroadcast over my Ipod.
Some of my favorites: the Tavis Smiley Show, for its point of view and its diverse cast of regulars and interviewees; "On the Media" for its liberal-leaning point of view and its witty unraveling of the stories behind the news; and "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me," a dryly funny but strangely kind quiz show about the week's news.
My all-time favorite: "Good Food" from KCRW, the best show on food and cooking and the business of anything to do with food. Today I listened to an episode that ranged from the moratorium on salmon fishing in California and its effects on the fishermen and salmon fishing in the future; to vending machines, how they work (new technology means every patron walks away with a food item!), the rise of no-cash vending machines (more reasons to have to use a credit or debit card but less scamming by those wily folks who put a line on their dollar bills and then pulled them back out of the machine), and the fact that seven to ten people die every year from vending machines falling on them, usually because they are trying to secure a food item without paying by thrusting their arms inside the machine and rocking it (you are safe on this point, as more vending machine operators are bolting the things to the wall); and the American chef who will be representing the US at a big food competition called the Bocuse Dore (he will make his two-platter meal some 35 times before the event AND have a doctor monitoring him and his 21-year-old assistant for their peak body measurements so that they can compete on the very best day).
After this incredible array of topics had been covered and the show ended, I went to the knitting show. And, while not "Good Food," it was okay. The host has a fluty British accent and can get away with saying lots of stuff that just would not work in an American accent. Why don't we call sweaters "jumpers"?
And she asked some good questions. And the guest seemed patient and happy to plug her many projects and books.
But, at some point, I began to feel like a lemming. Repeatedly, the host pointed out that knitting has become wildly popular, that there are a plethora of new books on knitting coming out, that the market of books for beginner knitters is especially crowded, and that knitting blogs have driven the popularity of MovableType and the Internet. (Opportune moment for Al Gore joke here.)
At the same time, both host and guest were careful to note that they had been blogging since 2002, as though one is not part of a movement or fad if one starts way at the beginning of said movement.
And, while I began to want to distance myself from all this popularity and group behavior, I also began to ask myself why something that touches many people seems to lose value in direct relation to its popularity.
Is an idea or behavior necessarily any better because it is more rare? Or, is it possible for what is wildly embraced, what becomes a fad, to be just as significant as what is singular?
It strikes me as a particularly American question. That may be because my degree is in American lit. But did you know that John Adams, in the 1700s, was questioning whether America is a meritocracy, where people succeed on the basis of their intelligence and achievments, or a plutocracy, where majority opinion determines one's worth?
We're still struggling with this question. Bookending every "American Idol" winner is the Better Artist who ends up making a Better CD and more money. And do you feel comfortable confessing your habit of watching reality TV to your boss? Look at the ridiculous claims of books read and music listened to in InStyle. Last month a celebrity claimed to be reading Night by Elie Wiesel. No one reads Night, which is amazing, unless it is assigned.
I could say more about this. But I have to go make a fruit salad and watch my Netflix copy of "Dead Like Me" while I knit a lace shawl. There, that's at least two fads or more in one sentence!
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